Crochet My Heart

by Carol Pedroso

  Tristan adopted an earnest expression and nodded vigorously. “Yes, sir, I’ve been practicing every day.” Then he leered at Charlie. “What reward do I get for all my hard work?”

  Ivy clapped and chortled, Ashley shook her head while smiling, and the others studiously avoided getting involved.

  “Behave,” Charlie admonished, stifling the smile trying to break through.

  “Yes, sir.” Tristan threw him a salute and pulled out his work from his messenger bag.

  Charlie looked around the class and felt a happiness he hadn’t felt in a long time. This was what he’d always wanted to do. Teaching had been a dream of his since he was a teenager and took to teaching the young members of an afternoon club he belonged to. He’d thought about going into teaching as a profession, but he didn’t want to be tied down to any specific school. Plus he enjoyed his job at the store and he didn’t want to leave. Teaching at a club was the next best thing and enough for him to be content.

  One week to go until the fair

  TRISTAN HUMMED along to the radio as he slowed down to join the traffic jam ahead. Sighing, he looked at his watch. He was really looking forward to seeing Charlie, but now it looked like he might be late. He thought about sending a text, but another glance at the time showed Charlie would still be at work. He’d leave it until he was sure Charlie would be at home and then call if he was still stuck.

  The trip should have been a quick drop-off of some papers and back in less than an hour. But no, first the client wanted to check the papers, and then he questioned every entry Tristan made changes to. Why couldn’t he claim his wife’s birthday present as a business expense? Why did he have to pay tax on this item, but not on this one? Why did he need to say who stayed with him in the hotel in LA? Of course it was a business trip. The spa trips and clothing store receipts were essential research because he was thinking of expanding his business into clothing and relaxation. Tristan had pointed out the client’s business sold hardware and expanding in the direction the client proposed would be the definition of a bad business decision. The fact that the client’s secretary was along for the trip was apparently irrelevant.

  Tristan rolled his eyes at the memory. The man really needed to get a clue. If he was going to jump his secretary at every opportunity and lavish the woman with gifts and trips, then he needed to be more subtle about it. If the man’s wife found out, he could stand to lose a lot of money in the divorce. Not to mention what damage the bad publicity would cause to his business when it came to light he couldn’t be faithful. Business associates would probably think if he could lie to his wife, whom he’d promised to love and cherish, then how could they believe a word he said to them?

  The sound of sirens made Tristan look up just in time to hear the screeching of metal and see the car behind him being shunted forward. Before he knew what was happening, he was thrown forward, only to be caught by his seat belt pulling painfully across his chest. The next impact activated the airbag. He put up his arms to protect his face and an intense pain shot through his arm before everything went black.

  “Sir, I need you to answer me. Can you speak? What’s your name?” The voice was persistent, and Tristan fought his way to consciousness.

  “Charlie?” Tristan wasn’t sure if he spoke out loud, but he needed to talk to Charlie. He didn’t want Charlie to think he’d been stood up.

  The voice returned, so they must have heard him. “Is your name Charlie? Can you hear me?”

  Tristan tried to shake his head but found he was pinned somehow. “Not Charlie. Call Charlie.” He saw his phone out of the corner of his eye and tried to reach for it. Pain in his arm had him crying out.

  “You want this?” They brought the phone nearer, and Tristan finally put a face to the voice. A young man leaned over him. He had blond hair flopping over his face and bright green glasses perched on his nose. Tristan found his vision blurring and darkening at the edges, but he lifted his hand enough to place his thumb on the fingerprint reader to unlock the phone and whispered, “Charlie,” before passing out again.

  CHARLIE LOOKED up from his paperwork when his phone rang.

  “Tristan, what’s wrong?” Tristan knew not to interrupt him at work unless it was important, and they were meant to be meeting for dinner in just over an hour.

  “Is this Charlie?”

  Charlie frowned at the unfamiliar voice. “Yes, who is this, and what are you doing with my boyfriend’s phone?”

