Delay of Game

by Catherine Gayle

  They’d already tried doing an ultrasound to check on the baby, but she was still so early in her pregnancy that they weren’t able to see enough through the traditional method. The doctors had decided to go in to do one vaginally, but they were also concerned about other possible internal injuries, so they were going to do an MRI first. If they couldn’t determine enough about the baby through that scan, they’d stick an ultrasound wand up inside her. That didn’t sound very pleasant to me, but I wanted them to do whatever was necessary to make sure she and the baby were both going to be all right.

  So now they were wheeling her off down a long hallway to get her MRI, and they weren’t letting me go along for that. An orderly directed me to the waiting room and said they would come to find me when they were done and I could be with her again.

  I was pretty sure I would find Burnzie there, since he’d said he was going to follow us to the hospital when we’d gotten into the ambulance. For whatever reason, I hadn’t been expecting everyone else, though.

  Dana and Zee were there, as well as Rachel, Soupy, and her kids. Webs and Laura had brought all three of their teenagers. Kally was watching Noelle, who had flopped down on the floor, her long skirt spread out all around her, and was playing cars with Rachel’s redheaded little boy, Tuck. Even Babs was there, and he’d dragged Razor along with him. Razor had his nose buried in a Nintendo DS, though, oblivious to everything going on around him.

  It wasn’t the sight of any of them that stopped me in my tracks. For the most part, these were Sara’s people—the girls she spent her time with and their families. They were the ones who would be worried about her, who would want to be here with her. It made sense for all of them to be here.

  What surprised me was that Scotty was sitting there in a wheelchair.

  I don’t know why that took me aback. I’d insisted that we come to this hospital because it was where he was. It only made sense for someone to have told him what had happened. I still wasn’t prepared for the sight of him, though. Of him sitting upright.

  I met his eyes and swallowed hard.

  He angled his head and jerked it, in a get-your-ass-over-here sort of motion. “Come push my chair, Jonny. Take me for a walk.” I must have hesitated because he barked, “What the fuck are you waiting for? They take forever around here to run these tests. We have plenty of time, so get your ass in gear.”

  I nodded and moved behind his wheelchair, making sure everything was properly situated with the IV pole before moving him. “Where do you want to go?”

  “Anywhere. Just away from all these ears so we can talk.”

  Fuck. The thought of talking to him right now, one-on-one, made my stomach churn. I pushed him out the waiting room door, though, and started down the long hall toward the cafeteria.

  “How is she?” he asked once we were well out of earshot of the others.

  “She’s got a concussion. And she’ll need stitches in at least a few places. They’re doing an MRI now to see what’s going on internally.” That was all the information I felt comfortable sharing with him—that I didn’t think she would be upset with me over.

  A series of windows stretched as far along the hall as I could see, looking out over the parking lot. I looked out them, but I didn’t see anything. All I could see was Sara’s pained, confused face and the streak of drying blood on her cheek.

  “And the baby?” he asked.

  His question startled me so much that I actually stopped moving.

  Scotty cleared his throat. “Burnzie told me that you’d made sure the paramedics were aware she was pregnant. That it had been the first thing you’d thought of. That was one of the first things he said when he came up to tell me what was going on—that you were making sure they looked after the baby, too. He thought I knew and was trying to reassure me. I pretended I did so he wouldn’t realize he’d spilled the beans.”

  At least it was Burnzie who’d told him and not me, but the only reason Burnzie knew was because I’d screwed up and mentioned it in front of him. I just hadn’t been thinking clearly. I started walking again, trying to weigh each word before I said it so I wouldn’t reveal too much. “They did an ultrasound, but it’s too soon to see anything that way.”

  “Will the MRI show them what they need to know?”

  “They hope so. If not, they can do an internal ultrasound.”

  Scotty nodded, letting it all sink in. I kept waiting for him to blow up at me. To lose his shit, like Sara had said he would. To start yelling and cussing at me because that was how I was used to him communicating with me.

