The Way Back to You

by Sharon Sala

  “What the hell just happened?” he moaned as he crawled out of the water and up onto the creek bank, then rolled over onto his back and sat up.

  The pain was sharpest above his right knee, but without light, he was left to guessing exactly what had happened. When he felt a sizable shaft of wood sticking out of his leg, he groaned. A piece of that tree was in his leg!

  He couldn’t tell how badly it was bleeding because of the rain, but he was scared. He had no idea where he was, and the thunderstorm was making too much noise to call out for help. He had outrun the only people who might have saved him, and now if he didn’t get help, he could be in danger of bleeding to death.

  Without hesitation, Hoover began ripping up the leg of his pants until he had a strip long enough to make a tourniquet. Afraid to try to pull the wood out of his leg, he felt around on the bank until he found a piece of deadfall. He broke a piece off from that limb and used it to make a splint.

  After a good deal of groaning and cursing, Hoover managed to stand up. It occurred to him that he didn’t need the creek anymore to hide his tracks. But he did need it so he wouldn’t get lost. He knew where the creek went, but the woods were so thick and the night was so dark that he would easily get directions confused.

  Reluctantly, he got back in the ankle-high water and, holding onto the tourniquet to keep it tight, he started walking. The rain was a deluge. The only light came from brief lightning flashes that illuminated his surroundings.

  He’d lost all sense of time, but it felt as if he’d been walking for hours, and he knew as well as he knew his own name that he was about to lose consciousness. Afraid he’d drown if he passed out facedown, he crawled back onto the bank and sat down.

  He thought about praying, but he and God hadn’t been on good terms for a very long time. When he checked his leg again and realized he could no longer feel his toes, he reluctantly faced his destiny.

  “I’m dying,” he said, and passed out.

  * * *

  The storm ended. Day dawned, and Albert Rankin was up early doing chores alone because his daddy, Big Tom, was suffering a bad case of gout and was off his feet, unable to help.

  Tom hadn’t slept a wink all night and knew he couldn’t take another day and night of this pain. As soon as Albert got done with chores, he was driving Tom into Blessings. They were both still dealing with the loss of Tom’s older son, Junior, who died in the flood caused by the hurricane, and had acquired a hunting dog to add some life back in the house. They’d named him Red, and while Big Tom enjoyed the dog’s company, Red was Albert’s shadow, both in the house and out.

  But today, as soon as Albert stepped into the barn, Red took off out the far end of the breezeway like someone had just set him on a trail.

  “Red! Red! Come back here, dammit!” Albert yelled, but Red didn’t stop and quickly disappeared below the hill. “Well, hell,” Albert muttered, and took off after him at a jog.

  He’d just topped the hill and was starting down the slope when he saw Red. It took a few moments to realize his dog was standing over a body. The fact that this was where his brother, Junior, had fallen into the floodwaters gave Albert the creeps. He took off running, hoping he didn’t know who it was, and when he got there, dropped to his knees beside the body to check for a pulse. Almost immediately, he recognized the face and the scratches on his cheek.

  “Aw, man! It’s Hoover Slade.”

  Albert didn’t expect to feel life beneath his fingertips, but once he did, his focus shifted to speed. He grabbed his phone and called 911.

  Back at the Blessings Police Department, Avery had just come on duty when a call came in. “Blessings 911. What is your emergency?”

  “Avery! This is Albert Rankin. My dog just found Hoover Slade. He’s unconscious and with a pretty nasty-looking wound on his leg. Just have the ambulance come straight down below the barn. They can’t miss us.”

  “Stay with him,” Avery said. “I’m dispatching help.”

  “Yes, yes, I will,” Albert said, and as soon as Avery disconnected, Albert called his daddy’s cell phone.

  Big Tom reached for his phone, and then frowned when he saw it was his own son.

  “It’s me. What’s wrong?” Tom said.

  “Daddy, Red just found Hoover Slade on the creek bank below the barn. I’ve called 911 already. Didn’t want you to freak out when you hear them coming.”

  “Slade? Are you serious? Last night they said on the news he was up in the hills somewhere. Is he dead?”

  “No, he still has a pulse, but he has a really bad leg wound. He’s probably lost a lot of blood.”

  “It’ll take me a bit, but I’ll head that way,” Big Tom said.

  “Don’t hurt yourself, Daddy. Just stay there. There’s nothing either one of us can do.”

  “No, I hurt whether I’m sitting or walking. I’ll be right there,” and he disconnected.

  About five minutes later, Albert heard their old lawn mower start up. He grinned. Daddy just got himself a ride. He watched Tom come over the rise and then down toward the creek.

  They were both there waiting when they heard sirens in the distance. Albert ran up the hill, and when the first police cars and an ambulance drove into view, he waved to indicate where they were, then ran back down.

  It didn’t take long before they had Slade stabilized enough to transport, and then they were gone.

  Albert cleaned up and then took his daddy to the doctor, and Red got a chew bone and a pat on the head for his find.

  * * *

  Back at the station, chaos reigned. Once the chief was notified of the call, he contacted Detective Inman.

  Inman was on his way back down through the heavily wooded hills with his men when his phone rang.

