Sticky Notes - A clean romance (Ethel King Series Book 1)
Page 27
“Use my beach towel,” Katherine offered. “Yours is too pretty.”
“We have to lift it out of the water, Katherine, and check for glass. I may have to find an artery, darling, and I’ve never been good with blood. Sorry.”
“It’s okay. You’re not alone.” Despite her attempt at empathy, the once-tranquil setting appeared fuzzy.
“I am not alone. I am not alone,” Cindy repeated as she helped Katherine lift her leg out of the water. Cindy checked for glass before wrapping Grandma’s faded blue beach towel tightly around her foot. “We need to keep it elevated, above your heart.”
A horrible, numbing pain shot up her leg. “Owhh! Ooohh.” Katherine gritted her teeth.
“I’m not going to tell you how it looked.” While she cradled Katherine’s foot on her lap, Cindy picked up her phone. “I’m back.”—Cindy turned to look at her. “Her lips are blue.”
The creek and Cindy swam before her eyes.
“Are you cold, Katherine?”
“Yeah-huh.”
“It’s ninety-five degrees out, and she’s cold,” Cindy informed the operator. “That’s good.” Cindy smiled. “There’s an ambulance just out of Palouse. They’re on their way right now. Thank you, Operator. You have a lovely phone voice.” Cindy patted Katherine’s leg. “Okay, I’ll put the phone down again and do that right now. Katherine, I need to check again for glass and put direct pressure on your foot. Maybe find an artery. Katherine . . . Katherine?”
Chapter Forty-Two
Behind fluttering lids, Katherine heard Benton and Evans’s familiar voices. She tried to open her eyes, but everything remained a hazy gray.
“Time to get your adverbs ready, Benton.”
“Adverbs?”
“Yes, adverbs describe verbs and have an L-Y ending.” Evans cleared his throat. “Such as, Katherine, you were beautifully and wonderfully made.”
“She knows that’s not my style,” Quinn said.
“Isn’t it fearfully and wonderfully made?” Cindy asked.
“Yes, I believe so.”
There was silence and a simple gray haze.
Katherine woke to deep pain in her elevated right foot, and an IV drip. A curtain separated half the room. Peach-and-blue striped curtains spanned the wide windows. She was no longer in her bathing suit, but in a hospital bed wearing a faded white gown with minuscule green polka dots.
A middle-aged, heavyset nurse with a clipboard shuffled between the curtain divider and Katherine’s bed. She gripped Katherine’s wrist, taking her pulse. “How ya feeling?”
“A little loopy.” Katherine’s eyelids felt as heavy as silver dollars.
“Your friends are getting a bite to eat.”
“What time is it?”
“Eleven thirty p.m.”
“Is it still July?”
“Yep, July seventeenth.”
Squinting, Katherine read the nurse’s name tag. “Pat . . . thanks, Pat. You wouldn’t happen to be from Princeton?”
“No, Kitty’s from Princeton.” Pat smiled. “You met her a couple of hours ago.”
“I don’t remember.”
Pat wrote something on her clipboard. “On a scale from one to ten, where’s your pain?”
“Four. Four and a quarter. Five.”
Pat smiled. “Dr. Ungerbach will be in shortly.”
Katherine stared at the IV inserted into a vein on the top of her right hand. On a scale of one to ten, it was an annoying six. She heard squeaky sneakers on linoleum. A doctor wearing blue V-neck scrubs stepped past the room divider curtain and cleared his throat. He was a little over six feet tall, a few inches taller than Benton. With his broad face and blond hair, he was definitely of European descent; his forefathers were probably Vikings or Norman conquerors.
“Hello, Katherine, I’m Dr. Ungerbach.” He smiled. “I’m not sure if you remember me.”
Squinting, she shook her head.
“You’re getting some color back in your face. Healthy blood flow.” He marked his chart. “Is your pain still a four and a quarter, possibly a five?”
“The IV’s a six,” she whispered.
