I reached the rustic patio overlooking the ocean and grabbed the arm of the nearest waiter, “Help me please. A girl fell on the cliff over there,” I waved down to the beach south of the patio. “I need a ranger.”
Blue green eyes beneath sun-bleached blonde hair studied my face for the seconds it took to absorb my meaning. Then he turned and strode through glass doors to the interior of the restaurant. I hurried behind him.
He leaned across the rough wood counter, pulled a black phone toward us, and dialed a single digit. “Mare, give me the ranger station.” He handed the receiver to me.
I listened to the ring and looked down at my body, at the dust and blood on my legs beneath once white shorts, smears on my tennis shoes, and felt the sweat and dirt on my face, I noticed curious patrons looking me over.
I didn’t fit in the hipster chic, glass and redwood structure that hung on the cliffside overlooking the ocean. We seldom ventured inside this establishment. Lemonade on the patio was the best I could usually afford. The one time Jamie had treated the whole bunch of us to dinner here, we’d spent the afternoon showering in a cold waterfall and getting ready for a big night out.
I told the rangers what I knew. “Yes, there are three VW bugs parked on the other side of the road, I’m not sure of the distance, maybe a hundred feet from the top of the trail.”
In the process of telling them, I realized I didn’t actually know much. Who had fallen? Was it my friend Carol? Or one of the dates with Jamie or Ron or Tom?
“She fell . . . hurt . . . rocks,” I remembered hearing above the sound of waves breaking.
Blonde-with-amazing-blue-green-eyes unwound his white apron; “I’ll drive you back to the spot so you can show the rangers.” He handed me a paper cup filled with lemonade.
It was the most delicious liquid to ever hit a dry mouth.
He took my arm, guided me down the steps and into a topless jeep. As he backed out of the staff parking, he turned to offer me his hand. “I’m Ted.” His blue green eyes held mine for a few seconds.
“Lexi.” I wiped my hand on my filthy shorts and reached the tips of his fingers, expecting sparks to fly. A previously unexperienced flow of desire traveled down my arm through my body to below my tummy and made me look away in embarrassment.
“Tell me when we get there,” Ted said.
Even his voice elicited a sensual response.
I pulled back long strands of hair that blew across my face, and concentrated on the side of the road, uncertain that I could locate the right spot. “There!” I shouted over the sound of the jeep and the wind. I saw the cars on the left side of the road and figured this had to be the point that jutted out above the beach.
Ted pulled over to the shoulder; I slid off the seat and down to the gravel. Then I peeked over the edge while Ted turned the vehicle around and parked on the opposite side of the road.
He joined me in pacing the top of the cliff. “What happened?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. My friend and I were halfway down the trail––” I saw him look me up and down, most likely noting the evidence that I had been off the trail. “Well, actually, Jeff and I took a shortcut, and we heard shouting from the beach that someone was hurt, from falling down the face, I think.”
“Who’s Jeff? Your boyfriend?”
“No, a friend. A friend I grew up with.”
“Are you staying down there?”
“Some of our friends are. We just came for the day. Uh, the evening.” I thought about the way I had pictured the evening going. We’d sit around the driftwood campfire, drinking beer, smoking a joint or two, and speculate about the secrets of the universe while toasting marshmallows for s’mores. The sky brilliant with stars, the moon reflecting on the ocean, the heavens perhaps revealing knowledge we hadn’t learned in our university classes. Well, not gonna happen that night.
“Where did you come from?”
“We left Berkeley this morning. Jeff and I both have to work tomorrow night, the rest planned to spend the weekend.” I heard sirens on the road north of us, then the slapping of helicopter blades overhead.
A yellow fire truck followed by a smaller yellow vehicle forced us to move out of the way. The first fireman, clad head to toe in yellow, greeted Ted as he jumped from the side of the truck. “Hey, Ted, what’s happening?”
“Down this trail.” Ted pointed to the start of the path down. “Someone’s hurt.”
