Storm's Interlude

by Vonnie Davis

  Rachel turned frantic eyes on the woman who rose from her hiding spot. Noella had evidently followed Storm up the steps and crouched low so Kyle wouldn’t see her. “My son!” she cried, rushing to Storm’s side and kneeling to see to his wounds. There was a cacophony of footsteps and voices as police, security personnel and Sunny rushed up the attic steps. Suddenly, Rachel’s world turned black.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Rachel regained consciousness in the ambulance. The siren was piercing the night. She had a sense of speed from the jostling emergency vehicle. Noella held her hand. “Don’t talk. I’m here with you, little one.” Concern and caring tinged her words.

  “Storm.” Between the dryness of her mouth and her sore throat, Rachel could barely croak his name. The man she loved had been shot. She had to know how he was doing.

  “He went in the first ambulance. Sunny’s with him.” Noella crossed herself.

  “Fir…first…am…” Talking was extremely difficult; she suspected damage to her trachea, which would account for her labored breathing even though she was on oxygen. She noted she was hooked up to an IV, probably saline solution since she was dehydrated.

  “Don’t speak. The EMT said you weren’t to talk. Noella will tell you everything, sí? Storm went in the first ambulance. When Storm and Jackson came barreling into the house to look for you, Storm ordered Sunny to call for an ambulance. Said you still had to be in the house.

  “Jackson went to the basement and Storm to the attic. Red followed Jackson for backup. I followed Storm.”

  The vision of Noella holding her revolver in both hands as she stood from her crouched position on the steps played out in Rachel’s mind. That whole horrendous scene, mere seconds really, of Storm charging up the attic steps, gun in hand, only to be shot by Kyle was a dreadful nightmare—the fear, sounds of firing guns, the acrid smell of gunpowder, blood, and silent dread.

  Noella kept talking, and Rachel suspected it was out of nervousness. Shooting a man wouldn’t come easy for a gentle woman like her. “Many years ago, when the twins were very small, their father taught me how to shoot. Said I should know how to protect them against snakes and such.” Noella shifted her shoulders, then nodded once to emphasize her words.

  “That’s what I did tonight. I protected Master Storm from a terrible sidewinder.” She crossed herself again, and a ragged sob escaped. Noella was obviously rationalizing her actions, actions that normally she would have loathed.

  Rachel lifted her hand and caressed the older woman’s cheek.

  Noella reached to cover Rachel’s hand as it lay against her face in an affectionate gesture. “From now on, you call me Momma Noella like my other children. Sí? I didn’t bear them, nor you, but in my heart, the three of you are mine.”

  What a generous heart this woman had. No wonder Storm and Sunny adored her. She nodded. “K…Kyle?”

  “Shhhh, mustn’t talk. Kyle’s in the third ambulance.” Noella crossed herself. “Father Thomas says praying for one’s enemies is good, but difficult. He’s right. It is hard. To hate is easier, is it not? But to love, even when the person is unlovable, is very difficult.”

  Rachel was glad Kyle was still alive. This kind woman wouldn’t have the death of a man, no matter how cruel and evil, on her conscious. “St…Storm? How?”

  “He was shot once in the stomach.” Noella pressed a finger to her body to show the position of the wound. “Once in the shoulder. Here. He lost a lot of blood, my Storm.”

  Rachel digested that information. Storm had been shot at close range, about ten feet if she could judge distance correctly with one eye. Did either of the bullets go straight through? She was concerned about the stomach wound. Had the bullet lodged against the spine? Were any organs injured? As soon as she got to the hospital, she was going to find him. She had to see for herself the man she loved would recover. “How long…ago did—”

  Noella placed a finger over Rachel’s lips and chuckled. “Shush, little one. Are you his doctor now? Conserve your energy. Master Storm won’t like it if you don’t recover quickly. He’ll need you to take care of him? Sí? Quiet now. Noella sing for you.”

  Rachel listened to the lullaby Noella sang and wondered if it was one of Storm’s favorites as a child. She prayed for his recovery as she drifted off to sleep.

