Esther turned to see who had spoken.
“Sorry, Doctor, but I just got here and we haven’t met yet.” A tall, skinny guy with graying temples extended a hand. “George Livingston. I head up ER over on the base.”
She couldn’t help it; the opportunity was just too ripe. “Dr. Livingston, I presume.” She shook his hand.
His look made it obvious that he got that all the time.
A man with him signaled two others, all of them strapping young fellows in air force fatigues. Instead of trying to thread Chickie’s gurney through the quagmire of needy people to the double doors, they simply hoisted it high, Chickie and all, and carried it down the hall and out the back door.
Dr. Livingston glanced at Dennis and Yvette as if they were privates and he the general. “You have anyone else out there, bring the ambulance back here. Oh, and we have supplies for you, so come anyway.”
They didn’t move, instead looking pointedly at Esther.
She nodded to them. “Do as he says. We need all the help we can get.” It was clear that Dennis got the same vibes she did. She ignored for the moment her resentment at the man’s high-handedness, but right now anything that anyone could do needed to be appreciated. She’d just have to pray her resentment didn’t swell to explosion status. It could happen, especially with the state she was in.
“Who was that man, Mommy?” a small voice asked.
“I think that was Superman,” the older boy beside her replied. “But he musta forgot his cape.”
The titter that flitted around the room caught Esther, too. Leave it to children. Right now they sure could use a Superman or three. She checked the examination rooms to find Rob with an old man in the first. She knew the fellow. Cooper? Somebody Cooper. Her brain was turning to fuzz. “Need transport?”
“Yes,” Rob said. “Possible heart.”
“Okay. I’ll tell them.” She turned back into the hall and flagged down one of Dr. Livingston’s EMTs. Or was the young man a paramedic? “Where is his wife?” she asked Rob.
He shook his head.
When she mouthed gone, he nodded. She couldn’t bear to mouth dead.
He looked grim. “Mr. Cooper was found unconscious by a neighbor.”
The new man appeared in the doorway and looked from Rob to Esther. “We’ll take care of him.” He stepped backward into the hall, waved, and returned. A young woman in fatigues pushed a gurney into the room, the man behind her carrying in a bag of gear.
The gurney was one of those lightweight aluminum jobs you see in supply catalogs and dream about. Top of the line. The pockets in the fatigues they all wore bulged with supplies to be whipped out on a moment’s notice. Esther couldn’t suppress her envy. They had all the best and latest. She had a clunker X-ray and commissioners who didn’t want to spend any money.
They expertly slipped an oxygen mask in place and tucked the small oxygen canister against his side, splacked the electrode patches on his bared torso, and plugged a slim and tidy portable defibrillator onto them. “We’ll hook him up in the chopper and leave this O2 with you.” Away they went. Military precision.
The Coopers; Grace. Ernie. They were both my patients. Esther fought for control.
“They celebrated their sixtieth wedding anniversary last Sunday,” Rob said softly.
Esther nodded. “I know. I was there.”
“I’ll clean up in here. I think Gary fell asleep.”
“Thanks.” She checked room two where Ben was adjusting a sling around a teen’s neck, cradling her arm. For a border patrolman, he tied a nice sling. “Broken?”
“Yes. I put ice from the machine on it for now. We’re out of ice packs and inflatables.”
“It hurts so bad,” the girl cried. “I mean über-bad.”
Esther had never seen the girl, but the mother had been in a couple of times for migraines. Esther asked Ben, “We have a slew of boxes. Are we unpacking them?”
“No time yet.”
“What do we have left to give her?”
“Aspirin. Only because we had lots of it to start with.”
“Please! I need something! It hurts so bad!”
Esther forced a grimace that was just going to have to pass for a smile. “We know, and we’ll do the best we can for you.”
“Don’t you have anything stronger?” Her mom, either overweight or undertall, hovered at her side. “I gave her some Imitrex before we came. It didn’t seem to do any good.” Chase. The mother’s name was Chase. Esther finally remembered.
