“My son got his hand mangled by a dog. The local ER did the best they could, but they want him to see an orthopedic surgeon as soon as possible.” Kate glanced down at the name and phone number in her hand. “You don't know any doctors on Long Island, do you?”
Bruce shook his head. “I stay away from doctors as much as possible.”
The moment Kate had heard the words “athletes and celebrities” she had known what she would have to do. A man who knew lieutenant governors would be able to get Clay in to see a mere orthopedic surgeon. She punched in the number for directory assistance. Bruce ought to enjoy listening to this phone call, she thought as she said, “May I have the number for RJ Enterprises in New York City?” She pushed the auto-dial button. Her pride was going to take a beating, but that was a small price to pay for Clay's health.
“Randall Johnson's office, please. This is Kate Chilton.”
Kate had to take a deep breath as she waited. He had every reason to ignore her call. He was probably still fuming over her behavior on the dance floor. Maybe he would think that she was calling to apologize. She felt her throat tighten.
“Hello, Kate.”
Even at a time like this, his voice made her nerve endings leap. Kate tried to gauge his tone, but it was unreadable. “Hello, Randall. I have a favor to ask for Clay.”
“A favor?” His tone was distinctly unfriendly now.
“Yes. Clay's hand was mangled by a dog and the local doctor strongly advises that he see an orthopedic surgeon on Long Island as quickly as possible. She gave me the doctor's name, but said that he's not accessible to the average patient. I wondered if you might be able to help.”
There was dead silence, and Kate squirmed. She longed to say more but she was very aware of Bruce Adler's unavoidable eavesdropping. “My boss is driving me home from a meeting in Connecticut as we speak,” she offered in oblique explanation.
“I see. Give me the doctor's name and number.”
Kate let out her breath in a whoosh and read off the information.
“Who's the doctor who saw him? And at what hospital?”
Kate told him.
“Give me your cell phone number. I'll call you back.”
Kate reeled it off and then softened her voice. “Thank you so much. I am very, very grateful for your help.”
“Don't thank me until I see if I can do anything,” he said abruptly and hung up.
Kate pushed the end button and let her head fall back against the seat in relief. She had complete faith in Randall's ability to overcome any obstacles. The thought of how indebted she would be to him was galling, but her concern for Clay's well-being overwhelmed all other considerations.
“You're a quick learner,” Bruce commented.
Randall had cleared his office of three senior staff members when Kate's call came through. He was looking forward to raking her over the coals without an audience. Her plea for help had dissipated all his anger and replaced it with an odd feeling of gratification.
He should have known that she wouldn't call him at work for a social conversation. In fact, he gave her a mental salute for what it must have cost her to make that phone call. Then he smiled smugly at the thought of how obligated she would feel to him for his help. The situation had some interesting possibilities.
But right now, he needed to help out a boy with a serious injury.
“Gail, tell Joe that I need the car in ten minutes and that he's driving for a change. I'll be working on the road.”
As he picked up his cell phone and his Palm Pilot, Randall thought of Clay's extraordinary sculptures and the delicate welding that was required to create them. He grabbed his laptop and then strode out of the office.
It took four calls, but Randall got the surgeon to agree to an immediate evaluation. Two more phone calls got clearance for Janine to take the helicopter into the Long Island hospital's helipad. He glanced at his watch as he dialed Kate's cell phone: forty-two minutes had passed since she called. Not bad.
“Hello, Kate. I've got the surgeon lined up as soon as you can get to Long Island Jewish Hospital.”
“I can't begin to thank you adequately,” she began.
“You may not thank me when you hear the rest. The surgeon wants Clay in ASAP so I've arranged for you to go in via the company helicopter. You just have to drive to the Fairfield Airport. My pilot, Janine Tanner, will take you from there. I know you hate to fly, but this will avoid traffic, and I thought that the circumstances warranted speed.”
He heard Kate swallow, but her voice was strong. “That's really above and beyond the call of duty. I hate to put you to all this trouble, but I'll accept your offer for Clay's sake.”
