by C J Murphy
Jordan murmured to herself, “Timmy fell in the well.” She shook her head at the Lassie reference and vowed to find Bandit the biggest steak she could. “What are they saying about his condition? Any changes since I talked to you?”
Sam fisted his hair and leaned forward on his elbows. “They're watching the pressure in his head with that bleed. The prognosis is pretty grim, Jordan. Even if he survives the bleed, they think he may have had a stroke.”
Jordan watched as the anguish in Sam overcame him. He rose from his seat and began to pace. She followed him up and put her hands on his shoulders to stop him. “Sam, this isn’t your fault either. Max wouldn’t want either of us taking blame for this.”
Sam’s pained expression nearly broke her. This was the time for Jordan to be strong, to give Sam someone to lean on. He collapsed into her again, his face in his hands against her shoulder. They stood there for a long time, until Max’s doctor approached.
The younger gentleman carried a stethoscope and wore a white coat over scrubs. “Sam, let’s have a seat.” He motioned them back to the chairs.
Sam made introductions. “Nathan, this is Jordan, a close family friend. Jordan, this is Dr. Nathan Phillips.”
Nathan updated them on Max. “I’m sorry to meet you under these circumstances, Jordan. Max is holding his own. His intracranial pressure is still higher than I’d like, and he still hasn’t regained consciousness. Everything else is within normal ranges for his age. There was a bleed involved with the skull fracture. I won’t have any idea if a stroke occurred until we repeat his scans and even after that, not fully until he wakes up. He’s breathing on his own. His brain just needs time to heal.”
Jordan wrapped a protective arm around Sam. “When can we go in to see him?”
The doctor put his hand over Sam’s. “Visiting hours start in about twenty minutes. You both look like you could use some coffee. Go get a cup and come back. I’ll talk with the nurses about letting you in together. Do you have any other questions?”
Jordan watched Sam’s shoulders heave. “I’ll try to help him write some down. Thank you, doctor.”
As Jordan watched the physician walk away, she could only say a small prayer asking for a miracle for her friends. She knew Max’s beautiful mind drifted away every day. She hoped the rest of him didn’t follow suit.
Chapter Thirteen
SATURDAY MORNING, NOEUL PULLED out of Miranda and Kelly’s place with the back seat of her truck full of goat’s milk lotion and soap. She sold her surplus from a booth at the Marlington Farmers’ Market. Making money wasn’t the issue. Lately, she craved the customer interaction. Whatever she didn’t sell, Noeul would donate to the local women and children’s shelter, as well as one of the local service organizations that gave hygiene products to the homeless. Mr. Anderson would likely stop by to trade a basket of the herbs he grew in exchange for some soap. Such a kind man.
He always protested and Noeul always refused to let him pay. He preferred to barter, and she realized it helped him keep his dignity. She was sure he’d never taken anything for free in his life. His generation rarely did.
Kyo hadn’t protested too much at being left behind. Noeul was pretty sure her dog loved Miranda as much as Miranda loved Kyo. When Noeul returned, Kyo would be lazily sleeping after a full day of activities.
Green fields rolled beside the two-lane road, eventually giving way to the edge of Marlington’s corporate limits. Billboards with advertisements for local businesses and safe driving messages dotted the landscape among the pine, oak, and maple trees. The American flag hung from the fronts of many of the shops that lined the main street. The red, white, and blue stripes were constantly in motion, moved by the breeze. It was truly small-town Americana nestled into the Appalachian Mountains.
Noeul pulled in beside Mr. Anderson’s rusted out Ford F150. Body putty, flashing, and rivets held it together as much as any weld joint made on the assembly line twenty-five years ago. Stanley Anderson stood barely an inch taller than she did, even in his cowboy boots. She stepped out and wrapped him in a hug. “Good to see you, Stanley. How are you?” Noeul took a good look at the rail-thin man dressed in worn jeans and a plaid shirt with pearl snaps.
