I, Gracie

by Sharon Sala

  "Majestic Floral."

  "Donna, it's me. We found Gracie. She was trapped in a stairwell under a lot of debris. Don't know the extent of injuries, but she was awake and talking when they put her in the ambulance. I'm on the way to Cox Medical now."

  "Oh my God. Thank you for calling. I have been so scared, not knowing if she was even still alive. Thank you so much for letting me know. I’ll contact the hospital about her worker’s comp insurance. Tell her not to worry about that."

  John disconnected, and kept driving, forced to make two short detours due to debris, but finally reached the parking lot. He parked near the ER entrance and ran inside.

  The ER was full of storm victims bringing themselves to the hospital, and ambulances coming and going. It was a waking nightmare. People crying. People bleeding. People in shock, wandering the halls.

  He ran straight up to the desk.

  "I'm Gracie Dunham's next of kin. She is one of the victims from the Wisteria Inn Hotel. Where is she?"

  The clerk was harried, and it showed, but she managed to find Gracie's name and location, and pointed.

  "She's in Bay 4."

  Moments later, John was in the Emergency Room, walking past bays, looking at the room numbers as he went, and then he saw it and walked in.

  She was on a gurney. Naked but for a towel they'd thrown across her hips. They’d cleaned off the blood and powder from her face and arms.

  A doctor was in the act of stapling shut a gash on her head, but paused as John walked in.

  "Whoever you are, you can't be in here," he said.

  "He's mine, and I want him here," Gracie said.

  John's vision blurred. "She's mine, and I need to be here."

  The doctor sighed. "Fine. Just stay out of the way."

  And so John watched, and listened, and learned.

  The blood had come from a deep cut in her head. She had a concussion, a couple of cracked ribs, and her body was a mass of bruises and contusions. They were keeping her overnight for observation, and when they finally moved her from the ER to a room upstairs, John made the trip with her, holding her hand as he walked beside her bed.

  It felt like forever before they were finally alone, and then John leaned over the bed and kissed both cheeks, before brushing his lips across her mouth.

  "I have never been as scared as I was today, not knowing if you were still alive."

  Gracie reached for his hand. "I knew you would find me. I kept hearing the phone ringing, but I couldn't reach it. Every time it quit ringing, I would panic, thinking it might never ring again. I finally got my fingers far enough in my pocket to answer, and then I heard your voice. After that, the panic ended for me. I wasn't lost anymore." Her voice broke, and she started crying. "I thought I was going to die without getting a chance to tell you what you mean to me. I love you forever, John Gatlin. So much I'm afraid to be in the world without you. And if that scares the shit out of you, then get over it."

  John grinned. "The storm scared the shit out of me, but you don't. I only need one thing in my life to make it perfect, and that's you."

  "Okay then," Gracie said, and closed her eyes. "I feel dizzy again."

  "Concussion. Rest."

  Her eyes were closed, but she kept talking.

  "How bad was Branson hit? Is the Majestic still there? Was it on my side of town? Did it hit your business? Is your home okay?"

  "It hit the north side pretty bad. The Majestic is okay. I don't know about your place or mine."

  She opened her eyes again. "Then will you do something for me?"

  "Anything," John said.

  "Will you please go check on Lucy, and see if my apartment is still standing? And after that, go check on all your stuff?"

  He sighed. "I don't want to leave you."

  "I'm right where I need to be, and I'm not going anywhere. You've already taken care of business today, helping get me found and rescued. Now, go do you."

  He kissed her again. "I'll be back."

  "I know that," Gracie said, and then closed her eyes again as he walked away.

  The room was spinning—to the point that it felt like she might take flight, and that couldn't happen, because she was too sore to launch.

  Chapter Twenty

  John's business was the nearest, so he stopped there first. Even as he approached the area, he guessed the tornado had missed it. Power outages and some broken tree limbs seemed to be the only problems in this area.

