River's Edge (Hope Rising Book 1)

by Kristen M. Fraser

  With the sun sinking low across the city, the temperature soon dropped a few degrees. Sweat cooled on Natalie’s skin, sending a flush of goosebumps over her arms despite the long-sleeved shirt she wore. She turned past the university campus on the edge of the river and hastened her pace towards home.

  Traffic was gridlocked as cars fought for road space to exit the city, while the footpaths were filled with people pouring out of offices and buildings as they finished their workday and headed home.

  By the time Natalie entered her apartment building, her cheeks were flushed, and her shirt was damp with sweat. Her feet and legs ached, but she felt invigorated. The walk had been just what she’d needed to clear her head and cast aside her lingering fears. She would not allow any thought of what could have been take hold.

  After draining the last drop of water from her drink bottle, Natalie sent a text to Graham, informing him of her availability at the health clinic for a few hours should he need her. It would be good to focus on the needs of others and not dwell on her own thoughts.

  11

  The sound of moaning drew Ben from his sleep. Shifting on the ground, he rolled over. Tonight’s accommodation was the concrete slab underneath the pavilion by the river. Consisting of a metal table and two bench seats secured to the ground, Smiley and Ben laid their sleeping bags on the concrete to avoid any dew from the grass seeping through their bedding. The roof provided little protection from the cool wind blowing across the water, but it was something.

  The shelter they’d sought comfort in the past week was full, having been taken over by another group of homeless wanderers they hadn’t met before. Discouraged and with the cold night air seeping through their clothing, they’d headed back to their familiar home by the river’s edge.

  “You alright, mate?” Running a hand through his hair, Ben pushed up onto his elbows. Streetlights from further up the hill cast a dull glow across the park. Water lapped quietly on the bank, while fog settled low over the surface of the river.

  Moonlight poked out from behind the clouds, and Ben could just make out Smiley’s form, curled up in the foetal position. Another low moan rose on the air, followed by a hacking cough. Ben shuffled out of his bag, shivering as the crisp breeze caressed his skin, and knelt beside Smiley. The old man’s body trembled. Ben placed a hand on his forehead, the skin burning the palm of his hand.

  “Smiley. Are you okay?” Ben asked again, with increased urgency. Another cough echoed in the night. Smiley’s shoulders stiffened as a low moan rose from his lips.

  “You’ve got a nasty fever, and your cough sounds terrible.” Ben rummaged through his bag, finding some paracetamol for reducing the fever, and grabbed a bottle of water. “Here. Let’s sit you up.” Squatting next to his friend, Ben hooked an arm around his shoulders and helped him upright. The older man slumped against his chest.

  “See if you can swallow these.” Ben pushed two tablets between Smiley’s dry lips, and held the bottle of water for him to drink. Water trickled over Smiley’s beard as he slurped from the bottle. After making sure he’d swallowed both tablets, Ben draped his blanket over his friend’s shoulders. With teeth chattering, Smiley clutched the blanket around his chest.

  “I’m so cold.”

  “I know you are. Hopefully the tablets will work soon and help bring that fever down.” Another bout of coughing shook Smiley’s slight frame. His eyes were glazed. His face flushed.

  Ben rocked back on his heels. “I’m worried about that cough of yours.” He glanced down at his watch, tilting his arm in the dim light. Almost midnight. “Where did you say the clinic was?” Smiley coughed again and raised his frail hand. Pointing across the park, he gave directions to the health clinic in between short breaths.

  “I want you to stay here. I’m going to get help.” Smiley nodded weakly. Ben lowered him to the ground and cocooned him in the blankets, tucking them tight around his body. With one last glance at his ill friend, he took off jogging through the park.

  Damp air washed over Ben’s face as he crossed the deserted road. His feet pounded on the footpath in time with his pulse pounding in his ears as he raced down the street. His breath misted into the night, and his lungs burned as he sucked in the cold air. A stitch formed in his side settling like a knife blade beneath his rib cage, but he pressed on.

