Silence.
Oh God, oh God, oh God.
“The paramedics are on the way.”
“I’ll-I’ll be right over.” Cara wrestled the light on the nightstand, nearly pitching it to the floor, and finally twisted on the switch. With air refusing to enter her lungs, she leaped from the bed, grabbed her jeans and T-shirt off the chair, and struggled into them.
“Cara?” Blanca’s voice was sleepy. “What’s wrong?”
“Francie!”
“Oh no.” Blanca was by the door in her pajamas and bare feet when Cara got there. “Your purse!”
“Oh shit.”
“I’ll get it.”
A tremor turned into full-body shaking by the time Blanca returned and thrust the purse into Cara’s arms. Cara clutched the bag to her chest and stared at her sister.
Blanca’s brow knitted. “You’re not driving, are you?”
Cara shook her head.
“Do you want me to go with you?”
Cara shook her head again.
Warm hands cupped Cara’s shoulders. Warmth and strength flowed from Blanca’s hands into Cara’s shoulders and spread throughout her body, calming the shakes.
Looking deeply into Cara’s eyes, Blanca said, “It’s going to be okay.”
“Steady now,” Cara said, “Thanks,” and ran.
****
The fire truck arrived, and Jason rushed to let in the paramedics. Sheila Kidman, all efficient ambulance driver with no hint of their friendship, asked where the patient was and strode to Mom’s room. Mom was sitting up on the bed, gasping for breath.
“Hi, Mrs. Ward.” Sheila had the oxygen mask on Mom’s face in about a second. “I understand you’re having some difficulty breathing.” Sheila kept up a stream of soothing conversation about random irrelevant things, like the weather, and it worked. Mom’s eyes narrowed a bit from wide-eyed terror.
Jason took a breath, the first one he’d taken since his mom woke him with the panic button. He could probably use some oxygen himself. His gut churned. His heart pounded. Fear lodged in his throat. Right now, Jason was about as useful as an armless pitcher.
Sheila pressed a stethoscope to Mom’s chest. She looked up at Jason and offered a reassuring smile. Jason steadied more with each breath of oxygen his mother took. Mom looked so relieved. But what the hell did this mean? She wouldn’t die tonight. No, he didn’t think so. But was this the beginning of the end?
Jason shook his head violently against the thought. Forced his mind back on duty. His throat was so dry he had to work up some spit before he could talk. “Are you taking her to the hospital?”
Sheila glanced from her position crouching beside the bed where she was taking Mom’s blood pressure. “Yes. She is stable though. Just a precaution.”
Relief flooded through him. Mom wasn’t in imminent danger, but what was wrong?
****
The sight of the ambulance parked in the Ward’s driveway sent a bolt of fresh fear through Cara. Her feet flew over the ground and slapped on the ramp as she charged the front door. Inside, a paramedic stood in the foyer. She almost ran into him. He stepped aside and lowered his head respectfully. Cara whisked into the back room and stopped.
Francie was sitting up in bed, her nose and mouth covered by an oxygen mask. Sheila Kidman, in uniform with her long red hair woven into a French braid, crouched near Francie. Sheila was a friend, but right now she was the steadying force of the universe.
Cara’s heart rate slowed. Adrenaline drained, and her knees wobbled. She took hold of the doorframe.
Jason stepped over and cupped her elbows, looking into her eyes. “Thanks for coming.”
Cara whispered, “How is she?”
Jason nodded. “Okay. Sheila says she’ll be okay.”
A mewl of relief escaped Cara’s lips, and she started to crumple, but Jason held her firm by pulling her to his chest. His touch fed her strength and comfort. She leaned into him, clinging to his strength.
“Excuse me, Jase,” came Sheila’s voice. “We’re moving your mom now.”
Jason eased Cara to the side. She peeled away from his body, able to stand on her own legs again. She even managed a bright and reassuring smile to Francie, who was being carried out on the stretcher, her blue eyes above the oxygen mask wide with fear.
“We’ll be right behind you,” Cara sang out.
