by Katie Cross
The drive to the highway took longer than usual, even with Justin’s well-paced speed. We pulled up right as the flashing lights of the ambulance twirled into sight. A middle-aged woman with blonde hair and a light blue uniform leaped out of the passenger seat. The driver followed.
“Is it just the two of you?” I asked, ducking down to drape one of Gary’s arms around my shoulders. Justin took the brunt of his weight as we hobbled him to the gurney. The woman snapped on a pair of gloves while Justin and the driver helped Gary stretch across the gurney.
“Yep,” she said. “The name’s Wanda. We’re looking to hire some others, but the pool is pretty small around here. You don’t have a license, do you?”
“I’m a registered nurse.”
“Good enough for me. I’m just an EMT. I could use your help.”
“You’re kidding,” I said, following her into the back of the ambulance. The driver shut one door. Wanda shot me a deadpan expression.
“This isn’t the city, honey. It’s not always perfect around here. We’re low-staffed today thanks to a sick call-out, and we do the best we can. You’re lucky we have a driver.”
“Right. Not kidding.”
“I’ll follow you into Jackson,” Justin said while Wanda secured Gary with the straps. “And I’ll text Mark to let him know.”
“Thanks.”
The driver slammed the second door.
“I haven’t placed an IV in a while,” Wanda said, a wad of bright pink gum smacking between her teeth. A rubbery tourniquet flopped onto the package next to her. “Certainly not on a black man.” She peered at his hand and wrist. “Can’t see a damn vein on him.”
“You haven’t done an IV on a black man?”
“This is Wyoming. You wanna try first?”
I opened my mouth to express my disbelief but shut it again. I’d never ridden in the back of an ambulance before, and I certainly hadn’t ever placed an IV in a moving vehicle. What were the odds that Wanda—likely the only EMT in the area—hadn’t placed an IV in a while? IVs were the lifeblood of ambulance riders.
“Don’t get many calls?” I asked, ripping the package open.
She shook her head. “We’re volunteers who live in the mountains.” Her teeth flashed with a momentary grin. “We don’t even call each other.”
“Can you switch to your oxygen source?” I asked. “Mask him at ten liters. And do you have an aspirin? Look for sublingual nitroglycerin, too.”
“On it.”
Prepping Gary’s skin for the IV, opening the package, and working with a saline flush turned all my instincts on. My hands worked by pure muscle memory. I fell into the familiar task with confidence.
“All right, Gary,” I said, holding onto his right hand. “There’s going to be a little pinch.”
The needle slid into the vein with ease. I held my breath—I always did—and waited for the flashback of blood. Like a congratulations, it came.
“Got it?” Wanda asked, peering over him. She’d just finished putting a mask over his face and cranking the oxygen up. It fogged when he exhaled. He grimaced, his head rolling to the side.
“Yep. Prep your cardiac monitors. We need to do an EKG on the way in.”
She lifted one eyebrow. “Can you read a 12-lead EKG?”
“Yep.”
“All right,” she drawled. “You’re the boss.”
When we arrived at St. John’s ER, nurses, doctors, phlebotomists, and respiratory therapists swarmed Gary while I reported to the doctor. The events unfolded like a song. Ten minutes after our arrival—a second EKG, a cocktail of medication, and two lab draws later—Gary sped past me on a gurney into the cath lab. Diana, his nurse, moved to my side. She wore her silver hair in a loose bun on top of her head. Her warm brown skin, wide face, and deep umber eyes indicated she had Native American ancestry somewhere. Her stethoscope and name tag jingled when she walked.
“His labs are sky-high so far.” She ran her thumb up in the air. “Never seen ‘em that high in my life, and I’ve worked here a long time. I think he’ll be all right, though.”
Wanda pitched some paperwork to me. I settled into a rolling chair at the nurses’ station and filled it out. The smell of rubbing alcohol, the tinkle of a phlebotomy cart, and the overhead voice paging doctors danced through my mind. My stomach clenched. I missed this.
Oh, how I missed this.