  A few cars drove by, and he shielded his eyes from their blinding headlights. Ben slowed to a walk at the street Smiley mentioned. A sandwich board advertising the health clinic stood on the footpath outside a low-set weather-beaten building. A single light bulb glowed from underneath a worn red and white awning. A simple brass plate engraved with Hope Street Health Clinic was fixed to the front door.

  Sucking in lungfuls of air, Ben raised his knuckles and knocked. A shadow passed behind the timber shutters in the window. The rattling of a chain sounded, before the door opened and a large frame filled the doorway.

  “Ben?” Graham’s surprised voice boomed out into the night. “Is that you?”

  “Yes,” Ben puffed, resting one hand on his knees while rubbing his left side where the stitch had settled in place. He glanced at his watch. Surprisingly, it hadn’t taken him long to reach the clinic.

  “What’s the matter?” Graham stepped out onto the pavement. His white hair stood on end, his button-down shirt was rolled up at the sleeves.

  “It’s Smiley. He’s not well at all. He needs a doctor.” Ben wiped a hand across his sweat-drenched brow.

  Graham glanced at his watch and back over his shoulder where a fluorescent bulb washed the small room in pale light. “Let me finish closing up. Come in.”

  Graham picked up the sandwich board and carried it inside. Ben followed behind, eyeing the small, but neat waiting area. The walls were painted in pastel yellow, giving the room a warm, comforting atmosphere. Three tan-coloured vinyl chairs were lined up against the far wall. A potted plant stood in one corner near the front window. Various brochures filled a vertical shelf next to the small reception desk. Through a doorway, he could see an examination bed and stainless steel sink.

  Graham closed and locked the front door and flicked off the outside light. Turning, he strode through to a small room at the back of the clinic.

  “Natalie, Smiley’s not well. Do you mind if we stop by and see him? Or I can drop you home first if you need to get home.”

  Ben paused in the doorway as Natalie glanced up from the sink. Her mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ as her brow creased, and she cast a questioning glance Ben’s way. Fatigue tainted her perfect features, and loose strands of hair framed her flawless face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Ben’s breath caught in his throat. His chest clenched tight at recognising her genuine concern for his friend, but also with how utterly beautiful she looked. Despite her weary appearance in the washed out fluorescent light, he had never seen anyone more stunning. Unlike Krista’s superficial beauty, the woman standing before him in a rumpled t-shirt, faded jeans and joggers was a natural. He quickly lowered his gaze and cleared his throat.

  “He’s got a fever and a nasty cough. The cough’s been getting worse for the past few days. He was shaking terribly when I left.”

  “I’ll come with you, Graham.” Natalie flicked the tap and rinsed her hands under the water before drying them with a nearby paper towel and tossing it in the bin. Graham rummaged through a cupboard and pulled out several boxes of tablets before placing them in a brown leather bag.

  “I’ll pop in some antibiotics and analgesia. I’ll determine more about his condition when we get there.” Graham locked the rear door of the clinic, and Ben followed the doctor and Natalie out to a van in the carpark. Hope Street Clinic was emblazoned on the side in identical writing to the food van.

  Graham slid in behind the steering wheel, while Natalie slid into the middle seat of the cab. Ben eyed the remaining space before climbing into the passenger seat next to the window. Fully aware of Natalie’s presence beside him, he shuffled as far against th
e door as he could, curling his fingers around the handle.

  “Where are we headed, Ben?” Graham glanced across the cab as he started the ignition.

  “Near the green space. We’ve been there for a couple of nights now. We had a different place to stay earlier in the week, but there was no room for us there tonight.”

  The vehicle bounced over the kerb, sending Natalie flying into Ben’s side. Pushing a hand against the dashboard, she straightened upright, wrapped her arms around Graham’s medical kit on her lap, and murmured an apology.

  Ben edged his legs further away, fully aware of the warmth of her body and the sensations coursing through his veins. He needed to focus on something else. Not the faint smell of citrus soap or hints of lavender reaching his nostrils, reminding him of a perfect summer’s day. He hoped she couldn’t smell him. Although he’d managed a shower that morning in the public restroom near the lagoon at South Bank, he was certain he didn’t smell as fresh as she did. Especially after racing to the clinic for help.

