by Beverly Long
What were these two doing out here on this miserable day? But that wasn’t important now. What mattered now was assessing, treating and transporting to a higher level of care. He made eye contact with the man and repeated what he’d said to the woman just minutes before. “My name is Blade, and my partner Parnell and I are both licensed paramedics. We’re going to take good care of you, sir. Can you tell me your name?” While he was talking, he reached for his jump bag. Equipment in hand, he started checking the man’s vitals.
“Hosea Pratt. Pratt Sports Spot,” he added.
Blade knew of the man and the company. Most everybody in this part of the state would. Pratt Sports Spot was one of the most successful sporting goods chains in the region. Outdoor enthusiasts flocked to Washington, and once here, they most certainly made their way to a Pratt Sports Spot. Hosea Pratt was more than an entrepreneur. He was a well-known philanthropist, and more than one recreational center had been built with his dollars. Blade was pretty sure that he’d also made some hefty contributions to Bigelow Memorial over the years.
That might pay off in spades right now. Get him a private room, maybe.
Blood pressure was a little high. No surprise. Pupils were responsive to light. Pulse was steady. Speech was not slurred. “You’ve got a bump on your head, sir. Can you tell me the day of the week and the month?”
“Friday. And February.” The man’s voice was terse. “My hip. You need to check my hip.”
“We’ll do that sir,” Blade said calmly. “Tell me about your hip.”
“I can’t move my leg or get up. I’m in a hell of a lot of pain.”
“On a scale of ten, with ten being the most pain you’ve ever had, what number are you at?” Blade asked.
“A damn twelve,” Hosea said.
He could give him something to take the edge off. They were allowed to dispense certain narcotics under standing orders from Dr. Jamie Weathers. “Can’t have that,” he said. Again, he reached into his jump bag. “Any allergies to medicine?” he asked.
“No. Just hurry.”
“Yes, sir.” He quickly unzipped the man’s coat, pulled his right arm out, rolled up his sleeve and stuck him with the prepared syringe.
Parnell had already fastened a cervical collar. Whatever damage was done, they didn’t want to add to it by moving him without it. “We’re going to strap you onto a stretcher, Mr. Pratt. And get you off this ledge. And then you’ll be transported to Bigelow Memorial.”
Parnell relayed the information to those on the ground and moved so that he could reach the stretcher that was being handed up.
“Daisy, you’ll need to take the car back,” Hosea said. “And tell Tom.”
Their son, Blade thought. In all these years, you’d have thought that he’d have heard that Pratt was married to a knockout.
“Tom?” the woman asked, clearly puzzled.
Blade turned to look at her. Huh? Had she also hit her head?
“Tom Howards. COO,” Hosea said. He was sounding a bit more relaxed, as if the pain medication was already doing its job.
“Of course,” Daisy said. She pulled out her phone.
“Let’s wait for notifications until we get to the ground, Mrs. Pratt,” Blade said.
She jerked back so fast that for a second, he was concerned that she might tumble off the ledge.
“Careful,” he said.
“We’re not...um...married. He’s my boss. My new boss. It’s my first day.”
“My real wife is going to be mad as a vegan alligator,” Hosea said. “You’re going to need to handle her, too. Get her number from my assistant.”
The woman nodded, looking slightly ill.
Blade felt oddly satisfied that the two of them weren’t married. But first day? That sucked. He really wanted the story about how they’d come to be here, but he and Parnell were gently rolling Mr. Pratt onto his noninjured side so they could slip the stretcher under him. Then rolling him back. Centering him as best they could without tugging or jerking.
“On my count,” he said. “One, two, three.” They lifted.
“Miss,” he said, “you’ll go down the ladder ahead of us. Feel steady enough to do that?”
She stared at him. Her eyes were so freakin’ blue.
“If the alternative is spending the day here, I’m plenty steady,” she said.
He suspected Hosea Pratt had made a good hire. She’d stayed calm, had summoned help quickly and had willingly accepted the tasks that Hosea had thrown in her direction. “What’s your last name, Daisy?” he asked. He’d need it for the report, he told himself.
“Rambler. I’m Daisy Rambler.”
He motioned for her to move toward the ladder. Which meant that she had to pass very close. At just the right time, he leaned forward and said softly, in a voice that only she could hear, “Hell of a new employee orientation. But you did good, Daisy. Don’t forget about this when you ask for your first raise.”
Chapter 2
Don’t forget about this. Not much chance of that, Daisy thought as she negotiated the ladder on legs that were shakier than she wanted to admit. It might take a lifetime to forget the sight of her new boss falling and landing hard. At Hosea’s insistence as they began their climb, she’d taken the lead and thus, had been above him. Had heard his trouble first, the scramble to find purchase on the craggy cliff, and by the time she’d been able to turn her head, he’d already been half sliding, half falling.
It had happened so fast. She’d quickly reversed directions and, upon reaching him, had thought he might be dead. It was surprising her own heart hadn’t stopped at that point. But then she had realized that he was still breathing. Her medical expertise was limited to bandaging skinned knees and temperature taking. She’d called 911 and prayed help would come quickly.
