“Well, young man,” Janet said, “I read in the paper yesterday that the YMCA is having an open house. They’re going to have games and cookies and punch and…”—she paused for effect— “a snow slide!”
“A snow slide!” Howie grinned from ear to ear.
“That’s right. You climb up to the top and ride down on an inner tube and then climb right back up again. The street department’s bringing in a whole truckload of snow. Though it looks like Mother Nature is helping too.”
“That’s boring,” Brooke commented, adding an adolescent lift of her nose. “I’d rather go shopping.”
“So where do you want to start?” Candace asked. “The mall or the discount store?”
“The mall! Betsy got the cutest outfit for Christmas. It’s a skirt with matching leggings so she doesn’t even get cold at recess.” She scooped up a spoonful of oatmeal and swallowed it down. “I want some jeans too. Maureen got these really cute jeans with patches on the knees and cuffs. They’re totally awesome.”
With a prepubescent daughter in the household, Candace had to be careful what she wished for. She was more than relieved that Brooke’s fears regarding their financial situation had been allayed.
Now she just had to worry about paying for everything that had suddenly appeared on Brooke’s wish list.
The big after-Christmas crush had eased at the mall. Nonetheless, there were plenty of shoppers checking out the stores for good buys and discounted prices.
Brooke was able to find the skirt with leggings in a cute navy blue print but the stores didn’t have the jeans she wanted in her size. Fortunately, she found another pair that was just as totally awesome in Brooke’s view.
Deciding to have lunch, they went to the food court. Brooke chose a bean burrito, Candace a taco salad. They both ordered sodas.
When Candace looked around for a place to sit, she decided the entire town of Deerford and half of Peoria had had the same idea about lunch. The food court was jammed with people, all laughing and talking loudly to be heard over the piped-in music.
“You see any tables open?” she asked Brooke.
“Nuh-uh. Everything’s full.”
As Candace scanned the room, she heard her name called.
“Candace! Over here!”
She turned and spotted Heath Carlson waving them over to his table.
Pleasure at seeing him brought a smile to her face. “This way, honey. A friend from the hospital has room at his table.”
Juggling food and the shopping bags, they wove their way around the jumble of tables until they reached Heath.
“This is a madhouse, isn’t it?” He held a chair out for Candace.
“I thought there for a minute we’d have to sit on the floor.” She gestured for Brooke to take the chair opposite her. “Honey, remember Heath Carlson from the sign-making party? He’s a radiologist at Hope Haven.”
“Hi.” Brooke bit into her burrito.
Heath sat back down in front of his half-eaten slice of pizza and a small salad. “You’re the young lady who plays the piano, right?”
Brooke’s cheeks colored. “Yeah, a little.”
“She played at church Christmas Eve and was wonderful.” Watching her daughter play “The First Noel,” the same carol that had been Dean’s favorite, had brought tears to Candace’s eyes and a lump to her throat.
“I bet you were great,” Heath said.
Brooke shrugged and took another bite of burrito.
Apparently amused by Brooke’s shyness, Heath grinned. “My mother made me take piano lessons for three years. I had to beg her to let me quit, and now I’m sorry I did. It’d be nice to be able to play some kind of an instrument.”
“You could still take lessons,” Candace pointed out.
“Not me. I’m afraid my brother, Shaun, got all the musical talent in our family. Of course, his wife makes him play his drums out in the garage so he won’t wake the baby.”
Candace laughed. Something about Heath always lifted her spirits and made her smile. He seemed so genuine and down-to-earth. Even in a crisis, which happened from time to time at Hope Haven, he kept his sense of humor.
Candace appreciated that in a co-worker.
Chapter Twenty-One
JAMES WATCHED AS FOUR BOYS STRUGGLED TO set up their tent in a blowing wind that whipped up the bluff from the river. In summer, this park was filled with picnickers and campers. Winter was a different matter. James’s Scout troop had the campground all to themselves.