Another yellow clothed man removed his jacket and pulled a backpack from the smaller vehicle. He nodded at Ted, and followed two firemen down the trail. A radio crackled, answered by a ten-four. My heart leapt at the sight of the men who remained behind, readying a body basket.
“Want to go down?” Ted nodded toward the beach, held out a hand.
“As long as you don’t suggest a shortcut.” I ignored his hand and headed down the trail, carefully placing one foot in front of the other in the sandy dust.
We stuck to the trail and it would’ve been easy, if slow going, had I not been freaked about what we would find at the bottom. Halfway down, we moved aside to allow two of the rescue team and the basket to pass us.
I climbed over rocks to the sand and caught a glimpse of long black hair tucked into the basket. No one but my best girlfriend Carol had hair as dark as shiny coal. I moved closer. Her normally porcelain skin was statuary marble white, her green eyes, closed. A clear mask sat over her mouth and nose and a tube ran to a canister that sat on her chest.
I pushed through the onlookers. “Is she going be alright?” I demanded of the rescuer.
He looked me in the eye, nodded and then continued to lace up the basket in preparation for hauling her up the cliff face.
I hurried to Jeff’s side. “Jeff, what’s the matter with her?”
“She hit her head. And I think she may have broken her arm and wrist trying to catch herself.”
“She’s unconscious?”
Jeff grimaced, nodded.
I climbed over a ribbon of rock, sloshed through a tide pool, and stood next to Jamie. I punched his upper arm. “How could you let this happen?”
“I had nothing to do with this. I was unpacking gear, I didn’t even look until I heard her scream.” Jamie moved to put his arm around my shoulders, but I ducked out of reach.
I felt my eyes pop with anger. “You left her up there?” I hissed.
“I came down with June. Carol and Dave teamed up. They were a few minutes behind us and goin’ slow. June and I both have some mountain climbing experience, so we offered to carry the packs.” Jamie groaned, “I shoulda gone behind them. I was, fuck, just impatient.”
I looked over at Dave. “What happened?”
Dave shrugged, shook his head. “I think she tripped.” He looked at his feet and kicked a little sand. “I don’t know,” he muttered.
Elliott spoke up, “She fell about ten, maybe fifteen feet. She tried to break her fall with her arm, but she landed on her head anyway.” Elliott frowned, hesitated. “She was moaning earlier. Lexi, I think she’s going to be okay.”
Carol was loaded into the basket that had been attached to pulleys at roadside. Firemen guided it up the face of the cliff. My stomach jumped into my throat as the basket dangled from the red ropes and twisted out of their grasp once.
I couldn’t watch.
If Carol had been conscious she would’ve been screaming her head off. She hates heights and would never have agreed to this outing if I hadn’t bullied, bribed and begged with dogged persistence.
Had I killed her?
* * *
A radio on the hip of a fireman packing up equipment crackled. He turned to Jeff, “Where do you want her taken?”
“Closest hospital,” I blurted.
“Well, closest is Community, Eskaton in Monterey is a few miles farther.”
“Community in Pebble Beach?” Jamie asked.
“The closest hospital is what, is that thirty, forty miles away. Are you kidding me?” I tried not to scream.
Jamie shrugged. “Only because of the fame of the architect, and I’ve heard about the all private rooms thing.”
“Then you know it’s kinda . . . well, it’s not cheap.”
Jamie leaned close to the fireman, “I will take full financial responsibility,” he murmured.
“You’ll have to come do the paperwork then,” the fireman announced.
“Right.” Jamie dug car keys out of his short’s pocket and tossed them to his date. “June, darling, will you drive the girls home please?” He nodded at the other two girls, dates of Elliott and Tom. “Jeff, you will bring Lexi with you guys to the hospital?” He grabbed a sweatshirt from his mummy sleeping bag, picked up a small pack of personal items, and followed the fireman up the hill.
CHAPTER
15
Pebble Beach, July 1968
After loading the cars, and making two stops for directions, we finally found the damn hospital. It looked more like a small Kennedy Center than a hospital.
