She looked up into his eyes and his love, concern, and affection touched her heart and calmed her anger. A sense of deep despair took its place.
“Everything will be okay,” he said. “Go on now. Get inside.” He turned to the paramedic. “She’s riding along.”
When Glenn looked less than enthused, Dirk added, “She’ll behave herself. She promises.”
“Okay,” he said, somewhat reluctantly. “Let’s go.”
Savannah didn’t wait for him to change his mind. She jumped into the back of the ambulance and sat where she was directed, on a bench seat next to her brother.
She took Waycross’s hand and laced her fingers through his. “You’re okay, darlin’,” she said, summoning her most soothing, older sister voice. “No matter what’s going on with you, your family loves you to pieces, and we’re going to stand by you every step of the way. You’re not alone, and you’ll be all right in the end. You’ll see.”
The little female EMT got into the driver’s seat, and Glenn climbed into the back after Savannah, filling the interior.
She released her brother’s hand and leaned away from him, making room for the paramedic as he started an IV on Waycross. That finished, with a series of wires and straps, he connected Waycross to various instruments on the wall that began to register his vital signs with beeps, blinks, numbers, and colorful screen graphs.
Once those duties were fulfilled, Glenn turned away from them and busied himself with a portable computer, inputting data.
Savannah sensed that he was providing her and his patient with a bit of familial privacy to discuss some delicate topics.
As she was wondering how to broach the difficult subject, Waycross squeezed her hand tightly and looked up at her, his large, sensitive eyes filled with tears.
“I’m sorry, Sis,” he said. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“Shh, you don’t need to talk if you don’t feel up to it, and you don’t have to be sorry. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Yes, I have,” he argued weakly. “I did do wrong. Way wrong. Dirk knows it.”
Savannah weighed his need to rest and remain calm against her desire to know the answers to the questions that were now sweeping over her in suffocating waves.
As usual, her insatiable curiosity won the battle. “What did you do, darlin’?” she asked, not particularly proud of herself. “Tell me what is it that Dirk knows . . . if it’s not too much for you.”
“After I hurt my leg, those pills that the doctor gave me, they worked pretty good. At first. But then, it got to where they didn’t help so much. Then not at all. I tried not to take more of ’em than the doctor said. But my leg was hurtin’ somethin’ fierce. Like it was gettin’ hit with bolts o’ lightnin’. Remember?”
She nodded. “Yes, I know. It was plum awful, what you were going through. I felt so sorry for you. We all did.”
“I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t sleep or eat, and I couldn’t bear it throbbin’ all the time. So, instead of taking what my doctor told me, I doubled up on them pills. It was the only way I could get any relief.”
“I understand.”
“Then that wore off, and I needed three at a time and closer together. Of course, I ran out early, and my doctor wouldn’t let me have any more.”
“Those opioids are controlled substances, sweetie. He could only prescribe a certain amount.”
“I know. That’s what he told me. He said they were only meant to be used for a short time, to get me past the worst of the injury. But I was still in the worst of it!”
“I understand.” She laid her palm against his cheek, as she had when he was a small child and had skinned his knee.
Unfortunately, his grown-up problems were so much greater, and she knew that nothing she said was going to minimize them. He had a difficult path ahead, and all the loving support his family and friends could muster wouldn’t smooth the rough road he would have to walk.
“What was even worse than the pain was, when I ran outta them pills, I’d get sick somethin’ fierce,” he continued. “It’s like havin’ the worst case of the flu you ever had in your life. Times ten.”
“It is like that,” Glenn interjected, looking up from his computer screen. “You’ve got a lot of company, brother. I hate to say it, but I see this sort of thing all the time.”
“Did you tell your doctor that you needed some help withdrawing from them?” Savannah asked Waycross.
“No.”
“Why not, sugar?”
“I was ashamed.”
His eyes were haunted when he added, “I didn’t want to admit I had a drug problem. I didn’t want anybody to know that I was like . . . you know . . . like her.”
Savannah didn’t have to ask who he was talking about. She knew instantly.
“Waycross, you are not like Shirley,” she told him. “You never were, and you never will be.”
“But they say drug addiction and stuff like that runs in families,” he argued. “She’s our mother and—”
“You just stop it right now, Waycross Reid. I don’t want to hear another word of that foolishness. If ever there was a young man who rose above his raising, that’d be you in a nutshell.”
She leaned over so that she could look directly into his eyes, all the better to make her point. “You are a loving, devoted husband to Tammy and the best father on earth to little Vanna Rose. Never in a million years would you raise your hand to your child the way Shirley used to whack us around when she was in a bad mood or just had a mind to. You’d never neglect your family the way she did us, letting us go hungry and dirty, sitting alone in our bedroom for days, while she partied. So, I don’t want to hear you comparing yourself to her ever again. You hear me, boy?”
“But I went to a drug dealer, Savannah, just like she used to do. I was in so much misery that I couldn’t stand it. I wasn’t man enough to just buck up and take it. I went and bought what I wanted from hard-core criminals. And the worst thing is: Dirk saw me. My own brother-in-law saw me walkin’ in, then back outta that drug house. The one he was stakin’ out.”
