Any Dream Will Do

by Debbie Macomber

  “Okay, okay,” I cried. “What do you want from me?”

  “Where’s Caden?” Shooter demanded.

  “I don’t know,” I said, growing frantic. “I swear.”

  “Don’t feed me a crock of sh—”

  “I don’t know,” I shouted again, enunciating each word. “I haven’t seen my brother in years.”

  “I don’t believe you. That sniveling piece of crap clung to you like you were his mommy. You know where he is, so tell me, otherwise…” He left the threat hanging there.

  “I swear, I don’t know.”

  Shooter released a short, sick laugh. “You always did have a soft spot for your baby brother. You think I don’t know that you’re protecting him?”

  “I’m not, I swear it.”

  As best I could, I edged away from Shooter, taking tiny steps in retreat. I prayed that Sadie and Frankie would wonder what was taking me so long and come to investigate. This side of the café was dark and without windows. My chances of escaping were nil. Leaving Richard wasn’t an option.

  Shooter released Richard, who staggered and fell against the side of the building. With his arm free, Shooter’s fist shot out and hit the side of my face with a punch that sent me flying backward. “This is the only thing you’re good for. Weak. Spineless. White trash.”

  I went down like a brick, seeing stars. As soon as I hit the sidewalk, Shooter kicked me in the ribs. Turning away, I tried to get up on my knees, but his fists kept me down. Grabbing me by the hair, he slammed my forehead against the sidewalk.

  Richard screamed. Maybe it was me.

  Shooter was going to kill me. Having already received a life sentence, he had nothing to lose.

  “Give him up, woman.” The side of my head crashed against the concrete.

  “Step away from her now or you’ll regret it.”

  I heard someone speak, but the voice seemed to come from a long distance away. I was having trouble staying conscious. It sounded like Frankie, but it couldn’t have been him. He was inside the café in the kitchen, preparing for the breakfast crowd.

  A siren sounded in the distance. I blinked and saw that Frankie held a baseball bat in his hand. Chuck stood next to him with what looked like a mop. I wanted to laugh that he thought he could defend me against Shooter with that. I loved him for trying, though.

  I started to sit up when Shooter swore and kicked me in my ribs again with his heavy boot. Pain blasted through my side. I gasped and my knees shot up and I cradled my stomach to protect myself. It was then that I felt the darkness chasing after me. I fought it, but it was no use.

  —

  I don’t know how long I was out. Probably only a minute or two. When I regained consciousness, Richard was kneeling on the sidewalk next to me with tears in his eyes.

  Sadie was on the other side of me, holding my hand.

  “Hold on, Shay,” she whispered. “An aid car is on the way.”

  I blinked up at my friends, wondering at the worry I saw in their eyes. “I’m…” I tried to tell everyone that I was okay and found that I couldn’t.

  “Sorry, Shay…so sorry,” Frankie said. “I didn’t know. I would have come sooner…”

  I offered him a weak smile, letting him know I understood.

  Everything hurt. My head throbbed like someone had slammed a hammer into my skull. Blood flowed from my head wound into my eyes. I read the fear and concern on their faces and knew I was in much worse shape than I realized. Breathing was difficult and everything blurred as I struggled to remain conscious.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind I figured I must have a concussion. Shooter had hit my head hard. Kicked me, too.

  Years ago I’d heard it was important to remain conscious after a head injury. Who’d told me that? A teacher? No. Had I signed up for a first-aid class? When was that? Couldn’t remember. Couldn’t keep my eyes open, either, despite every attempt. They closed and I couldn’t make them move.

  Voices drifted my way.

  Different voices. Not Sadie or Frankie. Unfamiliar voices. One voice sounded like it was from a policeman. I could tell from the questions he asked. Cops always did ask a lot of questions.

  Then I was being lifted off the sidewalk. A floating sensation came over me. I didn’t remember that I could fly. Who knew? Maybe I was one of the characters in the book Peter Pan. What was that girl’s name? Couldn’t remember that, either. I should read more. Wendy, that was it. Wendy. Nice name.