And seeing the team emerge from the trees and race across the canyon floor had been one of the sweetest sights she’d ever seen. She’d...well, it sounded crazy, but her cold body had simply become infused with heat.
And when the paramedic had said that it was going to be fine, she’d believed him.
He’d been amazing. Calm. Polite. Efficient. From her inexperienced perspective, he’d gotten a whole lot done in a short amount of time without anybody feeling as if he might have been hurrying.
She needed to channel that now. Her to-do list was growing by the minute. Contact the COO. Contact Hosea’s wife. Should she reverse the order? Hosea’s first thought had been of his company, but didn’t the wife deserve better than that? Then create an announcement for the employees. At least the company was privately held. No shareholders to reassure. Some sort of press release would have to be given to the media, however, because Hosea Pratt and Pratt Sports Spot were fixtures in this part of the country.
Even the new kid knew that.
Years from now, would she look back on this and laugh and say, yeah, I really hit the ground running? And then someone in the corner of the room, after hearing the story, would feel compelled to say, great, your boss simply hit the ground.
Oh, God. She was losing it.
Now, standing with the other firefighters and the police officer, she turned to watch Blade and the other paramedic carry Hosea down the ladder, making sure not to jostle the stretcher. It made her think that she felt rather jostled. With good reason. This morning’s events aside, she’d been chasing a truck for two days. One that contained everything from her old life that she thought she was going to need in her new life.
And most everything that Sophie had, whether it was going to be needed or not, because her sixteen-year-old daughter hadn’t been able to bear to leave anything behind. They’d moved grade school notebooks and soccer trophies from first grade. It had been ridiculous but hadn’t been the fight she wanted to take on. Once the truck was packed, she and Sophie had cleaned their house in Denver before locking the door for
the final time. Well, Daisy had cleaned. Sophie had mostly moved from room to room, wallowing in self-pity, wanting the world to know that she wasn’t happy about moving.
Daisy hadn’t been all that happy about moving, either. She’d loved living in Denver. But she also loved just plain living, and when she wasn’t 100 percent sure that she could keep herself and Sophie safe, then it was time to do something.
The twenty-hour drive from Denver to Knoware had been accomplished over two grueling days. She and Sophie had arrived at a hotel outside of Knoware last night, and the moving van had already been parked in the lot. No sign of the movers; they were off the clock at that time of day.
The plan had been for Daisy and Sophie to meet them this morning and they would proceed to her new house, a rental that Jane, her friend of more than ten years, had assured her would be perfect. It was Jane, who’d moved to Knoware more than seven years ago, who’d told her about the job at Pratt Sports Spot.
Now, it was going to have to be Jane and Sophie who let the movers in because last night, an hour from Knoware, her new boss had texted her indicating that he wanted to meet with her in the morning.
In her experience, one didn’t say no to the CEO, especially if one wanted to keep one’s new job. And she desperately needed this.
And while it was inconvenient and involved cajoling Sophie into getting up early, she hadn’t been worried. After all, how could she have expected this? In the meetings she was used to, the most physical activity anyone expended was reaching for the coffee decanter in the middle of the table.
But then again, this was also her first time working as the marketing and public relations director for a sporting goods company. In that light, once she heard that Hosea intended for her to join him on his weekly climb, she’d tried to respond positively. Had walked down to the employee store and graciously accepted her new boots and gloves.
It had gone well for the first twenty minutes as they’d hiked in and started their climb. Hosea had waxed on about the need to understand and appreciate nature like their customers did. The need to live the brand.
That had been about the moment that Humpty Dumpty had fallen off his wall.
And while she’d sat beside his unconscious body, she’d envisioned the horrific conversation she’d have with Sophie that night.
How’s was your day, Mom?
Great, honey. I met with my boss, the CEO, and now he’s dead.
And she reasoned that her imagination really was going wild because in real life it would never happen that way. Yes, Hosea could have died. But no, Sophie would not have asked about Daisy’s day. Sophie had stopped talking to her after Daisy had broken the news that they were moving. Well, mostly stopped talking. Every once in a while she’d stand at the top of the stairs and yell down.
“I’m going to hate it!”
In no particular order, Daisy had offered the following hollow platitudes.
“Perhaps you could give it a chance before you make up your mind. Jane says it’s quiet in the off-season but that there’s lots to do when the weather gets warmer. You’ve always loved visiting the coast. Maybe you can learn to surf. And Jane said the high school is small but has a great drama department.”
Sophie had had some snarky response to everything but the very last one. Daisy knew that her kid loved plays. In Denver at her large high school, the competition for a speaking role was intense, and they’d both celebrated the two lines of dialogue in the role that Sophie snagged.
“Mr. Jones, thank you for waiting. Your table is ready.” She’d said it with enthusiasm, likely more enthusiasm than any real hostess.