“Come on, guys,” James said to the floundering boys. “We’ve practiced this. What do you do first?”
“Secure the corners,” one boy responded.
“Right. So why are you trying to raise the tent before the corners are secured?”
The four of them looked dutifully sheepish. Starting over, they spread out the tent floor with the opening facing the fire pit. At the edge of the group campsite, birch and maple trees stood with their bare limbs shaking in the breeze.
Reasonably confident they’d get the tent up this time, James walked away. He pulled out his cell to check for coverage.
He stared at the tiny screen. No service. That wasn’t good.
Troubled, he strolled back along the road that led into the campground. He wondered how far back the signal had given out and wished he’d been checking as he’d driven here.
Failing to raise even one bar after a half-mile walk, he returned to the campground. Maybe the cloud cover was too thick, preventing a satellite connection. Or maybe his cell phone company didn’t provide service this far out in the boondocks.
He went back to the camp to check with Ron.
“I’m not getting anything either,” Ron told him. “Hate the thought of being out of touch with the rest of the world if something happens to one of the boys.”
Or if something happened to Fern, James thought with a grim twist of his lips.
He got the same answer from Bud. No service on his cell. None of the Scouts who had cells with them could get service, and James berated himself for not checking something so vital before he had set up this trip.
Hoping that a text message might make it through, James sent a brief one to Gideon. No cell service. Text go thru?
He waited impatiently for a response.
All the tents were up now, and the boys were dragging their bedrolls inside. The patrol in charge of lunch had cranked up the propane stove to heat a pot of chili.
His cell played a version of “Home, Sweet Home,” identifying the caller as a member of his family. He flipped the cell open. The message from Gideon read Txt ok Mom ok.
James uttered a heartfelt Thank You, Lord, and sent Gideon a TK U message.
To eat their lunch, the troop sat on stones and logs that circled the fire ring. A small amount of heat from the blazing logs reached James, warming his face and hands.
After lunch, the Scouts secured the campsite and used their knot-tying skills to raise the food boxes to a height that couldn’t be reached by roaming bears. Of course, since there were no bears at all in Illinois, as far as James knew, the technique was something he wanted the boys to know for future camping expeditions.
Then they broke into patrols and went on a hike. The object was to use their compasses to follow trails around the park and identify any animal footprints they might discover en route.
Periodically James checked his cell for service. No luck.
The boys kept busy until almost dinnertime. A snowball fight broke out, but the snow had melted to slush so it turned into mostly a mud-ball fight. James kept his distance and let them have their fun.
Darkness fell and a few stars appeared as the temperature dropped below freezing. Dinner, a few stories around the campfire and it was time to call it a night.
“Be sure you change into dry socks,” James admonished everyone. “We don’t want anyone getting frostbite.”
Sharing a tent with Ron and Bud, James took off his boots by the door and crawled inside.
James chuckled. “They’re probably going to tell ghost stories and not get to sleep for hours.”
“We’ll get even when we blow reveille before dawn,” Ron said.
With a groan, Bud flopped back onto his bedroll. “Count me out on doing anything before dawn.”
Smiling, James checked his cell one more time, then slid into the cold sleeping bag, zipping it up tight. Even in dry socks, his feet were like blocks of ice. He pulled his knit cap down over his frigid ears.
The ground beneath him was as hard as concrete. Rocks poked at his back. When he shifted to escape one stone, he found another larger one that jabbed at his shoulder or hip.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been camping. In the years since they’d been married, he’d rarely slept anywhere except next to Fern in their own warm bed. Or maybe at a motel during a family vacation.
He closed his eyes and tried to block his persistent anxiety about her well-being. She knows not to overdo it, James told himself. Gideon was a smart kid. He’d keep a close eye on his mother.
Still, the thought of Fern needing him and his not being there drilled its way into James’s head and wouldn’t go away. Like dangling from a rope over a bottomless crevasse, he twisted around and around trying to escape the worry and fear that harassed him.