  He stopped long enough to make a quick sweep inside the office and then down to the building where all the vehicles were housed. No broken windows, and all locked up tight.

  He went from there to Lucy Bedford's, and when he pulled up in the drive, he saw wind damage, but little else. He was getting out of the truck to do a quick check of the windows in Gracie's apartment when Lucy hailed him from the back garden.

  "John! John!"

  He stopped and then jogged toward her. She had a bandana tied around her head and held a rake. She'd obviously been rained on and looked a little frazzled.

  "Are you okay?" he asked.

  Lucy leaned the rake against a garden bench and pointed at the broken limbs down near her back fence.

  "Yes. The roof is sound. My old house is sound. But some of the big trees lost a few limbs."

  "I'll get the boys out to clean those up for you," John said.

  "Thank you, honey. Is your shop okay? Did the Majestic make it through the storm okay? I was worried about Gracie and the girls."

  "The shop is fine, and the Majestic is, too, but Gracie isn't. She was at the Wisteria Inn on a job for the shop when the storm hit."

  Lucy's pink cheeks went pale. "Oh no. Wait! That's one of the places that took a direct hit! Is she hurt bad?"

  "She has some injuries, none of which are life-threatening. She got trapped in a stairwell beneath a pile of debris. It took a while to figure out where she was and if she was still alive. Scariest damn hours of my life," John said.

  Lucy hugged him.

  "Where is she?"

  "They just moved her from the ER up to a room at Cox Med Center. She's staying overnight for observation. She has staples in her head, a couple of cracked ribs, and a concussion. She's going to turn black and blue all over before she's well. But she's still Gracie. Still a survivor. Still my best girl. I'm here because she wanted me to check on you and her apartment. And then I have to go home and check on my place before she'll hush about it."

  "Bless her heart," Lucy said. "We still have power here. Tell her that. And if she can get up the stairs to her apartment, I'll look after her as she heals."

  John nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I'll tell her. Is there anything I can do for you, other than send the boys to clean up?"

  "No, I'm fine," Lucy said. "Now, run on along and check on your home. I've already checked the windows in the apartment. They're sound."

  "Thanks. I guess I'll see you tomorrow then," he said, and went back to his truck and headed out of town.

  There were hardly any vehicles on the road, and the ones he encountered were few and far between. The road leading to his home was southwest of Branson, and the further he went, the more apparent it became that the storm had stayed true to its path and kept moving east across the northernmost part of the city. There was nothing out here to note but water in the road ditches.

  By the time he got home and pulled up in the garage, adrenaline was crashing. The place still had power. Walking into it, with everything like he'd left it that morning and nothing out of place, felt like a miracle.

  He stripped in the laundry room, then walked through the house and up the stairs to his shower, moving now on autopilot. He couldn't focus on anything but getting clean and back to Gracie.

  He turned the water on full force, then stepped beneath the spray, bracing himself against the walls as the water pelted his head, his face, and then his chest. But when he closed his eyes, the sight of all that devastation returned and he shuddered.

  Seeing Gracie on the
stretcher again, coming out of the hotel, then Gracie in ER and the wounds and the bruises, and the intensity in her voice: "He's mine. And I want him here," she'd said.

  His shoulders slumped, and then his legs went weak. He'd almost lost her. But now that she was safe, he was losing control. Tears came swiftly, blinding in their intensity. He moved deeper into the shower, standing fully beneath the spray as they came faster—lost within the water pouring down on his head.

  Gracie was asleep when John came back, and he'd come prepared to stay. He nodded at the nurse who walked in behind him. He set his bag beneath the windowsill, and then stood at the foot of the bed, watching as she checked Gracie's vitals.

  "Is she still okay?" John whispered.

  The nurse nodded, gave him a thumbs up, and walked out.

  He moved a chair close to her, then touched her arm. It was warm, soft to the touch, and so bruised it hurt him to even look at it. Her eyes were moving beneath her lids—her fingers twitched, but he could see the steady rise and fall of her chest. Likely, she was dreaming.