“Good girl. Janine will be waiting for you in the airport lounge.”
“Thank you so much,” she managed to gasp just before he hung up.
She let the phone drop in her lap as Bruce turned into Denise's driveway. “Everything's arranged. Thanks so much for driving me here.”
“No problem. Don't worry about coming into the office. Just keep us posted on your son's progress.”
Kate picked up her briefcase and pocketbook, gave Bruce a distracted wave, and raced into Denise's house.
“Denise, I'm here. Where's Clay?”
Denise took Kate's briefcase out of her hand. “He's upstairs sleeping in Robert's room.”
Kate took the steps two at a time and then tiptoed into the bedroom. Clay lay sleeping on his back, with his injured hand lying beside him swathed in gauze and strapped to a board. He looked pale but peaceful. Kate watched him for a minute and then brushed a feather-light kiss over his forehead before turning to leave. She would wake him up after she talked with Denise.
When she came downstairs, Patrick had appeared from the basement playroom. He dashed into her arms. “Mom, it was so scary. This strange dog came over and attacked Thunder for no reason. Clay tried to grab their collars. The dog bit his hand and wouldn't let go until the lady came out of her house and threw water on him. I didn't know what to do, so I asked the lady to call Mrs. Costanza since I knew that you were at the bridge. It wasn't Thunder's fault. He was just walking along on his leash, and this other dog was loose and jumped on him.”
“It's okay, Patrick. You did absolutely the best thing to get Mrs. Costanza,” Kate said, kneeling so that she could hold him and see his face. “Clay will be fine. I'm going to take him to a doctor on Long Island now. He'll fix up his hand like new.”
Patrick's tearstained face relaxed. “His hand looked horrible. You could see the bones.”
Kate winced. Still holding Patrick, she stood up and turned to Denise. “You are a true friend to go through all this for me.”
Denise waved a dismissive hand. “I know that you would do the same for my children. I'll keep Patrick here while you take Clay in unless you want me to drive you there.”
“Mom, I want to go with you and Clay,” Patrick protested.
“I'd love to have you, sweetheart, but we might be at the hospital for a long time. You'll be much more comfortable here. Why don't you go back downstairs while I organize things with Mrs. Costanza.”
Patrick reluctantly left the adults. “He's going to be even more upset when he finds out that we're flying to the hospital in a helicopter.”
Denise whistled. “How'd you manage that?”
Kate flushed. “Do you remember Randall Johnson?”
“He's pretty unforgettable.”
“He pulled some strings for me.”
“I see.” Denise restrained her curiosity with obvious effort. “You owe me a long conversation when this is all over.”
“I owe you a lot more than a long conversation,” Kate said. “But right now, let's get Clay up and into your car. I need to borrow it, so I can drive to the Fairfield Airport.”
The relief on Clay's face when he woke up to see his mother beside him made Kate's heart twist. “Hello, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”
“Really tired. And my hand hurts.”
“I'
m so sorry, love,” she said, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “I'm taking you to Long Island to get you all fixed up. You'll even get to ride in Mr. Johnson's helicopter after all.”
Clay looked confused as Kate helped him sit up. “Why am I riding in Mr. Johnson's helicopter?”
“Because the doctor wants to see you as fast as possible, and a helicopter is the fastest way to get there.”
“Oh. Okay.” Clay staggered slightly as he stood up, and Kate wrapped her arm around his waist. “I'm all right, Mom. Just groggy.”
“I'll just stick by you until we get down the stairs.”
A look of longing crossed Patrick's face when Kate told him where they were going, but he said only, “That's really nice of Mr. Johnson to lend you his helicopter.” Then he took Clay's other hand and squeezed it, saying, “Good luck. I'll walk the dogs while you're gone.”
Patrick hugged Kate more fiercely than usual and then walked back to the house with a backward wave. Kate suspected that he was fighting tears so she let him go.
At the airport they were greeted by a striking young blond woman who shook Kate's hand.
“Mrs. Chilton? I'm Janine Tanner. There's a wheelchair over here for Clay.”