  “This is Inman.”

  “Detective, this is Chief Pittman. We just got a 911 call that some locals found Hoover Slade on the creek bank below their house.”

  Inman held up his fist, and all the men behind him stopped.

  “Is he dead?”

  “No, sir, but he’s unconscious and has a serious injury to his leg. The ambulance is transporting him from here to the hospital.”

  “Boy, did we catch a break,” Inman said. “We lost his trail when the storm hit. We’ll meet up in the ER, okay?”

  “Yes, sir. We’ll provide a police presence until you arrive.”

  “Thanks for the call,” Inman said, then dropped the phone in his pocket. “We just got lucky. Some farmer found Hoover on a creek bank. He’s unconscious and injured, and as soon as we get back to Blessings, we’ve got our man.”

  A small cheer went up as they increased their pace.

  The sheriff’s office was officially relieved of further duty, and when they reached their vehicles, they left to return to their regular duties.

  Inman and his men left for Blessings.

  * * *

  Dr. Quick was on duty when the ambulance arrived, but he’d been given a heads-up as to who they were bringing in. Two officers from the Blessings PD were already on hand to stand guard outside Slade’s treatment room.

  The EMTs unloaded the gurney and wheeled Slade inside, updating the doctor on his condition when found, the fact that he’d had a tourniquet on the upper portion of his leg above the wound, and what his stats were upon arrival.

  Dr. Quick grimaced when he saw the piece of wood in Hoover’s leg and the mark left by the tourniquet they’d removed. A nurse began cutting away the convict’s clothes, and the team went to work.

  A short while later, Detective Inman and his men showed up at the hospital. They thanked the Blessings officers for their help and sent them on their way. Then Inman put two of his men on guard and went into the room without an invitation.

  Dr. Quick looked up and frowned. “Who are you?”

  Inman flashed his badge. “Detective Inma
n, Georgia State Police. This man is our prisoner. Can you tell me his prognosis?”

  “Not yet. Just wait outside, and if we need you, we’ll call you in.”

  Inman eyed the man on the exam table. He didn’t look good, the detective thought as he went back into the hall.

  But as Dr. Quick continued his examination, it became apparent that Hoover had a bigger problem.

  “Somebody get Detective Inman in here, please,” Dr. Quick said.

  A nurse turned and darted out of the room. Moments later, she was back with Detective Inman.

  “What’s wrong?” Inman asked.

  “We have a problem. We can remove the wood from his leg, but the leg is no longer viable below the wound. The tourniquet was left on too long. It cut off the blood supply.”

  Inman glanced over at Slade’s body. “Has he regained consciousness yet?”

  “No, sir,” Dr. Quick said.

  “What are his chances of getting through surgery?”

  “It’s hard to say. Maybe fifty-fifty. Maybe a little more.”

  “Can he be transported to a bigger hospital in Savannah?” Inman asked.

  “Delay would lessen his chances, and we have a good surgeon on staff.”

  “Then do what you need to do to try to save him,” Inman said.

  And with that, they wheeled Hoover into surgery.

  Chapter 15

  Sully took Melissa into the big shower in the room across the hall, started the water running to get it hot, then stripped both of them. She sat on the lid of the toilet without moving, almost in a daze. The emotional exhaustion of what she’d gone through was overwhelming. All she wanted was to get clean and lie down.

  Sully reached for her. “Okay, baby, the water is just right. All you have to do is stand there. I’ll wash the mud out of your hair, and then we’ll deal with what’s left on you. Can you handle that?”

  “Yes,” she said, and let him lead her into the shower.

  The warm water felt like heaven as it sluiced down her sore, achy body, but the relief also triggered more tears.

  “I’m sick of being hurt,” she said. “I can’t believe this has happened again.”

  “Neither can I, sweetheart, but it did. Right now, we’re going to get you clean. First job is to get some shampoo in your hair.”

  And so she stood with her eyes shut as Sully washed her from head to toe and then quickly soaped himself before getting them out.

  He wrapped one towel around her hair and then dried her back and legs.

  “Want to dry the rest of yourself?” he asked.

  Melissa managed a wry smile. “You’re doing such a good job, you might as well finish,” she said, and so he did, then wrapped a towel around his waist and walked her back across the hall.

  “You didn’t dry yourself,” she said.

  “Oh, I drip dry,” he said. “Do you want your nightgown?”

  “No. Just sweats. My hair’s too wet to lie on the pillows, so I’ll stretch out on top of the bed for now.”

  He got out the clothes she wanted, and then dressed himself and went to get her hair dryer.

  “You don’t have to do that,” she said.

  “It won’t take but a few minutes,” he said, then plugged it in and dried her hair enough so she could lie down.

  He went to put up the dryer, and when he came back, she was already on the bed, curled up on her side. He got a blanket from the foot of the bed and covered her, then lay down beside her. When he finally heard her breathing soften and slow down, he knew she’d fallen asleep.

  Satisfied she was resting comfortably, Sully got up, leaving the door open so he’d hear her if she called out, and went downstairs to make some coffee. The doorbell rang while he was still in the kitchen, and he went to answer it.

  It was Elliot, holding a small jar of jelly.

