This, she knew, was the thrill of following and trusting God’s call.
Basking in a glow stirred by exertion and joy, she tucked from view in the wings of the Westerville Theater. A costume attendant dashed forward, handing Siobhan a towel, which was promptly utilized to pat away traces of perspiration from her bare arms, her neck, and shoulders. Aiding that effort, Siobhan stood near a fan where she absorbed a few moments of cool air. Meanwhile, a makeup artist stepped to the fore and went to work on a quick refresher, dabbing her face with powder, brushing on a fresh layer of blush.
While exerted muscles relaxed, Siobhan closed her eyes and automatically accepted the ministrations, continuing to recover following an intense performance segment. Inwardly, however, she already ticked off the minutes until her next entry cue, until the stage, the audience and the music would bring her to life once again.
Through it all, she watched her three dearest friends move across the stage. Their powerful voices combined into a sweet, rich harmony, stirring goose bumps along Siobhan’s arms. She peeked discreetly into the house, noticing the crowd was enthralled. Siobhan offered up a small, three-word prayer that filled her heart and soul to overflowing: Thank you, God.
“Siobhan, are you ready for the next number?”
Her smile to the technician spread wide and fast. “Always!”
Following a scripted bit of repartee between Aileen, Kassidy, and Maeve, the lilt of a piano filled the air. The song “Holy One” began, which was a duet performed by Kassidy and Maeve accompanied by Siobhan’s dance moves during the instrumental and bridge sections.
Siobhan exited the wings on cue, swirling into a series of light, airy spins….
And her world dissolved.
Pain ricocheted through her body, hot, sharp, and completely unexpected—completely enveloping. She gasped and cried out. Her legs buckled. Toppling onto worn, wooden floorboards, Siobhan screamed. The stage, her friends, her joy, evaporated into a black void that swirled with white, with gray, with a blinding, piercing red that flooded her mind and soul.
She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. Suddenly she heard voices all around, soft and beckoning, laden with concern. The voices called, loving and tender in tone, yet indiscernible. Where did they come from? What was happening?
Gripped by horror, Siobhan remained trapped within an unforgiving vortex that sucked relentlessly against every cell in her debilitated body.
“Siobhan? Siobhan, honey, please, hear me.”
Siobhan tried to cry out to Aileen Brewer when she heard her best friend’s voice. Cottony dryness stuffed her mouth, robbed her of the ability to speak.
“You’re almost there. We’re all here for you. We’re waiting. Come back to us.”
Liam. Now she heard the voice of her big brother Liam. He was on the other side of this thick, wretched wall—but he sounded so scared, and that was unheard of when it came to her solid-as-a-rock sibling.
Siobhan struggled through a dense white fog. Pain kept trying to overwhelm and suck her back down, but she fought with all the strength she possessed. She lifted toward the voices of the ones she loved.
She couldn’t wait to wake up and leave this nightmare behind.
2
Doctor AJ Cooper prepared to enter the hospital suite, but what he saw and heard from the threshold held him in place. Sometimes the best thing a doctor could do was observe circumstance, absorb nuance.
“This can’t possibly be real. This can’t be happening. Not after everything we’ve been through.”
A tall, softly curved woman with long brunette hair was the one who spoke. Distraught, she shivered and wept openly. Her head rested upon the shoulder of a dark-haired man AJ already knew to be his patient’s brother. The woman’s voice was hoarse and raspy and she was instantly joined by two other girls as well as Siobhan Douglas’s parents. The family gathered around the bedside causing his gaze to auto-track toward the small-framed, petite woman stretched out on the gurney and covered by a light layer of blankets.
Fresh from the ER, AJ’s patient rested within a chemically aided sleep from which she would soon awaken. The already fair-skinned blonde was pale to the point of translucence. Her left arm was sprained, so it sported a heavy bandage and had been made immobile. Her left leg was stabilized by a cast and rested on a foam elevation pillow positioned across the foot of the bed. This woman bore the delicate looks of an angel; Coop only hoped she possessed a huge measure of fighting strength as well, because she faced an arduous road to recovery.