“I don't need a wheelchair,” Clay protested in embarrassment. “I can walk fine, really. But thanks.”
Janine smiled. “Okay, no wheelchair. We've got clearance to go anytime.”
As they walked across the tarmac to a gleaming silver helicopter with RJ Enterprises painted in blue on the side, Janine spoke. “I understand that you're not a fan of flying, Mrs. Chilton, so I'll take it easy.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I want to get Clay to the hospital as quickly as possible. Do whatever's necessary to make the trip short. And please, call me Kate.”
“Okay, Kate, we'll do the Rambo Run,” Janine said, opening the passenger door for them. “There are headphones on the seats if you want to communicate with me or listen to my communications. I'll keep you up-to-date on our progress.”
Clay's eyes lit up and Kate gulped. They climbed into the leather seats, buckled their seat belts and fitted the headphones on. Kate arranged a pillow under Clay's injured hand and strapped it down with another seat belt. The rotors began to turn, and Kate closed her eyes and took three deep breaths. Janine's voice crackled through the headphones, informing the tower that they were ready for takeoff. The vibrations increased and suddenly they were airborne, moving upward and sideways at the same time. Kate took several more deep breaths. Clay winced as he shifted to look through the window, and Kate fought down her terror to readjust the pillow.
“This is so cool, Mom,” Clay said. “I wish Patrick were here.”
“Who's Patrick?” Janine's voice came through again.
“My brother. He loves anything that flies.”
“We'll have to get him up here then. I love anything that flies, too.”
Kate was pleased to see Clay grin as she rolled her eyes heavenward. Janine gave Clay a rundown on the helicopter and their route. Kate listened with one ear as she surveyed the interior. The eight seats were silvery gray and very comfortable. Each was equipped with a folding table – for keeping up with paperwork, Kate imagined. The walls and floor were carpeted in a deep blue. Janine described the location of a built-in cooler stocked with drinks if they got thirsty and a compact cupboard that held snacks.
“It should be a nice smooth ride all the way out. How are you doing, Kate?”
“If I could forget the fact that I'm a couple of thousand feet above ground, it would be downright pleasant.”
Janine chuckled. “Only the best for guests of Mr. Johnson's.”
Kate flinched inwardly at the reminder of whom she had to thank for this ride. She tried to convince herself that having people flown around in helicopters was nothing out of the ordinary for Randall Johnson. Nor was making a few well-placed telephone calls. But she felt almost crushed by her sense of obligation; it seemed completely beyond her means to repay him. She couldn't even think of words that would adequately express her gratitude.
The timbre of the vibrations changed, and just as Kate started to clutch the arms of her seat in a panic, Janine announced that they were making their descent to the hospital's helipad. Clay was glued to the window as the helicopter side-slipped and hovered over the white H painted on the building's roof. They touched down so gently that Kate wasn't sure they had landed.
“We're here,” Janine said as the door flew open. Several scrub-clad hospital personnel swarmed around them, putting Clay in a wheelchair, firing questions at him and at Kate, and rushing them toward the elevator door.
Kate ducked low under the gently-turning rotors and waved her thanks to Janine in the cockpit. Janine gave her a thumbs-up and waved to Clay. Then she looked past Kate and saluted. The rotors picked up momentum and the helicopter lifted off as efficiently as it had landed.
Kate turned to see Randall Johnson, his suit jacket whipping in the wind, his hand lifted in farewell to Janine. A wave of relief and gratitude surged through her. He looked so familiar and solid, Kate had to quell the impulse to fly into his arms. Instead she smiled at him with her heart in her eyes.
Randall's arm seemed to freeze halfway down and an odd expression flitted across his face.
Kate raised her voice over the receding noise of the helicopter. “Thank you so much for everything, but especially for coming here. I dreaded facing the illustrious Dr. Lane alone.”
Randall lowered his arm to his side and walked over to her. He looked at her a moment before speaking. “How did Clay do on the trip?”
