Christmas in Snow Valley

by Cindy Roland Anderson

  Paisley broke into a run, the snow crunching under her boots’ thick tread. Landing on her knees, she situated the plastic backboard on the snow. The men positioned Johnathan Jett on his back, unconscious. His breathing was shallow and rapid and his skin was bright pink. At least he’s breathing.

  “Dad!” Clay dropped to his knees next to Sawyer, his eyes wide and pleading for his dad to wake up. “Dad!” He grabbed his dad’s shoulders, giving them a good shake.

  Sawyer pulled him away. “Did he go under?”

  “What?” Clay stared at Johnathan.

  Paisley took Johnathan’s pulse and checked for external injuries.

  “Did he go under?” Sawyer demanded.

  “No.” Clay blinked. “No. I don’t think so.”

  “Good.” Sawyer dropped his hands from Clay’s arms and hurried to place an oxygen mask over Johnathan’s face. Paisley secured a neck brace and strapped him to the board, her hands steady. If Johnathan didn’t go under the frigid water, he had a much better chance of survival. She counted his clear lungs as a small miracle considering the cases she’d studied.

  “We need to get him to the ambulance,” she said.

  Sawyer nodded. Without instruction, six men in swimsuits and bare feet lifted the backboard and took off at a light jog.

  Paisley fell in step with them, sweat building up under her heavy coat. The other plungers stepped aside, Johnathan’s name whispered among them as they realized the situation was serious.

  “What happened?” Paisley asked Terry, the guy on the back left handle.

  “I don’t know. Ask Clay.”

  “Clay,” she called.

  “Here.” He was right behind her. No matter how angry she was at him over the frosting incident, she wanted to help his dad. She didn’t wish any heartache on Clay—he’d already been through enough.

  “Did you see him go in?”

  “We went in together.”

  They reached the ambulance and Pete, the driver, had the back doors open and was already pulling out the gurney. Clay stopped his account to help get his dad situated. The sound of the gurney’s metal legs clanging echoed over the snow. Sawyer shoved her and Clay in the back, shut the doors, and banged the okay for Pete to go. He’d stay behind with their essentials bag in case someone else needed help.

  “Keep going,” Paisley prompted Clay as she unwrapped an IV bag and tubing.

  “He splashed me … I laughed … he froze and fell into me. It happened so fast. I, I struggled with him in the water and called for help. That’s when the other guys helped me haul him out. What’s wrong with him?”

  The ambulance bounced from the dirt road to pavement and Paisley concentrated to insert the IV. She hooked up the fluid and opened the valve.

  “There are warm blankets in that compartment.” She jerked her chin to show Clay which direction to look. “Let’s get him covered.”

  Paisley hurried to get Johnathan hooked to the monitor before Clay covered him. She talked to keep them both calm. “People sometimes go into shock because of the cold. The blood vessels in the heart constrict and they have chest pains. Their muscles are cold and because they have a hard time pulling in air, they can become temporarily paralyzed.”

  “He’s paralyzed?” Clay wiped at his face.

  Paisley checked Johnathan’s pulse. Weak and thready. Hang on. She prayed he’d remain steady until they got him to the doctor. She was scared. There was always one or two cases of shock or near frostbite at the Plunge, but she’d never seen anything this bad. Pushing her fear deep inside, she stayed calm for Johnathan and Clay.

  “It usually wears off as they warm up. We won’t know until the doctor has a chance to look at him. Here-” she handed Clay a towel. “Dry his head.”

  Clay grabbed onto her hands, their eyes meeting.

  “Is he going to be okay?” asked Clay.

  Paisley didn’t see the cocky guy who winked at her, or the playful one who swiped frosting on her cheek. Paisley gazed into the eyes of a vulnerable fifteen-year-old who showed up on the first day of band practice, not knowing if he belonged, but needing a place where he felt secure.

  “We’ll do everything we can.” She turned to check the flow on the IV and then went back to briskly rubbing Johnathan’s arms and legs. Clay wiped water out of his dad’s beard and hair.

  The ER doctor and a nurse met them at the door and rushed Johnathan away. Paisley was left standing next to Clay at the triage desk as Pete took the ambulance back to the river.