As that thought dawned, Liam Douglas tapped shoulders and began a chain reaction until everyone in the room stood hand-in-hand. He even clasped Siobhan’s uninjured hand then looked deliberately into the faces of each of those present. “God is with us.” The words resounded, firm and forthright. “God is with us, no matter what. That’s our belief, right?”
The group nodded in unison, but Coop sensed a quiet resignation as well. His brows pulled, his study intensified.
“We need to make a decision here and now,” Liam continued. “Are we ready to live that truth? Are we going to give God the head of this nightmare so He can work His will?”
The woman who tucked next to Liam lifted her chin. “You’re right. God hasn’t led Siobhan this far to forsake her.”
“Let’s pray for her. Let’s give her…and all of this…to God.” That from a woman of brunette features with determination and love scripted across every line of her features. Once again, AJ intended to enter the suite but held back out of respect for the way their heads bowed and they murmured words of protection, entreaty, and guidance from God.
“Liam…Liam…? Mom? Dad? I’m in so much pain…so dizzy…don’t feel good…”
Siobhan came to, gasping the words; she writhed and moaned. With swift footsteps, AJ crossed the threshold, his hand-held computer already cued to her chart. He needed to keep her still and calm. It was time to administer a round of pain and anti-nausea meds and begin an initial consult with the family.
“Good evening, everyone. I’m Doctor Cooper. I’m the orthopedic surgeon heading up Miss Douglas’s case. Give me a moment with our patient then I’ll be happy to bring you up to date.”
He didn’t wait for a reaction; he wanted to see to Siobhan’s comfort because she roused quickly and pain was set to override everything else. Even now, she shifted and bucked as if trying to find comfort, but the movement caused him concern when it came to her carefully stabilized broken leg. He stopped at the intravenous patient-controlled analgesia unit and immediately pressed a button to dispense a dose of tramadol that would act quickly against pain receptors.
He rested a hand against Siobhan’s arm, looking straight into her wide, frightened eyes. “I’ve just given you a round of pain medication, and you should feel the effects quickly.” He looked away just long enough to indicate the IV unit. “You’re on saline for now, to keep you hydrated, but your IV is also connected to what we call a PCA. PCA is the easier way of describing a patient operated pain control unit.”
“Accident. I was in an accident. I…”
AJ increased the gentle, calming pressure on her arm. “You’re OK, Miss Douglas. You need to rest.” He could see her pulse jump against a slender, creamy neck. She licked her lips, tossing her head as she fought to clear away one fog of anesthesia as yet another crested in. Tramadol worked fast—she wouldn’t be awake for long.
Family members gathered around the bed while AJ explained how the unit functioned and the ways in which Siobhan would control her medication via pre-timed doses. Siobhan listened, he noticed, but she was still terrified. Not surprising, considering the magnitude of what her body had just endured.
Gradually, she relaxed, her eyes fluttering closed as the pain medication took hold and she drifted back to sleep.
Only then did AJ address those in the room. “If you’ll come with me, I’d like to take you to a conference room where we can be a bit more comfortable. We can discuss the next steps in her rec
overy.”
“That would be wonderful, doctor, and we appreciate it. Thank you.”
Despite exhaustion following an intense shift at Westerville Memorial Hospital, AJ smiled at the older woman who looked at him with such open gratitude. This was his patient’s mother, he recalled—the stalwart, beefy man at her side was Siobhan’s father. These folks wanted the assurance of a battle plan; AJ intended to provide just that.
He led the way along a wide, bustling hallway. He lived and breathed the ortho-surg area of WMH, but when he caught sight of the dazed, intimidated expressions worn by those who accompanied him, AJ slowed and took the time to see his world through their eyes. Staff members moved with brisk purpose; patients were transported on gurneys and wheelchairs while others made their way with walkers and assistance from volunteers and therapists. The environment sang with carefully orchestrated crisis containment, high-energy battles to restore health and normalcy as quickly as possible.