“That’s because it was designed by the same architect, the same year,” Elliott explained. “Edward Durell Stone. Won a bunch of architectural awards.”
“Impressive, I hope that means they’re good,” I said.
We piled out of the two cars, found the emergency room waiting area, and elected Jeff to speak with the medical staff. Thanks to his EMT training as a lifeguard, he would understand their lingo better than the rest of us. He stood next to Jamie at the reception counter. Jamie signed his name with a flourish at the end of a pile of papers.
“They’ll let one family member at a time into the exam room,” Jamie explained when he and Jeff returned to where the rest of us sat clustered on a leather clad window seat.
“That won’t be me as I already made the mistake of admitting I’m not . . . a family member that is,” Jeff said.
With Jeff’s strawberry blonde hair, and tanned, freckled skin, there was not a chance he could pass for Carol’s brother.
We looked from one face to another. Jamie with his year round tan and blonde hair looked nothing like Carol. Nor did blonde Ron. Pudgy Elliott didn’t even faintly resemble my slender, elegant friend. Tom’s hair was light brown, his eyes brown, his body tall and sturdy. Dave had dark hair, was tall and slender––but Carol was not at all fond of him. In fact, she claimed he gave her the creeps. Carol barely knew any of the guys. A couple of them, she was to meet that day. That left me, but she and I were a contrast in opposites.
“What if we just told them the truth? That none of us are related, but I’ve known her all her life. What do ya think?” I asked.
Jeff shook his head.
“Jamie’s paying. Doesn’t that give him any privileges?” Ron asked.
“I think Lexi should just go in there as though she has every right to be there. Ignore any questioning regarding your relationship.” Jamie smiled at me. “I’ll run interference if need be.”
Yeah, I’ll just be like Jamie. Calm and confident; like I own the world. Which, of course, he almost does.
And I don’t. Never mind that, I told myself as I pushed past the receptionist and demanded to know where Carol was. No one answered, so I walked in like I owned the place.
The first white clad nurse I asked glanced at me before hurrying down the hall. I peeked in an open doorway and caught a glimpse of a wall of windows overlooking a spectacular fountain court. The room was empty.
The next room was buzzing with activity. I slipped in behind the medical personnel and watched two men clad in white coats study two x-rays and confer with a nurse. A guy in green scrubs cut away Carol’s sweatshirt while a nurse attached a tube to each arm, and one attached to her nostrils.
I turned my head until I thought they were through cutting and poking, I hate anything sharp.
When I turned back, a second nurse was checking vitals; a man pulled open her eyes and shone a small flashlight into each one.
I remained quiet, trying to make sense out of their conversations.
The two conferring doctors turned to leave the room. I stepped in front of them.
“Is she going to be okay?”
Both men looked at me with surprise. “Time will tell,” one said as they brushed past me.
The nurse who had been part of their conversation had a better bedside manner. She smiled and touched my arm, “The prognosis is good. She has a broken wrist, a compound fracture of her forearm––”
“People don’t die from broken arms,” I blurted.
“No, the problem is she also has a severe concussion.”
A squeak escaped my mouth. “How do you treat that?”
“She’ll be closely monitored.”
I jumped at the sound of Carol’s bed being moved behind us.
“What are they doing? Where are they taking her?”
“We need more x-rays.” The nurse studied my face. “Take a deep breath. Here, sit down in that chair and put your head between your knees.” She led me to an armchair and sat me down. “Most likely your friend will be fine. But when someone has been unconscious for more than thirty minutes, it sometimes indicates severe brain injury.”
“What does that mean? Is she going to die?”
“She may require surgery if there is swelling. Even in the best case, with traumatic brain injury, we’ll keep her under observation for twenty-four hours.” She looked at my dusty clothes and body. “You have time to get cleaned up and eat something before you see her. But you must wait outside that door.” She nodded at the door I had brazenly entered.
Dazed, I wandered back to the waiting room.
“Well?” Jeff asked.
