by Susan Sands
After the judging, anyone who entered could bring a plate or empty tin and “swap” goodies by taking several items of their choice from others’ containers. Once the participants had taken goodies, then the public was invited to sample the treats. There would be hot cocoa and coffee served. Carolers were singing in the square as well to add to the ambiance.
The wind had picked up overnight and the temperature had already dropped several degrees, so it was beginning to feel wintery today. The storm was approaching and showing no signs of slowing.
The states in its path were reporting record snowfall, power outages, and ice on their roads. Rachel hoped the town, and the entire state, was indeed ready for this kind of weather.
For now, they had a cookie competition and swap to manage. The judges had arrived and were waiting until the entry deadline to begin their important work. This was becoming a deluge of women in winter coats placing their treats strategically in front of others as if that might help them win the coveted prize.
Rachel and Mrs. Wiggins were fielding questions and managing the five-dollar entry fees and handing out entry cards and pens. Finally, as time was ticking down to the start, they had one last entrant who wouldn’t leave.
“How can we be certain this will be judged fairly? What if a judge doesn’t like pineapple?” Bettie Jo Kemp challenged, just before she set her container down.
Rachel had heard the stories about BJ Kemp, and what those unfortunate initials stood for, but wisely kept that to herself. “Hi Bettie Jo. We have three judges who will judge on a variety of standards. Your entry won’t be discriminated against for any ingredient, I assure you.”
“This recipe was my great-grandmomma’s, and it’s always everybody’s favorite at church, just so y’all know.” The woman arched her brows, encompassing Mrs. Wiggins and the judges, who were getting ready to do their thing. It was a blatant attempt at intimidation.
Rachel overtly checked the time. “The entry deadline has officially ended. Judging may begin.”
“What? No. Here. Here’s mine,” BJ plopped her tin down.
“Have you filled out your paperwork and paid your fee?” Mrs. Wiggins asked.
“Yes. Yes, I have,” the woman replied, somewhat frantic.
“Then move on and let the judges work,” Mrs. Wiggins suggested.
“I wasn’t trying to suggest that my pineapple bar cookies should win. I just—”
“We’ll see you later. Thanks for your entry, BJ,” Rachel said.
“Nobody calls me that anymore.” The woman stalked off.
One of the judges snickered. “I went to high school with that girl. She hasn’t changed.”
It seemed that where there were so many good people and great things to recommend the town of Ministry, there was no escaping the handful of rotten apples, who, for whatever reason never seemed to learn their lessons.
Which made Rachel think of Cammie, who was filming her show with Jessica Greene today just on the other side of the square. Rachel hadn’t gone over to see how that was going, and wasn’t certain she wanted to. Hopefully, the woman was on her best behavior and wouldn’t do anything to cause Cammie to want to set her hair on fire again. Of course, that was the story of the two women’s history together, according to Jessica Greene.
Rachel couldn’t believe her father had made a dinner date with the woman, of all people.
As the day wore on, and the judging was completed, the square filled up with interested attendees waiting for the results. The clouds moved in and the wind was icy. Hot chocolate and hot spiced cider was served as the carolers began singing. The winter weather didn’t seem to detract from the Christmas spirit or the crowd.
The hundreds of cookies, fudge, and other treats were opened at last and served to the public. Rachel was amazed by the sheer amount of variety and quantity they’d taken in and were able to supply to the folks who’d come out. It was early evening now, and with the overcast skies, the lights in town were all turned on. Large space heaters had been brought in at some point during the day. Apparently, they’d been in storage for some time in anticipation of the Christmas festival, but hadn’t been needed due to unseasonably warm temps the last couple of years.
Rachel had worn a ski jacket and thermal pants today that she’d dug out of her closet, having hung on to them from a ski trip taken years before, she’d been thankful they’d traveled with her all this time.
She hoped Nick had brought some cold weather gear from Atlanta. The weather wasn’t usually super cold here, but Rachel knew it got that way every few years without much warning. They’d had a couple mild winters in the South, so they were due for some pretty chilly weather.
The clean-up volunteers had arrived, so that meant her and Mrs. Wiggins’s shift was over. Rachel offered to help Mrs. W back up to the house, but the woman shook her head. “My friend, Ted, here has offered to escort me to dinner and back home.” She nodded toward an elderly gentleman, who appeared to be sleeping at first glance, but then Mrs. Wiggins gave him an elbow to the ribs and he perked right up, and introduced himself.
“Hello, dear. I’m Theodore Rosenstein. So happy to make your acquaintance.”
Rachel smiled then. She took his bony hand in hers and said, “It’s wonderful to meet you, Mr. Rosenstein. Please don’t keep Mrs. Wiggins out too late. I worry, you know.”
His rusty laughed warmed her heart. “I’ll keep that in mind, young lady.”
He put his arm out to Mrs. W then. “Shall we, my dear?”
Mrs. W winked at Rachel and muttered in her ear as she passed, “Don’t wait up.”
Rachel laughed and picked up her purse and camera, preparing to head toward the hotel to see if she could meet up with her father, or see if Nick’s parents were around or needed anything.