Stanley’s dark eyes glinted, his smile deepening the lines in his sun-weathered skin. He took off his dusty John Deere hat, turning it round and round in his hands. “Fine as frog hair. How’s life up on your mountain treating you?”
Noeul matched his smile with one that bubbled from deep inside and warmed her throughout. He was the kindest man she’d met in many years—always polite, always respectful. “The growing season has been good. I saved you some seeds from those heirloom tomatoes. They have incredible flavor. I think Martha will love them.”
“I’ve got some herbs for you. Them graft tomatoes you gave me are doing good. Craziest thing I ever seen, roots from one, stem from another.” Stanley put his hat back on and pushed his hands in his pockets.
Noeul loved talking to Stanley. He’d been a farmer his whole life. His sons had taken over caring for the beef cattle, while he and his wife grew herbs and flowers that they dried for sale. Stanley also kept a small vegetable garden using seeds Noeul provided. “Science is an amazing thing. The Mayans and the Aztecs were creating an edible corn by selective cross breeding over four thousand years ago. We’re putting a new twist on making stronger, more resilient plants.”
Stanley helped her set up her small stand, and for the next four hours, they greeted customers, answered questions, and referred other venders for things they couldn’t provide. Shoppers meandered past the tables full of vegetables, crafts, homemade breads, and sweets. Some stopped, some passed by. When they didn’t have customers, they caught up with each other.
Stanley pushed his hat back on his head and scratched at his thinning hair. “You’re tellin’ me you’re taking weeds and puttin’ ‘em together with somethin’ else?”
Noeul nodded her head. “I’ve been doing some trials. Sometimes it works and sometimes not. There’s another professor working on this back at my old university. It could revolutionize how we grow food in places of severe famine.”
“I’ve spent time graftin’ different kinds of apple tree’s together, trying to get one Martha likes for cookin’. She’s particular ‘bout her apples. Just never heard tell of it in something like what you’re a doin’. The West Virginia University’s Ag Department’s got a research facility over in Kearneysville. Breed all kinda apple and other fruit trees. Ever been over there?”
“My old university and WVU have a pretty good relationship. We used to share research. I think a few of my former students work there. That’s the good thing about the type of research I enjoy doing. You don’t mind collaborating with others. It helps further the science. Don’t get me wrong, we’re competitive. The difference is the research makes its way into the field and into other programs. Everyone wins in the end.”
Stanley’s dark eyes twinkled. “Kind of like farmers. We might have the prize bull, but if our neighbor’s in trouble we’ll cross a hip-deep river to get there to help.”
“Exactly.” Noeul enjoyed her afternoons at the market with Stanley. Sitting with this gentle soul always made for interesting stories about his family. “How’s little Tyler doing?"
“That boy is full of piss and vinegar. He went with his daddy over to Moorefield to the sale. Got himself a new pair of boots and we can’t get him outta them. He’d sleep in ‘em if his momma’d let him. Tried to tell me they’d make him run faster if I’d let him wear them at T-ball practice the other day. That boy is ate up with them boots.” Stanley’s laughter started him coughing, and he fingered his shirt pocket in a long-practiced manner of reaching for the nonexistent pack of cigarettes. “Aw thunder, gotta get a drink. Haven’t smoked in ten years, and I still can’t lose this daggone cough.”
A few more hours passed as they attended to customers and made small talk. All too soon, everyone started packing up their tables. She hugged him a
nd kissed his cheek, as she climbed back into her truck. Arm resting on her opened window, Noeul made sure Stanley got in and started his truck. “See you next week. Tell Martha hi. Let Tyler know I missed him.”
“I sure will. I’ll bet he’ll be back with me next time. He’s sweet on you. Be careful, Noeul. I’ll see ya.” Stanley tipped his cap and put the truck in drive.