  All the nights they'd made love—all the passion and the lust with all the magic of new lovers—and none of it had prepared him for the gut-wrenching fear of losing her.

  She sighed.

  He watched a tear roll from the corner of her eye. Her fingers twitched again. He couldn't stand it any longer and took her hand.

  "Gracie, don't cry, baby. You're safe."

  She moaned, and then opened her eyes.

  "Johnny, you're back. Is everything okay?"

  He hadn't been called Johnny in a good twenty years, but coming from her, it was perfect.

  "Everything is fine. Lucy sends her love. Donna and the girls send their love. And you already have all of mine."

  "Never too much of such a good thing," she said. "Oh, Lord. What I wouldn't give for a Coke."

  John got up, unzipped his bag, and pulled out a little cooler.

  "The Good Lord's busy. I got this," he said, opened the cooler, took out a can of Coke, and popped the tab. Then he pulled the straw out of her water, put it in the can, and held it to her lips.

  Gracie took a little sip, swallowed, and then took one more. "I've been wanting this all day. I kept putting it off at the hotel, and then..." She took one more sip, then stopped.

  "Enough?" John asked.

  "For now."

  He set it aside. She was drifting again. But he wasn't going anywhere. He wasn't leaving here again without her.

  Gracie was in the porch swing with Delia, holding her hand as they swung back and forth.

  Delia was silent, her glassy eyes staring off into the distance into a world beyond anything Gracie could see.

  She was worried. Her mama had quit eating. The doctors had told her this would happen, and yet now that the time was here, it was frightening. She felt like she was letting her mama go hungry, even though they'd said this was part of the end.

  And so they rocked. Delia saying nothing, while Gracie cried.

  "I love you, Mama. I'm sorry this is all so hard. You've been the best mother any little girl could ever want. You taught me everything I am ever going to need to know. So, I want you to know that I've got this. I, Gracie, know how to take care of business because of you."

  A fly buzzed around Delia's face.

  Gracie shooed it away, and kept rocking, and wiping her own eyes, and blowing her own nose.

  "If only it would rain. This dry-assed, God-forsaken land needs a drink of water, Mama. You need a drink of water. But I can't get you to swallow anymore. God should be ashamed this disease exists. I don't understand the need for all this suffering, so I want you to talk to Him about it when you go home. It's wrong. There is nothing to be learned from this kind of pain. There is nothing to be gained from even witnessing it. It is the utmost betrayal of a good woman's life...that it's coming to this end."

  The sun was slipping from the sky like a pat of melting butter, and Gracie had a headache from crying now. She let the swing come to a stop, and then laid her head down in her mother's lap and closed her eyes.

  "I love you, Mama. Bigger than the sky. If I didn't, this would have killed me." And then she sighed.

  Delia hadn't spoken in weeks, but now her hand was on Gracie's head, and she was humming.

  Gracie was afraid to move. Afraid to break the spell.

  Gracie was crying in her sleep again.

  John heard it and got up.

  He didn't know if she was sad or in pain. He didn't want to wake her, so he slipped out of the room and went across the hall to the nurses' station.

  "Good morning, John. Is everything okay?"

  "I was wondering if Gracie could have something for pain now? She's crying in her sleep. I don't know whether it's from what happened, or if she's hurting."

  "I'll check her chart and be right in," she said.

  He nodded and hurried back into the room. She was still sleeping, still crying.

  He felt like crying, too.

  A few minutes later, the nurse came in carrying a syringe.

  "She was due something for pain. This will give her some ease," she said, and then after she'd injected it into Gracie's IV, she checked her vitals.

  Gracie roused. "What's happening?" she asked.

  "You were crying," John said. "I was afraid you were hurting."

  She sighed. "It was an old hurt," she said.

  John brushed a long strand of her hair away from her forehead. He felt helpless. She'd been leveled by life before he'd even met her, and now this.