  “I’m Harold. I’m calling because the owner of this phone has been in an accident. All he said before he lost consciousness was your name, and he used his fingerprint to unlock his phone. I took that to mean he wanted you called. An ambulance is on the way and he’s breathing but he’s not responding at all. I thought seeing as he was asking for you that you were someone important.” Harold sounded distraught and panicked.

  Charlie froze. He was cold to his bones. No, no, no, this couldn’t be happening. It had to be a mistake. It couldn’t be Tristan. Tristan couldn’t be hurt. Tristan was meeting him for dinner at his place. Charlie had put a curry in the slow cooker so it would be ready when he got home from work. They were going to make more toys for Tristan’s stall.

  Harold’s voice broke through his tumbling thoughts. “Sir, sir, the ambulance is pulling up. Is there anything I should tell them?”

  Forcing his voice to work was hard. “His name is Tristan Jenson. He’s twenty-nine years old. And, oh, he’s allergic to nuts. I mean deathly allergic. He can’t be near them without his EpiPen. Please tell them I will contact his mother and get his family to the hospital. I assume they’ll head for St. Georges. If they say anything different can you please call me back? You can take my number from this call.”

  Charlie could hear yelling, and Harold was speaking to someone.

  Then Harold’s voice returned to him. “They said thank you for the information and that yes, they would be heading for St. Georges. I must go as I don’t want to get in the way. I’ll program my number into this phone, and I’d be very grateful if you would let me know how Tristan does.”

  The phone went silent before Charlie could comment, and he stood there, not knowing what to do.

  It was a few moments before Harold’s last order filtered through all the churning thoughts in his brain.

  Get Tristan’s family to the hospital.

  After jamming his paperwork in the first folder he found, he snatched up his car keys and ran out the door, dialing the phone as he went. He called out to his supervisor as he exited the store and kept running, waiting for Mollie to pick up the phone. He was so glad he’d offered his number and got hers in return when she’d had the fall on his and Tristan’s second date. He’d offered because he knew Tristan sometimes went out of town for work and if Lisa wasn’t able to help, he was a last resort before calling the emergency services. The fact he knew Lisa’s husband Andy helped as well, and she’d soon agreed to the idea to put Tristan’s mind at rest.

  The call connected as he ran. “Mollie, something’s happened and I’m coming to pick you up. It’s Tristan….”

  THE HOSPITAL was packed with walking wounded when Charlie led the way into the emergency department.

  He heard someone talking about a multicar pileup and someone else talking about a car being on fire. Yet another couple was talking about a car being cut open to get the passenger out.

  Where was Tristan? How were they to find him in all these people? They needed to find out what had happened. What if he was still unconscious? What if he was….

  “We need to head toward that sign over there.” Mollie pointed to the far corner of the waiting area, where a lot of yelling was emanating from.

  Tristan headed in that direction, and as they neared, he could make out more snatches of conversation, this time aimed at the poor woman behind a set of computer screens.

  “What do you mean you have no record of my husband? I know he comes that way home every day at that time. He hasn’t arrived home. He has to b
e here.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but as I told you, we do not yet have a full record of all intakes. If you will take a seat, I will call you if his name appears on the records.”

  “I want to know what is happening with my wife. I was told she was here, but no one will tell me where she is and what is going on.”

  “Sir, as you’ve been told, all patients are still being assessed, and the most serious are being prepped for immediate treatment. Updates will be available as soon as doctors and nurses are free to give them. I am sure you wouldn’t want someone to go without treatment just so you can be updated, now would you?”

  Mollie had managed to push her way through and smiled down at the nearest frazzled woman, Janet, according to her name tag. “Hi, I’ve been informed my son has been brought in. His name is Tristan Jenson. My family and I will be sitting over there. Can you please inform me as soon as there is any news on his condition? He was unconscious and on his way here, last I heard.”

  Janet gave her a grateful smile. “Of course, ma’am. I will come get you as soon as there is news.”