Sheila tilted her head to Jason. “You okay to drive?”
He nodded.
The paramedics loaded Francie into the ambulance. They drove off, lights flashing but the siren off.
****
The drive to the hospital was made surreal by a pretty sunrise over what may be the worst day of his life. Thank God Cara was here beside him in the truck. Even though neither said a word during the whole trip, the sound of her breathing beside him was an incredible comfort. He didn’t care—in fact, it was good that he’d ended up having to soothe Cara. Comforting her steadied his own nerves.
At 5:10 a.m. Jason pulled into the hospital parking lot and took a spot next to the Love Caters All food truck. Cara’s mom, Pilar, wouldn’t be there for another fifty minutes. The truck looked so strange, parked there as though a normal day was about to begin. And yet his world had almost ended. He trudged past the truck, Cara in tow.
He signed in at the desk, and the security guard buzzed them into the emergency room. Green curtains on movable rods divided the large space into different “rooms.” Most of the stations stood empty and open, the beds crisp and waiting, but three were boxed in and closed.
A nurse approached and asked who they were visiting.
“Francie Ward.” His mother’s name sounded far away and strangely hollow in the institutional setting. Yes, he’d taken her to lots of doctor appointments but never to the emergency room.
“This way.” The nurse led the way to one of the closed areas and parted the curtains.
Mom’s color was good. Cara moved past him, lifted Francie’s pale hands and cradled them. Above the oxygen mask, Mom’s eyes smiled. Jason’s heart squeezed with appreciation for Cara.
****
Time ceases to exist in an emergency room, Cara thought, but the calm of being past the threat of Francie dying was a relief. Her friend was sitting up in bed, breathing quite contentedly through small oxygen tubes in her nose. Blanca and Mama had shown up around six. Jason told Mama she could open the truck and not to worry, so she left for another day of work. Blanca hung around in the waiting area, reading. Cara took a moment to sit beside her sister every time she visited the bathroom.
Doctor Willson came by at eight and said he was ordering tests. Cara scratched notes on her phone, planning to do research, but somehow, when the curtains closed behind Doctor Willson’s back, she didn’t have the energy to look up the details. She closed her phone and slid it back into her purse. Leave the thinking to the doctor for now.
Jason caught her eye and smiled. “Maybe you should take a break.”
She nodded and went out to join Blanca in the waiting room.
Blanca slid her e-reader back into her purse. “How is Francie?”
“Okay. Waiting for tests.” Cara needed some water. Desperately.
“How are you holding up?”
“Right now, I’m thirsty.”
Blanca went to get water. The cold liquid soothed Cara’s throat and stomach. She held out the empty cup for more, which Blanca fetched. After a couple more sips, Cara sat back, pressing her fingertips to the cool paper.
At ten a.m. Nurse Novak said Francie’s room was ready. In the world that had telescoped down to an ER in one small hospital in one small town USA, transferring to a room was a huge event. The staff asked if they could hold off visiting until they’d settled Francie. Jason said he’d go home for a quick shower, and Cara went out to sit with Blanca.
They had eaten breakfast from Love Caters All, which Mama delivered with firm orders to eat every bite, but when Blanca offered to go out and get muffins and lattes, a midmorni
ng snack, Cara nodded. Coffee would help the spacy effect of living on hospital time and, even though she hadn’t done anything physical, the stress was making Cara more hungry than usual.
Blanca’s smile broadcast relief at being able to make a difference. If their roles were reversed, Cara would feel the same way.
Throughout the next two days, Cara alternated with Jason, taking turns spending time with Francie and going home for breaks.
****
Mom was released from the hospital the next morning. Jason left his truck at home and drove Mom’s car because it was easier to transfer her in and out of the lower seat. Cara came to the hospital to pick up the flower arrangements and gifts and followed them back to the house.