Nick had just received the most amazing news, and he couldn’t wait to have a minute alone with Rachel to share it. But it would require their having an important conversation. So, it wasn’t something he could just whisper in her ear.
Just as he took off his lab coat to put on a warmer winter one to head home, a call came in on the radio that there was an accident an hour away with multiple traumas.
“Dr. Sullivan, they’re asking if you can take a Life Flight to the scene. They’ll send a helicopter for you. They need a trauma surgeon, and you’re the only one in the area who can get there in time. There are two critical patients who will have to be stabilized on site before they can be moved. It’s a mother and young daughter.”
“How soon can the helicopter be here?” he asked.
“Twenty minutes. Their surgical team will be on the flight. They are short-staffed with the weather.”
He nodded. After hearing further details, he said, “Make sure we have enough supplies for both surgeries, in case we’ve got to do them on scene. And lots of blood.” Nothing about this sounded good. One victim was trapped under a vehicle, and the other had been thrown through the windshield and was somehow compromised with a tree branch puncture.
He texted Rachel to let her know what was happening without going into much detail. His good news would have to wait.
Nick had been relieved when he’d learned that Ministry General had a helicopter pad on top of the building and worked with a Life Flight service that allowed surgeons and physicians from all specialties to work together in saving critical patients in smaller hospitals where there weren’t as many resources. This sometimes meant traveling on short notice to other places with lower populations. He’d never had to fly to a crash site before, but if it meant saving lives, well, he’d been trained to do that. Ministry was a small town, but they were rated a level III trauma center and were well equipped for most emergency general surgeries and other crises. The hospital itself was one of the larger ones in the neighboring counties, and Nick’s advanced surgical training made him more sought after when something like today’s accident occurred.
He grabbed a pair of all-weather boots from the closet in his office, and as
soon as the ’copter landed, he dressed in a flight suit one of the team handed over to him. Part of his trauma rotation had been working with the Life Flight transport teams. The supplies were loaded from the helipad and they wasted no time getting off the ground.
Introductions were made. “Nick Sullivan.” They shook hands. There were four of them total, besides Nick. Buzz, a retired navy corpsman and now a surgical nurse, Jeff, a former air force combat medic, and the pilot, Wes, also a former navy guy.
“I’m Vanessa,” the female transport team member said. She pulled out notes on a clipboard and handed it to him along with a set of headphones. Nick clicked his harness on and she filled him in on the victims of the crash.
The pilot spoke a few minutes later. “Hang on. We’ve got wind gusts, and it’s going to be tricky landing. There’s ice on the ground, so be careful trying to get to the patients.”
They discussed stabilization, and the possibility of on-site surgery procedures if the patients were too unstable. “We’ve got plenty of blood and supplies. The temps are just below freezing, so keeping the patients warm enough but the field sterile will be a challenge out in the open. We’ll need to create a small space surrounding the patients, and keep onlookers away.”
The woman said, “The state police are on the scene, and have created a barrier surrounding the crash victims. It’s on a major highway, so there are people around, but they’re trying to get the traffic flowing. The challenge is that the temps dropped quickly while it was raining, and the county didn’t have time to treat the roads. This storm has blasted in earlier and stronger than anyone anticipated, so there’s ice and it’s causing a hell of a mess.”
The helicopter tipped alarmingly as the pilot tried to land. “Hang on, y’all.” The pilot’s terse voice came through the headset.
A huge gust of wind sent the ’copter sideways, and threw them all back against their seats. The cars below had come way too close for comfort that time. Nick had experienced rough flights in the past, but nothing that had made him gut-sick quite like this. His heartbeat had risen, and sweat broke out on his brow. The others appeared equally alarmed.
“Okay, gang, let’s try this again. Hang on.” This time the pilot managed to lower them down onto the side of the busy highway. They landed with a thud, but at least they were down safely.
Vanessa scrambled out, taking Nick’s hand as he helped her down from the helicopter. She was a tall, pretty, African American woman who appeared to be in her thirties. Of course, he gave a hand down to the others too. It’s what one did to prevent ankle sprains.
They quickly unloaded the cases and headed to where the police were directing them as quickly as the icy patches allowed. No one would be served by one of them breaking an ankle.
The state police captain Johnson, as denoted by his badge and name tag, addressed them, “Female, Caucasian, age thirty-one. Pinned under the vehicle. Extent of injuries unknown. Her name is Julie. She’s conscious and asking about her little girl.”
“Tell me about the child,” Nick said.
Captain Johnson’s face became grim. “Becca, female, age four. Thrown from the vehicle and landed on a tree branch. She’s currently impaled and conscious. Looks bad, Doc. I sure hope you can help them.”
Rachel read Nick’s text again. He wasn’t coming home now, and she had no idea when he would finish up wherever he was.
“So, has anyone heard from Nick today? I can’t imagine what’s kept him this late.”
“I got a text around the time he was supposed to get off work that said he’d had an emergency call and had to take a Life Flight helicopter to a car accident scene and that he would be in touch as soon as possible.”
“In this weather? I hope everybody’s okay. I hate to see anyone flying anywhere in a helicopter with this wind,” Leo said.
Rachel had the exact same thought. She’d had a weight in the pit of her stomach ever since she’d received his text.