The truck rattled and squeaked its way out of the lot and back out onto the main street. For as beat up as the truck looked, Noeul knew the mechanics were solid. She also knew that as frugal as Stanley was, he was financially secure, and his great-grandchildren would be too. His farm sold prime beef to some of the east coast’s top restaurants, and his breeding skills were second to none. Stanley was a millionaire in patched blue jeans and shirts made for him by his wife on her own sewing machine. Noeul turned her truck toward the women’s shelter and dropped off the few bottles of lotion and several cakes of the goat’s milk soap she hadn’t sold. It had been a good day, and she headed back to Green Bank and the girls’ house.
***
Jordan leaned against the wall, her eyes closed, the sounds of a monitor steadily beeping out Max’s heart rate. Max hadn’t regained consciousness yet. The doctor assured them his brain was trying to heal itself. Sam sat close to Max’s bed and rested his forehead on their joined hands. She thought he might be asleep. He needed it badly, if the bruised look of his eyes was any indication of how much rest he’d been getting. Even though Jordan knew she needed to call her family and update them on Max, something told her leaving them right now wasn’t the right thing to do.
Her friend lay still on the bed, his skin as white as the bleached hospital sheets. Tubes and wires tethered him to medical equipment and reminded her of the root system of a plant. Jordan ran her hand across her face and walked over and knelt beside Max’s bed.
At a whisper, she spoke to him in hopes of reaching through his injury-induced coma. “Max, it’s Jordan. I know you’re tired. It’s really important that you wake up. Sam needs you, and so do I. I didn’t get to tell you about the dive in Acadia. You would have loved it.”
She spent the next twenty minutes kneeling beside him. She spoke in low tones, relaying details of her adventures since they’d last talked. When the pain in her knees was more than she could bear, she rose and rubbed the sore spots. Jordan picked up Max’s hand and held it to her body. Her brow furrowed in confusion. She wasn’t sure that her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her out of pure appeal to a higher being. She looked up at Max to see his eyes fluttering.
“Sam, look.” Jordan reached out, shaking the sleeping man.
Sam stirred, then looked to Jordan and up to his partner. Sam rose and went to the head of Max’s bed. “Max, honey?”
Max’s eyes slowly opened, unfocused at first, finally zeroing in on Sam. A smile slowly formed. Sam clasped his hand tighter and bent over to kiss him. Jordan left them to alert the nurse at the desk and followed her back in, as the older woman began to attend to Max.
“I’m going to wait outside and call Mom while they check him over. Come get me if you need me.” For the first time since her boots hit the ground in Ithaca, Jordan let out the emotional breath she’d been holding.
Once the doors to the critical care unit closed, Jordan reached for her cellphone, hitting her speed dial for Dava. After a few rings, she heard their familiar greeting.
“You guys get back okay?” Jordan hated jumping ship before she made sure everyone got home safe.
“Quit worrying. Your future in-law took charge and captained us all the way home. How’s Max?”
Jordan took a deep breath and slowly let it out before answering. “He opened his eyes a few minutes ago.” Jordan watched Max’s doctor pass through the closed doors. “Sam is with him, and his doctor recently went in. It’s pretty touch and go. At least they know what’s wrong. Between his age and his condition, there are too many variables to his recovery to know anything definite yet. He seemed to recognize Sam, so I take that as a good sign.”
“How’s Sam holding up?”
Remembering the way Sam looked when Jordan first arrived made her heart hurt. “He’s tired. I don’t think he’s slept since they brought Max in. He looks like he’s been through the ringer. Seeing Max open his eyes made him perk up. I know he’s worried sick.”
“How long are you going to stay? Need us to bring your vehicle up? Sarah and Mom can drive it up and come back on a flight. You know we’ll do whatever you need, JJ.”
Jordan smiled, realizing Dava always knew when to throw out the childhood nickname like a warm hug. “No, there’s no need for that. When things settle down, I’ll fly back down and get it. I’m waiting to see what Sam needs. He shouldn’t be alone trying to handle this and the restaurant.”
“What about the search for Noeul?”
“Low on my priority list until we figure out the extent of Max’s injuries. Someone has to watch Bandit, or he’ll destroy the house and there won’t be anything for Sam and Max to come home to.” Jordan moved out of the way, as the doors opened and Max was wheeled out on the hospital bed, Sam holding his hand. “I’ll call you in a bit, they’re moving Max."