The relief of knowing all Mom had suffered was a panic attack, which had nothing to do with her multiple sclerosis, gave Jason a new lease on life. The sun shone in a beautiful blue sky and the birds of Lobster Cove sang more sweetly. Maybe he didn’t know what would happen tomorrow, but he was happy. For now he would push aside the clouds that had darkened his sunny skies all summer. The knowledge that Cara would be leaving at the end of summer never to return, unless he could convince her to stay, could sit on the bench while he reveled in knowing Mom was okay. Even Garrett was okay.
He was more optimistic about his prospects with Cara. He knew how to wine and dine a woman. He’d pull out all the Jason Ward charm. Because now, after all that had just happened with Mom, there was one thing he knew for sure. He needed Cara in his life. She was his family as much as Francie.
After they arrived home, Jason eased Mom’s frail frame into her bed. The hospital had sent her home with an oxygen tank. The breathing issue was panic, but the oxygen tank was there to help her feel relaxed. Nonetheless, the whole experience had weakened her. Her hands clung to his neck as he lifted her into the bed.
“Are you feeling okay, Mom?”
“Yes. Just tired. I don’t sleep well at the hospital.”
“Nobody does.” Cara adjusted the blinds.
The pillows on Mom’s bed were fluffed to perfection. Flowers stood in a white vase on the dark wood dresser. They smelled good and Mom loved them. Cara had done all these things and now opened a window. Bird calls added sounds of life. All of this was so much better for Mom than the sterile hospital environment.
Jason tore his gaze from Cara and crossed to his mother’s bedside. He took the controller for her adjustable bed from her bedspread and put it on her nightstand. “Are you all set then, Mom?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Get some rest.”
“Would you like some breakfast?” Cara asked.
“No, that’s okay,” Francie said. “The swill I had at the hospital will hold me for a while. I’m going to close my eyes.”
Jason followed Cara to the front of the house. She took a seat at the dining-room table, and he went into the kitchen. He spoke across the counter. “Do you want something to eat?”
“No, that’s okay.”
Cara was probably too stressed to eat, but she needed food. Jason would entice her with good grub. He pulled a carton of eggs from the fridge and set a bowl on the counter.
“I should get going.” Cara remained seated.
“Do you have something you need to do?”
“No.”
Jason cracked the last shell. “Why don’t you hang out for a while?”
“Okay.”
A few minutes later, six unbroken yolks swam in thick clear whites at the bottom of the silver mixing bowl. Jason grabbed the kitchen scissors and headed out the patio door. Goldfinches chattered, and the rapid and fluttery calls of a tufted titmouse were answered by the longer calls of its mate as the birds spoke in code. A smattering of earlier rain brought out the forest smells. Back inside, he rinsed the basil and chopped it fine. The pungent aroma clung to his fingers.
Cara had shifted to the dining room where she watched him over the counter. He threw her a smile as he chopped some chives. Cooking onion and hot basil filled the room. Veggies hit the pan, making the hot oil pop. He turned the fat plastic dial to lower the flame.
Cara appeared at the door between the kitchen and living room.
Jason sauntered to the cabinet and removed a plate. “Too bad you don’t want any. This is going to be good.”
Cara licked her lips, her brown eyes so puppy-dog sad he didn’t have the heart to continue teasing her. “Of course. This is enough for two meals.”
Her eyes lit with hope.
“Maybe you’d like to split it with me, so we can eat it hot. An omelet isn’t as good the next day.”
“No, it isn’t. I could uh—help you out with that.”
Jason grinned and grabbed another plate. He cut the omelet in the middle with the spatula. White cheese oozed from the center. Even he couldn’t help drooling.
Cara grabbed the OJ, and they settled at the table. At one point, she moaned around a mouthful of eggs, her eyes closed. His body tightened. She was making it hard to care about food. Would she leave as soon as she finished? Hopefully not.
Cara didn’t leave right away. In fact, she cleaned up the dishes. He was loading the dishwasher when she hip-bumped him. “You get out of here. I’ll wash the pan and wipe the counters.”
“Okay.”
