What It Takes: A Kowalski Reunion Novel

by Shannon Stacey

  And since she’d be living on the Northern Star property for the summer, he wouldn’t have to try very hard to make it happen.

  * * *

  Rosie had warned Laney that Sundays had a tendency to get interesting around the Northern Star. Technically checkout time was at eleven, but some campers left at the crack of dawn to avoid traffic, some stayed until eleven and a few would even stay later. And if they asked up front, Josh would allow campers to pack up and park their trucks and campers along the edge of the field—out of their way—and then ride for the day, if they wanted.

  It was a lot, Laney thought, as she waved goodbye to the next-to-the-last of their departing campers—a family of four who’d had some trouble packing things back into their SUV the same way it had all come out. It was almost noon, but they’d been very apologetic, so she’d told them to take their time. She’d already picked up on the cardinal rule of the campground—if you were good people, the rules were fluid. If you weren’t, the rules got a lot more strict and included a late checkout fee. While Laney preferred things to be cut and dried rather than up to her discretion since she wasn’t the boss, that wasn’t how they did things here.

  Now there was just one more cabin to be vacated and they’d have no guests until Friday. The week after would see the end of the school year for most of New England’s schools and then they’d be busy all week, but it was still mostly weekend business at the beginning of June.

  She was about to go and check on the couple in the cabin, but then she heard him yelling something and decided to give them a few more minutes.

  “Laney!” She turned to see her cousin, Nola Kendrick, walking toward her.

  Laney smiled, relieved to have an excuse not to think about the grumpy guest in the cabin for a few minutes. “Hey, Nola.”

  “Are you busy right now? I thought everybody might be gone and we could sneak a quick lunch together. Most places have checkout at eleven.”

  “We have a couple on their way out of the cabin, but I’m giving them a little extra time because he seems to be having a bad time of it.” And she was definitely hungry. “I can grab a quick lunch, though I’m not sure what I have.”

  “I brought turkey sandwiches from the diner.” She lifted the bag Laney hadn’t paid any attention to. “On wheat bread with mayo and cranberry sauce, like we used to eat when we were little.”

  The shared memory warmed Laney’s heart and made her feel less alone than she had in a long time. Born the same year, Laney and Nola had been as close as cousins who only saw each other once or twice a year could be. Nola’s mom, who was Laney’s mother’s sister, had met her future husband at a concert in Old Orchard Beach and run off to someplace in Maine none of them had ever heard of to marry him. Their visits to Rhode Island had been somewhat regular until Laney’s grandmother died and then they’d dwindled away. Luckily, Facebook had eventually come along and Laney and Nola had reconnected.

  Maybe Nola was part of the reason she’d taken a chance on this job, Laney thought as they walked toward her camper. She not only got to earn money while living the simple kind of life she wanted, but she could spend time with somebody who’d known and loved the younger version of Laney Caswell.

  Once she’d grabbed them each a cold drink from inside, they sat in her folding camp chairs in the shade of her awning to eat.

  “I ordered two Adirondack chair kits online,” Laney said. “Hopefully they’ll be delivered soon and I can build them before your next visit, so we’ll be more comfortable.”

  “I’m sure you could have borrowed a truck if you wanted to go buy a couple of chairs.”

  “I know, but they’re a lot cheaper if you build them yourself. And it’ll be a fun project for me.” She took a bite of the sandwich, and then chewed slowly to savor the taste. Once she’d swallowed, she looked at her cousin. “This is even better than when we were kids.”

  “The diner has the best food. Seriously, everything they make is delicious.”

  Laney knew the Trailside Diner was owned by Paige Kowalski, Josh’s sister-in-law. She’d bought the place some years back, when the town only saw snowmobile business, and the diner was one of the many businesses benefitting from the ATV traffic. Mitch and Paige had a two-year-old daughter, plus Rosie had mentioned Paige was seven months along with their second child.

  “How are things going here? Do you like it?”

  “So far, so good. Everybody’s nice and the work isn’t too much.” Laney rolled her eyes. “I should have had you write up notes on everybody in town, though, so I wouldn’t have looked like an idiot fussing over a cut on Ben Rivers’s hand because I didn’t know he’s a paramedic.”

  Nola’s eyes widened. “You met Ben? And fussed over him?”

  “I didn’t fuss over him. Just the cut on his hand. Entirely different.”

  “I had such a crush on him when I was in the ninth grade. He was a junior and had no idea I was alive, of course. But he’s been in the town hall a few times and I swear, he’s even hotter now than he was then.”

  “You should ask him out,” Laney said, thinking that was the perfect solution for any budding attraction she felt for the man. If her cousin was interested in him, he was totally off-limits to her.

  “Nope. I mean, he’s a great guy and he’s not hard to look at, but there isn’t any real spark. He’s not making up reasons to come into town hall to see me and I’m not taking my time doing whatever he needs just to keep him there, if you know what I mean.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “I could set you two up on a date, though,” Nola said, looking only too happy about it.

  “No.” Laney didn’t even hesitate. “I’m not dating. And please spare me the get back in the saddle speech. I want to enjoy my own company for a while, just me and books and movies and my little camper.”

