“I see.”
“Come on, Enders, we’re ready to roll.”
He waved in response but remained next to Mellie.
“Will he be all right?”
“I think so. Tests will tell.” He held up a hand. “Stay right here.” In less than thirty seconds, he was back with a female officer in tow. “Officer Stedman will help you. Take care now.”
Ah, if you only knew.
By the time she gave a brief answer to Officer Stedman’s questions, the ambulance had outdistanced its wail. Or was the wail going on in her head?
“Let me get this straight. You don’t drive, that car or any car, your father …”
Mellie winced. Was not saying anything a real lie, or …?
“Mr. Johnson is our neighbor.” Lissa lifted her head far enough from her mother’s shoulder to speak clearly.
Officer Stedman looked to Mellie. “That true?”
Mellie nodded. “I never said I was … They assumed that, and I just never …” A sigh came from the soles of her feet.
“So, where is it you really want to go?”
“To the hospital for now. We came down from Tacoma to find my husband. He was working up on the mountain when it erupted. He was supposed to be home yesterday afternoon, and it’s not like Harv—I mean—he always calls.”
“I see.”
“We were on our way to the center to …” Her throat clogged at the kindness on the young woman’s face.
“Let me check with the desk. I’ll be right back. You might want to go sit in the car there. We’re going to have to move it, or it’ll get towed.”
If only I could drive. Mellie opened the car door and set Lissa on the front seat. The keys were still in the ignition, so someone could move it. To where? What if something happened to Mr. Johnson’s car? He took such good care of it, just like he took good care of everything.
The tears made her eyes burn, and her nose start to run. Her chest felt tight, like a band that some evil fiend was tightening moment by moment. She sank onto the car seat. No way could she take a deep breath as her vision narrowed and her head threatened to rise off and float away.
“Mommy. Mommy.” Lissa’s voice sounded far away and going further.
“Put your head down between your knees.” A firm hand on the back of her neck accompanied the order. “Easy now, breathe easy. Would a paper bag help?”
Mellie shook her head but did as the officer ordered. She kept her eyes closed and finally was able to swallow the bile that threatened to erupt. Throw up, pass out, stupid, stupid. Can’t you do anything right? Harv, help me. That’s the trouble, you always expect someone else to … but I can’t. She felt like shrieking, tearing her hair out, anything to stop the war raging in her head.
“Better now?”
Mellie nodded and slowly raised her head. At least she could breathe, and the scenery around her slid back into place.
“Mommy, you scared me.” Lissa glared at her, fear fighting with fury.
“Me too, baby.” She hugged Lissa tight to her side.
“Okay, I’m going to move this car around the corner to the public parking lot—no one should bother it there. Then I’ll give you a ride over to the hospital or the shelter, whichever you prefer.”
“Are they near each other?”
“Five blocks or so, I guess.”
“Okay.” Which one, make a decision. The blackness hovered on the edge of her vision, waiting to pounce again with the least provocation. She bit her bottom lip, grateful for the pain. Pain she could deal with.
“The hospital. Do you suppose they’ll let me see him?”
“Since you’re next of kin, I’m sure they will.”
Mellie stared up at the woman and caught a small wink with a slight tip of her head. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now, you wait inside the door until I get back. Your little girl doesn’t look too good. We don’t need anyone else getting sick.”
“Thank you.” If you only knew.
A few minutes later Officer Stedman drove them by the center and then on to the hospital. “Now, you can find your way back there, right?” The officer looked back over the seat to her passengers in the rear.
“Yes.” Mellie looked up from writing down the address. “I can’t begin to thank you enough.”
“Yeah, well, we cops aren’t all bad, you know.”
“I never knew one who was.”
“You take care, now. And, Lissa, honey, when you see your daddy, you can tell him you rode in a police car.”
Lissa nodded, her eyes round as she studied all the gadgets.
Mellie waved when she and Lissa stood on the sidewalk in front of St. John’s Medical Center. Taking Lissa’s hand, along with a deep breath, she walked up to the front door. How to tell Lissa not to say that Mr. Johnson was only their neighbor again ranked high on her list of priorities.
“You might have to stay in the waiting room by yourself for a few minutes.”
Lissa sighed. “Don’t want to.” Her voice sounded weaker again, more tired.
“I know, but they don’t let little children into sick rooms. Are you hungry?”
“No. Just yucky.”
Mellie laid the back of her hand against Lissa’s forehead. Sure enough, warmer than she should be. You came to find Harv. Oh, God, I forgot to call. She searched for a clock, finally finding one on a wall. “Come on, we need to find a phone.”
“Carry me.”
“Oh, baby …” Mellie scooped her daughter into her arms again, their bag over her other arm, Lissa clutching her blanket. She dug her address book out to remember her PIN. Harv had insisted she write it down so that if she were somewhere without money and needed to make a phone call, she could charge it to their home phone.