  He didn’t, though. He just sat quietly in his wheelchair, letting me push him down the hall. Maybe he liked toying with me. Maybe he was trying to lull me into thinking that he was okay with the fact that I’d knocked up his little girl, and then—wham!—he’d start acting like I’d expected him to in the first place.

  “When were you two planning to tell me?” he asked after a minute.

  I really fucking wished I could talk to Sara about this. She should be involved. She should be the one deciding how much to tell her father and when—especially after the promise I’d made to her. But she wasn’t. And he was asking questions. And I couldn’t put him off.

  “We haven’t known very long at all. We were trying to decide those kinds of things. How to go about it. When.”

  He nodded. For a long time, he stared out the windows at the sea of cars. “Is that why you finally told me you were dating her?”

  Yes, but not for the reasons he assumed. But he didn’t need to know the whole truth. “Yeah, it is. I thought you’d need to digest that before you’d be ready for this.”

  We got to the doors leading into the cafeteria, and I turned his wheelchair around for the return trip. They would probably be done with her MRI soon.

  Scotty’s silence was killing me. He hadn’t sounded even a little bit angry since I’d wheeled him out of the waiting room. I didn’t know how to interact with him when he wasn’t blowing up at me or someone else. It made me more uncomfortable than I could ever remember being, walking along behind him and having a normal conversation like two rational human beings.

  “When… Ah, shit.” I didn’t know how to say what I was trying to say. “When they’re done with Sara’s tests, you should go back with her,” I finally got out. He was her father. She adored him. She’d want him in there with her, at least a hell of a lot more than she wanted me. It would kill me not to be with her, but this wasn’t about me.

  “I don’t think that’s such a hot idea,” he said, laughing. How the fuck could he be laughing at a time like this? I was starting to think there was a hell of a lot I didn’t know about Scotty Thomas. He tapped his hands on the arms of his wheelchair. “I’d be in the way more than I’d help. You go back in with her.”

  “But you’re her father. You’re her family.”

  “For twenty-three years, that’s been my job—to be the one by her side, holding her hand and making sure she felt safe and loved and protected. Not anymore. Now it’s your job. I’ve got to learn to let go. No time like the present to start.”

  Out of all the reactions he could have had to discovering that Sara was pregnant, this was the last thing I expected. “I’m not… I don’t… Fuck, Scotty, she’s still your little girl.”

  We were nearly back to the waiting room. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to slow down or speed up.

  “Yeah, she’s my baby girl,” he said. “But now I have to trust you to take care of her. She’s going to have a family of her own, and you’re going to be part of that. I’m choosing to put her in your hands because she’s chosen you. Don’t make me regret it.”

  She hadn’t chosen me, though. Not really. Not yet.

  I’D NEVER FELT claustrophobic before, but this fucking MRI machine was quickly changing that. There was hardly room to breathe in here, as it was, and it felt like the thing kept closing in on me, and I just wanted the fuck out of there.

  “How much longer?” I aske
d, trying hard not to move so I wouldn’t screw anything up.

  “One more minute, Sara,” a disembodied female voice said into the chamber. “Hold really still for me. Just keep breathing.”

  Breathe. Right. I could do that, if not for the fact that every time I filled my lungs, I felt a sharp, stabby pain in my side. Shallower breaths worked better; they didn’t make me want to twist and writhe and scream.

  I couldn’t remember anything up until just before they put me in this machine. I had been on a hospital gurney, and they’d been wheeling me through some hall or another, and I’d asked what had happened.

  “You were in a car wreck,” they’d told me. “We’re taking you for an MRI so we can see what’s going on inside you and check on your baby. We’ll get you back to your boyfriend as soon as we’re done, and he can help to explain everything.”

  I hadn’t been able to make sense of that at first, but then I vaguely remembered Cam holding my hand and telling me he wasn’t going anywhere. That he would take care of me. Had we been at the hospital then? I couldn’t make it all out in my head. Was he in the car wreck with me? Was he okay? My head was throbbing, and not just because of trying to figure out what was going on. Was this what a concussion felt like?

