Hospitals reek of disinfectant, alcohol, and burnt popcorn. All those pungent odors mix with the sour smell of fear. Add a splash of blood, a dash of puke, and presto, the stink was overwhelming. My sense of smell, heightened by my pregnancy hormones, set my gag reflex in motion. I forced myself to swallow hard and put one foot in front of the other. Luckily for me, Harry took the lead. He hailed a man in green scrubs, who in turn flagged down a woman wearing blue scrubs with tiny puppies prancing on the fabric. Her badge identified her as an ER nurse.
“The detective is still in surgery. Probably be there for a while.”
“Hadcho?” I felt ashamed that I hadn’t thought of him sooner. Poor Hadcho had no one to ask after him. All his family lived in Oklahoma on tribal lands. He’d promised me that someday he’d tell me more about his life, but that “someday” hadn’t arrived yet.
With a sense of plunging dread, I realized it might never come. I wasn’t fully sure that I trusted Detweiler’s assertion that Hadcho had only been scratched. After all, my new husband had hidden the seriousness of his own wound. Why wouldn’t he also lie about his friend?
“Detective Hadcho is out of surgery, but not awake yet. He lost a lot of blood, so we’ve given him a transfusion,” said the nurse, before excusing herself.
“Wait until I tease Hadcho about getting his tank filled up with non-Native American blood. Man, am I going to have fun with this!” Harry’s eyes were bright with amusement. But one look at me, and he immediately became more solemn. “You’re not going to faint on me, are you? How about if you take a seat? I'll go get you a cola or coffee. Whichever you prefer.”
“Hot tea, please. Somewhere to sit would be good. I am feeling a little woozy.”
“Let's get you a chair.” Harry led me into the waiting room, where we found a tall wingback chair in a cozy corner. It was probably unoccupied because it was off by itself. All the other seats were crammed with families or couples commiserating.
“You comfortable? Okay, I'll just be a minute. Tea with sugar? Yes? Milk. No? Got it.”
After he’d left, I realized I’d forgotten to ask for decaf. Since becoming pregnant, I’ve done everything I can to assure my little passenger a healthy start in life. That has meant forgoing my beloved Diet Dr Pepper and caffeinated coffee. Oh well, one cup of strong tea wouldn’t endanger my baby, and it might help my sagging spirits.
Sitting there alone, I pulled out my cell phone. Quickly I texted a message to Brawny, detailing what little we’d learned. I added a reassurance that I was fine. As I hit the send button, it hit me. I hadn't talked to Robbie and Sheila. In fact, I hadn't heard from them either. That didn't make sense. Because he's the police chief, Robbie is usually on top of everything that happens. He would have heard about the shooting, the same way that Harry had.
But Robbie hadn't called.
Why not?
CHAPTER 12
Being tucked away in the corner, I didn't feel rude when I dialed Robbie. He answered on the third ring, in a voice so terse, I thought I had the wrong number.
“I have a situation here,” he said.
“So do I.”
“You don't understand.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I yanked my hand from my head and stared at the phone as though the instrument itself was responsible for Robbie’s rudeness. Anger boiled up inside me. Excuse me? My husband is in the emergency room after being shot and I don't understand?
“You're right. I probably don't understand,” I said in a tone so flat it didn’t sound like me. “Maybe that's because Detweiler is being operated on after being shot at our wedding. Or it could be because Hadcho is in recovery because he was shot too. You have a situation? Well, I’m here with two of your men who are fighting for their lives. Not that you care. You’re just the chief of police! You’re far too busy to worry about your underlings. Have a nice day!”
I hung up on him. As I tucked the phone away, I noticed people staring at me. The faces of other people in the ER waiting room reflected shock and awe. Had they really heard me correctly? Did I actually dress down the chief of police?
You betcha.
Of course, maybe they were staring because smoke was coming out of my ears.