She’d not done this before. What do I do? What did he tell me? She closed her eyes, the better to remember. Her fingers started to shake, her heart to pound. When in doubt, dial 0 for operator. When a voice came on the line, she stammered and started again. Lissa’s head against her chest somehow gave her courage. “I need to make a call to Seattle and charge it to my home phone.” Reading the numbers requested, she heaved a sigh of relief when the office in Seattle answered. “I … I’m Mellie Sedor, and I had an appointment with Dr. Thomas this morning. I … We won’t be able to make it.”
“We worked you in because the report said it was critical.”
“I know but … but my husband was on the mountain when it erupted. He …” She choked on the words. “He didn’t call. I … I’m in Longview trying to find something out about him.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” The woman’s voice gentled. “When do you think you might be able to come?”
If only I knew. “I’m not sure. Mr. Johnson, who might drive me, is in the hospital here with a heart attack.”
“I see.”
No you don’t. How can you?
“Let me put you down for Friday at eleven—that’s the next opening I have. You call me as soon as you know if you can make it or not. All right?”
Mellie nodded as she answered, Lissa’s hair tickling her chin. “Yes, of course.” After hanging up, she slumped against the wall of the phone booth. Harv, where are you? I need you. Lissa needs you! All I want to do is go home, and we can’t even do that without Mr. Johnson. What are we going to do?
Someone tapped on the door, so she rose and left the safety of the phone booth. Stopping at the information desk, she propped Lissa on the counter, keeping one arm securely around her. When she told the man in a pink office smock her situation, he picked up the phone, talked with someone, and said, “They admitted him to the CCU.” At her blank look, he added, “The coronary care unit. You take the elevator to the third floor and follow the signs. When you get to the closed door, ring the bell, and a nurse will tell you what to do next.”
“Thank you.” At least he didn’t ask me if I am a relative. When they arrived at the NO ADMITTANCE door, she lifted the phone and waited, as the instructi
on sign said to do.
After she identified herself, the nurse told her that they were still settling him in, and while he was asking for her, someone would come for her when he was ready.
“He’s doing all right, then?”
“As well as can be expected. You’ll only be able to see him for a few minutes. He needs to rest.”
“Thank you.” Mellie hung up the phone, carried Lissa into the waiting room, and set them both down on the couch.
“Mommy, I have to go.”
“Can you wait awhile?”
“No.”
Sometime later, settled again, this time with Lissa drowsing off, Mellie closed her eyes, wishing only for her own bed and the covers to pull up over her head. Safe in bed with Lissa well again and Harv driving in the driveway.
She jerked upright. What if he’d gotten home and was trying to find her? Sliding out carefully and laying Lissa’s head on her purse, she looked around for a phone.
Hoping against hope, she dialed the phone in the hallway outside the waiting room, only to listen to the phone ring, five, seven, ten times before she hung up. Back in the waiting room, she sat in a chair near the burgundy couch and flipped through a People magazine. She’d finished two more before a nurse entered the room.
“Ms. Sedor.” She kept her voice low after glancing at the sleeping child. “You can come in now.”
“All right.” Mellie rose, debating whether she should pick up Lissa or leave her sleeping.
“You’ll only be a couple of minutes. I can show you the way and come back out here and watch her.”
“Would you really?”
“Come.”
Mellie followed the nurse past several beds separated by hanging curtains, being careful to not look at the patients, and trying to block out the beeps and hums of all the machines. Mr. Johnson’s eyes lit up when he saw her, and he gave a feeble wave with the hand not attached to lines and monitors.
“I’m sorry.” His voice sounded faint, as if he didn’t have enough air to breathe, let alone use for talking.
“No, I’m the one. I should never have asked you to do this.” She took his hand and leaned her cheek on the back of it. “But don’t you worry. You just get well.”
“Nice to … have … a daughter.” He spoke slowly, stopping often.
“Ah …”
“I told ’em you are, so you play along.”
Mellie nodded. “Was it your heart?”
“But not a bad one. I’ll be out of here in a day or so.”
“Home?”
He shook his head. “Other floor. Can you drive my car?”
“No.” Panic flared like gas on a charcoal fire. “I … It’s in a parking lot. Officer Stedman moved it and brought us here. The center is only a few blocks.”
“How’s Lissa?”
“Sleeping in the waiting room.”
“You go on over there. I had the nurse bag up my wallet and watch. You take ’em. There’s money there if you need it.”
“Oh, I couldn’t …”
He raised his head, causing the machine to beep, so she nodded. Anything to keep him calm.
“I have to go. The nurse is staying with Lissa in case she wakes and finds me gone.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be back by evening. You just rest, and don’t worry about us.”
“Right.” His left eyebrow arched. He squeezed her hand. “Later.”
She left the room, fighting the tears and the terror that tore at her throat. What else could she do? Harv missing, Mr. Johnson in the hospital, and Lissa so sick. Who would help her?
MAY 19, 1980
Frank McKenzie, I’ve known you too long to take any bull, so just put a smile on your face and ask, please.” Maybelle Hartman exchanged glare for glare with the man standing in front of her desk. He finally shook his head.
“Please.” The other words he usually used and she refused to tolerate hung in the air anyway.
“Good.” She handed him an envelope that she retrieved from the drawer that always banged into her comfortable middle. “And you be nice to her. I remember when she followed you around like you were her hero and caused the moon and the stars to remain in their required courses.”