  “Elliot. Come in,” Sully said. “Come look at where we’ve hung your painting.”

  “Well, just for a minute,” he said, and then beamed when he saw it. “It looks fine there, but that’s not why I came. This is a jar of quince jelly. I have a tree in the backyard. The fruit is terrible eaten raw, but it makes the most delightful jams and marmalades. This is marmalade and is quite good with meats. Give Melissa my best. She will recover just fine.”

  “Thank you,” Sully said. “I will do that, and thank you for the marmalade as well.”

  Elliot nodded, let himself out, and was gone.

  Sully smiled and held the jar up to the light, marveling at the rich red color and the fact that the old man was a jelly maker, too.

  He took it into the kitchen and set it on the table where Melissa would be sure to see it, then took his coffee to the living room and sat within the silence of the house, thinking of the woman he loved upstairs and looking at the painting of Janie. A stranger, and yet she was the reason he was here.

  * * *

  Melissa woke up with a headache and went into the bathroom to find some over-the-counter pain pills. She took two, then finger combed her clean hair and went to look for Sully.

  As she neared the kitchen, she could hear the washing machine on spin cycle. Sully was doing laundry, and something was cooking. The normalcy of it all was the best thing for her. At this moment, she would not have been able to ask for one more thing. She was home, and she was alive.

  She walked in, saw him stirring something in a pot on the stove, then wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against his back. She felt the rumble of his laughter against her ear as he patted her hands and turned around.

  “Hey, baby, did you sleep good?”

  She nodded. “I missed you.”

  He brushed a kiss across her lips. “I didn’t go far,” he said, and then kissed the top of her head and tucked her under his arm as he went back to stirring.

  “Whatever that is, it smells heavenly,” she said.

  “It’s meat sauce for spaghetti, and all it needs to do now is cook down a bit.” He turned the fire down to simmer. “I have coffee, but there are also the cold drinks. Would you like something?”

  “Yes, something cold. I put Cokes in the fridge the other day.”

  “Then Coke it is. On ice?”

  She nodded.

  “I’ll get it for you, honey. Sit down. Oh…one of the Blessings officers drove your car back. We’ll have to take it to be checked out, but it’s here.”

  She eased down onto one of the chairs and leaned back. The sight of him standing in her kitchen stirring pasta sauce was unforgettable. He put the lid back on the pot and fixed her Coke.

  Melissa took a sip of the cold, fizzy drink, watching as he brought his coffee and a couple of cookies with him. He handed one to her and joined her.

  She sat quietly, eating the cookie and sipping Coke, but still thinking about today.

  “Sully?”

  “What, baby?”

  “A whole lot of your work life has been life-or-death situations, hasn’t it?”

  He nodded, wondering what was on her mind.

  “And there must have been times when your life was on the line,” she added.

  “Yes, there were days like that.”

  Melissa leaned forward. “So how did you cope? I mean…how did you rationalize waking up on a normal day, having a life-altering event and living through it, and then coming home to being normal again?”

  “First thing to consider is that risk was often my normal. I accepted it when I became a firefighter. And the other thing was simple gratitude for living to fight another day.”

  She let that soak in for a minute, then finally admitted what was bothering her.

  “I’m struggling with that concept right now. Two really awful things have happened to me in less than a month. I wasn’t responsible for either one of them, but they happened anyway…regardless of
how normal my life was just before it happened.”

  Sully pushed his chair back from the table. “Come sit,” he said and patted his leg.

  Melissa got up and plopped back down on his lap. When he put his arms around her, she leaned against him and sighed.

  “Here’s the deal, honey. I learned a long time ago not to question what happens because most of the time it’s out of our control. What I had to come to terms with was how to get through it. What lesson was I supposed to take away from coming out on the other side? I think you’re looking at your life right now, trying to make sense of it from the viewpoint of the incidents. You’re missing the fact that you continue to get up afterward. You heal with faith. You persevere with the strength of a warrior, my love. When I looked over the edge of that road today and saw you clinging to that slope and how far down it was…and how far up you had to climb…I couldn’t believe you’d done it. And yet there you were.”

  “I never thought of it like that,” Melissa said.

  “That’s because you were busy saving yourself,” Sully said. “I didn’t save your life today. I just found you. You saved yourself. The end.”

  Melissa grinned. “The end, huh?”

  “Yes. No more worrying about what’s over. Just concentrate on healing your poor little body again.”

  “I’ll get right on that,” she said. Sully laughed.

  * * *

  Hoover woke, confused and in pain.

  The recovery nurse put a hand on his shoulder. “Mr. Slade, you’re okay. You had surgery, and you’re in recovery.”

  He groaned. “Hurt.”

  “We’re going to move you to your room.”

  He drifted back off to sleep, and when he did, the nurse began talking to him, trying to wake him up.

  “Hoover, Hoover! Wake up. You need to wake up now.”

  He opened his eyes again. It was the same nurse, still pestering him.

  “That’s good. Okay, an orderly is here. He’s going to be taking you to your room now.”

  “Hurt,” Hoover mumbled.

  “Once they get you situated in your room, they’ll give you something for the pain.”