I’ve never been so angry. Furthermore, I didn’t feel one iota of remorse. Robbie had been asking for it. Lately he’d been increasingly abrupt with me—and I wasn’t the one to blame. First Sheila arrived drunk at our house for Hanukkah. Then she’d gotten drunk when she was supposed to take the children to see Santa. I’d suggested to Robbie that she had a problem with alcohol, and he’d blown his stack, so I’d backed down.
“He knows she’s drinking too much,” said Detweiler. “She’s been kicked out of the country club and at least one restaurant.”
I frowned and added, “Not to mention being picked up for driving under the influence by a cop who extended professional courtesy to Robbie by saying nothing. He has no right to be snippy to me.”
But the piece de résistance had come on Christmas morning.
The minute Robbie and Sheila drove up, it became clear that something was wrong. He turned off the engine in his police cruiser, but they sat there in our circular driveway. They must have been fighting because all the windows fogged over. When they stepped out, there was a chill in the air between them. They gave each other looks so cold that I thought a second Ice Age was coming.
They stomped into the house without a word to each other and barely a civil greeting to our gang.
Then things got really interesting, because my sisters arrived with my mother, the Queen of Mean. Mom was in such a foul mood that the National Weather Service issued a special bulletin, “Beware of frosty glances and nasty looks.”
In retrospect, I must have had a screw loose to invite my mother. My only defense sounds stupid in hindsight, but at the time I reasoned, “Hey. It's Christmas! We have kids here! It's a holly, jolly time of year! It'll be nice to have the whole family together.”
In your dreams.
CHAPTER 13
Mom slapped at Catherine's hand when she tried to help her out of the car. With an indignant snarl, Mom said, “I am not a decrepit old lady!”
Taking over for the shocked Catherine, Amanda raced to Mom’s side of the car. She was worried that Mom might slip on our walk, so my sister stayed glued to our mother's side. When she reached our threshold, my darling mother said to me, “If that stupid cop would have cleaned this properly, Amanda wouldn't have to hover over me.”
Detweiler had sprinkled sand and salt twice that morning. Calling on the spirit of the holidays, I bit my tongue rather than say something nasty back to Mom.
After that, things went downhill faster than a bobsled team. Sheila had taken a comfy stuffed chair at one end of our living room, and Robbie had slumped into the other cushioned seat.
“They've taken all the good chairs.” My mother stood in the middle of our living room and pouted.
Robbie gracefully offered his spot to Mom, who wasn’t polite enough to thank him.
Anya and Erik had written a Christmas play that they wanted to perform, but Sheila snipped, “Not really in the mood. I have a splitting headache.”
What she really had was a hangover. It didn’t take a psychic to figure that out.
Robbie, who usually placates Sheila and dotes on my kids, added, “That makes two of us.”
“I certainly am not interested in an amateur production,” said my mother.
My jaw hit the floor. These were my kids’ relatives, and they were acting like the backsides of horses. Worse yet, they were behaving this way in my home, under my roof, on Christmas.
Detweiler turned white with rage. Fortunately, Amanda and Catherine jumped in, declaring that they would love to see what the kids had planned.
But before Anya and Erik could get started, Mom got to her feet and toddled over to the tree. Adjusting her reading glasses, she did a slow sweep of the evergreen, moving from the top down.
“This is wrong. Totally wrong. You should have put the bigger balls on the bottom. This...this...thing is unbalanced.”
“Erik likes seeing the bigger balls at eye level. He hung those, and I think he did a wonderful job.” I hurried to slip an arm around the boy’s shoulders.
“What does he know?” Mom gave a loud sniff.
“That's what the world needs now,” said Sheila. “Bigger balls that drag on the floor.”
I couldn’t believe it. Detweiler turned from white to red. My sisters both blushed.
Amanda jumped in with, “Come on, Mom. What’s wrong? You've been nitpicking Christmas trees all season. Criticizing the trees in the malls and in all the stores, too.”
“There is nothing wrong with me. I have a trained eye for beauty,” she said, “and that tree is unattractive.”
“Erik?” said Catherine. “Come here, buddy. I want you to see something.”
The boy with the sweet brown eyes went over next to my sister. She pulled him onto her lap as she got out her phone and flipped through the photos.
