Christmas Magic on the Mountain

by Melissa McClone

  She took a deep breath, trying to settle her already frayed nerves. It didn’t help.

  “Do you need anything from your pack?” Jake looked anxious, the way she felt. “Your purse?”

  “No.” Zoe shivered. From the chill in the air or cold feet, she didn’t know. “We should probably get in there.”

  Even if it was the last place she wanted to be.

  Jake nodded once.

  The glass doors opened automatically. She stepped inside. Warm air surrounded her, yet she longed for the fresh, cold air outside.

  On Zoe’s right, a man sat behind a window. He took one look at Jake in his OMSAR jacket and waved them past. She walked through another set of doors.

  The sterile, antiseptic hospital smell reminded Zoe painfully of her father’s heart attack. Memories of being in the emergency room, waiting for word on her father’s condition, brought a lump to her throat. She had sat on an uncomfortable chair, wishing she could see her father, but she’d never gotten that chance. He’d died surrounded by a team of medical professionals. Not family.

  Zoe still regretted not being with her father at the end. But her father had been in his sixties, a victim of his lifestyle and diet choices. Sean was young, a victim of an accident. He might be a stranger, but she would help him if she could. The way she hadn’t been able to help her dad.

  She focused on the crowded waiting room in front of her.

  The noise level surprised her. Conversations, commotion, crying. A television set tuned to a twenty-four-hour news channel hung from one corner. Below it, a man coughed while a woman held his hand and comforted him. Next to them, a baby cried while a woman cradled her and rocked, humming a lullaby. Across from them, a teenager iced her ankle while a man paced near her.

  In the opposite corner, a group of healthy-looking men and women filled seats while others stood. They spoke quietly amongst themselves, ignoring the chaos around them. The wide range of ages made Zoe think this had to be Sean’s family and friends. All had one thing in common—worried expressions on their faces.

  “That’s Sean’s family.” Jake pointed to the group and led her over there. “Any word?”

  “They’ve cleared his spine,” a uniformed sheriff’s deputy answered.

  The relief on Jake’s face matched the way Zoe felt inside. Now to find out about his head and his legs.

  “They’re doing a head CT now,” the sheriff deputy added.

  Tests were good, Zoe thought. Tests meant Sean was alive.

  She noticed an OMSAR jacket hung on the back of one of the chairs.

  A middle-aged woman, her brown hair sprinkled with gray, rose from one of the chairs. She wore a pumpkin-orange apron covered with pilgrims over her stylish brown pants and a chic matching tunic. She wiped at her red, swollen eyes with a tissue. “Zoe?”

  The distress on the woman’s face hurt Zoe’s heart. She nodded.

  “I’m Connie.” Her slight smile faltered. “Sean’s mom.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Zoe didn’t know what else to say.

  Connie took a tentative step toward her.

  Zoe did the same.

  Suddenly she was enfolded in the woman’s arms, engulfed in her warmth and the scent of cinnamon and cloves.

  Connie let go. “When you love someone who lives to be in the mountains, you always know in the back of your mind this is a possibility, but the reality of it—”

  The way the woman’s voice cracked brought tears to Zoe’s eyes.

  “Sean’s strong.” He looked strong, so Zoe felt safe saying that much. “I’m sure he’ll pull through this.”

  “You’re right. I know you’re right.” Connie took a deep breath as if trying to compose herself. “Hank, Sean’s dad, went to check with the nurse.”

  Zoe smiled. “Let’s hope he has some good news to share.”

  Gratitude filled Connie’s eyes. “Everyone, this is Sean’s Zoe.”

  Oh, no. Zoe forced herself not to cringe as the group’s attention focused on her and the temperature in the waiting area shot up by twenty degrees. Surely someone here would recognize her as a fraud.

  Sweat trickled down Zoe’s back, but her discomfort was nothing compared to what had happened to Sean. A few minutes of awkwardness over her and Sean being strangers was minor, nothing really, compared to what he and these people were going through right now.

  She waited, but no one said a word. “Everyone” simply nodded as if they already knew who she was, as if being “Sean’s Zoe” was enough for them.