  “How long’s he been sick?” Natalie glanced his way. Her face was merely inches from his, and it was all he could do not to reach out and trace a finger over the curve of her lips. He scooted further away, which was near impossible in the confined space.

  “Not sure. I think he was a bit off yesterday. He didn’t eat a great deal. But his moaning woke me tonight. It was then I noticed his fever and bad cough.”

  “Where abouts, Ben?” A blanket of fog covered the park, creating an eerie landscape emerging through the headlights. Graham slowed the van and leaned forward, peering through the windscreen into the night.

  “Pull over near that middle lamp post.”

  Graham pulled the van to a stop near a row of evenly spaced streetlamps illuminating the front of the park. Ben opened the door and jumped down, eager to escape the confines of the van where his thoughts and senses were scrambled by the presence of the woman beside him. Without a backward glance, he led the way through the park.

  Graham slid a headlamp onto his head and flicked it on, the beam of light slicing through the fog, bouncing off trees and illuminating the darkened area. Ben could make out their makeshift bedding sprawled on the ground. A rasping sound filled the air as they neared.

  “Smiley, it’s me, Ben.” Kneeling down beside his friend, he placed a hand on his shoulder. Smiley’s eyes briefly flickered open. “I brought Graham and Natalie. They’re going to help you.”

  Ben stood and moved away as Graham knelt down and placed a hand on Smiley’s forehead. He glanced up at Natalie, and Ben didn’t miss the frown creasing his brow or the slight shake of his head. Running a hand over his jaw, Ben watched helplessly as the pair set to work. Graham pulled a stethoscope out of the bag and rustled under Smiley’s jacket before placing it against his chest. Another frown touched his brow as he listened and moved the instrument across his chest several times.

  “What do you reckon?” Ben leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. Smiley’s face appeared pale and gaunt in the light from Graham’s headlamp.

  “His chest doesn’t sound great,” Graham replied, looping the stethoscope around his neck.

  “And he’s definitely got a high temperature.” Natalie withdrew the thermometer from underneath Smiley’s arm and showed the reading to Graham.

  “You gave him some paracetamol?” Graham turned on his heels and glanced at Ben.

  “Before I came to the clinic.”

  “It doesn’t seem to have done much by the look of things.” Pursing his lips, Graham pushed to his feet and ran a hand through his wild hair.

  “How are you feeling Smiley?” Natalie cupped a hand over the old man’s whiskery cheek, her soft voice stirring something deep inside Ben. With arms folded, he watched as she gently drew the blanket up to his shoulders. Pulling a flannel from the bag, she dampened it with water before placing it on his feverish brow. Smiley’s beard twitched as his lips curved into a small smile.

  “I’m okay.” His voice rasped and his eyes flickered open. Natalie’s fingers smoothed Smiley’s matted hair off his forehead. Something in Ben’s chest squeezed at the simplicity of her tender movements. There was no judgement in her eyes. Just compassion and concern.

  “Always the optimist.” She glanced over her shoulder at Ben and smiled. Even at such a late hour, and in such cold conditions, she still looked amazing. His heart hammered hard and fast against his ribs. Unable to form words, he nodded. That was Smiley. Life had been tough for the old bloke, yet he continued being positive.

  Natalie stroked Smiley’s face one last time before pushing to her feet and brushing dirt from her jeans.

  “We need to get him to hospital,” Graham murmured. “I know he’s not going to like it, and it’s not going to be the ideal trip in the back of the van, but I can’t do anything for him here.”

  Adjusting her ponytail, Natalie nodded. “Has he got any relatives? Any immediate family or next of kin that you know of?” The faintest frown creased her brow as she faced Ben.