He smiled. “Do you know what you stepped on?”
“Something sharp.”
He smiled. “The cut was very deep and wide, severing your dorsal artery. We were able to repair it in surgery.”
“Oh . . . more than stitches?” Her brain felt swimmy.
“Yes, and you’ll be staying with us for a couple of days.”
She frowned.
“I have a midterm Friday. Ask me anything about Lewis and Clark’s expedition.”
He chuckled. “Your friends know you pretty well. Do you have any questions for me?”
“Will I ev . . . er walk again?”
“Yes, Heidi.” He pressed two fingers firmly on her wrist, taking her pulse.
She heard the clicking of high heels and Cindy’s sweet belly laugh as the three professors congregated near the foot of her bed. They quieted, probably so Dr. Hunger . . . could keep count.
Cindy had obviously gone home, changed, and put mousse in her hair. Evans looked happy. Benton was downright serious. Dr. Hunger . . . finally let go of her wrist.
“You all shouldn’t be here. You have exams to . . .” Her eyelids fluttered against her cheeks. She was already wiped out, groggy. “Cindy, can you bring me a blue boo-oklet while the material is till fresh.”
“We’ll see, honey.” She smiled.
“She’s worried about exams,” the doctor said, “and depleted herself. I don’t recommend too much conversation. I’ll give you five minutes, max.”
“It was a pleasure seeing you again, Katherine.” He squeezed her hand this time instead of her wrist.
“You too, Dr. . . . Hunger . . . bottom.”
He hesitated for a moment, smiled, then stepped away.
“It’s Ungerbach,” Cindy whispered as he exited the room.
“Write it down, please.” Katherine closed her eyes.
“I think he set his stopwatch, I’ll go first.” Evans stopped on the right side of her bed and reached across for her left hand, the one that didn’t host an IV.
“Sweet Lady Katherine”—he patted her hand—“this afternoon we thought about losing you and all you mean to us, and it was a day in which we basked in the special person that you are and will always be.”
“Write that down, too. I won’t remember it tomorrow ver-baaa-tum.”
“A lovely ten-letter word.” Evans smiled.
“I’m writing, right now, Katherine,” Cindy said.
Next was grim Quinn. He reached for her hand and patted it. Maybe it helped her blood flow, because, for a moment, she felt a tad better.
“It was a hard day, Katherine.” He clicked his tongue on the top of his mouth and then sighed.
She closed her eyes because it took too much energy to wait for him to say whatever he was going to say while he patted her hand.
“Has anyone told Grandma?”
“Ethel was here for about an hour. I took her home. She called your parents.”
Quinn transferred her hand to Cindy’s. “You two go out in the hall and close the door for a second,” Cindy told the men.
“You have two minutes,” Evans said, exiting.
“Where’s my bathing suit?” Katherine whispered.
“It was cut off in ER.”
“That’s horrrrible!”
“We’ll talk more tomorrow when you’re feeling better. But you scared me, you know; I panicked.”
“You did fine.”
“Your books are still at the creek. Quinn’s going to get them tomorrow after class. He’ll take Ethel, and she’ll drive the truck home.”
It was too much information; her head swam.
“And the doctor, the cute Hungarian, is keeping a tight vigil.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Cindy’s last comment was odd; it floated around on an air mattress in Katherine’s head. She worried that she’d
forget it. She should have had Cindy write it down. Except for the nurses turning the lights on and then off to monitor her IVs, she slept peacefully.
A breakfast tray was delivered. She peered at the applesauce, apple juice, dry wheat toast . . . where was the orange Jell-O? She recalled Cindy’s odd comment: The cute Hungarian doctor is keeping a tight vigil.
Pat went off duty and was replaced by June, a sweet, elderly woman with short gray hair and glasses. She was so sweet; maybe her husband was a pastor.
“Just press the buzzer if you need anything,” June said.
“Where’s the buzzer?”
“It’s the black button right here on the side of your bed.” There were several black buttons on both sides of the bed. June stepped closer and pointed to one specific button.