Dear Lord, watch over Fern and keep her safe from harm. Restore her strength and ease her pain. I ask this in the name of Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior. Amen.
James heard the boys in the neighboring tent laughing and carrying on. Bud had begun to snore, so maybe he had been extra tired. So was James.
As his feet finally warmed, he felt himself drifting off to sleep. Somehow “Home, Sweet Home” wedged its way into his dreams. A peaceful sound that soothed—
“James! Your cell is going off.” Ron punched him in the back.
James snapped to a sitting position. Disoriented, he tried to clear his head. The air was colder than the inside of a freezer. Wind ruffled the sides of the tent.
He dug into his pocket, pulled out the cell and flicked it open. In the pitch black of the tent, he read the screen: Mom fell—called ambulance—hsptal w/ gran.
Dear Lord! He sucked in an icy lung full of air. His worst nightmare…
He wrestled his way out of the sleeping bag. “Ron, my wife’s in the hospital. I’ve gotta get home.”
Ron sat up and turned on his flashlight. His dark hair was mussed from sleep. “What happened?”
“I’m not sure. She fell. I don’t know how badly she’s hurt.” James pulled on his boots. Had she fallen down the stairs? She could have broken something.
Bud switched on his flashlight as well. “Leave everything here. We’ll bring your gear home with us tomorrow.”
James tried to think but his brain was muddled, a frozen slush, and operating in slow motion. “I’ll get Nelson and take him with me. Maybe I can come back tomorrow—”
“No, stay with your wife,” Ron insisted. “We’ll get the boys home. There’s enough room in our two SUVs since we won’t be carrying firewood and food on the return trip.”
“Okay. Fine. I’ll see you…” James ducked out of the tent and struggled into his ski jacket. It had started to snow again, an inch or two of newly fallen snow already covering the ground.
Realizing he needed his flashlight, he scrambled back inside the tent to find it. Retrieving the light, he backed out again.
His heart pounded in his chest like artillery rounds going off. His breathing was shallow, and every breath hurt. Sweat covered his palms. And all the time he silently chanted I’m coming, Fern. Don’t leave me, sweetheart. I’m coming, Fern. Don’t leave me, sweetheart. I’m coming…
He rousted Nelson out of his tent. As alarmed as James, he staggered to the van carrying his boots and jacket.
“Mom’s gonna be all right, isn’t she?” he asked in a small, shaky voice when they were both inside the van.
“I hope so, son. Dear Lord, I hope so.”
The van’s windshield wipers forced their way back and forth, beating a heavy, morbid rhythm.
A combination of snow and fog devoured the headlights only feet in front of the van. The yellow center line lay hidden beneath two inches of snow. Keeping one eye on the side of the road, James could only creep along despite his need to speed to Fern’s side.
The snow tires on the van could handle the conditions—if James didn’t run them off into a ditch.
His muscles were taut, his nerves raw.
“Do you have your cell?” he asked Nelson, not letting his eyes stray from the road. His breath fogged in front of his face. The heater hadn’t kicked in yet.
“Yeah, I got it.”
“Check to see if we’re getting service. If we are, call Gideon. I need to know what’s happening.”
“Okay.” His jacket zipper scraped and the heavy fabric crackled as the boy dug out his phone.
“Any yet?”
“One bar.”
“Text Gideon that we’re on our way.”
James had a death grip on the wheel. His hands started to ache and he flexed his fingers.
“Okay, I sent the text,” Nelson said.
“I probably should have had you bring your ham radio along on this trip.”
Nelson kept his eyes on his cell phone. “Not sure it would do any good. I might not be able to bring up a local repeater from here. Besides, I haven’t charged the batteries in a while.”
“From now on, keep the batteries charged and bring it with you.” Next time, James would remember to check for cell reception before he took any more trips away from Fern.
Since the snow started, no vehicles had passed to leave tracks James could follow. On this unfamiliar road with little or no visibility, James was driving blind.
