Diamonds and Cole: A Cole Sage Mystery

by Micheal Maxwell

  The nurse looked at the dials at the head of the bed and made an adjustment. She gently moved the small tubes feeding oxygen through Ellie’s nose and adjusted the elastic straps around her head. Taking an electric thermometer from a clip on her waistband, she popped on a new tip, and placed it in Ellie’s mouth.

  “Your wife is looking better today.”

  Ellie smiled, lips tight around the thermometer. There seemed to be a twinkle in her eyes.

  “She always looks good to me,” Cole said softly.

  “How you feeling, Hon?” the nurse asked, removing the thermometer.

  “I’ve been better,” Ellie said with a weak smile.

  “Always with the jokes, this one. I want you to keep still and rest. You got a nasty bug, and you got to be strong to fight it off.” With that, the nurse bustled out of the room as quickly as she had entered.

  “I would get more rest if they would just leave me alone for awhile.” Ellie said thickly, “I wonder if—” Her words were cut short by a cough. Her coughing continued, and she gasped as she inhaled. Ellie rolled to her side and her knees pulled up nearly to her chest as the harsh rasp worsened.

  Cole stroked her back as her thin body convulsed with the cough. Ellie gasped like a drowning person. Cole fumbled for the control that had been laid on the bed. He pushed the button to call the nurse. He was starting to panic. Several seconds passed, and her cough was worsening.

  Cole went to the hall. He looked in both directions and saw no nurses in sight. “NURSE!” he screamed at the top of his voice.

  The small Filipino woman appeared from a room down the hall. She saw Cole and broke into a run.

  “What is it?” she called.

  “She can’t breathe. She’s coughing. It won’t stop.”

  The nurse immediately hit the red button by the door as she entered Ellie’s room. A bleating alarm rang in the hall, and Cole could see a rotating blue light bouncing off the walls.

  “Try to relax, Mrs. Christopher, look at me now.” The nurse was rubbing Ellie’s back with deep rapid movements.

  Suddenly the room was full of nurses, and Doctor Ewing ran into the room.

  “Who lowered this bed? She needs to be elevated! Get her upstairs, Stat! OR 3 is free. We’ve got to drain her lungs if she’s going to make it. Get her on her stomach. Go, go, go!” Doctor Ewing was out of the room and running toward the elevator.

  Cole stood just outside the doorway, trying not to get in the way. The two male nurses were pulling the bed from the room. The oxygen tubes snapped from Ellie’s head and dangled, hissing, from the wall. As she passed Cole, her body was lifting from the bed with each convulsive cough, and all he could see were the whites of her eyes. Cole’s back was to the cool green wall of the hallway. He put his hands on the top of his head and closed his eyes.

  “God, don’t let her die. Please, Jesus, just a little longer, oh, God, please, just a little longer.” Cole was rocking back and forth, hitting his shoulders against the wall. “Not now, not yet, not like this, please, oh, please, not like this.”

  “Come, please. She’s going to be okay. Come. Sit.” Cole felt the little Filipino nurse’s hand take his and guide him into Ellie’s room to a chair. “You rest here. Keep praying. God listens.”

  “How long will this take?”

  “I’m not sure. They are very good at their job. Doctor Ewing is the best, you’ll see.” The little woman smiled down at Cole.

  “She was doing so well. I can’t believe this,” Cole said aloud but to himself.

  “You gonna be okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I just was a little...you know, overcome, I guess.”

  “It’s okay to pray, nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “She’s all I’ve got, ya know. It’s not time. I’ve got some things to say yet.”

  “You got God, too.” The nurse reached up, unclasped a thin gold chain from her neck, and handed it to Cole.

  He looked at the medal she had placed in his hand.

  “Saint John of God, he’s the patron saint of nurses and the sick. You pray, he’ll hear you. My father gave it to me when I became a nurse. It works, you see.”

  Cole stood and offered his hand in thanks to the nurse. “I’m Cole Sage. Ellie isn’t my wife, but she should have been. Thank you. I think I’ll go get a cup of coffee or something.”

  “Good idea. You’ll feel better.”

