At Last

by Sarah Zolton Arthur

No.

  God no.

  This can’t be happening.

  Half of Jesse’s face is hanging off. And Peaches had to see that for how fucking long? They lay him flat on the road and one of the medics drapes a wool blanket over top of the kid, covering his head.

  The ambulance with Doc speeds off. Once they give Jade the all clear, I take her into my arms and hold on tight. She hasn’t stopped crying. I ain’t cried since Dawna left this earth, but dammit, if those tears don’t streak my face.

  “Duke…” she cries. “Mama…”

  “I got you, Peaches. Shh… I got you.” My voice hitches on the you. Shit I need to get my shit together.

  Sneak walks up to me, staring down at the blanket covering Jesse. He places a hand to my back. “Go,” he says. Though that one word comes strangled. He pauses. “Get to the hospital. I’ll stay, call the boys. We’ll take care of things.”

  No. I can’t let him do that. Jesse is—was—my responsibility. Fuck. Fuck. “Appreciate it brother, but I’m the president. He’s mine to take care of.”

  “Not now. Now you’re a man who has a woman in bad shape. Take care of your family, prez. Consider this a mutiny.”

  My little Peaches, her tears still flow just as strongly, though she’s silent now, snuggling closer against me. And I know Sneak is right. My club, my brothers are important, but I got a woman who needs me, who don’t get how much I need her because I was an asshole. Time to take care of my family.

  “Thanks, brother.” I tell him. “We’re heading out now.”

  He nods, acknowledging me, but never takes his eyes off the blanket as he pulls his phone from his pocket. Knowing he’s got this, he has my back, I walk over to my bike and have to peel my girl from the death-grip she has on me to set her into the sidecar. Only now does she make any noise again, a whimper.

  “We gotta get to the hospital, Peaches. Check on your mama. But I won’t leave you. Promise.” She lets me put the helmet and jacket that I kept stored in the sidecar on her, then buckle her in. After a final glance toward Sneak and Jesse’s lifeless body, I climb on my bike and thunder down the mountain to get to my woman.

  After a ten-minute drive, with my girl in my arms, clinging, her arms tight around my neck, I stomp through the sliding glass doors into the emergency room of County Medical, the same hospital where Peaches stayed after her accident.

  This part of the emergency room ain’t like how it is on all those medical dramas on TV. A bunch ’a people, some look sick, some stressed, some downright worried sitting in chairs, watching the silent television, checking their phones or stopping anyone in scrubs who looks like they might be able to help ’em.

  I walk up to the check-in desk.

  “How can I help you, sir?” The receptionist asks.

  “Ambulance just brought an injured woman in. Caitlin Brennan. I’m her—” Fuck, how do I identify myself to this bitch? Quick-like I decide on “Man, partner. We live together. This is our daughter.”

  Compassion spreads across her face. “Sure Mr.—”

  “Ellis,” I tell her.

  “Mr. Ellis,” she repeats. “Let me see what I can find out.” Then she starts typing on a keyboard. “Take the doors to the left. When you get there, I’ll buzz you through. Go down that hall and turn right. There, you’ll find the surgical check-in. They’ll be able to tell you more.”

  “Surgical?” I shout, making Peaches jump. So I try to calm myself down at the same time taking off in a run toward the doors on the left. The buzzer rings before I reach it, letting me yank open one of the doors without waiting, and continue down the hallway. A right turn leads me to the surgical check-in station, just as the receptionist directed.

  Out of breath and needing a cigarette real bad, I rush out to the nurse. “Caitlin Brennan?”

  “You’re family?” she asks.

  “Yes.”

  She begins typing on another keyboard, but I’m met by a deep voice, “Mr. Ellis? Is that correct?”

  I turn to see the doctor who treated Peaches. “Yeah, that’s right.”

  “Karen,” he says to the nurse behind the desk. “This is Dr. Brennan’s partner.” Then, to me, “Not married, right?”

  “Not yet.”

  He nods his understanding. I finally have time to think, with it all happening so fast. But what Brutus said to me about wifing Doc and giving Peaches a brother or sister makes sense. Knowing that things might get complicated, what with medical decisions and Caitlin being a single mother. I could lose Peaches, too. Her parents would never let some tattooed, Harley riding man raise their granddaughter.

