by Karon Ruiz
***
7:05 p.m.
Camp Verde Medical Center
Prescott, Arizona
Dalton stared at the water-stained ceiling tiles. No matter which way he laid, the mattress poked a different part of his body. Searing pain burned from his lower back. The thin cushion didn’t help. Thirty minutes had passed since he’d been left in an ER cubicle surrounded by curtains. He hadn’t seen a doctor.
He gingerly touched the bulge beneath his eye. It felt like it had ballooned to twice the size. His right eye closed shut. He gritted his teeth as he maneuvered to his right side. He tapped Samantha’s number.
The call went to voicemail. Again. He left another message.
“Why haven’t you gotten back to me?” It was more of an accusation, not a question. “Call me, I need your help.”
When Dalton pressed the end button, his phone buzzed.
A text from Martin. Again.
CALL ASAP. EMERGENCY!
He’d call him as soon as he heard from Sammy. What if things were really bad with the Connor girl? Dalton gulped and pushed that thought from his mind. She’d be okay. She had to be.
Had Sammy gone to Phoenix to help? That might not be such a bad thing. She’d taken his place before for hospital calls. Like that time a few years back when Glenn Porter’s mother was dying and needed visitation. He had been praying by her bedside when he’d gotten the call about the car accident. Evan Cooper had been rushed to the ER and Sammy had stepped in then. She’d stayed with Yolanda Cooper all night keeping a prayer vigil. Evan pulled through.
Lord, please don’t let Charity Connor die, he prayed. If not for me, would you intervene for Matt and Carla?
Yes, that had to be it. That’s why she hadn’t called.
He’d need to figure out how to get home if Sammy couldn’t come.
He tapped his cell awake and stared at Deidra’s icon. Drake was out of town. It would be an easy solution to his problem but sitting next to Deidra for ninety minutes in her Lexus was the last thing he wanted.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Different Directions
_________________________________________________________
Sunday, 7:17 p.m.
Finding a working pay phone was Samantha’s number one priority. Elaine might be worried having heard nothing from her all day. She snaked around curves until she reached a tiny rest stop called Desert Springs. Noticing a phone near a restaurant, she pulled over.
The town consisted of two buildings: Daisy’s Diner and a deteriorating Chevron station with a couple of pumps. Behind the restaurant, a scrap yard dotted with twisted metal, dead refrigerators, and rusty cars waited to be officially declared DOA.
A public phone hung near the diner’s door. Samantha scavenged through her purse for quarters but only found two.
Elaine accepted the collect call. “I was getting worried,” she admitted after Samantha apologized. “I figured you and Dalton must have lost track of time. Did you have fun?”
Yep. A barrel of laughs. Samantha avoided her question. “I’ve got at least an hour of driving time. Can Grace eat dinner with you?”
“Already taken care of. The girls are eating pizza as we speak.”
“I owe you, Elaine. Thanks.” Samantha hung up. Thank goodness, her friend didn’t press for more information.
***
Sneaker clad feet scurried past Dalton’s ER cubicle. No one had been to check on him since they’d taken his vitals. That was awhile ago.
Hey hospital people ... my face is killing me. I’m starving! His stomach grumbled. He hadn’t had anything but that energy bar in the mountains.
His cell buzzed. He cringed, seeing who it was. Martin would need to wait.
Once he had the pain under control, he’d call Martin immediately.
Where on earth was the doctor?
He pressed the call button and minutes ticked by. An ER nurse poked her head in. With a tone loaded with impatience, she asked, “Yes?”
He pointed to the gauze that covered his face. “Can you get me something for this pain?”
Helen Schmidt, R.N. flung back the curtain and grabbed the clipboard from the back of the gurney. “As I explained earlier, Reverend Baxter, we’re very busy tonight. The physician will be here soon. I can’t offer you anything more than Tylenol.”
“I’ll wait for the doctor. I need something stronger.”