  Cole left the room and, as he made his way down the hall, he slipped the chain and medal into his pocket. He didn’t believe in saints but it made him feel better to know the little nurse did.

  The cafeteria was crowded and noisy. Cole got his coffee to go and went out through the side door. The aches and pain he’d thought had gone were back. His neck ached, and his eye felt more swollen. He remembered the pills on the seat of the car the doctor had given him. He didn’t like pills much but, this once, they might be what he needed.

  Cole slipped into the car, opened the white pharmacy bag, took two of the small pink pills and washed them down with the bitter coffee. He put the key in the ignition and turned on the radio. He thought of Ellie contorting and fighting for air. Once again, he breathed a prayer and sipped his coffee. His eye felt scratchy and out of focus. He finished his coffee, leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes.

  * * *

  Many years before, he had seen Ellie fight for air. It was a hot July day, and Cole had borrowed an inflatable kayak from a friend. They thought it would be fun to take it down the river. Ellie packed a picnic lunch. Cole got some paddles, a portable radio, suntan lotion, and some towels, and they were off. Cole’s parents had lived not too far from the river in those days. The plan was to raft down the river five or six miles from the Crows Ferry Bridge and get out at the small park on the bank about 200 yards from his parents’ house. It was going to be an afternoon of rafting and swimming, then a barbeque with his parents.

  A friend dropped them at the bridge and they had set sail with waves goodbye and laughter. The day was glorious and the river smooth. Cole and Ellie had laughed and talked, swam, and even had time for a few kisses along the way. They dined on cold fried chicken, deviled eggs, and some strange pink stuff Ellie’s mother had made. They had let a net dangle in the water behind the kayak filled with cans of Coke. The day was perfect.

  They were less than two miles from the park when they rounded the bend at the little town of Sheridan. Ellie was telling a story about something that had happened at work, and Cole was half listening, half drifting when something caught his eye. Fifty yards ahead, several large Spiky Elms had fallen across the river at a narrow bend. At first, he thought they could just maneuver around them, but as he sat up and took a closer look, he realized the trees were completely blocking their passage.

  The 50 yards closed quickly, and the current became swifter. Cole told Ellie to hang on while he tried to paddle them to the shore. He realized as he began to paddle that the strong current was swirling just ahead of them. The Elms had created a whirlpool of sorts, and they were in it before Cole could get up enough speed to pull out of it. From their limbs and trunks protruded needle-sharp thorns that grew as long as three inches.

  Before they could react, the rubber kayak slammed into the trees. The thorns made a thousand holes in the rubber sides and deflated it almost instantly. The current was pulling the kayak, now a heavy mass of rubberized canvas, under the trees. The contents of their little boat were in the water. Cole hit the side of the first tree and fell headfirst back into the water.

  Cole knew he was in trouble. He was a strong swimmer and had spent many summers in the backyard pool. This, however, was different from racing or playing roughhouse games with the neighbors in six feet of calm water. The current was pulling him down. He opened his eyes and saw light above him. The ice chest was drifting by and he thought for a moment of Dorothy when she was up in the tornado in the Wizard of Oz and all the things that had passed by her window.

  Cole could not see El
lie. He remembered how his father had often spoken of his Navy training during World War II. Relax, he would say, let the water do what it will, then as it eases, you take control. Cole relaxed, pointed his feet toward the bottom, and let the current drag him down. In a matter of seconds, he felt his feet hit firm sand. With all his strength, he pushed off and, with his arms stroking and pulling as hard as he could, he shot toward the surface.

  Gasping and sucking in air, Cole burst from the water. He grabbed the trunk of the Spiky Elm and felt the sharp prick of the thorns in his palms. At that moment, Ellie’s head bobbed up from the water. She faced Cole and screamed for help, then went under. Without thinking, Cole dove after her.

  His thoughts were not for his safety, but Ellie’s. He couldn’t let her drown. For the briefest of moments, he’d seen her parents, and him having to tell them she had died. This will not happen, he’d thought. Grabbing Ellie’s arm, he’d pulled her towards him. Pulling her closer, he wrapped his arm around her waist and grabbed the top of her denim shorts. With strength he didn’t know he possessed, he pulled her over him and out of the water. Arms flailing, she grabbed the tree.

