by Amie Denman
Mel steered into the emergency entrance of the hospital and parked. He unhooked her seat belt and then his. They both heard the back doors of the ambulance open. “I’ll be right by your side,” Mel said.
A crew from the emergency room was waiting and they worked with the firefighters to whisk Christina inside. June followed, glad to have Mel’s arm around her.
* * *
MEL AND JUNE waited in hard plastic chairs outside the emergency room. The Starlight Point firefighters had left as soon as they could, needing to get themselves and the ambulance back in service.
“You should call Evie back now,” Mel suggested. “She’ll wonder what happened, and we’re eventually going to need a ride back to the Point.”
“I’ll step outside,” June said.
“Want me to come with you?”
She shook her head. “I’ll be okay.”
June didn’t look okay to him. Tear-stained cheeks, shaking hands, eyes that looked like they’d seen a ghost. He’d find a machine and get two cups of coffee while she made her phone call. It was all he could do.
Lucky for him, he had several dollar bills in his wallet and the coffee machine was close by. He was waiting for June, hot coffee singeing both his hands, when she returned.
“Evie’s on the way,” she said. “She heard what happened with Christina and wanted to know how she is. I wish I knew.”
“Maybe we’ll hear something soon.”
They were halfway through their coffee, sipping in silence, when a nurse called for the family of Christina Bertram.
“She’s stable right now,” the nurse explained when June and Mel had followed her into the hallway of the emergency room. Gloomy fluorescent lights illuminated curtained rooms in long, solemn rows. “The doctor wants to talk to a representative from her family.”
“I’m not family,” June said, “but I’m her employer and I work with her.”
“Can you get her family contact information?”
“Yes, my sister is bringing it. She’ll be here soon.” June touched the nurse’s arm. “Will she be okay?”
Please let her be okay, Mel thought. Ever since he had a child of his own, his heart had found a whole new dimension. He looked at everyone and remembered they were somebody’s child, and that somebody loved them desperately. He wondered if Christina’s parents knew about their daughter’s medical condition. They had to. They would now.
The nurse glanced from June to Mel and back. “I can’t say much, but I can tell you she’s going to need a lot of treatment.”
Evie arrived soon after Mel and June returned to their plastic chairs. She hugged June so tightly a bystander would have thought it was June who’d just escaped death.
“I’m so sorry about Christina,” Evie said. “Do you know if she’s going to be okay?”
June told her sister everything they knew, which was very little. Evie gave the hospital staff the emergency contact information and offered to stay until Christina’s parents got there. She had already called them before she left the Point, and they would be there in less than two hours. The nurse said it wasn’t necessary for them to stay as Christina would be resting anyway.
“Can I see her before we go?” June asked.
Mel thought June was braver than he was. He just wanted to go hug his son and take him to lunch. Let his five-year-old smiles erase the pain he’d witnessed.
“Just for a minute,” the nurse said, “but she’s sleeping. You can take a peek.”
“Want me to go with you?” Mel offered.
“No, that’s okay,” June said. She followed the nurse back through the maze of curtained rooms.
Evie sighed. “What a lousy day.”
“Yep.”
“I heard you drove the ambulance. First time?”
“First time with a patient in the back and your sister running the siren. And I hope it’s the last time. Everything okay at the Point? I left in a hurry and didn’t grab my phone.”
Evie shrugged. “The motorcycles in Kiddieland are down. One of your guys is over there trying to figure out why. And a man fell on his boat in the marina and broke his leg. That’s where the other ambulance was.”
“We should get back there before all you-know-what breaks loose.”
“As soon as June’s ready.”
When the three of them went out to the parking lot a few minutes later, Jack’s aging SUV in at least two shades of brown was in the visitor’s lot. “Sorry,” Evie said. “It was handy and I was in a hurry.”
“I’ve put in a lot of miles in this,” Mel said. He climbed in the backseat and June sat up front with her sister.
“She looked a little better,” June said. “I guess they injected her with something that straightened out her heart rhythm. She was hooked up to all kinds of machines and they were getting her ready to move to cardiac intensive care, but she was alive and breathing.”
Mel could hear tears in June’s voice.
Evie’s cell phone rang. She handed it to her sister. “Will you answer that? I hate trying to talk and drive at the same time.”
June glanced at the caller ID. “It’s somewhere at the Point, I just don’t recognize the number.”
“Hello,” she said, “Evie Hamilton’s phone.”
She listened in silence for a moment and then said, “Mel Preston is with me right now. I’ll hand you off to him.”
June turned around. “It’s the hotel day care.”
Mel’s heart went straight to his feet. He grabbed the phone from June, noting her look of genuine concern but too worried to process it.
“Mel Preston. Is my son okay?”
“Yes. He’s fine,” the woman said. Mel knew her voice. It was his third grade teacher, Mrs. Nelson, who had retired a few years ago. She was in charge of the day care now, and she had a smile on her face every day.
But she sounded tense right now.
“What’s going on?” Mel asked.