“Thanks, June. Are you a Christian?”
“Yes, Katherine, are you?”
“Yes. I thought you were. You have an ethereal glow about you.”
June laughed softly.
After she left, Katherine felt weepy and alone. How close had she been to death? She’d never heard the angels sing or felt an out-of-body experience. She remembered little except that for a moment she’d witnessed Cindy’s panic. And if she relaxed long enough, Nurse Kitty Princeton’s pale blue eyes peered at her above a blue hospital mask.
Grandma showed up at ten that morning with a vase from home stuffed with purple gladiolas that were now in bloom along the white picket fence. They were beautiful—the epitome of her grandmother’s beloved summer garden. Grandma patted her hand and kissed her on the forehead.
“When did you find out?” Katherine asked.
“Not until I got home from the potluck, about ten. Quinn left a message on the recorder. I almost didn’t listen to it. I almost went to bed.” Grandma shook her head. “I thought you were asleep upstairs, and I was trying to be quiet. I got right back in the car. I’m so glad that I missed all the excitement and worry.” She smoothed Katherine’s hair away from her face. “Do you have insurance?”
“Yes, thank God! I have great coverage through the university.”
Grandma smiled.
“What did Benton tell you?” Katherine relaxed into the pillow.
“Not much on the recorder, but enough to get me here. Later, he told me that you severed an artery and the bleeding was really bad, and if Cindy hadn’t been at the river, the Lord might have taken you home.”
“Is that how he worded it?”
“Yes.”
It felt good to hear Benton talk about God.
“I told him that you’d wanted me to go with you to the river. I’m glad that Cindy went instead.”
Shortly after Grandma left, squeaky sneakers resonated down the hallway. Katherine glanced at Cindy’s note on the side table. Ungerbach, she reminded herself. Ungerbach.
“Good morning, Katherine.” The cute doctor held up his clipboard as he read her chart. “Is your pain still a four, four and an eighth?”
“Yes.” She wished she could put a decorative curtain around her catheter bag.
“I’ll have the nurses up your pain medication. I don’t want you above a three, three and a quarter. Are you still feeling anxious?”
“About . . . ?”
“Your midterm exam.”
“No.” Maybe Cindy could bring her a blue booklet. “Can you write me a note? Maybe they’ll give me extra time. I have a solid excuse.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “You need to rest. You lost a lot of blood yesterday and were in surgery for over an hour and a half. I don’t know how much you remember?”
“I don’t remember surgery at all.”
He grinned. “Prior to surgery, you were on morphine. I recall that you said you were feeling no pain, and that you were melting.”
She recollected nothing. When she looked right in Dr. Ungerbach’s face, he was more attractive than she remembered. “Maybe I’m repressing.”
“Morphine gives you a very warm, relaxed feeling. It was a good description.”
“How will I get to classes?” She looked at her elevated foot.
“It’s probably best that you take a couple of weeks off and don’t get around too much. Couch to bathroom, that’s about it.”
“You’re making me feel anxious, Doc.”
He smiled. “In about a week, you might manage on crutches with absolutely no weight on your right foot.”
“Is Ungerbach German, Hungarian . . . ?” She held up her wrist.
“German.” Glancing at his wristwatch, he took her pulse.
It wasn’t the first time Cindy had been wrong.
Ж
Cindy showed up after their Lewis and Clark class with a sack lunch from Taco Time. She sat down in the chair on the right side of the bed and unwrapped a soft taco. “How are you feeling?”
“The pain’s a three instead of a four. They upped my meds. Did you bring me a blue booklet?”
“Yes.” Cindy set it on the side table. “Only because I knew you’d insist. It’ll give you something to do, but it can’t count. Journal in it, if nothing else.”
Katherine leaned back in the pillows. “What happened at the river? I don’t remember much.”