Once he closed the conference room door, Siobhan’s family assembled around the oblong table, and formal introductions took place. AJ paid close attention, wanting to figure out dynamics and relationships.
The three women, he discovered, weren’t Siobhan’s sisters. Not by blood, anyway. Rather, these were three extremely close, long-time friends. The first to extend her hand was a red-head named Maeve; next came a statuesque brunette, Aileen, who didn’t stray too far from the brother’s side. In conclusion, AJ greeted Kassidy who had long, chestnut hair and the face of a model.
AJ claimed a chair at the head of the table and kicked off the consult. “First, let’s review what we know.” He tapped into Siobhan’s e-chart, studying the patient profile that had been assembled by admissions. “Siobhan Douglas is twenty four, in top physical condition, with no known health issues. She was in a single-vehicle automobile accident that, according to the police report, didn’t occur due to any form of driver negligence. Evidently, slick roads and a rain/snow mix coupled with the downhill trajectory of the car caused her to lose control. A seatbelt saved her life and a guardrail kept her from going over a twenty-foot embankment, but that same guardrail collapsed the driver’s side door on impact and pinned her inside, breaking the tibia of her left leg as it caved in.
He looked up briefly, slowing the pace of his clinical analysis once he noticed quivering chins and glittering eyes from the women present. Meanwhile, the two men held jaws clenched and faced him almost fiercely.
AJ continued. “It was a clean break, so I don’t foresee complications, and if she heals comfortably, recovery should progress with rapid results.” He angled his computer so they could view the screen. “As you can see in her x-ray, the break happened here.” He used a pen tip to delineate. “Our biggest concern will be getting her through rehab once the bones heal and rejoin, and I’m also concerned about internal injuries. Her body was pinned, and jarred pretty severely, hence the pain she indicated when she woke up. Her left arm is badly bruised, swollen and wrapped to help minimize the sprain she endured. Additionally, in the ER, she had issues with nausea and a severe bout of dizziness. A lingering condition called vertigo seems to be in need of monitoring.”
“The leg bone.” Maeve, the redhead, spoke first. “We’re talking about the bone that supports her weight, correct?”
“One of them, yes.”
The woman’s expression fell into lines of sorrow—and fear. “Could there be a worse injury for a dancer?”
“Yes, the Achilles, or a spiral break of the tib-fib, which would be a compound break. She can recover from this. Fully. Given time.”
Coop hadn’t meant to challenge, or be sharp, but he wanted them to realize Siobhan was fortunate. All attention homed in on the slightly hazed, gray and white cast image on his computer screen and the assemblage continued to absorb the shock of being thrust into a nightmare.
At length, Kassidy blew out through pursed lips and crossed her arms against her midsection. “I know our Siobhan. First question she’ll ask? What’s the timeline for recovery?” She reached up to worry the necklace at her throat—a delicate cross.
She met Coop’s gaze in a direct, no-nonsense manner he instantly respected. “She’ll be here for two or three days because I want her monitored. Yes, her bones need to set, but right now, I’m equally concerned about the as yet invisible injuries she might have sustained to her chest, head, and internal organs. I want to be sure her body resettles properly. Her symptoms indicate a severely jarred body. While in our care, she’ll be on a regimen of tramadol and non-steroidal anti-inflammatories to keep her comfortable and reduce swelling. I’ve also prescribed medications to combat the nausea and dizziness. The goal for now is to keep her leg as stable as possible. I forecast eight to ten weeks in a cast with non-weight bearing activity—meaning crutches will be necessary. After that, intensive physical therapy will assist in re-strengthening the muscles around the healed bone.”
Liam squeezed the bridge of his nose. Dark stubble shadowed his chin; his eyes bore the tell-tale strain of one drained and exhausted. “How are we going to break this to her?”