  The ride into town had been the longest twenty minutes of Paisley’s life. Knowing Johnathan and Clay’s hope rested in her abilities and training left her drained. She just couldn’t seem to put one foot in front of the other to take her to the seat.

  Clay shivered and Paisley came out of her haze to realize he didn’t have any clothes on—well, besides his swimming trunks, but those weren’t doing him much good. His feet were bright red. The heater in the ambulance hadn’t been enough to keep him warm and here in the waiting room, goose bumps broke out on his skin. If he wasn’t careful, they’d be treating two Jetts today.

  “Has he been sick?” Susan, the receptionist, asked.

  “No.”

  Paisley stepped forward. “Wait, you said you had to come to the cookie party in your dad’s place because he wasn’t feeling well.”

  Water dripped off Clay’s hair and to his bare shoulders. Paisley kept her eyes locked on his so she wouldn’t be tempted to watch where the water landed.

  Clay broke eye contact. “He hasn’t been sick,” he repeated. “I told him to stay home so I had an excuse to see you.” He turned back to Susan and gave his dad’s billing address, too focused on her questions to notice Paisley’s shock.

  She stood there with her heart hammering and her mouth hanging open. “I’ll be right back.” She wasn’t sure if Clay or Susan heard her or not, but didn’t really care.

  It wasn’t how it sounded, she reasoned as she made her way to the supply cupboard. He hadn’t come to see her, he’d come to the cookie party to talk to her about the Iron Stix. That was it. He was there for the band. She paused at the supply cupboard. But if it was all for the band, then why did he pull her close and let his voice get all rumbly?

  Shaking herself out of the memory, she found some clean scrubs and pulled a blanket from the warmer. When she got back she wrapped the blanket around Clay’s shoulders without interrupting.

  He gave her a faint smile.

  Susan promised to let him know as soon as she heard anything.

  Paisley handed Clay the scrubs and showed him to a curtained area where he could change.

  She turned her back to the fabric and said, “I hope they fit.”

  “They’ll be great. Thanks.”

  She looked up at the water stains on the ceiling and then down at the tiles. Holding still was driving her insane. She rummaged through a few drawers before she found some hideous green socks with white traction lines on the bottom and a plastic bag for Clay’s swimsuit.

  By the time he was done changing, she also had another blanket fresh from the warmer. It was a good thing too. Even though he had on dry clothes, Clay shivered from head to foot. He used the first blanket to dry his hair and Paisley bit back a smile as the curls bounded out in all directions. He tucked the new blanket around him and took a seat in the waiting area, his elbows on his knees and his fingers buried in his hair.

  Paisley paced. The old battery clock on the wall said 11:44. The plunge ended at noon and then Sawyer would come back with the ambulance—with any luck, an empty ambulance. They would then restock the supplies and make sure the ambulance was in order before heading home. She had less than seven days before the Ball and there was still a lot to do, the most stressing errand was confirming the Christmas quartet. She’d sent two emails and hadn’t heard back. It was time to make a phone call.

  There was also the not-so-small issue of the Christmas tree in front of the hospital. Addy Haze, church service com
mittee chair, should have had the huge pine decorated days ago. When Paisley asked Pastor John if she should find someone else, he said, “The Lord’s working on it – don’t rush Him.” Paisley decided to just let the tree be. If the Lord was in charge of decorating – she wasn’t going to meddle. The band, on the other hand, was her responsibility.

  As she walked past Clay, he snagged her wrist. “Can you please sit down? You’re making me nervous.”

  Paisley plopped into the seat next to him. She bounced her leg and Clay put his hand on her knee to stop her. “Hold. Still.”

  “Do you want a drink? I could go get us some soda or something. There’s a machine down the hall.”

  “Just sit.”

  Paisley drummed her fingers on the seat. “I’m trying to help.”

  Clay leaned in close. Not as close as when he asked her to play, but close enough Paisley could see the variations of brown in his incredible eyes. “No. You’re trying to control the moment,” he said.