  When the back doors of the ambulance swung open, Rachel awoke. Noella jumped out so medical aides could remove Rachel, rushing her gurney inside the emergency room. The next few hours were a flurry of activity. Bright lights, hurried questions, examinations, blood work, medications, stitches all became a blur as Rachel, heavily medicated, drifted off.

  The room was dark when Rachel slowly opened her eyes. She recognized the nighttime hush of the medical world: rubber-soled shoes squeaking in the hallway, sporadic intercom pages and the lonely beeping of monitors. In this case, the monitors were hooked up to her.

  A cool hand stroked hers, and a face came into her limited vision field. “Mom?” How did her mom know she’d been hurt? How could she have gotten from Las Vegas to Rosefire, Texas so fast? Wait, was she even in Rosefire?

  “Shhh, Rachel. You mustn’t try to talk. You’re in a hospital. You’ve had some serious injuries. You’re in the ICU.” Twin tears ran down her mom’s face. “Oh, jellybean, how did you ever get mixed up with that crazy man? He nearly killed you.” Rachel responded to the anguish in her mom’s voice. The two embraced and, for a brief moment, the patient comforted the visitor.

  Her mom dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “When the chief of police called and told me what happened, I nearly died. I caught the next flight here. Rest, jellybean. I’ll be here when you wake up again.” Jellybean. No one called her that but her mom. Hearing the pet name was the best medicine; it meant normalcy and safety had returned. Her mom was here.

  “Storm.” With tubes in her nose and mouth, it hurt to talk, but she had to know.

  “I talked to his sister an hour ago. He survived surgery and is stable. Close your eyes now. The best thing for you is rest.”

  The sun was shining the next time Rachel surfaced from her drug-induced sleep. Her mom was dozing in the chair next to her bed. A nurse, mid-forties by Rachel’s estimation, entered her room. “How are we doing this morning?”

  Her mom stirred and yawned. “You’re awake.” She stood and kissed Rachel’s forehead. “While the nurse does her thing, I’m going to the cafeteria for some coffee and a Danish.” Sonya Asher smiled at her daughter. “I love you, jellybean. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Her mom blew her a kiss before stepping into the hallway.

  “What hospital is this?” Surely someone had told her, but she couldn’t remember.

  The nurse pushed the wheeled stand holding a laptop over to Rachel’s bed. “You’re in Hill Country Memorial in Fredericksburg. Can you tell me your name and date of birth, please?” After Rachel answered, the nurse—Caroline McBaine, Nursing Supervisor, her nametag read—tapped a few keys on the laptop. She inserted the thermometer into a plastic sleeve and placed it in Rachel’s mouth. She entered data into the laptop.

  Caroline leaned a hip against Rachel’s bed and crossed her arms. “I understand you have a Masters in Nursing.” Rachel nodded.

  “So, I can be frank.”

  “Yes, please.”

  “You’ve been here for two days. We’ve kept you under heavy sedation so your body has a chance to heal. You’ve been through the wringer. I can tell you that. Best you not look at your face just yet, if you’re the vain type. You’ve got four stitches in your lip. Several contusions causing severe bruising elsewhere on your face. A humdinger of a shiner on your right eye.”

  Caroline pulled a tiny tape recorder from her pocket and pressed a button. “Get ice pack for Rachel Dennison’s eye.” She shot Rachel a chagrinned look. “Short term memory loss—menopause.”

  Rachel smiled and winced at the pain that movement caused. She liked this woman.

  The nurse snapped on latex gloves and unwrapped the bandage at
Rachel’s wrist. “You’ve had sixteen stitches here. Surgeon had to repair a nick to your artery.” She continued talking as she examined the wound and changed the dressing. “There are severe contusions on your back where you were repeatedly kicked. We’re awaiting tests results to see if you’ve had kidney damage. You’ve got a catheter.

  “Our main concern is the damage to your larynx. Your airway has been compromised due to traumatic edema to your larynx and the supraglottic tissue. The whites of your eyes are bloodshot because the strangulation forced blood into the whites. In time, as you know, it’ll go away. The bruises at your neck will take two weeks or so to heal. Your voice will be raspy for at least a month. Frankly, you’re lucky to be alive. Now—”

  Just then another medical professional breezed in, interrupting Caroline’s medical report, and introduced himself as the respiratory specialist, He asked Rachel some questions and checked her records on the laptop. He asked Caroline to close the curtain so he could remove the breathing tube. As soon as his job was done, he was gone.