“Sumatriptan is indicated for migraines. It doesn’t work well on normal pain.”
“This isn’t normal!” the girl howled.
Everybody suffers pain, that’s life. Get used to it. Esther had to either ignore the kid or blow up. She chose to ignore her and turned to Ben. “Take her back to Susan and let her get started. I’ll meet you in X-ray. We can take time for that now.” She didn’t even try to smile at the mother. “An orthopedist needs to deal with this. Let me—” She cocked her head. “Is that another chopper leaving or coming?”
“Coming, ma’am,” a young man with a Southern accent said with a smile. He stood in the doorway in clean, neat fatigues, looking at their patient. Ogling? Almost. “You heard our Huey leaving. What do you need?”
“Splint for a broken arm?”
“Yes, ma’am.” From one of the leg pockets he pulled out a handful of little plastic packets, chose one, stuffed the others back in. “Got a small right here.” He shook it out.
“What’s that?” The girl looked alarmed. “It’s not going to hurt worse, is it?”
“No, ma’am.” The fellow was smiling even brighter. Esther and Ben both stepped back to let him do his thing. “On a break like yours, it will relieve the pain—not altogether, but a lot.” Deftly, he untied that lovely sling and let it fall away. Supporting her arm with one hand, he slipped the clear plastic tube over her wrist and up to the elbow. That had to make the hurt worse, but she was gazing at him, her knight in shining fatigues. Esther had forgotten all about teen psych.
The knight leaned over and inflated it by mouth. The clear plastic tube expanded, tightened. He purred platitudes in a quiet Southern drawl as he shook out a triangular bandage and built a sling around her arm that was not nearly as neat or artful as Ben’s. Then he pulled out another triangular bandage, whipped it into a swathe, and wrapped it around her upper body, snugging the sling against her chest. It must be nice having enough triangular bandages to be able to use two on a patient. “My name is Kyle. What’s yours?”
“Tiffany. Tiffany Jane, but I like just Tiffany.”
“So do I.” And Kyle ushered Tiffany and her mother toward the door. “I sure hope riding in a helicopter was on your dream list, Tiffany, because that’s what is going to happen.”
The mother stopped. “No! Wait. Can I just drive her? The cost…”
In that smooth Southern accent, “Don’t worry about the cost. We’re military. There will be none.”
From the hall, a starchy woman’s voice asked, “How many?”
“Minor with her mother.”
Esther and Ben just stood there looking at each other in the silent, empty room.
A middle-aged woman in fatigues paused in the doorway, a clipboard in hand. “We’ve got the cardiac loaded, the old man, and we’ll take these two. We can handle two more. Do you have others ready to transport?” She studied her clipboard. No eye contact.
“I-I’m not sure.” Esther hesitated. She should have a better handle on her patients. She didn’t even know who had been transported and who had not. This was all getting away from her. “Check with Barbara on the front desk. She’s been able to keep better track.”
“I will do that.” Without looking at either of them, the woman marched off.
And Esther was too tired to care. For the next hour she and her team worked with the new team as they dealt with those still in need of aid and put away the fresh supplies.
By ten o’clock the easily
portable patients had been moved to the Lutheran church where they would be fed and looked after. The ambulances had been refueled and restocked, ready for their next runs. Everyone in the waiting room had been seen and were either waiting for transportation, watching television, or, in many cases, sleeping.
She needed…she needed…she needed everything. Food, sleep, comforting. Everything. Wait. Comforting? Why did that come to mind? And not just comforting, either; a man’s hug. She was a liberated woman! She didn’t need a man’s hug! And she yearned for one.
She walked into the break room to find Ben digging baby supplies out of various boxes. “What are you doing?”
“Getting together some things to take the baby home with me.”
“You can’t do that.”
He stood and glared at her. “Look, she needs a home and you know Bo isn’t going to let her out of his sight, so we’re going home. They say there’s no damage to my house.”