“Want to see a really, really ugly tree?” asked Catherine. “This is the one our mother decorated. See how weird it looks? Disgusting, huh? I'd take your tree over this one any day of the week. In fact next year, I think we need to put you in charge of decorating the tree at our house. Yes, at our house. Just so you know, Amanda and I pay the rent. That house really is our house, Amanda’s and mine. Mom is only there because we're trying to be kind to her. If we weren't such nice people, she'd be out on the streets.”
“Out on the streets?” he repeated.
“Or in a tree. Maybe she could crawl up into a tree and live there.” Amanda didn’t even crack a smile.
I covered my mouth and tried not to laugh. This was like some strange Saturday Night Live skit, except that it was real and it was happening in my home.
“But if she’s in a tree, what would the squirrels do?” he asked. “Where would they go?”
“The squirrels would probably run the other way,” said Detweiler, solemnly. “They’re smart like that. Now let's open presents, shall we?”
CHAPTER 14
Those memories were still fresh in my mind, as I tried to get comfortable in the ER waiting room. On a whim, I got up and turned my chair to face the corner. That took me all of fifteen minutes because I couldn't move it far or fast. Grab and grunt. That was my technique. None of the other people in the place paid any attention. Nor did any of them offer me help. Actually, that was for the best. I didn't want to strike up a conversation. I wanted to be alone. I was overwrought and more than a little bit hungry. I wondered where Harry was with my hot tea.
Once I got the chair turned around, I realized there was no way to sit down, except to crawl up and over one of the arms. A dubious physical maneuver in the best of times, but these gymnastics were complicated by my enormous belly. I couldn't see my feet.
But I was determined, and I needed to feel secure. As I debated what to do, a couple came in carrying a sobbing child. That caused me to feel more unbalanced. I wondered how Anya and Erik were doing.
I needed to block out this turmoil and get centered. Mostly I wanted a secluded place to cry. I grabbed the back of the chair, hoisted my right leg as high as it would go, and missed the mark. On my second try, I hooked my right arm under my right leg and gave myself a boost. That got my foot onto the seat. With a mighty oomph, I hoisted myself over the arm. Actually, I would have catapulted over the chair had I not smacked my forehead into the wall. Instead I stood on the seat, trying to get my balance. Finally, I slid down. Drawing up my legs under me, I curled up in a fetal position.
There in my solitude, I had a good cry.
I'd pretty much sobbed myself from full to empty when a woman in surgical scrubs called my name.
“Mrs. Detweiler?”
“Yes?” I peeped over the back of the chair.
“I'm Dr. Fizzio. Your husband's surgeon.”
I climbed onto my knees so I could hang over the back of the chair. That allowed me to see her expression and hear her better. My weird seating position didn’t faze her a bit. I got the distinct impression that she'd seen everything in her career as a caregiver.
“Detective Detweiler is doing as well as can be expected. I think we've got him patched up. The next twenty-four hours will tell the tale. We have to keep an eye out for more bleeding.”
“More bleeding?” My mouth was so dry that my lips stuck to my teeth. “Will he be okay? I mean, is he going to live?”
“You mean what are his chances? I never like to give odds. Every patient is different. It's a matter of willpower, general health, and quite frankly, there’s a bit of luck involved.”
That's when I crawled out from behind the chair. My intention was to drop down to my knees and beg her to save my husband’s life. “I have to...he needs to...please tell me...”
Her eyes drifted to my belly. “How far along are you?”
“Thirty-four weeks.”
“This has to be hard.” Her eyes softened with compassion.
“Today was our wedding day.”
“Wow. I only had to cope with a drunken priest. Total bummer. Who's here with you?”
“I'm by myself.”
That was true, because Harry had disappeared.
“I suggest you call the rest of his family. They need to be here. You shouldn't be handling this alone, and things could, um, change.”
CHAPTER 15
I’d considered moving to the family waiting area outside of critical care, but I realized that when Harry came back—if he came back—he wouldn’t be able to find me. So I stayed where I was.