  Caroline handed Rachel a cup of ice water. “The man is good, but his bedside manner is rather remote.”

  Rachel sipped and nodded. She knew the type. The cold water felt great on her throat.

  “As medical professionals, we’re learning to recognize the signs and severity of strangulation in cases of violent attacks. I don’t need to tell you the danger signs to watch for in your breathing. Be cognizant of them for the next week until the swelling in your airway is gone.” She patted Rachel’s shoulder. “At least you weren’t raped by that beast. So many victims of domestic violence are.”

  “No, thank God.” If there was any silver lining in this whole nightmare, it was that Kyle hadn’t touched her sexually. “My boyfriend, Storm Blackhawk. Do you know about his condition?”

  Caroline raised the head of the bed. “Not much. Just that he’s recovering. Last time we checked your sugars, they were better. Not great, but better. Dr. Ulmelda wants you kept on the monitors for another twenty-four hours. You can try eating this evening. I’ll order your meal. Liquid diet, of course, since swallowing will be difficult for a few days. My best advice is to sleep.”

  Rachel nodded while she slowly sipped at the ice water. “Thanks.”

  Eating her supper was more difficult than Rachel had expected. Although the cool fruit juice went down easily enough, her throat couldn’t handle the hot broth. She choked. Her mom, frantic, ran into the hallway yelling for a nurse. She was jostled and handled until the emergency passed.

  Because her times of wakefulness were brief, she suspected the medications were strong. Frankly, she was getting tired of giving her name and date of birth every time a medical professional came into her room. For sure, she was tired of the mental haze from the medications. She was also damned tired of using a bedpan. Okay, so nurses made poor patients. So, sue her.

  The following day, she was unhooked from the monitors and moved to a private room. Her catheter was removed and she was encouraged to walk around her room. Rachel felt like she’d escaped prison.

  “You’ve already been out of bed twice, jellybean. Do you think you should overdo?”

  “The more I move around, the quicker I’ll heal. What day is it anyway? I’ve lost so much time.”

  Before her mom could answer, the door opened partway and Noella popped her head in. “May I come in, little one? Noella brought you a bouquet of roses and daisies from her garden.”

  Rachel made introductions, and the two women warily regarded each other. She suspected both knew the other was encroaching on her private turf. “Have you seen Storm?”

  “Yes, he’s healing. The surgery was hard on him. They had to repair his ‘oh-leek’ muscle— ”

  “Do you mean his oblique muscle?” Rachel ran her hand along her side to indicate the muscle’s position.

  Noella nodded. “Yes, I don’t know this word, so I say it wrong. Oblique, they repaired his oblique muscle and removed his kidney. It was too damaged by the bullet.”

  “He lost a kidney? Oh no!” She turned and walked to the window. Because of her, Storm, that wonderfully strong man, was minus a kidney. He’d lead a normal life with monitoring. She’d see to it. “Is he in much pain?”

  “They give him strong medicine. He sleeps and when he’s awake, he asks for you. You’re doing better, sí? You’re looking better than you did in the ambulance.”

  “Yes, I’m feeling much improved. My voice sounds awful and will for a few weeks. Healing will take time.” She crawled back into her bed. “I do tire quickly, though.”

  “Then I should leave. Oh, before I forget…” Noella opened her purse and pulled out a paper. “Little Sawyer drew this for you. He says it’s you and him in the swimming pool.”

  Rachel held the crayon drawing with two stick figures standing in blue crayon streaks and smiled. “Tell him I love it. Kiss him for me.”

  “Sí, I will do this. Mrs. Asher, it was a pleasure meeting you. How long will you be staying in Texas?”

  “I have a flight early tomorrow morning. I wish I were taking my daughter home with me.” Rachel’s mom reached out to rub her daughter’s shoulder, a proprietary gesture.

  Noella drew herself up and squared her shoulders. “Oh, but our Rachel belongs here with us now. With Storm.” The two women glared at one another. Noella patted Rachel’s hand. “Tomorrow when I come, little one, I bring you a robe and slippers. Do you need your makeup?”