  More voices, strange ones. Their words were slurred and grew loud and then soft. Had they been drinking on the job? Someone needed to report them. I tried to lift my hand, but it wouldn’t move. Straining I tried again, but to no avail.

  “Shay, we’re taking you to the hospital now,” the man with the slurred voice told me.

  If I couldn’t move my hand, I should be able to open my eyes. Hospitals were expensive and I really couldn’t afford this.

  Shooter should pay. That was it. I’d make him pay.

  No. I never, ever wanted to see him again. Him or Caden. My brother. If Shooter found my brother, he’d be killed for sure. I didn’t want Caden dead.

  Fear and adrenaline shot through me as I remembered the way Shooter had looked at me. He’d wanted Caden.

  All at once Shooter was there again. Evil radiated from him.

  I tried to scream but nothing came out. He looked straight through me and reached out and grabbed hold of my throat with both hands, strangling me.

  Panic attacked every nerve as I struggled to escape. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move, and no one was helping me. Why weren’t the men who were drinking trying to stop Shooter before he killed me?

  “She’s convulsing.”

  Someone, not Shooter, was talking.

  I wasn’t convulsing. I was doing everything within my power to escape Shooter. They should get him off me. Couldn’t they see what he was doing?

  Why had they let him near me again? Couldn’t they see the damage he’d already done to me?

  A piercing sound hurt my ears. A fire siren? I welcomed it because it sent Shooter away and I could relax. Relief washed over me.

  My head hurt like no pain I’d ever experienced before. The pain so intense it blinded me.

  I tried to open my eyes. I really tried, and couldn’t.

  It was impossible to stay awake any longer, and while I wanted to do what I’d learned in first aid, I couldn’t. Although I fought it, I surrendered to the darkness.

  My sermon notes were coming along nicely when someone knocked on my office door.

  “Yes.”

  Generally, if someone came into the office, Mary Lou would let me know via the intercom.

  My assistant opened the door and let herself in, closing it behind her. Something was definitely up.

  Before I could ask, she spoke. “Two men are in the lobby demanding to talk to you. They claim they know you.”

  “Is there a problem?”

  Mary Lou looked uncomfortable. “They look like homeless people.”

  That she would hesitate surprised me. “I’m sure it’s fine. Let them in.”

  Still, she paused, as if questioning my judgment. “You sure? I can ask them to leave. They look agitated and upset. When they arrived I considered calling the police. I still can if…you think it would be best?”

  Mary Lou tended to be a lion at the gate, as far as I was concerned. When I could I’d explain that the night I’d gone out on the Search & Rescue, I’d met any number of the homeless. I’d told them who I was and where they could find me if the need arose. Perhaps I should have mentioned this to my assistant, who continued to look uncomfortable and unsure.

  “I’ll take care of it,” I said, getting up from my desk.

  Once I entered the foyer, I saw my visitors were Richard and Chuck, Shay’s two friends. I was about to welcome them when they jumped to their feet and rushed toward me, both speaking at once until I stopped them.

  I held up my hand, silencing them. “One at a time.
”

  “We did what we could, but she’s hurt,” Richard blurted out. The side of his face was swollen and had started to turn black and blue.

  “She’s hurt bad, Pastor. Real bad,” Chuck added.

  “Shay’s hurt?” They could only mean her.

  Richard nodded and his eyes clouded with tears. “I tried to stop him, but he was a big guy and he threw me down like I weighed nothing.”

  “I ran and got help,” Chuck inserted. “Richard wouldn’t leave her. No siree, not Richard. He stood up to that brute. He was a hero, a real hero.” The other man looked at his friend with pride shining in his eyes.

  “What’s happened to Shay?” I demanded. They could tell me about their own efforts later. What I needed was to find out about Shay.

  “The aid car came and took her to the hospital.”

  “Which one?”

  The two old coots shrugged. They didn’t have a clue.

  “Who hurt her?” I demanded.

  “Don’t know his name,” Chuck said.