  “All right,” the woman said into the intercom. “All done. We’re going to get you out of there now, so just sit tight.”

  All I could do was sit tight, so her instruction seemed kind of redundant. Telling her that right now wouldn’t exactly be helpful, though, so I kept it to myself.

  A few minutes later, they wheeled my bed into a hospital room, and Cam was there waiting for me. He looked like he was worrying himself sick, but at least he didn’t seem to be hurt.

  The nurse parked my bed and adjusted the wheel locks, then reconnected an IV bag to the port they’d put in my arm. “The doctor’s going to look at the results, and then he’ll be in to talk to you. In the meanwhile, he’s sent for someone to come stitch you up.”

  I nodded that I understood, but the motion made my head hurt worse. I groaned.

  “Can she have anything for pain?” Cam asked. He’d been standing off to the side while the nurse got me situated, but now he moved back over to sit beside me. He reached for my hand, and I let him take it. It felt warm and secure and right. I immediately felt calmer.

  “I’ll ask the doctor and see. I don’t know what they’ll say because she’s pregnant.”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  When she left, I rolled my head over so I could look at him better, really look at him this time. He definitely didn’t seem hurt. No cuts or bruises. He wasn’t all banged up like I was. “You weren’t in the wreck?” I asked.

  He shook his head and brushed my hair back from my forehead. “No. You had just left the hospital from a meeting with your dad’s doctors. We were on the phone when it happened.”

  “Oh.” Yeah, I remembered that. Daddy was supposed to be discharged tomorrow. Hell. How was I going to take care of him now? How was I going to get him home? The car— “How bad is my car?”

  “It’s totaled. They had to cut you out of it. But don’t worry about the car right now.”

  “Okay.” It really did sound like a good idea, to not worry. I didn’t know how easy it would be for me to do that, though. A shiver raced over me.

  “You’re cold?” Cam immediately tugged the blanket up higher on me, tucking it in by my side. I sucked in a sharp breath from the contact. His eyes shot up to my face. “Sorry. You hurt there?” His hand was gentle as he slid it over my rib cage, tenderly probing with his fingertips.

  “Yeah, that hurt a lot.”

  “Probably a broken rib or two. The seat belt might have done it.” He moved his hand away from my side. He shivered, too. “Why do they keep it so cold in here? I’ll see if the nurse can bring you another blanket.”

  “Daddy likes it that his room is cold.” Oh hell. Daddy. “Does he know what happened?”

  Cam nodded. “I told him he should come in here with you, but…” He shook his head as he trailed off.

  “But what?”

  He gave me a look—the kind that made me certain I wasn’t going to like anything that came out of his mouth after it.

  “What, Cam? Just tell me.”

  “He said that’s my job now.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. Why the hell would Daddy say something like that? It didn’t make any sense, no matter how I tried to sort it out in my mind.

  “Because of the baby.”

  “Daddy doesn’t know about the baby.” Unless Cam told him. Which he promised me he wouldn’t do. He’d said he wouldn’t do anything behind my back anymore.

  “He does know,” Cam said. “Burnzie let it slip.”

  I could feel my anger building, a big ball of mad rising up from my stomach and threatening to come out as puke, and it made my head throb like nobody’s business. I tried to sit up straighter, but that only made the stabbing pain in my side burn like a motherfucker. I sucked in a breath, and Cam made to try to help me until I ripped my hand away from him. That only made my side hurt worse. I really hoped they would be able to give me something for pain because holy fucking hell, it hurt. Everywhere. I hurt abso-fucking-lutely everywhere.

  “How the fuck did Keith Burns, of all people, know?”

  “He heard me tell the paramedics. He thought he was helping your dad not to worry so much.”

  The door opened before I could tell him to go fuck himself, and a doctor came in with a wheeled tray of supplies. “Why don’t we get you stitched up?”

  Cam backed away from my bed so the doctor could get in and do his work. I glared at him while he stood off in the corner. Being mad at him right now would help me get through getting the fucking stitches, at least. It’d give me something to focus on beyond the pain.