  I follow close behind as he leads me to the surgery waiting room, which holds much fewer people, and tells me he’ll be right back.

  My turn to nod. About five minutes after he leaves, three women and one baby storm the waiting room. Elise, Trish and Maryanne Doyle, Tommy’s old lady, come right at me. Tears and puffy faces.

  “How is she?” Elise speaks for the group.

  “Don’t know yet. The doctor went to check.”

  “Right,” she says back. “Beau, Chaos and Blood are on their way home. I hope you don’t mind.” She walks over to one of the chairs to drop Gun’s diaper bag. “But I stopped by your house and grabbed a few things for Jade. Change of clothing, because she’d been stuck in that truck for a while.”

  It’s not ’til she holds up the bag that I realize my girl smells of piss. Shit. She’d spent all that time soaked in her own piss.

  Loosely, I come out of my head enough to hear her still talking. “…her blanket, for comfort and her tablet and headphones.”

  I clear my throat. “Thanks sweetheart.” And reach my arm to cup her neck, I give it a squeeze so she knows what this means to me.

  “Hey Jade, sweetie. You want me to change you?”

  “No,” my girl cries. “Duke. My Duke.”

  Elise starts to speak, but I stop her. “It’s okay. Do this at home.”

  “You do?”

  That gets a laugh. “Sure. She’s my girl, ain’t you Peaches?”

  “Your gurl,” she whispers against my cut.

  Slowly, Elise sets Gun’s carrier down on the seat next to the bag and begins to riffle through it, pulling a pair of cotton shorts, little girl panties and a T-shirt to hand me.

  I nod my thanks. “Come on.” We walk out into the hallway across from the waiting room, the hospital has a men’s, women’s and family restroom. For obvious reasons, I walk straight for the family restroom where Peaches only lets me set her down long enough to help her change.

  She waits as I pull several paper towels from the dispenser, wet them and douse them with soap, then hand them to her. And like I always do, because I don’t know the laws with this stuff, I turn around for her to wash her legs and other parts, and change into her clean panties.

  “Done,” she whispers.

  I turn back, help her with the elastic waist that always gets turned under, help her with her shorts and T-shirt, and hold my arms open for her to climb back up. No saving her other clothes, I toss them in the trash then head back to the waiting room.

  We only just get back inside, when the doctor, his badge says Talmouth, walks in. “Can I speak with you? He asks me, real business-like. Too business-like.

  “Just a sec,” I answer, then look down to Peaches. “Gonna set you in the chair. Elise brought your blanket and tablet. We’ll put your princess on.”

  “No.”

  “Sweetheart. Gotta talk to the doctor. Okay?”

  She sucks on her bottom lip, but after a moment agrees. “Okay.”

  With Peaches in the chair next to Gun, I tuck her blanket around her legs, then let Elise take over setting up her movie so I can find out what’s going down with Doc.

  “Talk to me,” I order Talmouth.

  “She’s in surgery to repair tears causing significant internal bleeding. And she’s sustained a concussion, ruptured spleen, which they’re also removing, from where the seatbelt cut across
her abdomen. Two fractured wrists from where it looks like she covered her head, and hitting the dashboard caused her left lung to collapse.”

  My hands rest at my hips, I drop my head. “Fuck.”

  Talmouth pats my shoulder. “It could’ve been much worse.”

  Don’t I know it. I think of Jesse. One seat over and she’d be gone, too. Or instead.

  “We’ll let you know when she’s out, then once they move her to a room.”

  Moving a hand from my hip, I rub the back of my neck. “Thanks,” I tell him, then turn to the women.

  “How is she?” Trish asks.

  “Hey, you should head home and rest.” I offer up first. “She’s still in surgery. We’re gonna be here a while.” The woman is pregnant. She’s gotta take care ’a herself.

  “I’m good.” Trish insists. Brother’s done good choosing wives. “What are we looking at?”

  I run down the list Talmouth gave me for the women, Caitlin’s friends. All three listen while holding back tears. So I repeat Talmouth’s other words. “It coulda been worse.”