  “He’s got family somewhere – up north and somewhere in Victoria, I think. But he hasn’t been in touch with them for …” Ben rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “Years. Sorry. I’m no help.” He kicked a loose stone with the toe of his shoe and watched it bounce across the concrete and onto the grass. It hadn’t even crossed his mind what would happen if he was in an accident or needed to go to hospital. Who would be his next of kin? After Krista left him, he didn’t have anyone else in his life, other than the few friends he’d made on the street.

  “Okay.” Natalie placed the thermometer and Graham’s stethoscope into the bag before zipping it closed. Gathering the blankets, she followed behind the men as they carried Smiley across the wet grass to the van. Sliding open the side door, she spread the blankets out on the floor and stood back as the men assisted Smiley inside.

  Ben pulled the blankets over his friend sat next to him, resting one hand on his shoulder as Graham drove the short distance to the hospital. Smiley’s breathing laboured and an audible wheeze sounded each time he took a breath. Ben watched his friend closely, as best he could in the darkened shadows, for any changes in his condition.

  12

  The doors to the emergency department of Mercy General Hospital slid open, and Ben’s stomach twisted in knots as both he and Graham half-walked, half-dragged Smiley inside. They settled him onto a chair in the corner of the waiting room while Natalie disappeared through a set of doors next to the triage counter.

  With eyes lowered to the floor, Ben clasped his fingers together. One leg jigged up and down and sweat beaded on his brow as he waited for Natalie to return. He tried to ignore the certain glances of judgement from other patients in the waiting room and focused on a worn patch of linoleum stretching from his seat across to the wall.

  Being back in the midst of civilisation made him uncomfortable. Sure, he’d been around people since his life fell apart. But being homeless came with certain expectations. Avoid loitering in the mall, or being around too many popular areas. Keep to yourself and stay out of everyone’s way. Tonight was different though. His friend was unwell, and he’d had no choice but to escape the boundaries of his nothingness and find help.

  Graham sat on the other side of Smiley, supporting his shoulders as his friend shivered beneath the blanket enveloping him. The television in the corner blared with late night news. Murmurs of conversation floated around the waiting room, and the blips of medical equipment carried through the triage window.

  Ben caught a glimpse of his reflection in the windows of the waiting room. Jeans. Faded t-shirt. Hair that curled a little too long over his collar and fell over his eyes. A jawline flourishing with weeks of growth from not shaving. Who was that man? His smooth-shaven jaw and neat business attire were all but a faded memory. Would he ever be that man again? He didn’t want to go back to his superficial world, but he didn’t want to stay on the streets either. One day. One day things would change. They had to. He didn’t have it
in him to continue living like this.

  From the corner of his eye he caught movement as the doors swung open and Natalie strode towards them pushing a wheelchair. Ben stood and helped Smiley to his feet. With Graham’s help, they lowered him into the wheelchair, repositioning the blanket over his knees before following Natalie through the doors, along a short corridor and into a cubicle surrounded by blue curtains.

  Ben flicked the footplates up and helped Smiley onto the gurney. The older man’s movements were slow and deliberate as he settled on the starched white sheet. Ben drew a blanket up over Smiley’s legs and gave his arm a squeeze.

  “You’ll be all right, mate. The docs will look after you and get you better in no time.”

  A man in navy scrubs entered the cubicle, closing the curtains behind him and began asking Graham a few questions. Ben hovered near the bed, not wanting to engage with anyone or draw attention to himself.

  Voices and occasional laughter floated across the department and through the curtains. Ben shifted on his feet and loosened the collar around his neck. The sooner they got out of there, the better.

  A cool hand rested lightly on his arm. “Do you want to get something to eat or drink?”

  He glanced up, and crystal blue eyes collided with his. They stood close enough for him to see the flecks of silver in Natalie’s eyes, and the darker blue circling her irises. Close enough to notice the finest of lines etched around the curve of her lips, and the sprinkle of freckles across her nose. “The team here will check Smiley over, so we’ve got time to get something.”

  “Sure.” His mouth was parched. He blamed his thirst. It was easier than admitting his futile attraction to the woman standing before him. He followed her along the corridor, retracing their steps through the doors and over to the vending machine against the far wall of the waiting room.