  “Fine.” Nola gave an exaggerated sigh of disappointment. “Speaking of the camper, is that going okay? I remember seeing a picture of your house on Facebook and there isn’t even a house like that in Whitford, never mind a camper. I hope you weren’t expecting one of those big fifth-wheel models with the master bedroom suites and a fireplace.”

  “It is small, but I like it.” She laughed at Nola’s skeptical look. “No, really I do. I’ve had a lot of expensive things in the last ten years and they didn’t really mean anything to me. Now I’m limited to things that really matter to me and being limited space-wise means I have to think about what’s important and what’s not.”

  “I was so afraid you’d get here and wonder what the heck I’d gotten you into.”

  “I’m happy I’m here. I promise. I mean, I have no idea what will happen at the end of the season, but I’m enjoying right now and I’m glad to have the time with you.”

  Nola smiled, her honey-blond bob swishing around her neck as she nodded. “Me too. But keep in mind, the Northern Star is open year-round. The lodge anyway, for the snowmobilers.”

  Before Laney could point out that she wasn’t spending the winter in a camper and she wasn’t sure Whitford was where she would put down actual real estate-type roots, there was a loud crash from the direction of the cabins and then a woman screamed.

  * * *

  Sam Jensen, who headed up Whitford’s extremely small volunteer fire department, was stretched out on the couch behind the engine, watching a sports talk show on the screen hung on the opposite wall when Ben walked in.

  “Do you actually have a home?” he asked when Sam turned his head to look at him.

  “Yup.”

  “Seems like a waste of money since you’re here whenever I show up, no matter when it is.”

  Sam shrugged. “I’m the only one who doesn’t have a wife and kids, so why make one of the other guys sit here and watch TV alone. It doesn’t matter to me which couch I park my ass on. And what are you doing here, any
way?”

  “I helped my dad strip some roofing this morning, but I needed a break.” He held up his hand, which he’d left uncovered after giving it another cleaning. The cut wasn’t pretty, but it seemed to be healing okay.

  “Ouch. And on the right palm, too. Bet that’s hell on your sex life.”

  “I hope you’re better at fighting fires than you are at comedy.”

  “Luckily we don’t have too many of those around here. Help yourself to something from the fridge if you want.”

  The fire station still blew Ben’s mind, even though it had been weeks. It was a rectangle, with the front two-thirds taken up by the engine and the utility truck, and the back third reserved for an equipment locker, two couches and a TV, a sad excuse for a kitchenette area and a bathroom. The only way it could be further removed from the city stations he was used to would be for them to park the trucks in somebody’s backyard under a carport.

  “I can’t believe this town doesn’t have a real ambulance,” Ben said as he unscrewed the top off a bottle of lemonade with his left hand and settled onto the other couch.

  Sam shrugged. “A lot of small towns out on back roads don’t. It takes so long for an ambulance to get here and then get back to the hospital that people are used to throwing people in their cars or trucks and driving like hell. I know it’s wrong and it’s dangerous, but it is faster. And those people, who’ve been handling emergencies a certain way for generations, are the ones who vote on the town budget.”

  “So they’ll approve an ATV with lights and sirens for me and a UTV with a rescue sled for the fire department to take out into the woods, but not an ambulance for their families.”

  “Honestly, most of the money for you and the incredibly long list of crap you need to do your job came from Max researching and writing the hell out of grant requests.”

  Ben had met Max Crawford a few times and he seemed like a decent guy. He was a little awkward with strangers, but he liked to talk sports, so they didn’t have any trouble making conversation. He worked out of his basement and there were some rumors he was a serial killer, but Ben thought the rumors that he painted brass locomotives and stuff for model railroaders were more credible. Most importantly, Max didn’t ride off-road at all, but he liked doing his part for his friends and the town, so he handled all the paperwork and that made him everybody’s best friend.

  “That UTV they got you guys is going to come in handy,” Ben said.

  “Yeah. I don’t know how Max scored that donation from the manufacturer, but we owe him big-time.”

  For years, the standard way to extract a victim from the trails had been a four-wheeler towing a rescue sled on wheels. After placing the victim on a backboard, he or she had to be secured in the sled and then one of the first responders had to perch on the side of it and hope they didn’t hit any big bumps. The new UTV was a four-seater with a utility back, but it had been modified so the right half of the backseat and dump body were replaced with a sled. It was still a bumpy, painful ride out for the injured, but it was safer for them and the first responders, especially the one who could sit next to the victim in the backseat instead of trying not to fall off the side of the sled.

  Max had scored Ben a utility ATV with a light, sirens and cargo boxes that stored the most vital of emergency supplies. Because he was an experienced rider and didn’t have to wait for other volunteers to arrive, he could go like hell through the woods and offer critical care until the other guys showed up.

  “You miss the city much?” Sam asked.

  Ben considered the question for a moment, then shook his head. “Not really. Other than the fact Whitford’s seriously lacking in sports bars, it was a good change for me. A little weird not having set shifts and just...being on call 24/7, but it’s good.”

  “If you need time off, just give me the heads-up and between us and the warden service, we can cover things. And you’re pretty safe making plans for Tuesdays and Wednesdays, as a rule.”