  “You want me to bring Jade back to the compound? I’ll sit with her at your house.” Though Elise’s offer is kind, I need my girl safe with me.

  “Nah, thanks. I got her.”

  “That little girl is lucky to have you. Will you keep an eye on Gun? I’ll run and grab some coffees. What would Jade want?”

  “No soda.” I clear my throat, thrown from Elise’s comment. “Her mom don’t like her to have soda. Juice, or chocolate milk or even a hot chocolate if you can find some ice to cool it off.”

  She smiles, which I choose to ignore because that woman thinks she knows me so well. And what she thinks she knows is probably right. Boss has got his hands full with that one.

  I wait next to a sleeping Gunner until his mom returns with a tray of coffees, then I move to the chair on the other side of Peaches. She seems content to watch her movie, but leans her head against my arm as she does. Damn if that little girl don’t carve out another large piece of my heart with such a simple act.

  These Brimstone old ladies—even by association since Tommy ain’t a brother—prove just how brimstone they are, settling in for the long haul with me and Peaches.

  My brothers’ text updates on the Jesse-accident situation periodically, and inquiries as to Doc’s condition, others. After several hours, a doctor different from Talmouth, walks into the waiting room.

  “Anyone here for Caitlin Brennan?”

  “Here.” I stand, walking over to her.

  “We’ve moved her to a room. She’s sleeping but you’re welcome to go see her. Follow me.”

  “Hold on.” I order. She pauses, but don’t look happy about it. I don’t give a fuck what she’s happy about and pluck Peaches and her blanket from the chair, up into my arms. She still has her headphones on and tablet in hand. Only then do we join the doctor.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see the other three women, Elise with Gun, of course, scramble to follow us. And I should wait for ’em, but I got to see my woman.

  To say it’s a shock to see her laying unmoving, eyes closed, only slightly less gray than when they pulled her from the truck, fuck, that’s the understatement of the day. Guess I figured once they stopped the bleeding, she’d pink back up. Well, as much as Doc pinks without embarrassment.

  Seeing a woman I care about looking lifeless in a hospital bed, it could be four years ago. “Fuck,” I whisper, stumbling a step back, held up by three other amazing women.

  Maryanne lifts Peaches from my arms as Trish orders points her finger toward the door. “We got her. Go have a smoke.”

  16.

  Caitlin

  Since Jesse had no family, the brothers arranged for him to be cremated. We’ve all gathered today up on a mountain bluff overlooking a valley. It’s a beautiful spot to hold a memorial service. It’s the best we could come up with right now, seeing as Houdini is still out there somewhere.

  The Lords have a tradition, one last ride for a fallen brother. They’ll sprinkle his ashes along the open road. Freedom in death. But as Houdini is still out there somewhere, neither Duke nor the other brothers would leave yet. So Jesse’s final ride will have to wait until it’s safe for them to leave us women and children alone.

  Not that I have the right to be here, Jesse would still be alive if I hadn’t dragged him out of the clubhouse to take me and Jade to Fun Zone. All Duke’s pain, the new lines formed around his normally bright eyes, the tired weariness that accompanies him even in his sleep, all my doing. And I’d know, since I left the hospital sleep hasn’t been my friend. I lay in bed at night and watch him struggle.

  So much struggle. So much heartache. I woke up for a few minutes what I assume was that first night in the hospital or it could have been any night as I’d stayed unconscious for two and a half days. That night, Duke held my hand. His eyes were closed, head downcast, but even in the dark, I could see his pain. Feel his pain. “You fucking owe me,” he’d whispered. “Today of all days, let her be okay.”

  I’d never seen a man so broken. Part of me wanted to squeeze his hand, to let him know. But the casts on my wrists felt awkward and he looked like he needed to be alone with his thoughts. Then, I passed back out so quickly, it had probably been good that I didn’t.

  They waited the week for me to be released and the second week convalescing at home, before holding the service. Duke helped me dress this morning, a simple black sundress. Trisha showed up to help with my hair and makeup, seeing as with two broken wrists, I’m pretty much useless.

  All that’s left of my friend, that beautiful man, rests in an industrial strength cardboard box. No chairs except for the one Duke brought for me and Sneak brought for Trisha. Elise leans against Boss, who holds their sleeping son against his chest.