She could tell he was trying to sound reasonable, but the squared-off jaw showed his real feelings. No doubt he was at the end of his rope same as she was at the end of hers. “Ben, listen to me. You’re in no condition to take care of this baby. You work a forty-hour week, you can’t leave her alone, you can’t be up all night, it wouldn’t work, do you understand? She has to go into the social services system and be put in foster care.”
“She has a foster home, with me and Bo.”
“No.” She pulled a deep breath. She wasn’t getting through and her mind was becoming more befuddled by the minute. “No, listen. Social services would not release a newborn to a man living alone. Little babies need constant attention at first. And if a service rep caught wind of an alcohol problem, they’d scrub you instantly. I’m sorry.”
“Okay, from this day forward no beer, no booze at all. I’m taking her.”
“Why?” She had to control herself. And she couldn’t. “Why are you so stubborn about this? It’s not your child!”
“I gave her life. The world’s worst mother tossed her under a bush and I—” His voice dropped. “I don’t know. I feel this intense—I mean, I have this intense feeling that I’m the one she needs. I can’t hand her off to strangers. She’s my responsibility. But it’s more than that. I can’t explain it.”
Esther knew there were probably more diplomatic ways of dealing with this, but all she could do was yell. She took a deep breath. “No, Ben, I won’t sign off on this one. The law is very clear. No. I can’t.”
His eyes had narrowed until they were mere slits. He dropped his voice. “You think I would put her in danger after all she has been through already?” The words wore diamond-cutting edges.
“And you think I would?” She fought to keep her own voice under control.
Ansel interrupted. “We were thinking of calling her Dawn, Esther.”
She knew he was trying to ease the tension, but it wasn’t working. “Dawn. That’s nice.” Actually, it is nice.
“She’s coming home with me.” Ben made it sound final as he shoved a package of diapers in the box and grabbed another container of formula off the shelf. “What if you don’t have distilled water?”
“Boil some.” She grabbed his arm. “Listen to me!”
“You go ahead and fill out your paperwork to cover your…” He ground to a halt and stared at her hand clamped on his arm. With excruciating politeness, he removed her hand with his other and let it drop.
Dawn, who had been sleeping in Ansel’s arms, whimpered and squeaked before settling into a real, genuine baby’s cry.
“Now see what you did.” Ansel raised her to his shoulder and patted her back. “I just got her to sleep.”
“If she doesn’t come with me, what are you going to do? Put her on that chopper and let them leave her alone in the hospital?” Ben shook his head and tucked the edges of the boxes into each other to close the top.
Good question. Esther shoved her hands in her back pockets and stared at the floor. She glanced up to see Ansel and Beth each cuddling a baby. Life goes on. “You know for sure your house is beyond living in?”
Ansel nodded. “That’s what Chief said. And I saw that oak tree topple in my rearview mirror. Structural damage for sure, and who knows how much water damage.”
“Okay, I have an idea. Ben, are you listening?”
The glare he sent her could have melted a steel I-beam. He wheeled and went to the fridge.
She pressed on. “These people need a house, you have a house. You need help with Dawn, they have huge hearts to take care of you all. I can’t fill out the paperwork for a few days at least, so what do you say we all work together on this one?”
Beth interrupted. “That would be wonderful! With three of us, we can take turns sleeping and there will always be someone to take care of the babies. Sleep is the one thing you don’t get with a newborn.” She smiled at the infant in her arms, and then to the little girl on the pallet. The child had been up that morning, Esther knew, but she was again sleeping soundly.
Ben put a baby bottle in the microwave and pushed buttons. It began to hum.
Beth looked over at Ben. “We should be able to do this, we’ve been friends for a long time.”
Esther watched Ben and his internal war while trying not to seem obvious. She glanced down at Bo, who was watching each of them in turn, as if he understood every word they said. As well he might; she figured his vocabulary ranked pretty high on the dog charts. When Dawn didn’t quiet back down, the pooch lurched to his feet and walked over to stand by Ansel, as if ready to do whatever was needed to make her stop crying.