  “Yeah, I figure Friday afternoons and Saturdays will be my busiest times. Except for holiday weekends, most people are just packing up and heading home on Sundays.”

  No sooner had he said the words than the alarm sounded and their cell phones rang at almost the same time. Leaving Sam to communicate with dispatch and go from there, Ben answered the call from Josh as he ran to his SUV. It wasn’t marked, but it had lights and sirens and was fully outfitted for almost any emergency.

  “Here at the lodge,” Josh said as soon as he answered. “The cabins, actually. Guy was loading his wheeler and rolled it over backward on himself.”

  “Don’t move him.” He turned on the siren and hit the gas.

  “Laney’s got his head braced so he can’t move. He lost consciousness for at least a minute. He’s somewhat coherent, but having trouble breathing.”

  Ben listened to the voices on his radio as he gave instructions to Josh that amounted to keeping him immobilized and as long as he was breathing, not to touch anything.

  “They’ve dispatched an ambulance, but I’m almost there. Sit tight.”

  God only knew how long the private ambulance service from a few towns away would take to get there, Ben fumed as he drove. At least twenty minutes and, unless the victim’s injuries were severe enough to merit a helicopter, the hospital was an hour away. And if he’d suffered head or spinal trauma, there was a good chance the ER docs would only stabilize him before transporting him to Maine Med for treatment.

  He turned up the drive to the Northern Star Lodge and drove past the house and out back to the campground. After killing the siren, he pulled up near the people gathered—he could see Josh, Andy and Rosie with an upset woman, with two people on the ground—and shut off his engine. Then he hit the button to open the lift gate so it was open by the time he got to the back of the SUV. After grabbing his bag and a cervical collar, he walked to the man lying in the dirt.

  Laney was kneeling above the victim’s head, her fingers laced under his neck and his head gripped between her knees. She looked up as Ben crouched beside her and they made eye contact. She was calm and ready to follow any instructions he gave her, so he got to work.

  He’d wait for the ambulance crew before attempting the backboard, but he needed to stabilize the head and neck.

  Slowly and carefully, he slipped the C-collar around the victim’s neck. Laney pulled her hands out of the way, but kept her knees on either side of his head until Ben let her know she could get up.

  After checking his pulse, Ben looked down into the man’s face. “What’s your name?”

  “His name’s Corey,” the woman said, and Ben had to stifle a sigh. That wasn’t really helpful.

  “Corey, can you tell me how old you are?”

  “Twenty-eight.”

  “Good, and do you know where you are?”

  “Maine.”

  The Connecticut plates on the truck let Ben know Corey had a basic awareness of where he was, though he would have liked more specifics. “Tell me what’s going on. How’s your breathing?”

  “A little better, I think. Maybe I just had the wind knocked out of me.”

  “What about pain?” He checked Corey’s pupils and did a visual inspection of his extremities. Then he took shears out of his bag and sliced his T-shirt up the front so he could look at his torso. There was some bruising already showing on his right shoulder, but his chest and abdomen didn’t look bad.

  There was no obvious trauma, but the head, spine and internal organs were the real problem in this kind of accident. It’s what he couldn’t see that concerned him.

  “I feel like an ATV fell on top of me.”

  Ben smiled, encouraged by the attempt at humor, as he slid the blood pressure cuff onto Corey’s arm. “I guess I don’t need to ask if you remember what happened, but why don’t you give me a little more detail.” />
  As Corey started listing off places that hurt in varying degrees, Ben relaxed a little. Considering the size of the quad Josh had righted and pushed out of the way, it started to look like today was Corey’s lucky day.

  “I’ll feel it tomorrow, for sure,” Corey said, “but I don’t think anything’s busted. I could probably sit up.”

  “You lost consciousness, which is always a concern, so we’re going to hang out just like we are until the ambulance comes. We’ll get you on a backboard as a precaution and after the doctors have looked you over and done some scans, they’ll tell you when you can sit up.”

  They heard a siren in the distance and Corey’s wife, who’d calmed down a lot, seemed to grow agitated again. “Is that the ambulance? Will they let me ride with him? What about the truck and our stuff?”

  “That’s not the ambulance yet,” Ben told her. “That’ll be the guys from the fire department, just in case I needed help.”

  He probably should have called in and let them know not to come, but he’d been busy and hadn’t thought of it. They’d brought the utility truck, rather than the engine, and he saw that Sam was driving as they pulled up next to his SUV. The guy riding shotgun was Dave Moody, who’d served as the EMT for the Whitford Fire Department for years but, because it was a volunteer position, had never invested the time and money into becoming a paramedic. He was over fifty and had no interest in off-roading so that—besides the fact Ben was qualified to offer more critical care than an EMT—was a big reason they’d decided to add his position.

  “You can ride in the ambulance or you can drive the truck,” Josh was saying to Corey’s wife. “As long as you’re calm and feel up to it, since the hospital’s almost an hour away. If you want to go in the ambulance, we can make arrangements to get the truck to you sometime later today. As for your stuff, it’s fine here. We won’t throw it—or you—out in the street just because it’s past checkout time.”