  Charlie followed as Mollie led the way to a bank of free chairs, and they all settled in for an expected long wait.

  Time crawled, and Charlie got up many times to pace to loosen up his tight muscles. What was taking so long?

  He hadn’t even told Tristan he loved him yet. He did love him, but he thought it was too soon to say the words. Although they’d only been on a few dates, he’d been falling for Tristan since their first meeting. Tristan was sweet, funny, kind, and everything he could want in a life partner. He looked after his family and helped others in class when he could. Who could resist that sort of natural charm? Definitely not Charlie.

  “Charlie, sit down now.” Mollie’s order had him sitting before he consciously thought about the action.

  Lisa laughed as Mollie patted his hands. “Now you need to calm down. You will be no good to Tristan if you exhaust yourself pacing and fretting. He will be fine. You’ll see. He’s tougher than people think and—”

  “Mrs. Jenson?”

  All eyes turned to the doctor who approached, dressed in green scrubs. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week.

  “I am Mollie Jenson. Can you tell me how my son is?”

  “I’m Dr. Holburn, and your son has just woken up from surgery.”

  “Surgery?” Mollie’s hand flew to her mouth, and Charlie grabbed her as she seemed about to collapse.

  He guided her back down into her seat and glared at the doctor. “You couldn’t be a little gentler in how you give such news? You could have started by telling us he needed surgery in the first place. We have been here for over four hours, and no one has even had the courtesy to tell us he’s alive.”

  The doctor blanched in the face of Charlie’s growing anger.

  “Charlie, calm down, dear.” Mollie’s voice was laced with tears but strong. “Let him update us now, and maybe we can find out when we can get to see Tristan.”

  Dr. Holburn nodded and took Mollie’s hand. “I am sorry you were not updated sooner. The accident involved multiple cars and a few pedestrians, so things have been rather hectic. Your son was bought in unconscious, with an obviously broken arm and head contusion as well as numerous scrapes and bruises. He woke up briefly and seemed worried about getting to dinner with someone called Charlie. I assume that’s you?”

  Charlie nodded.

  “Well, a CT scan showed no damage to his head other than bruising, and it was decided he had a concussion. However, an X-ray of his arm showed he broke not one bone but shattered two. He had immediate surgery to rebuild his arm and plates put in to hold it all in place. He is currently being moved to recovery, and you will be able to see him when he is settled into a ward. But it will only be a brief visit. He needs to rest and recover, and even if he is awake, he will most likely not be very coherent. He is not actually expected to wake up properly before tomorrow. So please don’t expect too much. He is connected to all sorts of machines. Don’t be alarmed; they are only there so we can monitor his condition at all times.”

  An alert went off, and Dr. Holburn looked up when his name was called over the PA.

  “Dr. Holburn, you are required in ER one. Dr. Holburn to ER one.”

  “I must go. A nurse will come get you when you can see him.”

  They gathered all their things together and waited patiently. It was forty-five minutes before someone came and got them. Charlie had counted each minute on the wall clock opposite his seat, where Mollie insisted he stay until they were called.

  The perky nurse who came to get them gave them a wide smile and introduced herself as Bambi.

  They were led into a cubicle, and Charlie’s breath caught in his throat.

  He barely registered the nurse telling them they had ten minutes, and then they would have to leave and return during regular visiting hours. Like hell he was going anywhere until he saw Tristan awake and talking.

  Charlie took in the sight of the man he loved with all his heart. Tristan’s right arm was in a cast from above his elbow to the tips of his fingers. There was a bruise covering the right side of his face, and his eye was swollen; it didn’t look like he would see clearly for a while. Machines beeped a steady rhythm, and the oxygen mask over Tristan’s face hissed.

  Charlie stared at the machine monitoring Tristan’s heartbeat and concentrated on the steady beep it was letting out. Tristan was alive. Anything else could heal. He was alive, and Charlie needed to hold on to that.