“By helping her to keep something very important in mind. She’s lucky.” AJ spoke into the silence that followed Liam’s question. “I know it doesn’t feel that way right now, but it’s the truth. She’ll make it. It’s going to be painful, and difficult, but if she commits to rehab, she’ll be OK.”
Liam lifted his head. “Like Maeve said, Doctor, Siobhan is a dancer. A professional dancer. We’re talking about a half-year before her life returns to normal, aren’t we? Plus, can she come back as strong as she was following this kind of physical punishment?”
Not an uncommon question—or reaction. AJ leaned forward and met Liam’s gaze head on. “Let me ask you something before I answer your question. How motivated will she be? How determined? How much does dance mean to her?”
“It’s everything to her, because it’s her gift.”
AJ acknowledged that statement from Aileen and nodded. “Then that’s what will see her through. Returning to what she loves is entirely up to her. My professional opinion is yes, absolutely she can come back, but she’s going to face battles. She’s an athlete. That’s a blessing and a curse. Athletes, more than most, need to relearn how to trust their bodies again following a serious injury. Can she do that?”
“She can do anything. Anything at all. She’s a spirited, determined woman. She’s a fighter.”
Maeve spoke, striking Coop as the type of woman who lived up to the mythical, spirited dynamic of one with Irish blood who wore a crown of bright red hair.
“That’s good.” AJ studied the group and fingered his pen. “She’s going to need to be. That’s the down side. On the up side, as the one overseeing Siobhan’s case, I want to tell you how impressed I am by her physical condition. I believe the leg injury in particular will heal faster than normal, and that puts us ahead of the curve when it comes to recovery and rehab. There’s good news to be found here. Cling to it, and help her do the same. That’s the best advice I have to give at this point.”
3
The nightmare is real.
That realization exploded through Siobhan’s mind as she drifted once again toward wakefulness.
Every pulse beat stirred pain. Her body burned and ached. She craved lucidity, but every time she climbed those merciless stairs toward being alert and remaining conscious, she experienced such agony she had no choice but to depress that stinking release valve which would slide a dose of medicine into her system and sweep discomfort…and consciousness…clear away.
Once again, she struggled to awaken. Her throat was parched, her lips cracked and dry. Assailed by continuous needle pricks of pain that sparked the length of her left arm and leg, she worked desperately to delay the administration of pain killers. She fought to stay conscious, even though the effort was an unceasing battle against torment. And her thoughts were haunting—sometimes terrifying. First came the memory of her car spinning wildly out of control. Then, just
as often and just as quickly now, another image materialized: the strong and assuring features of a compelling man with light hair and the most captivating, dark blue eyes. In memory, she could hear him speak in that calm, soothing voice. Doctor Cooper, she recalled. His gentleness had helped her cope with a heart ready to thunder straight out of her sore and bruised chest when fear executed its fierce grip.
For a moment, Siobhan forced herself to stillness and went through a mental checklist meant to reinforce familiarity. First, she was in the hospital. Second, she had been in an accident—a pretty serious one, evidently. Third, her left leg and arm were immobile. Fourth, pain dominated her world, a brand-spanking new chief nemesis.
“Siobhan? Siobhan?”
Aileen. The sound of Aileen Brewer’s gentle voice called Siobhan from the temptation of inky black oblivion. She wanted to move her head and see her friend, but it took too much strength, and any form of movement caused her body to rebel with nausea and dizziness. Of course, Aileen would be at her side. Likely taking shifts with Liam and the others. Her precious family—some by blood, some by heart alone. Siobhan wanted to cry with joy and relief but couldn’t muster enough moisture for tears.
With that thought, a new line-item materialized on her list of most recent memories—the recollection of a phone call from Aileen that had occurred when she was driving home from work…just before the accident…when her entire world changed…dreams to nightmares. Light to dark.
Groaning, she tossed beneath the blankets that covered her body. How long had she been asleep this time? What day of the week was it?
A flood of anxiety made ready to roll through her body, but cool fingertips moved against her forehead and cheeks, sliding hair away from her face. Aileen’s touch. Instantly Siobhan calmed.
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