“There’s a woman here,” Mrs. Nelson said. “She says she’s Ross’s mother and wants to pick him up to go out to lunch.”
“No,” Mel thundered. “Do not release him to her.” On a normal day, he’d regulate his voice. Ask questions. Consider his ex-wife’s position. This was not a normal day and his nerves were like wrinkled aluminum foil. It would be nearly impossible to smooth them.
“She produced photo identification, says her name is Sandi Dorn,” Mrs. Nelson continued, “and Ross says she’s his mother.”
Of course she went back to her maiden name. She’d never hidden the fact that she considered her marriage to Mel a mistake. And having a child an inconvenience. Why was she suddenly back trying to play mother?
“She is his mother. But she gave up custodial rights and left town two years ago. Ross and I haven’t seen her since. He probably only recognizes her because he has a picture of her at home.”
“Do you want me to call security and have her removed?”
Mel sighed. Rubbed his eyes. Evie and June had heard every word he said and probably every word Mrs. Nelson said. She was getting older and tended to shout over the phone.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Tell Sandi to cool her jets and do not let Ross out of your sight.”
Silence on the other end.
“Please,” Mel added.
“All right,” Mrs. Nelson said, “I’ll have them sit down and play a board game. I wouldn’t mind a round of Hungry Hippos myself.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Nelson.”
“See you soon, young man.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MEL ENTERED THE side gate, offering his employee ID to a security guard who laughed and waved him through. Even though Mel wore khaki shorts, sneakers and a bright blue T-shirt advertising last year’s new
ride—the Sea Devil—the aged security officer recognized him immediately and handed a sucker to Ross as he opened the gate.
“You picked a good day to play,” the old guy said. “Sun’s hot already and I hear it’s going to hit eighty by afternoon.”
“Lucky me,” Mel said, swinging Ross’s hand. “I mean us.”
“Scrambler first,” Ross said. “Then the helicopters. Maybe you can ride, too, this time.”
The security guard sent Mel a sympathetic glance. “Hope your breakfast’s settled. You’re in for it today.”
Mel grinned. “Wouldn’t trade it.”
And that was true. His ex-wife, Sandi, had finally gone home after staying in a hotel in town for five long days. Although she had signed away her parental rights in their divorce agreement, she’d come to town hoping to make amends and see Ross. After the initial shock of her showing up unexpectedly and the panic Mel felt at her trying to take Ross from day care, his feelings cooled. Sandi was only there because she felt guilty and because she was between boyfriends. One artist had dumped her and she hadn’t moved in with the next one yet.
Mel tried to shrug it off. After a few days of attempting to play mom, Sandi was obviously bored. She left town, vaguely promising Ross she’d come back and see him sometime. She made Mel no such promises and didn’t ask for a change in custody rights. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t see her for another two years.
“Come on, Dad,” Ross said, tugging Mel’s hand.
“Take it easy on your old man,” the security guard said, winking at Ross. “Don’t let him stop and fix anything today. You make sure he has some fun, okay?”
Ross nodded seriously. “I will. Daddy needs a day off.”
“Got that right.”
Mel and Ross passed a cotton candy stand and the bumper cars. Ross slowed down and considered each of them.
“Later,” Mel said. “We’ve got all day, remember?”
They lined up for the Scrambler, the morning sun slanting in their eyes as they watched the summer employee in her ponytail and blue uniform load and unload all twenty cars twice. When it was finally their turn, they squeezed into a red car and Mel dutifully slid the pin into the door latch and fastened their seat belt.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Uh-huh. But you should let me sit on the outside. It’s fun getting smashed.”
“Next time.”
The ride started, its simple hilarity irresistible as they careened toward the outside perimeter, then back and forward again. Ross laughed crazily as he slid around, crushing his dad and struggling for a handhold. Mel tried to find a focal point so he wouldn’t lose his breakfast. Coasters he could handle; spinning rides were his kryptonite.
This was summer—and life—for Mel and anyone else in this business. Waiting, waiting, a brief flash of finite excitement and ecstasy, then a gradual slowing down and getting off the ride until the next time.
It always went too fast, but Mel wouldn’t exchange it for any other life. He never managed to tune out the midway music, the hot-dog smell, the crush of people and screams from the coasters. It didn’t get old. Because every day new people were sharing it with people they loved and having fun. Making a summer memory. He was lucky this was his life and, he thought, holding the door open for Ross, he got to have those fun summer memories, too. With Ross.
“Again?” Ross asked.
Mel considered it, regretting the big breakfast they’d put down this morning. “How about something different? Maybe come back to this later.”
“Helicopters.”
“You’re a beast,” Mel said.
Ross laughed and roared like a lion, catching the attention of a girl rolling a popcorn wagon on the midway. The college-aged girl smiled and tossed her hair at Mel, not recognizing him as the head of maintenance. She was cute and only about six or seven years younger than he was, but he didn’t dabble with summer employees. As a rule. He’d made that mistake once.
“She seems nice,” Ross said. “We could get some popcorn and make her happy.”
