A Stallion's Touch

by Deborah Fletcher Mello

  After reiterating their care instructions to the nurse on duty, Tarah headed back down to the faculty lounge and the makeshift football party the nurses had coordinated for all the staff. Inside, there was a small crowd gathered around the television set. They were already at the end of the third quarter and the score was tied. Fans from both sides were hanging on the edges of their seats. Tarah could only begin to imagine what was going on in the minds of the other families who were actually there. She couldn’t at all fathom what Nicholas had to be thinking out on the field.

  She grabbed a paper plate and filled it with chips and spinach dip, then took a seat up front. As she sat down she noticed Dr. Harper for the first time, the surgeon seated on the other end of the front row. She gave him a slight wave of her hand and a bright smile. He gave her a quick nod, then turned his attention back to the conversation he was having with one of the orthopedic specialists about football and traumatic brain injury. They were the only two interested in the topic as everyone else was absorbed in the live game on the TV.

  The cameras were focused on the players, and when a shot of Nicholas flashed across the screen, Tarah’s smile spread full and wide. She couldn’t have been prouder of Nicholas’s big moment, and knowing just how much the game meant to him brought her immense joy.

  The back-and-forth between the two teams was relentless. From all the comments in the room, it didn’t take a brain surgeon to pick up on the fact that most were rooting for New England. None of them expected to see Los Angeles win. Tarah came to her feet in the fourth quarter. It was third down with five yards to go. The New England line had closed in on Nicholas, and he stumbled into the fray. When he suddenly rolled up and away, reaching back to fire a Hail Mary into his opponents’ territory, she held her breath, not releasing it until the team’s wide receiver jumped and landed, managing to grab the ball before stepping out of bounds. Everyone in the stadium roared and she jumped excitedly, cheering as if she were there. Los Angeles was within a few short feet of the end zone and their championship win.

  The excitement was palpable. The play came with less than three minutes remaining in the game. Everyone was expecting Nicholas to throw another pass, but instead he sprinted left, then shifted with a hard right. Just as he dove toward the end zone he was hit hard from both sides, the impact slamming him over the line and down to the ground. The ball never left his hands. In the cheers and jubilation over the touchdown, seconds passed before anyone realized their star quarterback wasn’t moving.

  * * *

  “What are they saying?” Tarah asked, still staring at the television screen. On the other end they had her on speakerphone.

  “We don’t know anything yet,” Maitlyn answered. “Nathaniel, John and Noah ran down to find out what was going on.”

  Tarah nodded into the telephone. “Is Mason there?” she asked.

  “I’m right here. Are you okay?” he questioned.

  “I’m fine,” Tarah said. “Tell Nathaniel the replay looks like Nicholas took the brunt of the hit in his lower spine and right hip. If he needs surgery, Dr. Harper is the best neurosurgeon in the nation. He said he can come there if necessary, but we have the best surgical team and facility here. Please, get Nicholas here to Phoenix Hope. Please! No matter what it takes! Please!”

  For the first time ever, the family heard real panic in Tarah’s plea. It was clear that she was holding back tears, the tremor in her tone edged with worry.

  “I’ll take care of it,” Mason said softly. “I’ll contact you as soon as we know something.”

  Katherine called her daughter’s name from across the room. “Tarah, baby?”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Do you have someone there with you? Senior and I don’t want you to be by yourself right now.”

  “I’m at the hospital. I’m working. I’ll be fine. I’ll be better once I know Nicholas is going to be okay.” Tarah stole another glance at the television screen, watching as paramedics wrapped a brace around Nicholas’s neck. She paused for a moment as they eased a backboard beneath his body, then she resumed the conversation. “I’ll call if I have any problems, Mom. Please, don’t worry about me.”

  “We need to pray, Tarah. We need to pray for Nicholas, and we need to pray for all of our family.”

  Tarah nodded in agreement. She bowed her head, and as her mother lifted them all in prayer, a tear spilled from her eye.