  Cole stroked and kicked back to the surface and again grabbed the spiky trunk. He caught an area where the thorns had either been worn away or broken off. Ellie was lying motionless across the trunk. Her hair was covering her face. Cole saw her ribs and chest expanding and could hear the sound of gagging and gasping coming from her.

  Cole broke off a piece of rotting limb from the tree. He used it to knock off thorns from the trunk. Once cleared, he pulled himself up on the trunk and knocked more thorns off with the side of his tennis shoe, careful not to puncture the soles. Just as he reached Ellie, she slipped off into the water. A second before she would’ve gone under, Cole caught her wrists and pulled her out of the water like a crane would lift a heavy load, and stood her on the huge trunk.

  Ellie wretched violently and threw up. She had obviously swallowed a lot of the river water. She spit, gasped, and wretched some more. Cole wasn’t sure if she would catch her breath. She bent over, palms against her knees, and heaved great breaths of air. Finally, she’d stood straight.

  “You saved my life,” she gasped, pushing her hair out of her face.

  Cole looked around. The whirlpool the trees created had caused brush and trash to pile up behind the trees where they stood. In that moment, he realized that if Ellie had gone under the second time, she would have been swept under the brush and would never have resurfaced. His knees buckled. He suddenly felt lightheaded.

  “Cole, you saved my life!” Ellie threw her arms around Cole’s neck.

  Cole shook all over. Ellie held him tight and started to laugh.

  “You. Saved. My. Life, Cole Sage! You’re my hero for real!” Ellie stopped laughing and tossed back her hair. “You are quite a guy.” Her fingers were laced behind his head and she leaned back at arm’s length and looked deeply into Cole’s eyes. “I will never forget what you have done. As long as I live, I will owe to you whatever good becomes of me.” For a long moment, they just looked in each other’s eyes. Then, as if the seriousness was too much for her, Ellie said, “I’d kiss you, but it would taste like puke.” Then she bent down, pushed against Cole’s chest with the top of her head and began to laugh once more.

  Overcome by the moment, Cole threw his head back and laughed until they both nearly fell in the river again. It took almost an hour to get out of the deep ravine the river had cut through the foothills. The walls were very steep, and the dirt was dry and dusty. When they finally made it up to the highway, they both looked like gingerbread men. All that was visible were their eyes and smiles. They were alive and even deeper in love.

  * * *

  From far away, Cole heard a knocking sound. No, it was close up. What is that? he thought.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  Cole opened his eyes. A man with black horn-rimmed glasses, multiple piercings, and rotten teeth was looking though the car window at him. It was nearly dark outside, and he was very groggy. Where was he? He rolled down the window and stared at the man who stood peering in, dressed in a powder blue shirt with a badge on it.

  “What’s going on?” Cole said trying to clear his head.

  “That’s what I want to know. This ain’t no campground.”

  Cole looked at his watch, it was 4:45. He realized he had fallen asleep. Cole straightened in the seat.

  “I must have dozed off.”

  “You drunk?”

  “No, no, I took some pain pills and they must’ve knocked me out,” Cole said.

  “I can’t have people sleeping in my parking lot.” The man, who Cole now realized was a security guard, took his job very seriously.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll be out of here real soon.”

  “Good,” the guard said flatly, then strutted off, feeling he had done his best to secure the premises.

  Cole rubbed his face and reached for the bottle of pills beside him on the seat. “What is this crap?” he said aloud. “Percodan. Take one every four to six hours for pain and muscle tension. May cause drowsiness. Great.”

  Cole got out of the car, rubbed his face again and stretched as he headed for the front door of the hospital. He was ashamed at falling asleep, and hoped Ellie did not know he had gone. Maybe she has been asleep, too, he thought.

  As the doors of the elevator opened on the third floor, Cole could hear a man’s voice singing. A loud, clear baritone came from the hallway towards Room 318.

  “Farther along we’ll know all about it,

  Farther along we’ll understand why,

  Cheer up my sister, live in the sunshine,

  We’ll understand it all, by and by.