Somewhere up ahead, the road intersected with the north-south highway. He didn’t know how far. He’d be lost if he missed the turn.
“Gideon got the mes—sage,” Nelson’s voice cracked. “He responded: ‘Mom in emergency. Gran says drive slow.’”
“I don’t have much choice,” James murmured, as much to himself as to Nelson.
They drove in silence until a flashing red signal light appeared ahead of them. The highway. James gently pumped his brakes to slow for the turn south.
“I’ve got service,” Nelson announced. Without being told, he hit Gideon’s cell number.
“Gideon, it’s me. Nelson.”
A punch of relief landed in James’s chest. “Ask him how your mom is and what happened.”
Nelson began to relay Gideon’s answers. “Mom got out of bed and she fell. She was real weak and talking funny. Gideon couldn’t get her back in bed, so he called Grandma.” Nelson paused, listening. “Grandma said he should call an ambulance. Then she and Grandpa came over to get Gideon.”
“So what’s happening now?”
Nelson repeated the question and waited. “Dr. Weller is taking care of Mom, but he hasn’t come out to talk to Gideon and Grandma yet.”
Dr. Weller was a terrific Emergency Room physician, but he didn’t have a whole lot of experience. James could only hope he was doing the right tests to find out why Fern had fallen. Why she’d been too weak to get back up, even with Gideon’s help.
A million possible scenarios flashed through his mind. A stroke or heart attack. Blood clot. Aneurism. A negative reaction to her meds. The onset of some disease unrelated to MS.
The problem with being a nurse was that James knew too much, had seen too many seriously ill patients and there seemed to be no end to the problems that could fell a person at any given moment.
“Gideon says the nurse came out and told them Dr. Weller has called mom’s doctor for a consult.”
Good. If the problem was related to Fern’s MS, Dr. Chopra would discover what had gone wrong. At least, James prayed that would be the case.
The fog had
begun to lift above the highway, and the snow wasn’t falling so hard now, improving visibility. Still James couldn’t speed up too fast. Not on a snow-covered road.
“Tell Gideon we’ll be there in an hour, maybe an hour and a half. If he has a chance to see Mom, tell her I’m coming. That I love her.”
Well after midnight, the overhead lights illuminated only scattered cars in Hope Haven’s parking lot.
James pulled into a spot near the well-lit Emergency entrance. Nelson had drifted off to sleep, his head resting against the side window. James woke him and they hurried inside.
“Hey, James.” The Emergency Room reception clerk greeted him. “I’ve been watching out for you. About a half hour ago, your wife was moved to a room on the second floor. She’s doing fine.”
James’s knees wobbled and his legs almost gave out on him. Steadying himself against the counter, he drew a relieved breath. He asked for Fern’s room number.
Upstairs, they found Gideon sound asleep on a couch in the waiting room. Poor kid had had a hard night. Grandpa Frank was snoozing in a chair, his legs stretched out in front of him, his mouth hanging open.
Knowing there’d be plenty of time to catch up later, James let them sleep and went directly to Fern’s room. He noticed an autumn-colored leaf posted on the outside of the door, meaning the patient inside was not supposed to get up without assistance. A reasonable decision considering the whole incident started when Fern fell. Until the doctors knew why, they’d take every precaution.
Inside the room, James glanced first at the monitor above Fern’s bed. Good systolic rhythm, no sign of bradycardia or tachycardia. Breathing normally with adequate oxygen intake.
Marilee was sitting in a chair next to Fern’s bed in the dimly lit room. She stood and produced a weary smile. “You made it.” She opened her arms to give him a hug.
“How is she?” he asked.
She gave Nelson a hug and patted his cheek. “She’s resting. The doctor ordered a CAT scan. No sign of any trauma. He thinks it must be an underlying MS problem, which is why he called Dr. Chopra.”
“Has she been in to see Fern?”
Strength in Numbers Page 18