  Paisley didn’t like his tone. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “If you’re busy you don’t have to feel anything, but if you stop moving, stop planning, you might – heaven forbid – worry. Well guess what? I want to worry. I want to stress over my dad. He’s all I have, Paisley, and I want to care about him enough that I hurt to think I might lose him. I don’t want to be shut off.” He motioned at her, implying she was shut off and Paisley’s jaw dropped.

  She wasn’t shut off. Her love for Snow Valley and the people who lived here inspired her to work hard. Balling her fists, Paisley said, “If I didn’t work so hard, this hospital wouldn’t have the new EKG machine they’ve probably hooked up to your dad. If I didn’t plan, then they wouldn’t have the funding to pay the doctor. If I didn’t keep busy, you’d be sitting here half-naked and freezing. Because I plan, people like you can feel things all day long. I don’t have that luxury.”

  Clay’s jaw tightened and Paisley jumped to her feet. “And just for the record, I care about people and there are plenty of people in this town who care about me. Unlike you, I didn’t run away.”

  “Paisley!” Sawyer scolded her from the doorway, sounding every bit as angry as her dad did the time she took the pickup without asking and grazed a fence post on her way into town.

  She threw her hand over her mouth, mortified. She’d lost her cool and allowed Clay to get to her once again.

  Sawyer crossed the room and held out her purse, his lips pressed into a thin line.

  She took her bag, knowing her keys, and her exit, were inside but unable to storm off. She wasn’t a person who intentionally hurt someone and she wanted a chance to apologize.

  Sawyer handed Clay a bag which Paisley assumed had his and his dad’s clothes and personal items from the warm up tent. They didn’t have time to gather them when they jumped in the ambulance. She shuffled from one foot to the other, wanting to defend herself to her big brother and apologize to Clay at the same time.

  “Have you heard anything?” Sawyer asked Clay, ignoring Paisley.

  Clay shook his head.

  Susan’s white orthopedics squeaked against the tiles. “Clay, honey, your dad’s awake. He’d like to see you.”

  Clay jumped up, leaving the blanket on the seat. He turned to pick it up, but Paisley beat him to it. “You’re good – go,” she said as she draped the now cold fabric over her arm.

  “Thanks.” Clay hurried off, leaving Paisley and Sawyer in the waiting room.

  “Are you going to stay?” Paisley folded the blanket into a neat square and hugged the cool fabric to her chest.

  “I’ll make sure Johnathan is stable before I leave. I think Clay needs a friend right now.”

  His voice didn’t hold an ounce of accusation, but Paisley felt guilty anyway. The regret grew as she remembered the look in Clay’s eyes as he told her his dad was all he had.

  “He wasn’t running away, you know.” Sawyer settled back into the chair Clay vacated. “He was chasing a dream. There’s a difference.”

  Paisley sat on the edge of her chair. “I know. I was just angry. He gets under my skin.”

  Sawyer smiled and leaned back. “I noticed.”

  “What?”

  “The way he gets your goat.”

  “He’s impossible.”

  Sawyer laughed. “I also saw the way you two got all cozy at the cookie party.”

  Paisley narrowed her eyes. “We were not cozy.”

  “Hmmm. And you weren’t checking him out this morning over Mrs. Bloom’s oxygen treatment.”

  Paisley smacked his arm. “I did no such thing. Besides, you told me a long time ago band members are off limits.”

  “I did and for good reason.” Sawyer looked up as he weighed his words. “Did you know Mom was the one who invited Clay to practice?”

  “No.” Paisley scooted back against the chair.

  “She was friends with his mom. I remember her taking dinner over Wednesday nights for almost a year as Terri went back and forth from the hospital.”

  “How did she die?”

  “I don’t know. If I did know, I don’t remember. You’d have to ask Clay.”

  “Yeah, I’m not going to go there.”

  Sawyer shrugged. “Anyway, over the next year Clay started wearing black. He dropped off the basketball team and didn’t try out for baseball. It was weird. We’d played on the same teams since first grade and then all the sudden he just wasn’t there. By the time we hit ninth grade, he wore leather cuffs and eye makeup to school. None of us wanted to go near him, let alone hang out with him.”