  People surrounded her. Names and hugs were exchanged like candy at Halloween. She kept waiting for someone to question her, to ask about her relationship with Sean, but no one did.

  The sheriff’s deputy handed her a cup of coffee.

  “I’m Will Townsend,” he introduced himself. “I’m married to Sean’s cousin, Mary Sue. She and a couple others are at Connie and Hank’s house cooking and watching kids.” His cell phone rang. “Excuse me.”

  Zoe looked to see if anyone new had joined the group.

  She wanted to know what Hank had found out about Sean’s condition.

  “I’m Leanne Thomas.” A pretty but serious looking woman stepped forward. “I’m a friend of Sean’s. I’m also a member of OMSAR and a paramedic. Right now they are doing a noncontrast head CT scan to see the extent of his head injury. Once that’s done, they’ll take X-rays of his legs and any other extremity where they might suspect an injury. We should get another update as soon as they’re finished and can evaluate them.”

  “Waiting is the hardest part,” Zoe said.

  “You’ve been through this before.”

  The coffee cup warmed her cold hand. “With my dad.”

  “It never gets any easier, does it?” Leanne gave her a Hershey’s candy bar. “I don’t know about you, but chocolate always makes me feel better.”

  The woman was so nice. “Thanks.”

  Zoe stared at the candy bar. She was surprised at how anxious and worried she was to hear about Sean’s condition. But receiving all this genuine sympathy from his friends and family made her feel lower than pond scum. They all thought Zoe cared because she was his girlfriend, because of a romantic attachment. She really needed to tell them the truth.

  A middle-aged man she hadn’t seen before walked toward her. He had the same athletic build and eyes as Sean, but lines of worry etched his face.

  “I’m Hank, Sean’s dad.” His gaze rested on Connie, who was motioning to Zoe as she spoke with one of the OMSAR guys—Tim? No, maybe it was Bill.

  “I’m sorry about Sean, Mr. Hughes,” Zoe said sincerely.

  “Hank,” he corrected. “Don’t worry about me. How are you holding up?”

  “I’m fine.” She was sweating from a combination of nerves and concern. She really should have stayed in the truck with Denali, but Zoe wanted to hear how Sean was doing. “Truly.”

  “Should have known Sean would pick himself a strong girl,” Hank said approvingly.

  She blinked. “No, I—”

  “Let me tell you.” He lowered his voice confidingly. “Connie was about to lose it before you arrived. Now she can fuss over you instead of sit here and worry until it makes her sick.”

  This is Sean’s Zoe.

  Guilt coated her mouth. Zoe hated deceiving these nice people, but they were so worried about Sean. She shouldn’t—she couldn’t—add to their troubles. That meant only one thing. She would have to be Sean’s Zoe today.

  Wrong, yes, but telling his family the truth when they were so upset seemed worse, even though their pretend relationship was nothing compared to Sean’s injuries.

  “I’m glad I’m here,” she whispered. “Connie’s free to fuss all she wants. Tell me what I can do to help, and I’ll do it.”

  The corners of Hank’s mouth curved. “You’re going to fit right in.”

  That would be a first. Zoe smiled up at him.

  An older, blue-haired woman, Aunt Vera if Zoe remembered correctly, studied he
r with an assessing gaze. “You’re wearing snowboarding clothes and boots.”

  Zoe glanced down at her jacket, insulated cargo pants and boots. No wonder she felt so warm and was sweating. “I came straight from Timberline.”

  Unlike most of the others here. The OMSAR people were dressed for the mountains, but the Hughes men wore a mix of khakis and jeans. Long sleeved button-downs seemed to be the shirt of choice. The women wore dress pants or skirts with coordinating blouses. All were dressed for dinner. She obviously was not.

  This wasn’t the first time Zoe had been called out for what she was wearing. This wouldn’t be the last once she returned home.

  Home.

  Thoughts of returning to her old life, partying with her friends and using her Visa Platinum card had kept Zoe going these past weeks, but all that seemed suddenly foreign and empty compared to how these people were banding together over one of their own.