When I finished charting, Justin stepped through the swinging doors, bringing a hot wind with him. His brow furrowed when he saw me. “Everything okay?”
“No word yet from the cath lab.”
“Is that good news?”
I managed a wry smile. “It’s better than bad news.”
“Where will he go from there?”
“A room on the floor,” Diana said, butting in with a smile. “The two of you are welcome to sit in the waiting room. I’ll let you know when they have a room number and a time. And thanks for your help, Megan. That’s the best report from a bystander I’ve ever had.”
I let out a deep breath and smiled.
“My pleasure, Diana.”
Chapter 12
Tests
Hours later, Justin gripped the steering wheel of his Jeep in one hand as he navigated away from Jackson City. He ran a hand through his hair.
“So … that got intense.”
We’d waited until Gary’s daughter, Mylee, had driven up to stay with him in the hospital. After a successful heart stent in the cath lab—and several months of cardiac rehab—
Gary was expected to make a full recovery.
I blew out a breath that made my hair dance.
“Heart attacks usually are.”
We sped down a long stretch of highway toward the canyon. The sun shone through the windshield in long white rays, making the dust motes shimmer in the air. A text message popped up on my phone.
Just heard, Mom said. So proud of you. That’s my girl!
I slipped my phone back into my pocket.
“You did awesome, though. Like, no hesitation.” Justin sliced a hand through the air. “Just boom! Saved his life. I’m way impressed. So now I’m thinking that I should actually make you a cake.”
He wore his old baseball cap. The muscles along his forearm flexed and relaxed, as if he were tightening and releasing his fist on purpose. After our little confrontation at the lake, I couldn’t stop staring at his arms.
“A lot of people saved his life. The ambulance driver. Wanda. You. The cath lab doctor. It’s hardly ever just one person.”
Justin lifted an eyebrow. “But you were the main person. You took over at camp when Mark and I wouldn’t have known what to do. And let’s be honest: Troy probably wouldn’t have either. He’s great. But young.”
“Thanks for following the ambulance,” I said, tucking my hands under my thighs. “And bringing me back to Adventura.”
“No problem. I’ve been texting Mark updates. Apparently his lunch tasted so bad that the staff is revolting and asking for you back.”
“I doubt that.”
His brow furrowed. “Why?”
“Oh, I just haven’t been the best lunch lady, I think.”
I studied him from the corner of my eye but couldn’t get a good read. I’d been serving different variations of sandwiches for weeks now at lunch. No doubt they were about to organize a walk-out. Justin’s lips drooped, but he said nothing more.
I closed my eyes, replaying the moments in the ER. The whir of activity. Shouting voices. As the nurse, coordination of the room often fell to me. I loved it. I loved being so integral to the process. Most of all, I loved knowing that Gary lived.
Several minutes had passed before I pulled myself out of my haze. The emotional high of the past several hours had started to fade. I felt like an overcooked noodle. I wanted to nap, dance, scream, and laugh all at the same time.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Justin said after a long stretch of silence.
“I miss it.” The words flew out of my mout
h before I could stop them. “I miss it so much I feel homesick.”
“Your job?”
“Yes.”
The smooth granite walls of the canyon flashed by. Justin listened while I rambled about how wonderful it felt to be part of a team, to know what I was doing, to feel confident in my decisions. I wasn’t sure I made sense, even as the steam died out.
“You belong to a team at Adventura,” he said.
I snorted. “A team that’s indifferent, at best.”
He frowned. “That’s not fair. You haven’t given us a chance.”
My mouth bobbed open and closed for a second. A tinge of defensiveness had crept into his voice. I couldn’t help but notice the us in his comment.
“The staff doesn't say much,” I said.
“You don’t either.”
My mouth dropped. “Yes, I do!”
He held up a finger. “You never eat with us.” A second finger joined the first. “On weekends, you hang out with your brothers. You hardly ever leave the kitchen.”
A cold feeling washed down my arms. “I leave the kitchen,” I mumbled.
“You’ve never joined any of the staff game nights or activities, right? Or weekend poker games? Night hikes? Not once that I remember.”