Mom was asleep. Dusty, the big gray tomcat was curled on the foot of the bed. Mom looked frail but peaceful. The bedding rose and fell gently. Thank God for that. He had to face the fact Mom may need more help than he could provide. He should say he and Cara would need more help. He needed to talk to Cara about how much she did. Cara had spent every minute of her summer so far over here. He understood her connection to his mom, but that didn’t seem right. He could increase the help from the agency to help Mom while he was at work.
“What are you thinking?” Cara’s voice came softly from behind.
“Nothing.”
Her head poked around his shoulder. “She looks so peaceful. I’m glad the breathing thing was just a panic attack.”
“Me too.”
“Let’s go back in the living room where we won’t disturb her. She has that call button if it happens again.”
True. Mom rarely needed her alarm, but she’d sure needed it the other night.
Back in the living room, Cara perched on the yellow couch in the sun, the colors warming her cool tan skin tones and making her hair gleam. “I think your mom is going to be okay.”
Cara thinking Mom would be okay reassured him on a deep level. “I’m thinking of hiring some live-in help.”
“I’m not sure Francie’s ready for that.”
“I know.”
They sat in silence for a while, then Cara said, “I can move in. For the summer, I mean.”
Cara? Living in his house? How would he wine and dine her if she was in the next room? Her being his mom’s caregiver wasn’t part of the plan for multiple reasons. “No. Thanks though.”
“Francie is family to me.”
Her frank statement, affirming his own feelings about her role in his life, stopped whatever it was he was going to say and warmed him from the inside out. “I know.”
The buzzer went off. As one, Jason and Cara jumped to their feet and raced down the hall.
Mom was sitting up in bed, her hair smoothed, hands resting on her lap. “Sorry to disturb you,” she said, brightly.
“You need something, Mom?”
Cara edged around him, picked up Mom’s hands, and cradled them in her own. His heart constricted, and he felt a rush of love for Cara for taking care of his mom. He also felt envy. A weird mix.
Jason stepped backward and folded his arms. The women ignored him. After about a minute he decided to make himself useful and went into the bathroom to work on the leaky toilet. The women’s voices carried as he grabbed the replacement flapper from under the sink where he’d stored it and set it within easy reach of the toilet tank.
“I’d like to get up now…” Francie said.
Jason lifted the top o
ff the tank but held it in the air, unsure what to do. His first impulse was to set the top back on the tank and go help, but Mom hadn’t been speaking to him. She’d been talking to Cara.
“…take a shower and then sit in the living room.”
A shower? The helper wasn’t due until the next day. Mom would just have to wait to take her shower tomorrow when Marianne was here. Simple. Certainly Cara would explain that. He didn’t need to intervene.
He set the toilet-tank top on the floor.
“I know,” Mom said, in the other room. “I feel like I need to rinse off the hospital vibes. And to get out of bed for a while before going back to sleep. Rest is all I’ve been doing.”
“If you’re sure,” Cara said, “I’ll help.”
They were coming in here. Jason grabbed the top and set it on the tank with a clang. He thrust the box with the replacement flapper under his armpit and picked up the wrench, putting both into the cabinet below the sink and shutting the door with his foot.
In the master bedroom, Cara was getting his mom into her wheelchair.
“Let me help.” But by the time he arrived, the task was done.
“Comin’ through,” Mom said.
He shifted out of the way and watched the two women he loved, one redhead, one brunette, and smiled. He wasn’t needed at the moment. And, thanks to Cara, his mom would be happy today with her shower…when she really needed something to lift her spirits. Yeah, he could…and would…hire more help, but some things just couldn’t be bought. Like compassionate care and companionship from an old friend.
Chapter Six
Cara helped Francie from the wheelchair into the large shower Jason had installed and shifted her onto the seat.
“Thanks, honey! This is a far cry from when Sherry and I skinny-dipped in the pond at Woodstock. We were so dirty from all the mud after it rained. There was one bar of soap, and we sure had a lot of fun passing it around.”
Cara laughed and gave Francie the handheld showerhead. She busied herself tidying the jars and bottles on the counter, giving Francie her privacy while sticking nearby in case she was needed.
“You can go,” Francie said.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Come back and get me in ten.”
Third Strike's the Charm Page 6