  Dr. Harper and Dana Harding were standing by Tarah’s side when she disconnected the call. The doctor gave her a warm smile, and Dana reached out to squeeze her hand.

  “I’m sure your friend will be fine,” Dana said. “It just looks worse than it really is.”

  Tarah gave her a slight smile but she knew better. “I appreciate that. And I appreciate you offering to fly there to treat him,” she said, shifting her gaze toward Dr. Harper.

  He gestured with a slight tilt of his head. “I’m sure they’re going to take him to Mercy Hospital. I know one of the surgeons on their team. I’ll call and see if I can find out anything,” he said as he readied himself to leave.

  “Thank you,” Tarah said, her voice a loud whisper.

  He brushed a large palm across her back. The touch was more intimate than friendly, and Tarah felt herself stiffen.

  His hand moved from her back, snaking around her waist, and then he pressed his fingers along the side of her face, staring intently into her eyes. Tarah’s gaze narrowed substantially, her jaw locked tight, her lips pulled into a deep frown. She drew her arms up and around her torso, hugging herself protectively.

  “I’m here for you, Tarah. We all are,” Dr. Harper concluded as he shot the nurse a look.

  Dana smiled, her gaze skating back and forth between the two. She nodded her head in affirmation as her eyes locked with Tarah’s. Her wide-eyed stare spoke volumes, the two women carrying on a silent conversation the doctor wasn’t privy to.

  * * *

  Nicholas lay supine, his body strapped to a backboard and medical stretcher. His family was talking, but above everyone’s voice he heard his brother’s saying something he couldn’t quite comprehend. His head throbbed and it felt better to keep his eyes closed, the bright lights shining on him not at all easy to take.

  His entire body hurt, but he couldn’t begin to pinpoint where the pain started or where it stopped. Just that pain was there, in full regalia, like a high school band playing that one song with no intention of ever ending.

  His decision to run that last offensive play instead of throwing it had seemed brilliant at the time. It hadn’t been expected and it had won them the game. At least, that’s how he remembered it. And then he remembered the pain that felt like it was coming with the proficiency of a drum line. Cymbals being slapped and horns blowing.

  He tried to focus on the championship ring that would come engraved with his name and the new Cadillac that he’d earned as the game’s MVP. Then he remembered that he’d lost out on his commercial opportunity, the cameras missing him telling the crowd that he was going to Disney. The advertising slogan, which was always broadcasted following championship games while a star player celebrated the team’s victory, had become tradition.

  For a moment his mind went blank, with nothing there but empty space. Then thoughts of Tarah Boudreaux billowed through the fog. Nicholas had imagined he’d heard her name from one of the many people around him. There was so much commotion, and he couldn’t understand why no one would answer his questions. Then he couldn’t remember if he had even asked any.

  He wished he could contribute to the conversation, but words were lost to him. He wanted someone to call her. To tell her he was fine and would be all right. He imagined that she would be worried about him, and he didn’t want her distracted with concern. He wished he could tell her himself that everything was going to be okay.

  White dots danced behind his c
losed lids, and it felt like he was enjoying his own private light show. Then the room, or his body, or both, began to spin in a tight circle, the vertigo like a really bad amusement ride. It was suddenly hot and he felt as if he couldn’t inhale any air.

  Someone he thought to be Nathaniel told him to breathe, and when he did he realized there was a mask over his face and cool oxygen blowing up his nostrils. He tried to lift his hand, to wave his appreciation, but the straps were too tight around his arms.

  He closed his eyes, then wondered when he’d opened them or if they’d actually been open the entire time. He struggled to gather his thoughts, to make sense of his situation. But when he couldn’t, he let his mind go again, thinking only of Tarah, and football. He imagined her there, whispering in his ear, her soft cheek pressed against his, her warm breath like the sweetest song as he waited for her to laugh.