I reviewed the past weeks at Adventura with a growing pit in my stomach. The heat of shame accompanied it. I really hadn’t made much of an effort, had I? I fell into my thoughts, turning the idea over and over again. The span of silence grew heavy. He alternated staring at the road and staring at me, cutting smooth arcs along the road as we followed the winding river.
“Are you going to leave Adventura?” he asked. His jaw had tightened. I couldn’t help but wonder what he thought of me.
“No.” I drew my knees up to my chest. “I wouldn’t do that to Mark.”
He let out a long breath. “Good. That would destroy him, and not just because it would really mess up Adventura.”
I stared out the window, catching a glimpse of my reflection. Thoughts of Jodie flickered through my mind, and I wished I could take my words back. Maybe I would leave. I thought of Mom outside the hospital, happy in the sunshine of her job but swimming through a failed marriage. My stomach tightened.
No, I decided. People are more important than jobs.
With Justin’s advice ringing in my head the next morning, I stood in the kitchen and stared out at the dining hall. A typical Tuesday morning. The smell of coffee beans circled through the lodge, melting into the saccharine scent of warm syrup. Four towering stacks of pancakes had dwindled into only one short stack. I flipped two onto my plate, shoveled a spoonful of eggs and two sausages after it, and headed into the lodge.
The program staff filled a long table near the fire and its tentative heat. Their bleary eyes and half-hearted yawns mimicked my own fatigue. The adventure of sleeping on a cot in a cabin had started to wear off. If given the chance, I’d sleep on a real mattress for two days without stopping.
Justin’s gaze tracked me from the other side of the room where he sat nearest the fire, sipping a steaming mug of coffee. Mark had eaten early and left to deal with a possible bear sighting. JJ jerked his head in greeting when he spotted me. I smiled. My legs propelled me in that direction, but I slowed halfway there.
You never eat with us, Justin had said in the Jeep. On weekends, you hang out with your brothers.
JJ and Mark had become a kind of haven I’d been retreating to in the aftermath of losing my job, Nathan, and financial freedom. I swallowed. Perhaps it was time to fix my self-orientation.
With a quick turn to the right, I sat down next to Sione, the burly Tongan who oversaw the waterfront. Despite the nip of the chilly morning, he wore his usual pair of swimming trunks with a loose t-shirt and flip-flops. Next to him, Hollis, a blond, long-haired Californian, tossed pancakes into his mouth by the forkful. Troy sat across from me. At first he stared, and then he averted his eyes, swallowing heavily.
Once I settled in, I reached for a bottle of syrup and tried to ignore the now-quiet conversations. As nonchalantly as possible, I dashed syrup across my plate and set it back, as if I did this every day. Were they staring at me? I couldn’t tell. Certainly felt like it.
“Hey, Megan,” Emmett called from down the table. I perked up. “Are pancakes with syrup the latest breakfast fad?”
A few of them snickered. Ah. So they want to test me. After growing up with Mark and JJ, I knew enough about the male world to get by. Oh, no. You won’t get the best of me. I rolled a sausage into a pancake, chomping a bite from it with a smirk.
“Nope. But freshly made pigs in blankets are back in, fellas.”
“At least the pancakes were cooked all the way,” said someone from the end. Another voice piped up after him.
“Not even burned!”
“My taste buds had seizures when they saw we weren’t having cereal.”
Although they nudged each other, laughing at their own jokes, I saw the careful attention in their expressions. Would I banter back? Or take it personally?
“Keep it up,” I called back. “I can burn or undercook anything anytime I want!”
To my surprise, they laughed. The fervor died down until Sione elbowed me in the arm.
“So, Megan,” he drawled, eyes flickering briefly to Troy. “I hear you’re single.”
A snigger came from down the table. Troy choked. My cheeks flared with sudden heat. A teasing, challenging note thickened in Sione’s voice. Down the row, staff members turned away, lips pressed together to keep from laughing.
“Yes,” I drawled, slicing into a pancake with the edge of my fork. “The last one told me to get into the kitchen and fix him a sandwich.”