  “She called him Shooter,” Richard supplied. “He knew her from a long time ago…he wanted her to tell him where to find Caden, her brother. She tried to tell him she didn’t know, but he didn’t believe her and then he kept hitting her. Nothing I did would stop him.”

  My stomach pitched like I was on a sailboat in the middle of an Atlantic storm. Quickly returning to my office, I reached for my coat and told Mary Lou I’d give her a call as soon as I had information. I knew she must have overheard our conversation.

  “I may need you to cancel my afternoon appointment schedule.”

  “But—”

  I didn’t stick around to listen. Richard and Chuck got in the car with me, both talking at the same time, adding more details. Chuck had come after Shooter with a mop, but Frankie had a bat, I learned.

  Getting to Shay was what was most important, and making sure she was going to be all right. The best place to get further information was The Corner Café. If Sadie and Frankie had been at the scene they would be able to tell me which hospital Shay had been taken to by the aid car. Thankfully, it was the lull between breakfast and lunch at the café.

  As soon as I walked into the café, Sadie looked up as if she’d been expecting me. Although the incident had happened hours earlier, the server remained pale and drawn. As soon as she saw me, she covered her mouth as if she was about to break into tears.

  “Which hospital?” I asked without preamble two feet inside the door. I didn’t have time for small talk. Sadie could tell me the role she’d played and what she knew later. Right now, I felt a burning need to get to Shay.

  “Swedish,” Sadie called out.

  “Thanks.” With a quick reversal I started back out of the restaurant, nearly running directly into Richard and Chuck.

  The two men looked stunned, as if they weren’t sure what to do next.

  “You coming?” I called over my shoulder.

  “Yes.” Richard agreed automatically.

  “You think it’ll be okay?” Chuck showed hesitation.

  “Your decision.” I wasn’t inclined to talk him into accompanying me if that wasn’t what he wanted.

  Both Richard and Chuck followed behind me, scrambling to keep up as I rushed back to where I’d parked the car. I noticed how uneasy Chuck was in the car, shifting his weight every few seconds.

  Luckily, I knew a good spot to park at Swedish and pulled right in. Before I lost Katie I’d volunteered as a chaplain and was familiar with the area and the staff.

  Richard and Chuck trotted along behind me as I headed toward the ER entrance, knowing that was where the paramedics would likely have delivered her. The two men remained in the waiting room while I walked past the receptionist. No one questioned my being there, as I was known and respected.

  It didn’t take long for me to find Shay in one of the cubicles. Seeing how badly beaten she was, I instantly felt light-headed and dizzy. I thrust out my arm to grab hold of the wall in order to steady myself.

  “Drew?”

  Looking up, I saw Dr. John Carson.

  “Someone you know?” he asked, looking toward Shay.

  I nodded. “Yes. She’s a friend. A good friend.” If I ever doubted my feelings for Shay, seeing her battered face and the blood matted in her hair was all the answer I needed. For a moment I thought I would be sick.

  That someone would beat her, would dare to hurt her, filled me with a rage so strong it demanded every iota of resolve I possessed not to slam my fist through the wall. I wanted to hunt down this animal and give him as good a beating as he gave Shay, if not worse. By nature, I’m not a violent man, but in this instant I could easily have lost it.

  “Drew? You okay?”

  Inhaling a stabilizing, even breath through my lungs, I forced myself to remain calm and levelheaded.

  “How badly hurt is she?” I asked Dr. Carson.

  “I’m waiting for the test results now.”

  “She’s unconscious?” Shay hadn’t stirred since I entered the room. True, I hadn’t talked to her directly yet. But if she was awake, she would have heard my voice and recognized that I was with her.

  “Your friend is in a coma, Pastor. Although I’m waiting for the test results, I’m fairly certain she’s suffered a fractured skull.”

  A fractured skull was serious business. I swallowed against the shock and the fear. “Surgery?”

  “Don’t know yet, but it’s possible.”

  The physician patted me on the shoulder. Carson was a good doctor and a good man. He knew about my wife, and while he specialized in emergency medicine, he’d sat with me toward the end with Katie.