  I have my arm around my girl as she stands with her head resting on my shoulder. Duke stands before all of us, a pillar of fortitude for the men and women gathered today. As he begins to speak, stoic emotion filling his words, I feel myself begin to shut down.

  Back erect in the seat, as I continue to hold my girl, dark shades cover my eyes. Duke’s voice washes over me. The words become a jumble of sounds. When he moves from the front of the gathering, I’m the first to stand, move my girl back a step, because no matter how much she wants me to hold her, I’m still weak and recovering, and slowly walk over to the urn where I place my hand and whisper my apology. An apology, which will never reach his ears because he’s dead. Gone.

  My daughter whimpers as she trails along behind me. She knows we’re all sad, and she feels his loss. Jesse was her friend, but death is a hard concept for a child as young as Jade to understand. I wish to any god that would listen, that she didn’t have to understand it now.

  I’m heartsick.

  Though being the president’s old lady, the brothers and their women won’t see me cry. It’s a time to show strength, even if I don’t feel strong. Others follow me up to the urn. They also try to engage me in conversation. That I can’t handle right now, and excuse myself and walk back to the truck with my daughter in tow.

  Once secured in her booster in the backseat with her blanket, I turn on a movie for my little girl. None of it comes easy with two casted wrists, but this is the least of the penance I deserve for taking that beautiful life.

  Jade and I wait until the last of the mourners has moved to a bike or truck, and Duke slides in the driver’s seat. He tries to take my hand as he drives us toward the compound, but I pull away, clasping my hands in my lap so he can’t try again.

  Neither of us speaks.

  When we reach the house, he parks and moves to get Jade. I don’t even tell him thank you, walking into the utility room through the main living space, down the hallway into the master where I immediately head to the bathroom and lock the door. Only then, only then do I allow myself to cry. Sinking down to my knees, I close my eyes and let the sobs rip through me.

  “Jesse.” I cry to no one. “I’m s
o sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Please… please…” I beg him, though I don’t know for what. Forgiveness? To have this all be a practical joke? A nightmare? “I’m so sorry…” I continue to cry.

  The doorknob jiggles and there’s a soft knock. “Doc?” Duke calls. When I don’t answer, he knocks harder. “Doc, honey let me in.”

  No. He’ll only try to comfort me. I don’t want his comfort.

  A couple minutes pass. The doorknob jiggles again and then the door pops open. Duke, my Chief, looks haggard as he bends to pull me up. His touch almost stings as he tries to hold me.

  “No.” I ball my fist and pound on his chest. “Don’t touch me. We killed him. We did. I took him with me, but you took her side.” My accusation comes out a yell as I pound on his chest again, needing him to hurt as badly as I hurt. “You took her side. Now Jesse’s dead. I hate you.” I used both fists now to pound, and he doesn’t attempt to stop me, taking everything I throw at him until there’s nothing left, and I sag against him.

  Then his arms wrap to hold me.

  Scooping me up like a bride, he moves us to the bed and lays me down, spooning against me. No space between us. Between the crying and still recovering from my surgeries, the tiredness engulfs me. My wrists throb bitterly, and I’m achy all over from the exertion. My skin pulls especially tight along three incision marks. I can only hope my insides have healed enough to not reopen.

  Hitting him was stupid. For so many reasons.

  “You might hate me, honey,” comes his gruff whisper. “But somewhere along the way, I fell for you. It’s my fault. I shoulda told Mamie to shut the fuck up right then and there. Fuck.”

  God, I’m such a bitch. The way he’s taken care of me, of my daughter while I recover. What a terrible, heartless thing to say.

  “No.” I sniff, then whisper back, “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you Duke.” I sniff a second time. “I just hurt so badly, I needed you to hurt too. I’m sorry. He was just…. He was like the brother I never had, you know? We spent so much time together, and now he’s gone. What am I supposed to do?”

  “You lean on me,” he answers without a hint of hesitation. “Just lean on me. I’ve got you.” And he does have me. His arms wrap even snugger around me, his body practically cocoons me. But if I allow myself to fall into his protection, I just might break down again. And my head hurts too much to cry anymore. Which leaves me only one option, to change the subject.