  She was as beautiful as ever, and then she kissed him, her lips brushing lightly over his as she admonished him to rest.

  * * *

  Tarah was standing at the door to the hospital’s helipad when the life flight aircraft landed. She’d been waiting since her brother had called to give her the update on Nicholas’s condition.

  After being transported from the football field to the hospital, he’d been assessed, stabilized, lightly sedated, put on a plane and flown from Minneapolis into Phoenix. According to Nicholas’s brother, the preliminary diagnosis was a cervical spine injury with potential neurological deficits. But Tarah knew there was a host of things that needed to be sorted out before any definitive prognosis could be made. Nicholas needed a full neurological exam to assess his motor, movement and sensory functions. Only then would any doctor be able to give them a full diagnosis and predict his chance of recovery.

  Her recommendation to transfer him to Phoenix Hope had been met with some reluctance. Dr. Nathaniel Stallion had not been wholeheartedly in agreement, concerned that moving his brother might do more harm than good. An extensive conversation with Dr. Harper and the neurological team at Mercy Hospital had helped change his mind. His understanding that the decision could very well mean the difference between Nicholas walking again or not had solidified the next steps.

  Tarah watched as they lowered Nicholas from the plane, cautious about the monitors and tubes to which he was connected. As the medical team that had escorted him rolled his stretcher toward her, she suddenly felt her heart race, and her breath caught in her chest as she took a deep inhalation of air and held it. The staff meeting the flight pushed past her to help him inside. As they took a quick minute to assess his vital signs, Tarah moved to his side.

  His eyes were closed and his breathing was slightly labored. She pressed her hand to his chest, feeling the beat of his heart against her palm. For just a quick moment she would have sworn that when she touched him, her own heart synced with his, the two tempos beating together evenly.

  Leaning over him, she wrapped her arm above his head and dropped her face close to his. She pressed her cheek to his cheek, the sensation of his warm flesh against hers drawing tears from her eyes. She exhaled, and her warm breath gently brushed against his skin.

  The sweetest breeze blew by Nicholas’s nose, and the scent of vanilla and jasmine washed over him. He opened his eyes, his lashes fluttering, then closed them, then opened them again. He struggled to focus. Everything was distorted. I must still be dreaming, he mused. Then suddenly there was no doubt in his mind that Tarah was actually there and not a figment of his imagination. She was close enough to touch and smell, her signature fragrance wafting in the space around him. He felt himself smile as he whispered her name, the cadence of it falling like a feather past his lips.

  Tarah drew the back of her fingers down the side of his face. “I’ve got you, Nicholas. I’m right here and I’ve got you,” she whispered back.

  * * *

  Nathaniel and the rest of the family weren’t too far behind, arriving some thirty minutes after life flight had departed for another trip. Everyone had flown in on one of the private planes owned by Noah’s wife, Cat Moore. A sea of Stallions and Boudreaux practically ambushed the reception area, everyone anxious for information. Tarah met them at the door, hugs and kisses sweeping around the room.

  “How is he?” Naomi asked, wringing her hands nervously. “No one’s told us anything.”

  Her sister, Natalie, and Natalie’s husband, Tinjin Braddy, pressed anxiously at her elbow.

  “I need to see him,” Nathaniel insisted. “I want to know what’s going on. I need to be with him.”

  Tarah nodded. “The nurse will take you right on up, Nathaniel. Dr. Harper arranged for you to have full medical privileges while you’re here but wanted to remind you that treating your brother would be a conflict of interest. Dr. Mingo is the orthopedic specialist on the medical team that will be working on Nicholas, and you are welcome to shadow him. He’s waiting to talk to you when you’re ready. Dr. Harper asked that if you disagree with any decisions about Nicholas’s treatment plan, you speak with him directly.”