  “Zoe has more on her mind than what she’s wearing, Aunt Vera.” Connie eyes softened when she looked at Zoe. “You must be burning up. Let me hold your coffee and candy so you can get rid of that jacket.”

  Zoe shrugged out of her jacket. She pulled off her ski cap, shoved it in her jacket pocket and brushed her fingers through her hair.

  Connie tucked the coat under her arm and handed back the cup and bar. “I’ll hang this on the back of a chair.”

  That must be what Hank meant about fussing. “Thanks.”

  She led Zoe to an empty chair. “Sit. You can drink your coffee and eat your candy bar. I have a feeling we’re going to be here for a while.”

  Time dragged. New patients arrived. Others left. Jake checked on Denali. Hank kept bugging the nurses for news, but could get none.

  More of Sean’s friends and family members arrived. One of them, Jake’s pregnant wife, Carly, brought a container of chocolate chip cookies. Zoe ate one, but only to be polite. Her appetite seemed to have disappeared even though she hadn’t eaten lunch.

  She looked around at the crowd that had gathered. On Thanksgiving, no less.

  If friends were the measure of the man, not many could match Sean Hughes. Her instincts about him had been right. Zoe had never met nicer, more generous people in her life. Talk about being there for someone in good times or in bad.

  She longed for the same kind of connection with her family and friends. But her family was too busy and her friends were more interested in partying and shopping. The realization left her feeling a little hollow.

  The tension in the waiting room kept rising while they waited for more information. Connie shredded her tissue. Zoe got her another one as well as a home magazine for Connie to read.

  “Want to see if there are any good recipes or decorating ideas for Christmas in here with me?” Zoe asked.

  “I’d love to,” Connie said.

  Together they pored over the articles and pictures, but the distraction only went so far. Each time the doors leading to and from the emergency department opened, everyone stared. They wanted—needed—to hear more about Sean’s condition.

  “Would you like me to talk to the nurse?” Zoe offered.

  “Thanks, but let Hank keep trying,” Connie said. “He’s not one for sitting still long. Besides, I’d rather keep you to myself.”

  Her words made Zoe feel good inside. Accepted. She really liked Sean’s family and all his friends. She would have felt better, however, if they knew the truth.

  A man dressed in surgical scrubs walked out of the two double doors leading to the emergency department. Silence fell over the waiting area. Several people stood.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Hughes,” the doctor said.

  Hank stepped forward. Connie rose. She reached a hand for Zoe, clutching her forearm and dragging her forward with her.

  Zoe didn’t belong with them, but she could not deny that desperate grip on her arm. She held her breath, hoping for the best.

  “Whatever you have to say to us, the others can hear,” Hank said, a slight tremor to his voice. “We’re all family here.”

  “I’m Dr. Erickson,” the man said. “Sean’s head CT is negative for a serious injury. No skull fracture or internal bleeding, but he has suffered a closed head injury. A concussion. Sean is being admitted by the trauma surgeon.”

  Hank opened and closed his mouth several times.

  “But you said it wasn’t serious,” Zoe said. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized she never should have spoken.

  “The concussion is mild.” Dr. Erickson’s eyes darkened. “I’m more concerned about his left leg. Sean has a tib-fib fracture. Tibia and fibula. It’s an open fracture so he’s being given Ancef, an antibiotic.”

  “A broken leg can’t be that bad,” Connie said.

  Hank put his arm around her.

  “Certainly not life threatening,” the doctor agreed with a tired smile. “But he will need surgery tonight. An orthopedist will use a plate and screws. It’s called ORIF. That means open reduction, internal fixation. Basically the fracture is closed and the fracture immobilized or fixed with hardware.”

  The more the doctor said, the tighter Connie held on to Zoe.

  Zoe wished she could ease some of the worry. This wasn’t her place, but she wanted to help Connie. “Isn’t this a pretty common procedure?”

  “Yes,” he said. “This method has been used often and quite successfully.”

  Connie sighed and loosened her grip slightly.

  “Sean also has an ankle sprain on the contralateral side.”

  Zoe blinked. “The what?”

  “He sprained his right ankle,” Dr. Erickson explained. “If you’ll come with me, you can see him now.”