  “She shouldn’t be using that stuff on her face until it heals,” her mom snapped.

  Noella leaned toward Rachel and whispered, “I bring it anyhow.”

  Five minutes after Noella left, her mom left, too, promising to return shortly.

  The next time Rachel awoke, her lunch was being delivered. More juice and broth. A lovely vision of a crisp salad came to mind. Maybe in a couple of weeks she could eat one. For today, it was apple juice and beef bouillon. Yuck.

  While she was eating, a hospital volunteer brought in a bouquet of red roses with a balloon that said, “I love you.” They were from Storm.

  Rachel’s lunch tray had just been whisked away when her mom strode in carrying an arrangement of tiger lilies and pink carnations and several shopping bags. “What have you been up to, Mom? You’ve got that self-satisfied look on your face.”

  Her mom set the flowers down next to Storm’s. “I bought you the prettiest bathrobe.” She opened a bag and removed a silky pink robe. “Look at the floral bouquets embroidered on it. Aren’t they darling? It’s edged in delicate black lace.” She reached in the bag again. “Here’s the matching nightie you can wear once you’re out of here. Oh, and here are little slipper scuffs in the same shade of pink.”

  Obviously, Mom felt threatened by Noella and wanted to beat her to the punch with the bathrobe delivery. She wouldn’t hurt her mom’s feelings for the world. Their loving relationship, although strained for years after Drew’s death and her parents’ divorce, was very important.

  She held the robe to her. “It’s beautiful. Thanks, Mom. What’s in the other bag?”

  Her mom chuckled. “Greedy girl. I got you some lotions and other toiletries since I know the brands you prefer. Oh, and a juicy romance novel and two magazines.” She looked at Rachel, her expression a little sad. “I just wanted to make sure you had everything you need before I leave. My boss is demanding I come back, or I’d stay longer.”

  Rachel held out her hand and her mom took it in hers. “Having you here for a few days was the best medicine. I loved our talks.”

  “Yes. I’m glad I came. Tell me, did you choke when you ate your lunch?”

  “I had five or six spoonfuls of bouillon. Was afraid to risk anymore. Imagine how long it’ll be before I can have a steak.”

  “I hope that fiend, Kyle Benson, rots in jail for what he did to you.” Her mom was rubbing some of the body lotion she’d bought Rachel onto her hands. She held her hands to her nose and inhaled. “Such a delicate floral fragrance. No wonder you l
ike it.”

  An idea was forming in Rachel’s mind. After her mom left tonight, she’d go to Storm. His room number had been noted on the card with the roses. She’d wear her pretty new nightie and robe. “Mom, would you mind helping me take a bath? A real bath with the stuff you bought me. There’s a shower in my bathroom.”

  “Do you think it would be allowed?” Her mom glanced over her shoulder as if to make sure no nurses would hear and object.

  “Why not? I’ve got my mom here to help me. You got me shampoo, right?” She rummaged through the bag, pulling it out. “My hair hasn’t been washed in days.” She wanted to look her best for Storm. Well, as good as she could with a black-and-blue face and stitches at her mouth.

  Someone rapped on the doorframe of her hospital room. Both women’s heads whipped around as if they’d been caught doing something bad. Jackson smiled and strolled in, holding out his hand. “You must be Rachel’s mother, Sonya Asher. I’m Jackson Cole, the man who called you a few days ago. I must say, I don’t know who’s prettier—mother or daughter.”

  Oh, he could pour on the charm, Jackson could. Rachel watched her mom respond with feminine delight at his compliment. “Why, yes, I’m her mother. Thank you so much for contacting me right away.”

  Jackson turned to Rachel. “How you doin’ today? Feel up to some questions? Afraid I’m here in a professional capacity.”

  “Should I leave?” Her mom reached for her purse.

  “Stay, Mom. I want every minute I can with you.”

  Her mom smiled, obviously delighted. “Okay, I’ll sit on this little chair here in the corner, quiet as a church mouse. You go right ahead, Mr. Cole.”

  “Jackson, please, ma’am. Rachel and I are friends. You see, I’m dating Sunny, Storm’s twin sister. The three of us, Sunny, Storm and me, have been best friends since we were six.”