She shrugged, slapped the curtain closed, and disappeared.
Tylenol … was she kidding? That wouldn’t help. Frustration pulsed in his chest, keeping pace with the pain throbbing in his face.
He patted the lump in his pocket. Taking his Oxy now would be risky. He’d experienced the unpredictable effects too often.
He sighed and surrendered to the pillow. He shut his eyes. Tried to think of something besides the pain.
***
Sunday, 7:55 p.m.
Paloverde trees framed the Baxter yard like a cozy desert painting. Samantha eased her car into the driveway. She opened the garage door and parked next to Dalton’s empty spot. What kind of story would he come up with to explain the BMW’s disappearance? She rolled her eyes. More lies were coming, no doubt.
She opened the side door to the kitchen, Grace trailing behind. Samantha dropped her keys and purse on the counter, then plugged in her phone.
Grace tugged at her sleeve. “Where’s Daddy?”
“He had to go to Prescott.” Samantha looked at her and smiled. “He’ll be home soon.”
Dalton was resourceful, he’d figure out how to get home. Hopefully not until tomorrow. She needed time to herself.
“I need to make some calls, sweetheart. Go get your p.j.’s on and we’ll watch a movie.”
Grace raced through the breakfast room and disappeared into the foyer, on her way upstairs to her room.
Samantha tapped her phone. A green light flashed, indicating voicemails.
The first few were from Laney. Charity Connor was in the hospital.
Samantha’s breath hitched. The messages were time-stamped hours ago.
Several were from Dalton. “Sammy, call me back,” his third one ordered. “I’m in the ER. I’m okay but I need your help. I can’t understand why you have your phone turned off. This has been a rough day for me.”
I bet it has! A smoldering wick of anger reignited.
Gordy’s voicemail calmed her heart. He’d arrived safely at Grams’. Samantha already missed him.
Another message from Laney. She and Martin were at the hospital. Things didn’t look good for Charity and no one could reach Matt. Could she and Dalton come to Camelback Children’s Hospital as soon as possible?
She clicked off the phone, stuffed granolas bars and water into her purse, then hurried toward the stairs. Grace, wearing her pajamas, was heading toward the den. Poor thing. This would be a long night.
As she scaled the stairs, her phone buzzed. Dalton’s smiling face filled the display. She frowned and slipped the cell into her pocket.
I’ll deal with you later.
She washed away the grime from her face and dragged a brush through her hair. Haggard eyes peered back from the mirror as she refastened her ponytail. Brushing her teeth never felt so good. A clean shirt and jeans made all the difference in the world. She laced up her running shoes, then grabbed an iPad before heading to Grace’s room for some fresh clothes for her daughter.
“You need to get dressed again.” Samantha paused, carefully choosing her words. “Some people from church need our help.” Grace and Charity were best friends. If the news ended up being bad, she’d tell her later.
“The movie just started,” Grace whined.
“We’ll stream it to my iPad.”
Grace slowly tugged on her pants.
Samantha’s impatience grew as the fabric inched its way up Grace’s legs. She pulled her daughter close and tried to zip her pants.
“No, Mommy … I can do
it myself.” Grace pushed away Samantha’s hands.
“Okay, honey, hurry.” Samantha forced herself to take a deep breath as she watched her seven year old methodically dress.
Grace grabbed her t-shirt and dragged it over her head.
At least the sneakers had Velcro fasteners.
Minutes later, Samantha backed out of the garage and sped through the dark neighborhood, heading toward the highway. Wild waves of anger rolled over her like a raging storm. She frowned at the window, gripping the wheel, grateful for the dark car and that Grace had been captured by a Disney film.
Dalton should be here. He should be caring for his flock. He should be praying for the Connor family. He should be offering comfort.
She drove through the empty highway toward Phoenix, making a decision. This time she’d go it alone. She could do this. She’d been on hospital visits before. If only she’d get there in time. Lord, please be with these precious parents. Her heart ached for Carla as she increased her speed on the empty freeway.