She almost giggled. “It’s all right, Bo. You know he’s a friend.”
“But I have his baby and he’s not taking any chances.” Ansel took the warmed bottle that Ben handed him. “I think Bo and baby don’t like loud noises.”
Dawn latched onto the nipple and filled the silence with her sucking noises.
Bo laid back down, nose on his paws, and watched Ben to see what they were to do next.
Everyone watched Ben.
He tipped his head back and blew out a heavy breath. “All right, if this is what it takes, so be it. Dawn will not be going into the social services system. Period. End of discussion. We’d probably never see her again, and I need my dog.”
Ansel nodded and turned to Esther. “Can we get enough diapers for two? Our store at home might be pretty wet by now.”
Esther heaved a sigh of relief to match Ben’s. “This will be good.” Please Lord, let it be so.
Chapter Eight
We appreciate this, Ben.”
Ben nodded. They’d driven less than a mile and the destruction was beyond imagination. Roofless houses, collapsed garages, uprooted trees; were it not for the few remaining street signs, he’d hardly even know where they were. His tires whispered hoarsely through a heavy carpet of leaves, twigs, and branches.
“Someone said the west side of town was hit worst.”
Ben nodded again, carefully navigating his SUV around the top of a downed tree. Someone had moved it enough to clear the road. How could his house still be standing? But he saw it ahead, since so many trees were stripped or knocked down. Three old houses still standing in a line as if the wind had sheared around them, like some capricious child at play.
“Oh, my…” Ansel’s mouth hung open, his head shaking like a bobblehead figure.
Ben realized he was doing the same. The house his father had built those many years ago. He always said if you did it right, it would last; even he could not have predicted an anomaly like this. When he first moved back home Ben had buried the power lines from the street to the house, despite the long driveway. His father accused him of being mad. But if the entire town had buried the power lines, they might not be in the fix they were in. And if the entire town had chosen to push for the hospital, those who died in this might not have.
The rage that had been simmering ever since Allie was killed made him clench his teeth. His only panacea was now off limits. The fig
ht made him churn, too, when it was time to sign Dawn out of the clinic, out of Esther’s immediate care. How in heaven’s name had she drawn that promise out of him, his word that he wouldn’t drink at all while he had the baby, lest it get away from him? It could drive a man to drink.
He glanced in the rearview mirror where Beth held Dawn in her arms. Her own baby lay sound asleep, and their two-year-old sat in her child’s seat, sucking her thumb. Perhaps that was what the grown-ups needed to do, too. He slowed and stopped in the street; a tree lay across his driveway. So close and yet so far.
“I think you can push through that.” Ansel leaned forward to peer through the rain-rivered windshield. “You want me to get out and see?” He reached for the door handle.
“No, stay put.” Ben shifted into four-wheel drive and eased forward. A branch scraped across the windshield, catching the wiper on the passenger side.
Bo whined from the back of the vehicle. He was not happy banished to behind the seats, but kept his nose on the seat next to Beth’s shoulder, as close to his baby as possible.
The engine growled, but the elm gave in and let itself be pushed off to the side, so it now lay more or less beside the drive. Had they needed to, they could have hiked to the house, but now they’d be able to better protect the babies from the elements.
“Thank you, God,” Beth murmured from the backseat.
If God had been protecting like He promised, Ben’s life would not be as desolate as the destruction. Nor would the town look like this. A memory flicked through, of Esther disappearing into who knew where. Looked like PTSD to him; he’d seen it too often to not recognize it. But what could have gone on in her life to cause something like that? Far as he knew, she’d never been in the service.
He let himself in the side garage door and pulled the red rope disconnecting the electric opener. He shoved mightily, raising the door by hand. Ansel had taken the driver’s seat. He pulled it in. Ben pulled the door down. They’d made it. “I’ll go open the doors and make sure…”
Wake the Dawn Page 8