  Sean’s parents followed the doctor. Connie still had hold of Zoe and pulled her with them.

  Her snowboarding boots felt as if they were filled with cement. Zoe had already said enough. Too much really. “I’ll stay here. Sean will want to see you.”

  Connie didn’t release her.

  Hank smiled. “I’m sure he’d rather see your pretty face.”

  Zoe let herself be dragged forward.

  She wanted to see Sean, but he had a concussion. What if he didn’t recognize her?

  It was just a mild concussion, but still…head injuries could make people forget things. She remembered the professional football player—a quarterback—she’d dated a couple of times. He’d gotten concussions being sacked on the field and had some memory issues.

  What if Sean didn’t remember she was supposed to be his girlfriend? What if he didn’t remember her at all?

  Her insides quivered.

  Okay, the odds of that were slim, but with her string of bad luck anything was possible. Zoe’s heart pounded so hard she thought it might burst out of her chest.

  That would be such a cruel way for his parents to discover the truth. These nice people didn’t deserve that. If only she’d had the guts to tell the truth when she arrived, but she hadn’t. She didn’t mind paying that price, but she minded if the Hughes did.

  Maybe if Zoe stood in the back, far away from the bed and kept her mouth shut or rather said as little as possible, Sean wouldn’t even notice her. Maybe…

  Sean felt as if he were floating. He felt a pressure in his left leg and in his head. Far-off pain like the distant rumble of thunder. Threatening, but nothing like the lightning jabs that had seared him earlier.

  Beeps, machines. Footsteps sounded.

  He was in a hospital in a large room with surgical lights. He had been stripped naked. A huge number of people had evaluated him, a posse of medical professionals, but it was quiet now. Someone had covered him with a gown. Another had laid a warm blanket across his chest.

  That was what he knew about his situation.

  But he was too out of it to care.

  He probably should care, but all he wanted to do was drift off on the cloud of whatever medication they’d pumped into him.

  “Oh, honey.”

  The sound of his mother’s voice
forced Sean to open his eyes. The light blinded him. He blinked. It didn’t help. He closed his eyelids, thankful for the darkness once again. “Mom.”

  His voice sounded different. Husky. Disembodied, almost.

  She kissed his cheek. “Thank goodness you’re in one piece.”

  Was he in one piece? He didn’t feel all here. Everything seemed fuzzy. His left leg was immobilized. His right ankle had been elevated.

  Sleep. He wanted to sleep.

  “That had to have been some fall, son,” his dad said. “I hope the mountain is as beat up as you are.”

  “I…” Sean forced himself awake. “I don’t remember.”

  He’d been riding down on his board. Something had snapped, and he’d felt as if he were flying. Someone—Sean couldn’t remember who—had mentioned a broken binding, but he hadn’t a clue what actually happened out there except…he hadn’t been alone.

  Panic bolted through him. His chest tightened.

  He tried to sit up, but couldn’t. The dull ache in his head sharpened to a knife’s edge.

  “Denali?” he croaked.

  No one said anything. He thought he heard his mom tell someone to speak.

  “Denali?” Sean repeated, firmer this time, even though it hurt.

  “Denali’s fine,” an unfamiliar feminine voice said. “She’s in your truck in the hospital parking lot.”

  The woman’s words brought instant relief.

  He cracked open his eyes, straining to see her, but couldn’t see past the lights and equipment. They’d connected some annoying monitor to him that beeped at regular intervals.

  “Jake told me she stayed with you and kept you warm until help arrived,” the woman added.

  “She’s my good girl.” The medication took the edge off the pain in his head. Denali was fine. Now he could sleep.

  “She’s a very good girl,” the mystery woman agreed.

  He’d heard that voice before. Somewhere.

  “Are you in a lot of pain?” Connie asked.

  Sean wiggled his right hand where they had inserted an IV for medication. “Whatever they’re giving me makes me not care so much about the pain.”

  “You’ll be headed to surgery shortly, Sean,” the doctor said. “An open fracture needs immediate attention. A good thing your tetanus vaccination is up to date or you would have needed a shot on top of everything else.”