Definitely with more enthusiasm than she’d approached anything in real life in the three weeks between decision and execution of the move. Daisy had given up trying to convince Sophie that the new job would be good for both of them. She resorted to simply telling her that there was no choice. She’d not given her every detail but hopefully enough that Sophie understood the threat. Getting her to appreciate it and understand what they were doing was simply asking too much of a teenager who was scared to be the new kid.
Every day of silence and dirty looks, Daisy had told herself that they’d get through this. Just like they’d gotten through everything else.
“What happens next?” she asked the man that others were calling Charlie.
“There’s an ambulance already waiting for us in the parking lot. They’ll be responsible for transporting him to Bigelow Memorial. You have transportation, miss?”
She held up the key fob that had been passed to her. The paramedics were off the ladder and already moving quickly toward the trees and the path that would take them up to where the ambulance waited.
She resisted the urge to run and catch up. Resisted the urge to stop the one who’d said his name was Blade. What was she going to tell him? It would all sound crazy. Hey, I really appreciate the confidence that practically pours off you. It reminded me that I, too, am a pretty competent person and I can do this. I can start over. I can make a life for my daughter and myself. I can keep us safe.
Yeah. He’d think she was an idiot.
She started walking toward her car at a much slower pace.
* * *
It wasn’t yet noon, but Daisy had accomplished far more than she’d expected to on her first day. First she’d called Mrs. Pratt who’d taken the news pretty well, considering. Her exact words had been, “Oh, my God. He’s such an old fool.”
Then she notified Tom Howards, and the COO had hastily pulled together a leadership meeting. It had given Daisy the opportunity to meet the members of the senior team who had not been part of her interview process.
Everyone seemed very nice and they’d been particular eager to hear the details, with special attention to how Hosea had acted postfall. Evidently, he’d been critical of others who hadn’t taken adversity in stride. Chin up. That was generally the best you could expect from him.
By the time the meeting was concluding, they’d gotten their first update. Hosea had been examined. There was limited concern about his head injury, but he had fractured his hip. Surgery was already scheduled for that afternoon. There’d been agreement that she would write a memo to update employees, and a press release. To be reviewed by the COO prior to distribution because, after all, one can only trust the new person so much.
That had gone well enough. The COO had said both were good to go with nary an edit and finally, she had a spare minute to send two separate but identical texts. How did the morning go?
One to Jane, who could be counted on to provide details and some assurance that Daisy’s personal life was not truly hanging in shambles while she dealt with the Hosea crisis. And the woman did just that with her return text that said, Furniture and boxes are all off the truck. Everything looks great in the house. I think you’re going to be really happy with your choice.
The second text was to Sophie. The response came fast. The paint in my bathroom is disgusting.
Would it kill her kid to say one nice thing about the move?
Thanks for being there with Jane. We’ll look at the paint tonight, she responded. She was the adult in the relationship. She had to take the high road.
After grabbing a tuna salad sandwich in the company cafeteria, she met with her team. Two copywriters, two graphic designers and one assistant. They reviewed the projects currently in play or anticipated within the next month or two. It was an impressive list ranging from product advertisements to philanthropic fundraisers to supporting a political lobbying effort in support of a local referendum to increase park funding.
Hosea Pratt had his fingers in lots of pies. That had been one of the things that had interested her when she interviewed for the job.
By the time she left for the afternoon, word had spread that Hosea was out of surgery. It had gone well. He was expected to be in the hospital for several days and then
home recovering for four to eight weeks.
Now, driving home, she checked the map on her phone, which rested on the console. She’d gotten Jane’s assurance that the house was in a nice neighborhood. Actually, Jane had laughed when Daisy had asked the question. Had responded that Knoware really wasn’t big enough to have neighborhoods per se, not like Daisy was used to, but rather, there was a good and not-so-good side of town, defined by the railroad tracks that split them. Their new house was a Cape Cod on the good side. Two bedrooms, two baths, it would be perfect for her and Sophie.
She made the last turn and realized that she was holding her breath. She let it out. Jane hadn’t steered her wrong. The houses were small but appeared well-maintained. The kind of houses and yards where there would be daffodils and tulips and newly potted plants on the porch in the spring. The kind of house where Sophie could have a friend over.
If she ever stopped scowling long enough to make a friend. Sour attracts sour. Her grandmother’s words flashed in her head. She’d been full of goodies like that. But Daisy fervently hoped there was no truth in it. The idea of several Sophie-types lounging around her living room was very scary.
It had been her grandmother’s death that had left her bereft but yet free to leave Denver and all its trappings behind. Her mother had been her grandmother’s only child just as Daisy had been her mother’s only child. And it would have been a nicer story had it been the three of them against the world. But her mother and her grandmother had been estranged at her mom’s insistence.
Daisy and her mom had not been a formidable force. Alcohol and pills and an assortment of male friends who sometimes stayed a short time and sometimes as long as a few years made that impossible. Daisy had lived with few rules and limited attention and might well have been headed down the same path.