“Neither do I; it was awful. I was so relieved when the ambulance arrived.” Cindy glanced toward the door. “Quinn’s meeting a student at one thirty and then coming shortly thereafter. I thought I’d get a few questions out of the way first.” Cindy set her soft taco aside and stood up, watching the door. “What do you remember about last night?”
“At the river or when I was on morphine?”
“Morphine.”
“Nothing.” Katherine looked at the ceiling. “I’m afraid to ask.”
“You were funny. You lost some inhibitions, my dear.”
“Like what?”
Cindy giggled and glanced toward the door again. Fearing the worst, Katherine closed her eyes. “Let me see . . . after ER they rolled you down the hallway. The bleeding was under control, and you were chatty. You told the young Hungarian that someone had kissed you once and then fell into your grandmother’s rhododendron bush.”
“I didn’t.” Katherine’s eyes flashed open.
“Was that Quinn?”
“Please tell me I didn’t.”
“You did. I believe that was your first comment to the young Hungarian. Dr. . . .” Cindy leaned forward, looking at her note. “Ungerbach. He said that you didn’t need to explain further. I thought it honorable of him. Next you said, ‘Nothing ever happened again.’”
“It sounds like you were taking notes.”
“Auditory learning has always been my strength.”
Katherine nodded. It made sense. “Was Benton present?”
“I don’t think . . . hmm.” Pursing her lips together, Cindy tried to remember.
“Thank God!” Closing her eyes, Katherine relaxed deeper into the pillow.
“Then you asked the doctor if he was from Princeton. He said no that he’d attended the University of Washington. Some of the nurses said that you were asking them if they were from Princeton.”
“Does Benton know?” Maybe she should keep her eyes closed forever.
Cindy smiled and patted her hand. “He may have overheard a little. You were on a stretcher when he first saw you. Don’t you remember?”
“I’m in a state of deep, dark repression.”
“That’s when you called him Dr. Zhivago.”
“Oh no. I didn’t! Please tell me you’re only kidding.”
“No, honey, I’m not.”
“Ohhhh!” Maybe he wasn’t shocked. Maybe Benton had heard it a hundred times.
“And, I’m not done yet.”
Katherine inhaled deeply and tried to be brave.
“You told Quinn that whenever your grandmother’s not home, you always watch the same movie. He asked what movie, but you didn’t answer him.” Cindy patted her hand. “You can’t tell a man something like that and not expect his mind to wander.”
“What movie do you watch, Katherine?”
“Who knows, I was on drugs.”
“If you don’t straighten this out, the men are going to think the worst.”
“It’s not a bad movie. There’s no nudity. It was just one of my favorites. That’s all. Tell them that. And remind them that I was on drugs, and I still am.” Katherine sniffled. “And that they have to be nice to me.”
“Yes.” Cindy giggled. “Dr. Ungerbach called it morphine-induced alter ego. If anyone is going to bring Quinn to his senses, it’s going to be the young Hungarian.”
Katherine peeked out from behind her forearm at Cindy.
“It’s not just me talking. Evans senses it, too.”
“Senses what?”
“The young doctor is smitten.”
Chapter Forty-Four
The phone rang. Katherine reached over the side bar of the bed and picked it up with her left hand.
“Hello.”
“Katherine, it’s Dad. How are you feeling, honey?”
“Better. It’s all still a blur, but better.”
“That’s good. We were hoping to come this Friday after I get off work, but I wasn’t thinking. The reunion is this Saturday. Greg and Shirley are going to be in town, and they were planning to stay with us.”
“I’m fine, Dad. I have Grandma and a great group of friends taking care of me.”
“That’s what Mom said too. We love you and are keeping you in prayer.”
After their phone conversation, she picked up the essay booklet. The trick was to tie her class notes in with the textbook and prove she had a thorough understanding of each. Her brain felt extremely heavy as she leaned back into the pillow.
At 4:00 p.m., Brad, the young German doctor, checked in on her. “American Scripture. Sounds interesting.” He noted the book that someone, probably Grandma, had left for her on the side table.