“Well, I suppose we should find ourselves some dinner. Anybody got a suggestion?” Leo asked.
Rachel wasn’t especially hungry after all the treats she’d been exposed to today, but she figured they had to eat. “There’s a good pizza place just a couple doors down. It’s close enough that we can walk.”
Bev had been somewhat quiet since the talk of helicopters and car crashes. “We might as well give it a try. I’m a little worried about Nick, truth be told, so I’d like to stick nearby.”
Rachel gave Bev a quick sympathetic squeeze around her shoulders because she felt the same. “I’ve been a little off-kilter since I got the text too. I’ll let you know the second I hear from him.”
Bev tightened up just a little. “You’d think he would have contacted his family first.”
Uh-oh. Here she was, this stiff mother Nick always spoke about. The one who gave him crap about his doing everything the wrong way. He’d texted his very new girlfriend important information and left her, his own mother, out of the loop. Rachel understood why that wouldn’t be smart, she really did.
“He should have. If I ever have a son or daughter, they’d better contact me before anyone else if things go haywire. But if I do hear from him, I will let you know because I realize you’re worried about him.”
Bev smiled a little then. “I did give birth to the ungrateful child.”
“You should remind him of it next time you see him,” Rachel said.
“Then, he’ll give me another lecture about how I should be less irritating and that I should chill.”
“We get it that you worry. It’s your job. If you didn’t worry, there would be something wrong with you,” Chuck said. He hugged his mom and added, “Slick Nick will be fine. And whomever he decides to inform of that fact will share it with the rest of us.”
Bev sniffed a little, clearly not certain whether to be insulted or to chill.
They weren’t the only group who’d decided pizza was a good idea. The place was packed and it took almost an hour to get seated, which did nothing for Bev’s humor. Not hearing anything from Nick didn’t help the situation, Rachel was certain.
Rachel said hello to several people she knew who all asked where Nick was. She decided to avoid any details for now, other than to say he was working. Any gossip regarding his situation could spark speculation and spread gossip like a wildfire. She simply didn’t have enough information to say what was happening yet.
“Well, ruffle my feathers and call me a chicken! It’s Uncle Leo and Aunt Bev as we live and breathe, Jamie.”
Rachel turned to see Judith and Jamie standing next to their table. She’d almost forgotten about their connection to the Sullivans.
“Well hello there, girls. We were hoping we’d see you while we’re here.” Leo stood and hugged them both. He seemed genuinely thrilled to see his nieces.
Bev smiled at them as well, but with far less excitement. “Judith. Jamie. What a lovely surprise.” She kind of air hugged them both.
Chuck, not to be ignored, made his presence known to his older cousins. “Hey cousins. It’s me, Chuck.” He grinned at them both.
“You’re shitting me,” Judith said to Chuck, then turned to Jamie. “He’s shitting us.”
“No way. You were just a grubby little kid last time we saw you,” Jamie said.
They both greeted Chuck with genuine enthusiasm.
“We were just on our way out, but do give a call before you leave town. Maybe we can meet up again before you head back to Atlanta. Hopefully this storm will pass without too much trouble.”
They said goodbye and promised to stay in touch.
“Those gals have grown up fine. Just fine,” Leo said, smiling.
Bev kept her voice controlled. “They’re fine, I guess. Better than they used to be.”
Leo leaned toward Rachel and said, “Bev looks down her nose at my family. She thinks they’re lower class since they’re from the country.”
Bev’s face flamed. “I do no such thing.”
Chuck la
ughed and reminded his mother, “You call them, your father’s people.”
“Well, it’s their lack of propriety more than anything else. And it’s unkind of you both to make fun of me like this in front of Rachel. What will she think of me?”
Rachel felt sorry for the woman, even though she likely deserved her serving of humble pie. “I won’t think anything, Bev. And I think they’re ganging up on you.”
“Well, I try not to be snobby. I know that’s what they’re saying about me. I was just raised—differently.” Bev’s face pinched up and she stopped talking.
Rachel had nothing to say to that.
By the time they’d finished dinner and exited the restaurant, there was still no word from Nick. It had been dark now for a couple of hours, being winter, and sunset happening so early now. Rachel had zipped her coat all the way up around her neck. It was well below freezing now, and the wind was icy and blowing.
“Storm’s coming in. Should be here by morning,” Leo said. They’d just entered the lobby of the inn.
“Let’s share cell numbers so we’re all connected,” Rachel said.
At this point, Bev didn’t make any snide comments. Her worry for Nick was obvious. “Is there anyone we can check with about Nick?” she asked Rachel.
“I’ll call the hospital and find out what they know,” Rachel said. She had been thinking the same thing. It was unusual that he hadn’t been in contact with anyone since he left. That had been hours ago.
Rachel separated from the group and looked up the number. She hated to be the worried girlfriend calling to check up on Nick at work, but this weather situation was truly scary.
“Ministry General, how may I help you?”
“Hi, this is Rachel Prudhomme. I was hoping to get some information on Nick Sullivan. He went out on an emergency earlier and we haven’t heard from him. We’re getting a little worried now with the storm moving in.”