“A little too early for that. I believe I have to catch a flight first.”
“Let’s try to get a red helicopter. We had a red car on the Scrambler. We could do all red stuff today.”
Mel ran through the list of Kiddieland rides. There were red motorcycles on the track, red bumper cars, red race cars, red horses on the carousel and red Skyway cars stretched on cables over the midway. He might have to pull in a favor with the ride operator, but it could be managed. He wondered if they’d have to try all the blue or yellow ones next time. It could be worse. If he had a daughter, they’d be doing all the pink things, and they were harder to come by in amusement park rides.
The trademark beeping, flashing and honking of the kiddie rides was probably responsible for the numbers of painkillers First Aid doled out to beleaguered parents. Coupled with crowds, strollers and kids, it could be chaos. It was early, though, and Mel and Ross were the only ones lined up for the helicopters.
“Cool,” Ross said. “We could each get our own.”
Mel looked doubtfully at the ride, wondering where his long legs would go and if he could get away with watching from the ground. Having personally supervised the winter maintenance and spring installation of those choppers, he had no fears about Ross’s safety. Especially with the new safety belts.
“Think I’m too tall?” Mel asked.
Ross glanced at his dad as they clunked through the silver turnstile. “You’re not afraid to fly, are you?”
“No way. I think I’ll race you. See who can fly faster and higher.”
Ross frowned, looking at the ride and back to his dad. “They’re on a pole,” he said. “You’re not really flying them, but it’s fun to pretend.”
“You can still pull the lever back and fly higher than the other ones,” Mel said.
“Really?” Ross’s face brightened.
“Trust me,” Mel said, leaning down and making a mock-serious face. He lowered his voice. “I work here.”
Ross giggled, happily following the ride operator to a red helicopter and making sure his dad got in the only other red one on the opposite side of the circular track. Mel settled in, secured the lap belt and prepared to hold the lever back to fly high. If he folded one leg under him and propped the other knee against the door frame, he could manage. But he was glad it was a short flight because it was going to be a long—but fun—day.
Two hours later, after exhausting Kiddieland, the cable cars, a minicoaster near the hotel entrance and two round-trip excursions on the train, Mel was ready for an air-conditioned lunch. A cold beer would also be nice, but Ross was soda-pop company. It was fun seeing the park from the angle of a day visitor. But he had to pretend he wasn’t in charge of every yard of concrete, inch of wire, gallon of paint and piece of wood here.
He tried not to notice some flaky, dingy paint over the sign for the water ride. He tried not to look down, searching for raised or cracked concrete and trip hazards. He looked away, but made a mental note, when he found a loose rail in the queue lines for the mini motor speedway.
He was here to have fun, but it was hard to hang up his maintenance hat. Starlight Point was as important to him as if he owned it. Maybe it owned a piece of him.
Settling for a round metal table under a shady umbrella instead of one of the climate-controlled restaurants, Mel and Ross dug into hot dogs and fries as they watched the army of visitors with strollers, wagons and beginning sunburns go by. Ross showed no signs of slowing down and there were plenty of rides left. Long days at the Point were nothing new, but for some reason Mel’s feet were already killing him.
Their table wasn’t far from the entrance to the Midway Theater. The one o’clock show must have just ended, Mel realized, when a throng of people coursed out the front doors and headed for
the food stands flanking the midway. One glance at their faces and it was obvious. They liked the show. A lot.
“There’s the lady who plays the piano, Miss June,” Ross said, mouth full of fries and pointing toward a small group in front of the theater.
Mel followed his son’s gesture and watched June and an usher marking down notes on clipboards while talking with people who had apparently just come from the show.
“Exit surveys,” Mel said aloud.
“What’s that?”
“They ask people if they liked the show and write down what they say.”
“Like if the music is good? And the dancers?” Ross asked.
Mel nodded. “And costumes, lights, stuff like that.”
“I’d tell them to put in better seats,” Ross said.
Mel smeared ketchup on his hot dog and took a bite. He watched June, her navy blue skirt swirling around her knees as she moved among guests. Her long light brown hair fell over her shoulders. He imagined her sweeping it into a ponytail, letting the heat escape her neck. It was hot, even under the giant umbrella shading their table.
He took a long drink of ice-cold cola and tried to think about something practical. Like maintenance.
“What’s wrong with the seats?” he asked his son.
“They creak. With a bunch of people sitting in them, they probably creak so loud you can’t even hear the show,” Ross pronounced.
“I’ll have to ask Miss June about that. Anything else?”
“If you don’t weigh enough, they fold you up like a taco,” Ross said, dumping his fries out on his paper hot-dog plate. “Kids hate that.”
“Good suggestions,” Mel said, pouring a neat puddle of ketchup on his son’s plate before Ross could try the industrial-sized ketchup dispenser on the table and end up wearing it. Being a single dad, he’d learned a lot about laundry, but ketchup stains were out of his range of talent.
“I’ll tell her,” Ross said, waving enthusiastically until the movement caught June’s eye.