Savannah caught her breath as several of her mental puzzle pieces snapped into place, forming a clear picture that explained so many things she had been worrying about.
Wracked with shame, Waycross continued. “He followed me when I left that place. Once I’d got a few blocks away, he pulled me over, and searched me, like he would’ve any other common criminal.”
“Did he cuff you?”
“No.”
“Then he didn’t treat you like his usual ‘common criminal.’ He cut you some slack.”
“Maybe, but he found the pills in my pocket.”
“Yes, I imagine he did. Dirk’s good at frisking folks,” she added.
“He told me he should arrest me, but I begged him not to.”
Visions of the scenario, as he was describing it, filled Savannah’s mind and broke her heart. No wonder Dirk had been acting strangely. No wonder he couldn’t meet her eyes.
He had been hiding something from her all right, harboring a guilty secret. But it hadn’t been his own.
“I don’t blame him, mind you,” Waycross added. “I put him in an awful spot. With his job and with you. He knew he oughta arrest me, but with me being your brother and all . . . what could he do?”
“What did he do?” she asked, fearing the answer.
“He told me in no uncertain terms that I had to stop. He snatched the pills right off me and said I wasn’t ever gonna take another one. Or else there’d be hell to pay.”
“That sounds like Dirk.”
“I promised him I’d swallered my last one, and he didn’t have to worry about me showin’ up at that there drug house ever again. I don’t think he much believed me, because he assured me that he aimed to sit on that house ever’ single night and keep an eagle eye on it, just to make sure I didn’t set foot inside.”
“That’s why he pulled rank on McMurtry to get that particular assignment eve
ry night,” Savannah said, more to herself than to her brother.
“I reckon so. He also stressed the point that I should get some kind of rehab help. When I told him that I couldn’t afford it on what I make, he offered to pay for it.”
“That doesn’t sound so much like Dirk, but . . . well . . . he loves you, kiddo.”
“I know. He showed it all the way.”
She recalled Dirk’s reaction earlier when she and Granny had reported that Waycross was sick. “That’s why he was so worried when we told him you had the flu.”
“He probably figured out I was sick from tryin’ to kick those pills cold turkey.”
Glenn spoke up. “That’s a dangerous thing to do, Mr. Reid. That’s why your heart’s going crazy. You should have weaned off them gradually under a doctor’s care. With supplemental medications if necessary.”
“I know,” Waycross replied. “But I thought I could do it by myself. I figured the least amount of people who knew about it the better. I didn’t want Tammy to find out.”
He began to cry as he gripped Savannah’s hand. “Oh, Lord,” he said between sobs. “My Tammy. My sweet, precious girl. I pushed her outta my way when I stormed out of the house. She fell right on her backside, and, horse’s backside that I am, I didn’t even stop to help her back up. She’ll kill me for sure. Worse yet, she’ll never forgive me.”
“You’re underselling our Tamitha by a long shot, boy. I’d bet dollars to doughnuts that she’s forgiven you already. And if she does kill you, it’ll be from smothering you with kisses, and that ain’t such a bad way to go.”
Waycross thought that over and seemed to feel a little better. He even smiled a tiny bit.
But his good cheer was short-lived. A moment later, his face clouded over again. “Dirk’s really mad at me. He said that, because of me and my nonsense, he had to tell his wife a dozen lies. He don’t cotton to that. Not to mention him having to pull a lot of double shifts and miss a bunch of your good suppers.”
“Yeah. Dirk’s a bit of a Rottweiler when it comes to food. Getting between him and his dog dish is a dangerous proposition. It’s a wonder you’re alive.”
“I know. But I don’t blame him. I’m mighty grateful to him, in fact. No brother could’ve done better, standing by me like that and settin’ me straight. If it weren’t for your husband, I’d be back at that drug house, doing business with a passel o’ seriously bad dudes that a country kid like me’s got no business doing business with.”
“Uh, yeah. That’s for sure, and don’t you forget it.”
As they pulled into the ambulance bay of the hospital, Savannah had only one more question to ask her brother.
“Waycross, tell me something.... Did you and Dirk have a phone conversation, when he told you that he didn’t appreciate you putting him in this position? When he said that I was his wife, and he would tell me about you and what was going on when he thought the time was right?”
“We sure did. It was a doozy! Boy howdy! That’s when I knew how mad he was at me. I’m gonna have to work mighty hard to get back on my brother-in-law’s good side again.”
Savannah laughed. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much, if I was in your shoes. Dirk’s always been a big fan of yours, and you’ve got bigger fish to fry at the moment. But don’t worry. We’re gonna make sure you get all the help you need to get over this next hurdle.”
Waycross sighed and rolled his eyes. “Jumpin’ hurdles never was my strong suit back in high school. I was famous for gettin’ only halfway over and smashin’ my dangly bits to smithereens.”
Savannah laughed. “Smashed, black and blue, dangly bits aside, you’ll make it. This is one race you’re going to win, Waycross Reid. We gotcha, and we ain’t letting go.”