  WHAT WAS that beeping? The sound was steady and didn’t give any indication of stopping.

  That wasn’t the sound his alarm made. Now he thought about it, this wasn’t his bed.

  He’d paid a small fortune to get the best, most comfortable mattress he could find. This mattress was thin and lumpy.

  He tried to pry open one eye and found it took enormous effort. He managed the tiniest slit and regretted it as a flash of white light felt like a spike being driven into his head. How much had he drunk last night? He didn’t usually drink enough to get a hangover of this magnitude.

  He tried to speak, but all that came out was a garbled moan. His throat felt like he hadn’t drunk in days.

  Movement nearby told him he wasn’t alone, and then a wonderful voice spoke. “Tristan, can you hear? Mollie, he moaned, I know he did. Tristan, please, open your eyes. I need you to look at me.”

  Why did Charlie sound so distraught? And why would his mom be wherever he was? And what was that infernal beeping?

  He pried his eyes open again and found himself looking into Charlie’s worried gaze.

  “What’s going on?” he tried to ask.

  A straw appeared in front of his lips, and he hungrily sucked up the water until Charlie took it away.

  When he went to speak again, a loud voice interrupted the quiet of the room. “Can everyone move back please. Please move away from the bed, sir. I need to examine him.”

  Tristan winced when the sound made his head throb, and Charlie disappeared from his view.

  The beeping increased. “Charlie!” Tristan’s yell came out as a strained croak, and his hand shook as he reached out blindly.

  Charlie reappeared and grasped Tristan’s failing hand.

  “Don’t go,” Tristan gasped.

  Charlie looked at someone over his shoulder, and there was a muttered conversation before he smiled down at Tristan. “I’m not going anywhere, love.” He sat in a chair by the bed and kept a tight hold of Tristan’s hand. The other felt heavy and wouldn’t move.

  A stern woman dressed in a white coat appeared on the other side of his bed.

  “Mr. Jenson, I am Dr. Kender, I’m your doctor for tonight until Dr. Holburn is back on duty tomorrow. Now, I have a few questions for you. Do you know where you are?”

  Tristan suppressed the need to roll his eyes. He had a feeling it would hurt, and the doctor wouldn’t appreciate it. It wasn’t difficult to put the pieces together.

  “
I’ll take a wild guess and say I’m in a hospital. And a further guess and say I’m in St. Georges, as that is the only hospital between where I was and my home, which is where I was going when someone crashed into me.”

  Tristan was gasping by the time he finished speaking. Charlie gave him some more water, and Tristan saw his eyes sparkling with amusement.

  “Well. If you are joking, then I suppose we can safely say you’re alert. Now can you confirm your name and date of birth?”

  Tristan answered that and the rest of the doctor’s questions. Dr. Kender explained his injuries and how long he could expect to be in a cast with his arm, plus what to expect with the concussion.

  The doctor finally left with orders for him to rest.

  “I won’t be able to finish my things for the fair.” Tristan knew he was whining, but he was proud of how good he was getting at making the little toys and decorations.

  Charlie patted his hand. “Don’t worry about that for now. Just worry about getting well enough to come home. You can stay with me until you get the cast off your arm, and you will have me at your beck and call.”

  Tristan grinned. “So if I needed you to drop and give me—”

  A gentle hand over his mouth shut him up. “Love, your mom is just by the door, grinning like a loon. You do not want to finish that thought.”

  Tristan just widened his one good eye in innocence and was thrilled when Charlie chuckled and shook his head.

  His mom appeared where the doctor had been, and Tristan was shocked to see that although she was smiling, there were tears running down her cheeks.

  Tristan wanted to pull her into a hug, but he couldn’t move both his arms. He turned a begging gaze to Charlie, mouthing the word help. Charlie smiled and moved around the bed. He got Tristan’s mom by the hand and pulled her to the chair he’d vacated. Tristan was then able to grasp his mom’s hand and pull her close enough for a kiss on the cheek.