“You’re laying it on a bit thick.”
“You always were blind to her, still are, far as I can see.”
Frank slit the envelope open with his pocketknife and folded the blade back to put the knife away. While his hands focused on the job at hand, his gaze narrowed at the arrival of more civilian cars in front of the station.
Maybelle followed his line of vision. “I thought they’d set up a roadblock to send all of them to the shelter.”
“I thought so too.” Frank folded the envelope and stuck it in his breast pocket before striding toward the door, his left hand reaching for his walkie-talkie.
He’d rather be out in the field than behind a desk any day. He paused at the top of the three concrete steps. “Can I help you?”
“We’re looking for information about our son.”
“Was he up on the mountain?” Where he wasn’t supposed to be. If people had obeyed the restrictions … no sense going there, it dug at him, like a tick burrowing under his skin. Both created an itch that scratching only made worse.
“Yes.”
He gave them the instructions to find the center and headed for his Blazer, where Sig waited. With the windows rolled down, the big dog sat in the front seat, watching the woman who leaned against the right front fender.
“Good morning, Sheriff.”
Frank thought to the message in his pocket. He should have read it. He nodded. “No, you cannot go up with one of the rescue birds. They need every available space for lifting out the wounded.”
“If you think you can read my mind, you just blew it.”
“Oh.” He stopped about three feet away from her. “You’re looking better.”
“Why, thank you. Heaven above, a compliment.”
Was she laughing at him? Frank assessed her again. The bruises around her eyes had faded, some color returned to her cheeks, and she’d lost the war-orphan look. But her eyes, that was the real difference. No longer dead, but alive, and if laughing at him was part of the parcel, so be it.
“So, if you don’t want to go up …”
“I didn’t say that. Of course I’d like to be up in a plane or helicopter and see what’s going on up there, but …”
She paused and he waited, settling back on his heels, his shoulders dropping a notch or two.
“But …?”
One eyebrow rose, as did her chin. “But no one would take me, and I don’t have a national television network at my beck and call.”
“They aren’t going up either.”
“So, I thought maybe you’d let me ride along with you, just in case, you know …”
“In case?” Ah, there came the sparks, that old pugnacious chin. She never could hide that for long. Her veneer was slipping.
“You get to go behind the barriers or up to the staging area. I promise to stay out of the way of the rescue efforts.”
“Right, one look at you and those flyboys will be falling all over themselves to do your bidding.”
“Why, Sheriff, I do believe you just gave me another compliment. And you’re still standing.”
He stopped his retort. “Standing?”
“Why, you haven’t keeled over with a heart attack.”
His snort widened her smile.
“You promise not to pester?”
“Pester! Frank McKenzie, I haven’t pestered anyone since I was twelve. Of all the pigheaded …”
“Get in. We’re wasting time. Over, Sig.” Frank strode around the rear of the truck, his heart lighter than any time in the last twenty-four hours. Getting her riled did that for him, always had. Pigheaded had been one of her favorite names for him, and he’d be willing to lay dollar to doughnuts, she’d not said it since she left home. Indeed, her New York veneer was not only slippin
g, it had developed serious cracking.
“Why do you want to tag along with me?”
“You get to go where no one will let me otherwise.”
“And here I thought you admired my friendly personality.”
Her turn to snort, which she did in an entirely unsophisticated manner. “I’m thinking of a photo essay about the heroes behind the scenes, like the mechanics on the choppers, ambulance drivers, shelter personnel, that kind of thing.”
“You might talk to Maybelle. She keeps us all on track.”
“I tried to take her picture, and she about threw me out.”
“I’ll talk with her.”
“Oh, that ought to help a lot.”
“I am her boss.”
Another snort. “They’re letting traffic through on 5 again?”
“As of 8:00 a.m. after the engineers finished checking for damage from the flood. That wall of mud and debris from the North Fork nearly took it out.”
“Along with the flood plain of Castle Rock. Sure glad my folks’ place is high up in the hills.” She patted her camera. “I wanted to stay out all night shooting, but that doesn’t work so well. I got some good shots at daybreak.” She studied his profile for a moment. “You been even near a bed lately? I left a message at your house, but you never returned my call.”
“Haven’t been there. Slept a bit at the office. You think it’s bad now. If that jam at Spirit Lake goes …” He shook his head. “It’ll make the flooding so far seem like child’s play.”
Jenn melted back in the seat. “I heard some hydrologists and engineers talking about ways to minimize the damage.”
“They can talk all they want. There’s nothing they can do but pray—and talk some more.”
“You know Mitchell Ross?”
“Army Corps of Engineers?”
She nodded.
“How’d you meet him?”
“On my flight from New York.”
He saw her jaw tighten. “What happened. Did he hit on you?”
“Tried to. How’d you know?”
“He has a reputation as a skirt chaser.” The CB crackling caught his attention. He picked up the mic and responded, then hung it up. “The governor wants a report. Why can’t she watch television like the rest of them? Those reporters seem to know more than we do.”
The Way of Women Page 14