A few seconds later, the rear doors of the ambulance opened. There was a flurry of activity as Savannah scrambled out, then stood back and watched as the ambulance attendants, along with the ER personnel, pulled Waycross and his gurney from inside and rushed him to the hospital’s emergency entrance.
So intent was she on what they were doing that she didn’t notice Dirk, until he walked up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders.
Instantly, she whirled around and grabbed him around the waist. Burying her face against her husband’s broad, warm chest, Savannah allowed herself to cry. She let the pain and fear of the last few days, and especially the past hour, wash through and out of her.
Finally, when she was finished, she pulled back a bit and looked up at him. She was both surprised and touched to see tears in his eyes, too.
“Waycross told me what you did,” she said.
“I’m sorry, Van. I really am,” he began. “I wanted to tell you, but your brother was dead set on working it out on his own. He begged me not to tell you and—”
“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” she assured him. “You were in a rotten spot, but you did what you thought was best all the way down the line. I couldn’t ask for more.”
He looked enormously relieved. “Really? You’re not mad at me?” He gulped, then added, “You still love me?”
“Oh, darlin’, I swear, I’ve never loved you more than I do right this very minute.”
To prove it, she kissed him. Long and hard. Right there in the ambulance bay, in front of God and everybody who had nothing better to do than watch a middle-aged couple make out in public.
Chapter 18
In general, Savannah wasn’t fond of hospitals. She was even less happy to be inside that one, because she had nearly died inside those dull, beige walls.
They also saved your life here, she reminded herself, recalling how close she had been to death when she’d arrived there, riddled with bullets.
She decided she really should cut the place some slack, in spite of the bad memories, bland paint choices, and depressing gray furniture. Lives were saved here daily, babies born, deadly diseases treated, and some very special people performed those miracles without fanfare and, in many cases, with precious little pay.
Ordinarily, under such circumstances, she would have called a loved one to come, sit with her, and distract her with nervous chitchat, while she waited for the results of her brother’s initial examination.
But Dirk was on his way to Tammy’s house, to tell her what was going on and to give her a ride to the hospital.
Savannah would have called Ryan and John. Two of her closest friends for years, they were excellent company at a time like this. Kind, supportive, while not intrusive. But she knew that Waycross wanted as few people as possible to know about his situation, and she would find it awkward to have them come and yet tell them only half a story.
Then there was Granny, but she was watching the baby and—
Gran!
Savannah wanted to smack herself! How could she have forgotten poor Granny?
She glanced down at her phone, which she had muted, complying with the sign on the wall of the waiting room.
One look told her that she had missed four calls from her grandmother in the past fifteen minutes.
No doubt, Granny was fit to be tied, and Savannah couldn’t blame her. Every Reid woman knew, all too well, how much the other ones hated to be kept in the dark about important family matters.
Yes, Savannah knew she was in trouble now, for sure.
She glanced around the ER’s waiting room at its other occupants. They all wore the haggard, troubled looks of people whose daily lives had been turned upside down by one of the many events that life tossed onto the paths of unsuspecting human beings.
The sad folk assembled there had troubles that ranged from a finger that needed stitching—cut while its owner was slicing an avocado—to far, far worse.
She took a moment out of her pity parade to be grateful she wasn’t the group in the corner whose father had collapsed with what appeared to be a heart attack or the young man getting a soda from the machine, whose pregnant wife had begun labor far too early.
Waycross would be all right.
/>
His leg, definitely.
The addiction . . . Like many chronic diseases, there would be no cure. But with a lot of hard work, and the support of his loved ones, maybe he could keep it under control.
Time would tell.
Meanwhile, she had to make some phone calls.
She walked over to the ER admitting desk and asked the nurse there, “Can you tell me how long it might be until I can see my brother? We brought him in a while ago.”
“The one who was in the auto accident.”
“Yes. The redhead. Waycross Reid.”
The nurse typed his name into her computer and said, “They’ve taken him to radiology, probably to X-ray his leg. It’ll be half an hour, at least.”
“Okay. Is there someplace I can make a couple of phone calls without bothering anyone?”
“Our new serenity garden,” she replied. “Down the hall, through the exit doors on the left.”
Serenity garden. She liked the sound of that. If there was anything she could use right now, it was a big plateful of serenity. Maybe she could take a doggy bag full of it back home with her.
She checked her watch, marked the time she should return, and set off in search of peace.
* * *
Savannah found the tranquility she was looking for the moment she exited the building and entered the beautiful garden. While not particularly large—about the size of her living room and kitchen—the space was beautifully designed and landscaped.
Tropical plants flourished, providing shade and grace, along with beddings of native plants and succulents in attractive arrangements. A koi pond in the center of the garden was filled with pink lotus blossoms and tiny brass bells that floated among the flowers, circulating in the swirling water and chiming softly when they met.
Comfortable chairs invited visitors to sit and drink the beauty of the place into their troubled minds and spirits.
Savannah was relieved to see that she was the only one there at the moment. She didn’t want to disturb anyone’s much-needed meditation with the calls she had to make.
Bitter Brew (A Savannah Reid Mystery) Page 15