  “We can’t let you stay back here,” he told me gently.

  “I know.” I’d half expected to be kicked out before now. “Can I talk to her for just a moment?”

  He hesitated. “Not more than a minute.”

  Stepping toward the gurney, I lifted Shay’s limp hand and raised it to my lips, kissing the inside of her palm. “I’m right here, sweetheart. You’re going to be okay, you hear?” Overwhelmed with emotion, my voice cracked. I hated leaving her, but there was no other option.

  Dr. Carson led me out of the room. “I’ll let you know what I can as soon as the test results are in.”

  “Thanks.” I backed out of the room, every step filled with reluctance.

  Once I returned to the waiting area, I found Richard and Chuck. Richard sat by himself in a corner off to the side. Chuck hung out by the door like he wanted to be sure he could leave quickly. As I approached, they looked up, their eyes full of questions and concern.

  “How’s our girl?” Richard asked, walking toward me. Chuck joined him but kept his eyes trained on the sliding glass door.

  “Not so good.” Slumping down in the chair, I hung my head. Part of me wanted to chastise them for not preparing me better. In my confusion, I’d thought Shay might need a few stitches and gotten a bruise here and there. This was far worse.

  Reaching for my cell, I called the office. Mary Lou answered right away.

  “Cancel my appointments for the rest of the afternoon,” I told her. For that matter, I’d need to take it one day at a time for the rest of the week. It all depended on what future treatment Shay would need.

  Another hour passed, though I swore it felt like five or six hours. I paced up and down the hallway, impatient, afraid, praying and pleading with God to let her be okay.

  Finding the coffee machine, I bought myself a cup and then one for Richard and Chuck. They tried to tell me what had happened, but I couldn’t listen, couldn’t bear to hear the details. The evidence of the violence against Shay was savagely written across her face.

  When Dr. Carson appeared I rushed toward him and nearly toppled over an elderly man in a walker. After I apologized profusely, I found my way to the physician.

  Recognizing his look as serious and troubled, I feared the worst.

  “As I suspected, Shay has a fractured skull. The pressure is build
ing in her brain. After consulting with another physician, it’s been decided she’s going to require surgery.”

  My throat immediately swelled shut and I couldn’t speak. I feared if I tried to talk my voice would come out as a squeak, so I remained silent.

  Dr. Carson continued. “Your friend is being prepped for surgery now.”

  Richard and Chuck came to stand on either side of me, looking to me to explain the details. “She’s going into surgery,” I said, as soon as the fear loosened my throat enough for me to be coherent.

  The surgery unit was up several floors. Knowing there was nothing more they could do but wait, Richard and Chuck decided to leave the hospital. Being here clearly made them uncomfortable, Chuck especially. I promised to let them know how everything came out.

  “Shay’s strong,” Richard assured me. “She stood up to that bully. I…I wish I could have done more.” I knew Richard had done everything within his power to protect her. I told him so and the old man’s eyes flooded with tears.

  “If I had a daughter, I’d want her to be like Shay,” he whispered, rubbing at his eyes and sniffling. He ran his coat sleeve beneath his runny nose.

  The surgical waiting area was large and a hospital volunteer manned the desk, ready to answer questions and check with staff if necessary. The room was full when I first arrived.

  After a couple hours, I stepped into the hall and reached for my phone. When I’d served as the chaplain, cellphones hadn’t been allowed. The restriction had apparently been lifted. I’d seen others using their cells and no one had questioned it.

  Linda Kincaid answered after the second ring. I trusted her and knew the children would be well cared for while I was away for the evening.

  After a quick exchange of greetings, I asked her. “Would you mind watching Mark and Sarah after school?”

  “Of course. When should I expect you?”

  That was hard to answer. “I can’t be sure. I’m waiting for a friend to get out of surgery.”

  Her sympathy was immediate. “I’m sorry. Anyone I know?”

  “It’s Shay. She was attacked this morning.”

  “Shay?” she gasped. “Why would anyone attack her?”