  "Is it morning yet?" she asked.

  "In a manner of speaking. It's just after four."

  She wrinkled her nose. "I wish this bed was big enough for two. I know you haven't slept a wink."

  The nurse chuckled. "That bed is barely long enough for you, Gracie. This long-legged guy of yours wouldn't fit."

  Gracie laughed softly, then winced. "Ow. Hurts to laugh."

  John let them talk, satisfied by the smile on her face. And when the nurse was gone, and Gracie had drifted back off to sleep. He walked to the window.

  Part of the city was in darkness, still without power. He knew this hospital was full, and the more serious victims had been air lifted to Springfield.

  Like Humpty Dumpty, a big part of the city had taken a great fall. It was going to take time and energy to put it back together again.

  They got Gracie up after breakfast, walked her down the hall and back, and then gave her a bath. John went by the Majestic to get Gracie's purse, then, following her instructions, let himself into her apartment to get some clothes for her to wear home.

  One of his crews was already at Lucy's house cleaning up storm debris when he arrived. There was so much to clean up in Branson, that it was all they would be doing for the rest of the week.

  Lucy was waiting by his truck when he came down the stairs with Gracie's clothes.

  "Is she coming home today?" Lucy asked.

  John nodded. "I had to get something for her to wear. They cut her out of her clothes yesterday."

  "Bless her heart," Lucy said. "Looks like you and your boys will have your hands full this week with storm debris. Don't worry about Gracie. I'll tend to her during the day."

  John hugged her. "Thank you. You're the best."

  Lucy sighed. "I think you're pretty fine, yourself. You two haven't known each other long, and you're sure stepping up in her time of need."

  "It feels like I've always known her. She's my girl, and that's how I feel."

  "Are you gonna marry her?" Lucy asked.

  "Absolutely...if she'll have me. But Gracie came here with wounds that only time will heal. I'm just giving her a little space to deal with her past before I make me her future."

  Lucy laughed. "I love that. Now go. I've kept you long enough, and I'll be watching for you when you bring her back."

  "It'll likely be after lunch sometime. We're waiting on her doctor to release her," he said.

  Lucy waved and walked back towar
d her house as John drove away.

  Gracie got dressed with the help of a nurse, while John looked through the drawer in the table for anything that might be hers.

  "There's a bag with her things in it in the closet," the nurse said.

  Gracie frowned. "I didn't know I still had 'things.'"

  "It's the clothes they cut off you, and whatever would have been in your pockets."

  "My phone?" Gracie asked. "Is my phone in there?"

  "I'll look," John said, got the sack out of the closet, and sure enough, soon found the phone. "It's here," he said, and pulled a charger out of his bag to plug in her phone to charge.

  "When can I go home?" Gracie asked.

  "Doctor has to sign off on your release papers. I'll see if he's still making rounds," the nurse said, and left the room.

  Within minutes of her phone being charged, Gracie began getting dings from a multitude of texts.

  "Oh wow... I kind of forgot about Darlene. She's my ex-sister-in-law. Pretty much the only person from before that I still care about."

  "Don't text. Call her," John said. "She'll want to hear your voice." He traced the tip of his finger along the side of her face. "I want to kiss you like crazy, but there's no place safe to touch you."

  Gracie frowned. "My lips don't hurt."

  "Okay then," he said, and brushed a soft kiss across her lips. "Thank you, baby. I've been wanting to do that all morning. Now, I'm going to step out and give you some space to talk. I'll just be down the hall for a bit. Want me to bring you back a Coke?"

  "Yes, please," she said, and then made a call to Darlene.

  The phone rang twice, and Darlene answered, talking.

  "Where the holy hell have you been? We saw the storm damage on TV yesterday, and I've been texting and calling, but you didn't answer and—"

  "Darlene!"

  "What?"

  "I was in the storm. I'm just being released from the hospital."