Sione tilted his head back and released a rolling belly laugh. Troy smiled. Hollis snorted. A few others down the table chortled, releasing their suppressed mirth. Across the way, I could feel Justin’s eyes on my back.
Conversation continued down the table as if I weren’t there, resuming its usual comfortable prattle. Apparently, I had passed. Troy’s eyes darted to mine and then back to his plate.
“How’s medical going, Troy?” I asked.
“Good.” He nodded, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “Thanks for, uh, your help yesterday. Someone had a laceration at the waterfront. I’m glad Gary’s okay.”
“No problem. Are you enjoying Adventura?”
“Yep.”
“Where are you from?”
“Massachusetts.” He stood up, gathering his plate and forks. “Thanks for breakfast, Megan. Tasted really good.”
He dashed off. I watched him go, bemused. Maybe it hadn’t been everyone that had been awkward at the beginning. Just Troy. Sione leaned over, his burly arm brushing mine.
“He’s young. We’re trying to teach him to be a man. Problem is, he has a mad crush on you, palangi.”
My lips twitched. “Just like the rest of you?”
Sione roared with laughter again, slamming me on the back with a meaty fist. “I like her!”
From the corner of my eye, I saw JJ crack a grin. Justin stared at his plate, frowning, and didn’t look my way again. I leaned back against my chair, relieved. Maybe I could worm my way into their hearts.
One meal at a time.
The hot days of late June whipped by on dry winds and afternoon thunderstorms. We passed through the third week of camp with the crackle of oil on a hot grill.
After I finished prepping a sheet cake for poker night dessert on Saturday afternoon, I wandered outside to find JJ and Emmett. We had a date with the canoes and the lake for the rest of the day. The collective sound of shouts from the waterfront drew me in. My flip-flops echoed off the commissary walls as I passed it.
Most of the staff stood at the end of the pier, which had started to sink low in the water. Three of them sat on the outer edge, legs dangling in the lake, holding something white in their laps. Hollis, his long blond hair fanning out around his face in wild disarray, stood at the end of the dock, arms bent
and fists clenched. Everyone chanted his name. He closed his eyes. With a mighty leap, he threw himself into the water.
Belly-flop style.
He landed with a resounding smack on the surface of the lake. A pathetic wave followed him, splashing the staff lining the dock.
“Holy balls!” he screamed when he surfaced. Sione fell back, laughing hysterically when Hollis emerged from the lake with red arms and shoulders. The three men sitting down leaned in, whispering.
Amongst the chaos, Atticus spotted me and trotted down the dock. He stuck his wet nose in my hand in greeting.
“Hey, boy,” I murmured, running a hand over his silky fur. He led me to the group, black coat shining in the late afternoon sunshine. I sidled up next to Justin.
“What’s going on?”
A ratty ball cap sat backward on top of his head above his gray-blue eyes. He motioned with a nod to the group.
“Belly flop contest. We’re trying to find someone who can beat Sione. JJ and I think it’s impossible.”
I eyed the massive Tongan man. In chest width and shoulder span alone he had a major advantage. But that thick, strong belly would probably slap the very molecules of water apart.
Three white signs shot into the air. Hollis flipped the judges off, rubbing his sore arms. Justin laughed, wiping tears from his eyes. The amusement rolled out of his chest, deep and beautiful.
“The judges only scored Hollis a three, a negative four, and a one. That’s terrible. With that slap, he earned at least a seven.”
“What are their scores based on?”
“Nothing. They just like to see Hollis lose his temper.”
Hollis’s face had flared bright crimson while he argued. The three judges bent over, guffawing. Hollis shoved one of them into the water, and the other two fell apart, howling. Emmett stepped up to the edge next, staring at the murky water.
“No shirt!” JJ called. “You can’t wear a shirt and win!”
While the rest of them heckled Emmett for leaving his shirt on, Justin leaned in toward me. A hint of vetiver filled my nose.
“There’s a technique to belly flops,” he said. “Watch.”