Within an hour she noticed the shimmering lights of Northern Scottsdale, a ritzy city that hugged the eastern side of Phoenix. Her GPS lighted her way to Camelback Children’s. It wouldn’t be much longer.
Animated colors reflected across the seat while Grace slept. Samantha released her daughter’s fingers from the iPad and turned it off. She inserted a worship CD in her player.
Chris Tomlin crooned. The soothing words covered her with peace as it always did.
Until ….
Chris sang about surrendering his life … at the cross …
She hadn’t surrendered Dalton into His hands.
She didn’t want to.
She snapped off the stereo.
Forgive me, Lord. Not now. You can deal with him as soon as I’m finished.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Star Fantasies
_________________________________________________________
Sunday, 9:05 p.m.
Huckleberry, Arizona
Gordon steadied his telescope on the redwood deck under a canopy of stars. He plugged its USB to the laptop’s live satellite feed. He made some adjustments, then grabbed his coffee cup from the patio table. He blew on the steam and took a careful sip, then stabbed a forkful of Gram’s homemade apple pie. He washed it down with another sip of brew. Both were delicious, just like he remembered.
He leaned against the railing and looked into Gram’s garden. Towering Ponderosas acted like sentries, guarding the cabin at each end of a wooden fence that surrounded her vegetables. Rows of bushy cornstalks were ready to be picked. Clusters of trees, bursting with apples, surrounded the garden. He had his work cut out for him.
The lights of Huckleberry flickered below. Piccadilly Street with its one-hundred-year-old Victorian street lamps marched through the center of town. Tomorrow he’d check it out and see if anything had changed. Other than a low-budget flick at the Cochise Theatre, nothing ever did.
Gordon set down his mug and peered through the view finder, guiding the tube in its cradle until he’d locked on to both Ursas Major and Minor in the Northern sky. The constellations were brilliant in the cloudless night, showcasing the Big and Little Dippers. Polaris, the ancient North Star of biblical heroes Abraham and Job, tipped the smaller dipper.
The star’s intensity captured his attention until the squeal of a screen door startled him. His head bobbed up. Grams stood in the doorway.
“It’s getting late, Gordster,” she said. “Shouldn’t you be getting to bed?”
Gordon grinned. “I’m a little old for a bedtime, Grams. Besides, I got plenty of sleep on the bus.”
She padded across the porch wearing a flannel bathrobe and floppy slippers. Long gray hair draped her shoulders as she carried a steamy mug.
“What are you looking at?” she asked.
“Ursa Major. Really hangs low this time of year. Wanna look?”
Uncertainty flickered across her face. “How do I use one of these things?”
“Lean here. Place your eye over the opening,” he told her as she bent over the scope.
“Not sure what I’m staring at, Gordy.”
“Do you see the Big Dipper?” he asked.
“No … Oh … wait a minute … there it is.” She raised her head and smiled, then looked again.
“Do you see the bear? Look down from the cup of the Dipper ... do you see it?”
After a few moments, she raised her face, looking puzzled. “I’m not sure.”
Gordon Googled the constellation and pointed to his laptop screen. “See … it looks like a bear.”
She returned to the scope. “I see it, Gordy. It’s amazing.”
“Tomorrow, I’ll give you a lesson in astronomy.”
“Wonderful.” She lifted her face and smiled at him.
“What time are you gonna put me to work?”
“You sleep in. After breakfast we can start the canning. If there’s time, you can pick the corn.”
“Would it be okay if we put off the canning?” he asked. “I’ll pick the corn but was hoping to do my research in the afternoon. The forecast says no clouds.”
“No problem. You’ll have plenty of time to do my stuff. I can pay as you go or at the end of the week.”
“Whatever works best for you,” he said.
“I’d give you more if I could. I love it when you come.”
“Thanks, Grams. You’re contributing to a good cause.”