“Kiss them both for me and don’t forget to take care of yourself, Jordan. You can’t help them if you get down. At least grab a jar of Nutella and some Teddy Grahams. I know eating is another thing that won’t be high on your priority list, and I doubt Sam will be cooking much.”
Jordan laughed softly. I love you, too. Hug Mom and my future sister-in-law. Tell her thanks for me.”
“For what?”
“For being brave enough to believe in love and not let you weasel your way out. I told her you’d say yes. She just had to get past that stubborn streak.”
“Hey pot, this is kettle. Love you, now try to get some rest when you can. Call me if there’s anything you need or if there is any change. Hug them both for us.”
They disconnected, and she and Sam took a seat outside of radiology. According to Sam, they wanted to run another CAT scan.
***
Over the next few days, Max was moved to a step-down unit, allowing Sam to be with him around the clock. Jordan had asked the nurses for a sleeping chair so that Sam could get some rest while he sat with Max. The latest scans showed the swelling had receded considerably. The doctors warned he wasn’t out of the woods yet. They did say the test results were promising. He’d managed a few words for Sam and had welcomed Jordan home.
Forcing Sam to go home for the night to get some sleep in a real bed had been a battle. He hadn’t left the hospital for more than a few hours in the last two days. Jordan offered to spend the night, reassuring Sam that Max wouldn’t be alone. She’d pulled out her laptop to check on emails and transfer the latest decoded clues out of her journal into her database. The lines of the Excel file started to blur, and she sat back and closed her eyes. She felt Max touch her arm.
She turned to him and covered his hand. “Hey, you. You’re supposed to be sleeping.” She laughed when he rolled his eyes. She closed her laptop and turned to face him more. “You feeling a little better?”
Max used his hand to indicate so, so.
“I sent Sam home to get some rest, he’ll be back in the morning at six. I had to threaten him with bodily harm to accomplish that.” Jordan smiled, hoping to lighten Max’s spirits.
She watched as he smiled and shook his head that he agreed.
“You gave us quite a scare. Good thing you took Bandit on your walk. Did you lose your balance?”
His shoulders shrugged.
“You don’t remember?”
He shook his head no.
“Well, that’s okay. It will come.”
He shook his head no again.
Jordan didn’t say anything else and held the hand of the man she considered family. She closed her eyes as guilt over her absence washed over her.
Max squeezed her hand and narrowed his eyes. He shook his head again.
Jordan smiled
at him. “Are you reading my thoughts?”
Max nodded his head yes. He raised a shaky finger and pointed to himself. He shook his head yes, then pointed to her and shook his head no.
Jordan closed her eyes. He was reading her mind. She was sure he was telling her it was his fault, not hers. “You trying to tell me to stop feeling guilty?”
Max nodded his head again and closed his eyes. Jordan watched as he slipped into sleep. Her friend was absolving her. It was her own mind that couldn’t stop being angry she hadn’t been there. He squeezed her hand once more, as his breathing evened out into the cadence of sleep. Maybe someday Jordan would forgive herself. Today was not that day.
Over the next several days, she stopped in at her office to check on her assistants and the research projects she’d left behind. Most seemed to be doing well, in general. Unfortunately, others were not. Certain plots of her grafted superfood weren’t thriving.
Jordan sat in her office and massaged her temples trying to relieve the growing headache. “Deena, was there anything that seemed to preempt the failure? Change in light or humidity?” The tall, redheaded grad student was her most trusted lab assistant. If there was anything that could be pinpointed, she would have some theory about it.
“I’ve run every calculation three times. There were no variances. The same soil, the same irrigation or lack of, and the same growing conditions.” Deena turned her laptop around and displayed the data for her.
“Okay, keep recording everything. None of it’s your fault, it’s part of research and why I need to find Professor Scott.”
Deena made a few more notes in the computer. “You still believe she’s the key?”