  Nathaniel nodded his appreciation. He lightly squeezed her elbow, then hurried behind the nurse, who gestured for him to follow. Tarah turned her attention to the Stallion siblings. “Nicholas is resting comfortably. He’s sedated, and we’ll be running a battery of tests on him for the next few hours. Once we get all the results back, I’ll come talk to you.”

  “He’s going to be okay, isn’t he?” Natalie questioned. “Everyone’s been talking in circles and using big medical words that none of us understands.”

  Tarah took a deep breath. The initial prognosis didn’t look promising. Dr. Harper was still assessing Nicholas’s injuries, but the consensus was that he might never walk again. But there wasn’t enough information to tell his family that their brother was permanently paralyzed at that time. Despite all of her medical training, even she hadn’t been willing to accept that idea.

  She slowly blew out the breath she’d been holding. “Nicholas has a very long road ahead of him. He’s suffered severe trauma to his spinal cord, and it’s very serious. To explain it as simply as I can, the brain and spinal cord are made up of cells called neurons. Those neurons gather and transmit signals throughout the body. Signals that help us move, control our central nervous system, all kinds of things. Nicholas’s neurons have been severely damaged.” She paused and took a deep breath before she continued.

  “Now, there are two types of injured neurons, ones that are dead and ones that are only stunned. Dead neurons can’t recover. With the stunned neurons, if we can create the right environment for the spinal cord, they can return to normal and function again. Right now, we’re trying to determine if his neurons can recover so we know exactly how to make that happen.”

  Noah moved to stand by his sisters. “Be honest with us. Will he walk again? Nathaniel won’t say, but we know he’s concerned.”

  Tarah hesitated a second time. “We’re going to do everything in our power to ensure a full recovery. And whatever we can’t do, you all know God will.”

  “So we need to pray for a miracle,” Naomi commented, her head waving from side to side. There was a hint of skepticism in her tone.

  Tarah reached out and squeezed Naomi’s hand. Tears misted the woman’s eyes, and she swiped them away with her forearm.

  Noah nodded his head in understanding. “Thank you, Tarah. We really appreciate everything you’ve done.”

  Tarah gave them a slight smile. “Someone will be down in a moment to take you all up to one of the family waiting rooms on the surgical floor. You’ll be more comfortable there, and if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

  As Tarah turned, she overheard chatter in the close distance.

  “Wow!” Kamaya exclaimed. “Was that doctor our baby sister?”

  “Our baby has really grown up,” Maitlyn said. “And she’s a doctor! I can’t wait to t
ell Mom!”

  Chapter 7

  Nicholas had gotten proficient at pretending to be asleep when the team of doctors came into the room. The drugs also helped. He let them talk among themselves as if he weren’t even there. They debated treatment, argued tactics and were all genuinely concerned with his recovery. His family had come and gone a few times, always praying over him at least once each time. Sometimes Naomi cried and his sister rarely, if ever, let anyone see her do that. Natalie, on the other hand, bawled like a baby, reminding him of when they were younger and she was always crying about something. Noah was keeping them grounded, though, always taking his role as big brother seriously.

  Since arriving at the hospital, they’d had to get his blood pressure stable, and for a brief time, he had needed assistance breathing. He’d been given steroid medications to reduce the swelling of his spinal cord, and there had been a host of other tests done including X-rays, MRIs, CT scans and an ultrasound of his kidneys. They’d stuck him with pins to see how he responded to the pricks. He’d been made to try to move different parts of his body to test the strength of his muscles. After that, he’d closed his eyes and had pretended not to know they were in the room. He’d lost count of how many times every test, comment and gesture had been repeated.

  Since that first day, he and Tarah had only one full conversation. He’d woken to find her by his bedside, eyeing him intently. Worry had creased her brow with the faintest line. As his eyes had adjusted, she’d smiled sweetly at him.

  “You made quite an entrance,” she’d said teasingly. “How are you feeling?”

  He’d shrugged his shoulders. “It’s all good, right? This is nothing but a fluke?” He gestured down to his legs.