“What are you buying this year?”
“Another solar filter. I’m checking out the sun tomorrow.”
“Is that safe?”
“With a filter it is. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“I guess I’ll hit the sack.” She yawned. “It’s been a long day.” She gave him a long hug, then deposited a kiss on his cheek before heading toward the cabin. She pivoted around at the screen door and called out, “There are clean towels on your bed upstairs.”
“Thanks, Grams. I won’t be long,” he told her as she disappeared inside.
Polaris, the celebrity star, dominated the black carpet of the night. Gordon took a series of photos, saving them to his Amazon cloud account. He rubbed the fatigue in his neck, then disconnected the equipment and tucked the laptop under his arm. He draped the telescope with a tarp and swallowed the last dregs of his coffee before heading inside the cabin.
A nightlight guided him up a steep, pine staircase to the first bedroom on the right, a cheerful room he’d used since childhood. He snapped on the light and noticed Grams’ promised towels placed at the end of a turned down bed. A homemade quilt, folded over, invited him to sleep.
Once in his pajamas, he climbed between cool, crisp sheets, then settled on his back and studied the small room. Moonlight filtered through lace curtains, projecting eerie ghost-like images across the wall. He stared into the darkness, wondering about Bee. Two weeks would be a long time and he already missed her. His tossing and turning caused a chorus of creaks from the brass-knobbed bed. The tick, tick, tick from a wind-up alarm clock on his nightstand competed with his breathing.
Ten twenty p.m.
He shut his eyes. Sleep refused to come. His mind wandered up Moonscape Peak, the small mountain that overlooked Huckleberry. Sun viewing there would be incredible and would be worth the hike up that treacherous trail.
He’d get up early and pick Grams’ corn. By the time she had pancakes on the griddle, he’d have it shucked. Then he’d head to town before hiking up Moonstone.
Minutes ticked by and Gordon fell asleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Derailed Narcissism
_________________________________________________________
Sunday, 10:31 p.m.
Camelback Children’s Hospital
Phoenix, Arizona
Samantha pressed Dalton’s icon and dialed.
“Sammy … finally … I left you voicemails. Why didn’t you call?”
“I’m at Camelback Children’s. Didn’t you get Martin’s text messages?”
“Yes. I haven’t had a chance to call him back. I’m in the emergency room in Prescott. Can you come and get me?”
A satisfactory response seemed elusive. Dead air hung between them.
“Did you hear me, Sammy?” he asked. “I’m in the ER.”
“Charity Connor is dying.”
More silence. “Dalton, did you hear me?”
“Wait … dying? Charity is dying. Are you sure?”
“She doesn’t have much time.” Samantha’s eyes welled. Matt and Carla were a few feet away in their daughter’s hospital room.
Even though she knew the answer, she asked anyway. “Why are you in the ER?”
“I was held up on the side of the road,” Dalton began. He prattled out a rehearsed story, full of omissions. She stifled a groan. Fresh tears dribbled down her cheeks. Why would he concoct such a story? Had the drugs corrupted him so thoroughly that he deliberately injured himself to get more? Where was the Dalton she loved? Where was the Dalton who cared for addicts? Where was her Dalton?
Dalton continued. “From out of nowhere he lunged at me with a hammer. That’s why I’m here. They just took x-rays.”
It was out of nowhere, that was for sure. She’d had no inkling of Dalton’s intent. And she knew exactly where that hammer was: in her Camry’s trunk. Where it would wait until she knew what to do next.
Who was this man? Had she loved him for nineteen years and never known him?
“Sammy … are you there?”
She fought the impulse to slam the phone against the wall and instead let out a deep sigh, pretending … just like Dalton. “I’m here.”
“He pushed me out of the car!” Dalton’s voice pitched. “Fortunately, I had my phone or I might still be walking around that highway—bleeding. I’ve been here for over three hours and still haven’t seen a doctor.”