  “Has anything been determined about whether she can have something for the pain?” Cam asked, pissing me off even more. Why the hell did he have to be so calm and thoughtful all the time? Why did he have to be worried about me? It would be a hell of a lot easier to stay mad at him if he wouldn’t pull shit like that.

  “Her primary doctor should be in soon. He can answer that, but I’m sure we’ll be able to give her something to help.” He set to work cleaning a cut on my cheek that I hadn’t even noticed I had.

  I winced because whatever he was using to clean it with stung.

  “Sorry. It won’t take long. I need you to be really still. I want to do everything I can to prevent a scar up here, okay?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” I murmured, not taking my eyes from Cam.

  “She’s cold, too,” he said.

  The doctor looked up at him briefly. “There should be a spare blanket in that cabinet next to you.” Then he turned back to his work on my cheek.

  Cam got the blanket and unfolded it, bringing it across to me. I didn’t want him to put it on me. I wanted to stay mad at him and not let him do kind things for me, but I couldn’t move right now so I couldn’t very well stop him. He carefully placed it over me, loosely, not tucking it in this time so he wouldn’t hurt my ribs.

  Despite myself, I murmured, “Thank you.”

  Cam just nodded and went back to the corner, standing and staring.

  In all my anger, one thing was still really bothering me. “Why would it be your job to be in here with me?”

  He stared a long time, so long I thought maybe he was just going to do the silent caveman staring thing and not answer me at all. But then he shrugged. “Because now I’m going to be your family.”

  TWO CRACKED RIBS, a concussion, more than a dozen stitches placed in three different spots, plus more minor cuts and bruises than anyone was going to attempt to document. All of that combined to make me feel like a freaking hockey player. Then I wondered why the hell hockey players kept going back for more if this was how they felt. I don’t think I had ever hurt so much before in my entire life. Maybe if you added up all the hurts I could remember and threw them all at me at once—mayb
e then. But otherwise, not so much.

  The good news was that there was nothing so badly wrong with me that the doctors felt the need to admit me. I was going to go home. The better news was that they sent me with a prescription for painkillers that they said would be safe for the baby, and they’d given me a dose of it intravenously before discharging me. That had helped tremendously, but I still hurt all over.

  All signs pointed to everything being fine with the pregnancy, but they told me to take it easy for the next few weeks, not to overexert myself, and that if anything unusual happened, I should go see my OB-GYN as soon as possible.

  That was all well and good except I didn’t know how I was going to manage to take it easy. Daddy had just had heart surgery, and he was due to be discharged tomorrow. I was supposed to be the one taking care of him…and he definitely wasn’t going to be able to take care of me. The two of us made quite a pair.

  The meeting I’d had with his doctors before the wreck today had made it abundantly clear to me just how much assistance he was going to need in order to get through daily life. Even simple things like getting up from a chair were going to be hard for him. He wasn’t supposed to lift anything that weighed more than five pounds. He needed to get up and walk several times a day, but he couldn’t do it alone. I was supposed to be the one right there with him in case he needed someone to lean on, but how could he lean on me now that I had cracked ribs?

  At least I’d only cracked them, and they weren’t fully broken. I couldn’t even imagine the pain of that right now. Anything worse than this seemed impossible.

  They’d allowed Daddy to come in to see me for a few minutes earlier, an orderly pushing him in a wheelchair. He hadn’t stayed long—really only long enough to see that yes, I would be all right, and to tell me that he loved me and he’d see me tomorrow—before they’d taken him back to his room because he needed to rest. Simply sitting upright as long as he had today, not to mention worrying about me, had nearly done him in. How was I ever going to manage this?

  All of that was running through my head while the doctors delivered my aftercare instructions. It was probably a good thing that Cam was listening, even though I really wanted to kick him out of my room, because I sure as hell wasn’t taking any of it in. Especially not now that my medication had kicked in, dulling not only my pain but also my ability to pay attention.