  “Thank you, Lord. Thank you for your unceasing love. Thank you for being with us in our times of sickness and times of health. Thank you for touching these frail bodies with your Almighty hand.” The voice boomed like thunder from on high. “Precious Lord, we come to You tonight and ask You to touch our beloved sister, touch her with Your mighty power, touch her, raise her up. We don’t know Your plan, Lord, but if it be Your will, reach down from glory and take this burden from her and restore her strength so that she might find a closer walk with Thee.” The prayer gave way to more singing.

  “When we see Jesus coming in glory,

  When he comes down from his home in the sky,

  Then we shall meet him in that bright mansion,

  We’ll understand it all by and by.”

  Cole made his way down the hall. As he passed the nurses’ station, he saw two nurses standing in the corner holding hands, eyes closed and heads bowed. He stopped as he reached the open doorway to Ellie’s room. The Reverend Edwin T. Bates stood next to Ellie’s bed, one large strong hand on her forehead, the other reaching heavenward. His lips were moving, but Cole could not hear a word. This was the real heart of the old preacher. The bluster was gone and the man of faith was talking to his God.

  “Amen,” the old man whispered.

  “How is she?” Cole said breaking the silence.

  “Hello there, Mr. Sage.”

  “Reverend. Thank you for coming,” Cole said, waiting for an answer.

  “Let’s talk in the hall so as not to disturb our patient.”

  If Ellie had slept through Bates’ prayer and singing, she was not going to wake with hushed talking, Cole thought, but he slipped through the door into the hall just the same. The preacher looked tired and weighed down with his thoughts as he put his hand on Cole’s shoulder.

  “I’m afraid the news isn’t good, son. The doctor was just leaving when I got here. She told me that they drained both lungs and doubled her antibiotics trying to fight off the pneumonia. The problem is the coughing convulsions have weakened her terribly. The other disease she suffers from—”

  “ALS,” Cole injected.

  “Yes, ALS, it seems that stopping her medication has weakened her immune system and the disease has taken advantage of this to progress pretty quick
ly. I’m afraid she is failing fast. I’m so sorry.”

  Somehow the truth coming from Bates made it easier for Cole to accept. Cole had seen and faced death many times in his life, but all that pain, shock, and grief had not prepared him for what was to come. There were no tears, just a deep hollow feeling in his soul.

  “You really believe she will be in a better place? I mean, with all the fire and brimstone and ministerial theatrics aside, you truly believe, don’t you?”

  “As I believe in the air I breathe. Without that promise, I really can’t see much point to this life. Frankly, I just can’t understand the pain and sorrow and suffering I see around me. It wears me down some days to where I don’t want to get out of bed. It is not my plan, it’s God’s, He knows what’s best, whether we do or not. Like the song says, ‘We’ll understand it all by and by.’ That’s my hope. Without hope, there is nothing.”

  “I’m not sure what I believe, Reverend,” Cole said softly as he turned and went back into Ellie’s room.

  “Just remember, God knows your heart, son. He’s always ready to listen.” The old preacher turned toward the elevators. “I’ll check back tomorrow.”

  Cole pulled the chair up next to Ellie’s bed. Her breath was soft and shallow. A tube to drain her lungs ran under her gown to a plastic bag hanging on the bedrail on the far side of the bed. Two IV drips were in her left hand, which was taped to a short stiff piece of cloth-covered plastic. Oxygen tubes were again held under her nose by elastic straps behind her head.

  “I love you, Ellie,” Cole said, leaning toward the pale woman in the bed. “I have been a fool for so long.” He gently took her hand in his.

  Cole gently stroked the top of her hand with his thumb, and Ellie ever so softly squeezed his hand. Cole smiled, knowing she had heard him, and scooted the chair closer to the bed.

  Over the next couple of hours, the nurses bustled in and out frequently, taking Ellie’s temperature, checking her IVs, and monitoring her breathing. At about 6:30, a young man brought in a cart with several monitors and attached a series of wires and pads to Ellie’s chest, connected to a small device that slipped over her finger on the hand with the IVs.