“Sorry this took so long.” Harry seemed to know I’d just been thinking of him. “Both vending machines on this floor are empty. The one upstairs is too—”
One glance at my expression and he shut up. Quietly he set the tea down on the coffee table. “What have you heard?”
I repeated what Dr. Fizzio had told me.
“Drink this. You need it. Are you hungry?”
I wasn’t anymore. Actually I felt sick.
“When did you eat last?”
“At seven this morning.”
“It’s half-past two. Let me run back down to the cafeteria and get you a sandwich. You need to keep your energy up. Did you get checked out? Brawny just called me to say that you should be looked over. I guess you took a dive off the gazebo?”
I nodded.
I must have stood there dazed, because I didn’t see him walk off. The same ER nurse wearing the prancing puppies came back with Harry. “Let’s get you into a room, Mrs. Detweiler. I’ve heard you need to be checked out. Didn’t realize you were involved in the altercation, too.”
Wordlessly, I followed her. I guess she must have taken my information, but I couldn’t swear to that. I was too stunned. I vaguely recall that another person asked me Detweiler’s social security number, and I couldn’t answer. They asked me about his medical insurance, and again I was clueless. Finally I blurted, “We’ve only been married a few hours.”
That brought a look of surprise to the clerk’s face.
By the time that Harry arrived with three different types of sandwiches: tuna salad, chicken salad, and ham salad, I was wearing the ubiquitous and embarrassing hospital gown. Sort of. It barely covered my backside because my front side was so expansive. He appeared not to notice as he handed over three different kinds of chips: salt and vinegar, barbeque, and ruffled. Finally, he passed me a bottle of water. “I thought some plain water might be good for you.”
“Thanks. You’re doing a great job of taking care of me. I appreciate it, and I know that Detweiler…” My throat clogged with emotion.
“My pleasure. Now you try to relax, okay? Let them check out the baby, and you, of course. I’ll go and wait for you back where we were.”
Two hours later, I was dressed in my street clothes and officially pronounced, “Okay.” The baby seemed fine, too. I wandered over to the wi
ngback chair in the waiting room.
“I’ve been keeping it warm for you.” He glanced at his watch. “You could move upstairs, to be closer to Detweiler’s room, but I asked and heard there are no vacant seats. This is a cozy enough spot, isn’t it? Look, I’m sorry but I have to go. If you need me, just holler. I’ll put my personal cell number in your phone.”
I couldn’t thank him enough, but I tried. As I searched for words, he gave me a parting smile. “I hope to see you again under different circumstances.”
I settled into the chair and called Brawny.
CHAPTER 16
Our nanny was her usual matter-of-fact self. “I haven’t been able to get the Detweilers yet. The phone lines in Illinois have been down for a while. They’re saying on the telly that a tractor-trailer slid off the highway and knocked over a string of poles.”
I groaned. Thelma and Louis had insisted on keeping their land line, “for emergencies.” When Detweiler tried to persuade them that a cell tower could do a better job of relaying a phone call, they’d been surprisingly stubborn about the transition. Neither of them was good about answering their mobile numbers. I’d learned to phone the landline when I couldn’t rouse them.
“Have you tried their cell phones?”
“Both went to voice mail. I can only assume they’ve run out of juice. It’s possible they’re off the power grid and can’t recharge them. I’ve heard the storm did even more damage east of here. I’ll keep trying. How’s the detective? And Hadcho?”
After I reported what little I’d learned, she reassured me. “Detweiler is strong and young. At the peak of his life. He’ll be fine. As for Hadcho, it looked to me as if it was little more than a flesh wound. I’ve seen much worse. Messy, but not life threatening. And how are you? Harry called me. I thought ye and the wee one should be looked at.”
“Thanks for worrying over us. We’re both fine.”
She told me that Anya and Erik had been fretful. They’d actually gotten into an argument about what to eat for lunch. That was a rarity, a sign that both kids were feeling worried.
Shotgun, Wedding, Bells Page 4