  He shook his head in admiration as he said, “Mom pulled me aside after our first practice and told me we needed a bass player and she knew just the guy. I about pitched a fit when she said Clay knew how to play. I told her I didn’t want him in the band and she said I had to give Clay a fair shot or she’d shut us down. I thought there was no way he’d stick with us, he’d flaked out on everything else. But he did. He was on time for practice and man – could he play. We tried to catch up to him and he just kept getting better at the guitar, but he never got better inside. Do you know what I mean?”

  Paisley nodded. She remembered the haunted looks and the way he let her mom hug him goodbye after practice, like a man starving for a meal who only gets a morsel. “He didn’t want to feel, so he shut himself off.” No wonder he wanted to feel things now. For years he hid behind black hair dye and fingernail polish. Was that what she did? Was she hiding?

  Paisley bit her lip.

  “When I saw him at the tree lighting, I found my friend again—the one who played basketball and swung at the worst pitches—he was back. He’s not the same guy who left here.”

  Paisley smoothed the blanket. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying,” Sawyer tapped her shoulder, “he’s not off limits anymore.”

  Paisley squirmed. “It doesn’t matter if he’s off limits or not. He’s leaving after Christmas, so there’s no point in making a big deal.”

  Sawyer scratched his temple. “I’m not sure he’s-”

  “Ahem.” Clay stood in the doorway. Paisley’s heart picked up speed. How long had he been standing there?

  “Dad’s okay. He went into shock – just like you said.”

  Paisley’s shoulders relaxed.

  “The doctor said he’s going to be fine. They want to keep him overnight for observation as a precaution.”

  Sawyer stood up. “I’m glad he’s doing well. You’ll call if there’s any change?”

  “Yeah, man. Thanks for hanging out.”

  “Anytime.” Sawyer punched Clay’s shoulder. “I’m going to check the supplies in the ambulance and then head home. Amber’s parents are coming for dinner and then we’re taking the kids on the Polar Express.” He hugged Paisley. “Be nice,” he said loud enough for Clay to hear. “But not too nice,” he whispered. She gave him an extra hard squeeze making him grunt before letting him go.

  Both she and Clay watched him le
ave before turning to face one another. Clay ran his hand through his amazing hair that had somehow calmed down from frizzville to once again holding the perfect wave. His kids were going to be so lucky to get his hair – and his eyes. Those warm, chocolaty colored eyes wouldn’t let her go. They held her there, his earlier anguish gone; replaced with a look that was less raw and much more welcoming.

  “Thanks for your help,” he said quietly.

  “Oh, you know, it’s all part of the job.”

  Clay came closer. “Speaking of your job ... when I walked in they had Dad hooked up to the EKG machine. I – thank you, for planning. I always knew there was more to you than cookies.”

  Paisley touched his arm. She concentrated on her words instead of the tingling spreading through her fingers. “I’m sorry for what I said.”

  A slow, easy grin spread across Clay’s face and Paisley realized he wasn’t the type to hold a grudge. Perhaps he thought life was too short, or maybe he’d always been forgiving and no one ever took time to find out.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “You’re pretty when you’re angry.”

  Paisley gave him a playful shove. “It’s a good thing you think so; you make me angry more than most people.”

  “Like my dad always says – if you’re going to do something, you might as well do it right.”

  She shook her head. “You are impossible.”

  “Yeah, I kind of am, but I’m good with it.”

  Paisley handed him the blanket. “If you’re all set then, I’m going to take off.”

  “Things to do?”

  “Always.”

  “I’ll see you later,” he said.

  Paisley paused. The way his voice lifted didn’t sound like the cursory good-bye people say. It sounded more like a hopeful question. Like an, I-want-to-see-you-later thing and Paisley felt the bubbles, as strong as a Jacuzzi set on high, start up inside. Only this time, instead of melting into him, like she did at the cookie party (look how that turned out) she tamped down hard. Clay may have changed, may be gorgeous, and may be type of guy she wouldn’t mind running into under the mistletoe (on accident, of course) but he was leaving and she couldn’t let him take her heart with him. Not like Brent.