“Clay did fine; the fascination of the ride took his mind off the pain.”
“How did you do?”
“Janine made it very smooth.”
Randall caught up with Clay's wheelchair as they entered the elevator. “Well, young man, you went to a lot of trouble to get a helicopter ride. You and I are going to catch heck from your mother about this later.”
“Hi, Mr. Johnson.” Clay smiled at him shyly. “Thanks for the trip. Mom was cool; she told Ms. Tanner to burn rubber, or whatever you call going fast in a chopper.”
Randall smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “How's that hand feeling?”
Clay made a face. “Sore.”
“They'll take care of you here.”
The elevator doors opened and the group proceeded down the hall to an examining room.
Dr. Lane strode in with his attendants. A compact man with iron gray hair and rimless glasses, the hand surgeon wore his white coat with authority. After several quick questions to Kate and Clay, he suggested that she and Randall leave while he examined Clay's hand. “It won't be a pretty sight, so why don't you wait outside?”
Kate was about to object when Randall put a hand firmly in the small of her back and escorted her out the door. “Dr. Lane will report to us as soon as he's done,” Randall said loudly enough for the doctor to hear and understand. “Let him do his job.”
They walked down the hall to the lounge area. Kate sank down into one of the pale green vinyl chairs and stared straight ahead. Randall walked restlessly around the room until he saw the coffeemaker. He poured two foam cups full, and asked Kate what she took in hers.
“Cream and sugar, please,” she said absently.
When he put the cup in her hand, she smiled briefly and said, “Thank you.”
He went back to his pacing. When he looked at Kate again, she was sitting ramrod straight with the untouched coffee still in her hand. He went over and sat in the chair across from her, his elbows on his knees.
“After Dr. Lane spoke with Dr. Mattern at the ER, he told me that he's very optimistic about being able to restore full function to Clay's hand.”
“Really?” Kate's expression lightened slightly. “That's good news. Dr. Mattern thinks he's the best hand surgeon in the country. I just hate to think of Clay being limited in any way when using his hands.”
“I know. Those sculptures of his re
quire a lot of manual dexterity. But he's a smart kid, and even if there should be a problem, he'll learn to compensate for it.”
“Yes, but I don't want him to have to compensate for it. He's too young to have to deal with limitations.”
Randall stared down at the coffee cup he was fidgeting with. Kate was struck by how his hands enveloped the cup. She shook her head slightly to clear it. She kept fixating on odd details: Randall's huge hands, the splash of blue in the abstract print hanging on the wall, the hum of the coffeemaker. Around it all swirled worry and, of course, guilt that her son was injured when she was away.
“Stop beating yourself up, Kate.”
Randall's clairvoyance startled her into looking at his face.
“I can't help it. I wasn't there when my child needed me. He had to depend on a friend to take him to the hospital. If I hadn't decided to go back to work...”
Randall looked down and turned his coffee cup in his hands several times before he responded. “Guilt is not a useful emotion. You can't protect your children from every bad thing the world throws at them. You've done something better: you've given them the tools and the confidence to deal with adversity.” He raised his head. “Clay and Patrick are two lucky kids.”
Kate could barely trust her voice. “Thanks,” she whispered. She managed a shaky smile through the tears spilling down her cheeks. “Not only do you get stuck in a hospital waiting room, but you have to comfort a guilt-ridden mother.”
Randall's smile was solid. “It's not a role I have much experience with.”
“You're doing an excellent job.” Kate suddenly looked away and put her coffee cup down on the table by her chair. “You've done a wonderful job of everything. I don't know how I will ever be able to repay…”
“You don't owe me anything,” Randall interrupted as his smile vanished.
“Then why...” Kate started to ask in genuine puzzlement when Dr. Lane's voice stopped her. Kate stood up.
“Mrs. Chilton, it looks promising. All the pieces are still there and still in good shape, and there doesn't seem to be any nerve damage. We can reattach the ligaments and sew up the muscles; and with physical therapy, Clay's hand should be as good as new.”
A Bridge to Love Page 18