I spotted Dave with his back to us, looking out the wall of windows at the fountain in the courtyard.
“Damnit, Dave, what the hell? What happened?” I blurted.
“I told you, she tripped.” Dave watched the water spout into the air.
“Were you in front of her––to break her fall?” My fists pounded his back. “Turn around! You tell me now. How did you let this happen?”
“Lexi, calm down.” Jeff pulled me off Dave. “What did you find out?”
I repeated what I’d heard the doctors say, “Traumatic brain injury, possibly severe.”
Dave remained looking out the window. Elliott and Tom sank back down on to the leather-clad bench. Ron leaned against the wall; for once he found nothing to joke about. Jeff pretended to hug me, but he was actually restraining me from pulverizing Dave.
Jamie moved to stand next to Dave as though he, too, were watching the fountain. Just loud enough for all of us to hear, Jamie asked, “What did happen?”
“I was in front of her most of the way. But when we got near the bottom, she pushed in front. Like she was excited to get onto the sand, into the water. I saw her trip. There was nothing I could do.”
CHAPTER
16
Berkeley, Alta Bates Hospital, March 2008
Steven looked up from his book when his father entered the room. “Dad, she’s been saying stuff.”
“Like what?”
“Asking for Carol. Asking if she’s going to be alright.”
Jeff rubbed his forehead. Steven could tell his father had one of his headaches. He looked like shit: his eyes red, and his gray face gaunt. Even his freckles were pale. His hair was a washed out tint of its former strawberry blonde.
“Dad, did you eat?”
Jeff shook his head and stared at his pale daughter lying in the hospital bed. With her usual lively animation gone, she was a sleeping beauty. The wisps of blonde hair that had escaped the emergency room razor trailed below a white crown of bandages. How he wished she were back to her usual ass-chewing self, calling him on every imperfection in his behavior.
“Has there been any ransom––” Steven started to ask.
Jeff shook his head again.
“Dad, it’s been more than ten hours since any of us talke
d to Mom. She’s not answering her phone or texts. It’s not like her to ignore us for that long. I feel like I should be out looking for Mom, but I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“The police are on it, and I’ve got an investigator that Tom’s law firm uses looking for her, also.” Jeff said.
“Maybe I could talk to people around Bancroft and Telegraph. I’m sure that’d be where Mom would’ve dropped Al off. But I hate to leave her here alone.”
“I’d rather you stay here with the policeman outside this door. I’d like to know that at least you two are safe. I’ll get an investigator over there,” Jeff said.
CHAPTER
17
Golden Gate Park, Summer of Love, 1967
The fog burned off by mid afternoon. I stripped off layers of sweaters and a jacket, down to my T-shirt and denim sailor pants, and wadded up my clothing to make a pillow. The warmth of the sun was worth the popped out freckles on my arms and nose. The heat awoke the sweet smell of the freshly mown lawn. From the makeshift stage, Janis Joplin’s voice rasped out, “Call on me, darlin', just call on me.”
The glutted streets of San Francisco emptied pedestrians into the park. Noting the growing audience, I stretched a blanket full size to mark our territory until my companions returned from their foray into the Haight in search of maryjane and liquid refreshments. Smoke from weed and incense drowned the sweet smells of the lawn and ocean breezes.
“Ciao, Lexi,” I heard Carol say as she stood over me.
“If you’re going to San Francisco,” Carol’s off key attempt at John Phillip's song preceded something damp and fragrant landing on the face I had turned to the sun, “be sure to wear some flowers in your hair.”
I sat up to adjust the wreath of flowers onto the crown of my head. “Groovy.” I grinned and loosened my braided hair into waves. “Where are the guys?”
“There are a lot of half-naked women dancing in the street over at the corner of Haight and Ashbury.” Carol sunk to the blanket folding her legs Indian fashion. Pastel flowers on her tunic and in her jet-black hair set off her dramatic coloring. Oblivious to admiring stares, she lit up, took a toke, and passed the joint to me.
Girl With a Past Page 8
