Diane made the 23 miles from Cache Creek to Woodland in just over 25 minutes, pushing the rental van to its limits. She was actually glad that she wasn't driving the Nissan, since the rental unit had a lot more power. A few miles before they arrived at the outskirts of Woodland, Bruce's phone sprang to life. Suzi quickly called Jake and reached his voice mail.
“Jake, this is Suzi. You need to come to St. Helena Hospital in Woodland. It's on Sutter Street. Brandee got hurt at the show!”
Bruce whispered in Suzi's ear. “Tell him that she's going to be fine.”
Suzi nodded. “She's going to be fine, Jake. They just want to check her out. Her face is a little burned. She's going to be fine, though. We love you, Jake.”
Just then, they arrived at the emergency entrance to St. Helena Medical Center. They saw the ambulance that had carried Brandee and Janelle sitting empty in the ambulance bay, its back doors still open. Diane pursed her lips when she saw that the EMTs hadn't closed the ambulance doors. She knew that meant Brandee was transported inside in a hurry.
Suzi spotted the sign that said, “Emergency Reception”. She said, “Here it is, guys!” and went through the door first. She spotted the young lady sitting at the desk and went straight to her.
“The ambulance just brought Brandee Evans in. Where is she?”
The lady at the desk was used to abrupt questions from distraught family members. She took no offense at Suzi's tone.
“The doctors are examining your friend right now. You'll be able to go back in a little bit. Are any of you family?”
Bruce answered, “We're her friends. We're in a music group together. We're trying to get hold of her husband.”
“Maybe I can get some information from you if you don't mind. Your friend didn't have any identification on her when she arrived.”
Bruce shook his head. “Her stuff is all back at the casino. We'll answer what we can. Her husband will answer the rest when he gets here, I guess.”
The receptionist asked several questions, such as Brandee's full name, address, and date of birth. The members of the group put their heads together and were able to piece together the answers to almost all of the questions, but were stumped when the question of medical insurance was raised.
Diane furrowed her brow. “We're covered under a Blue Cross/Blue Shield plan. Jake had that put in place when we first started traveling as a group. Are they covered under the same thing, though?”
The receptionist tried to offer some assistance. “Did your friend get hurt in a vehicle? That would be your car insurance.”
Suzi said, “No. She was on stage when it happened. She's our singer.”
Diane turned to the receptionist. “We're sorry. When her husband gets here, he will know all about that stuff. We're going to try and call him again.”
She took her own phone from her purse and dialed Jake's number. Still no answer.
Having thanked them for answering her questions, the receptionist invited the three musicians to take a seat in the waiting area. “It won't be long, now.”
***
Jake's phone remained silent. When the members of the group were trying to call him from the road to the hospital, Jake was within 20 miles of the casino, and had entered the “No service available” area that included most of the mountainous region around Cache Creek. He was anxious to get to the casino's amphitheater, thinking he might have a chance to catch the encores, if nothing else.
He was tired. The tow truck had finally arrived five and a half hours after Jake had first requested it. By the time the Nissan had been hauled into Sacramento, examined, and repaired, it was a little after 9:00 p.m.
Jake knew that he was, for the most part, fortunate. The Nissan had only blown a heater hose. Since it was a common part, the mechanic at the service center had a hose in stock that he was willing to sell to Jake for $90. Jake suspected that he might have been jacked around a bit on the price of the part, but the mechanic was willing to stay open for an extra hour to get Jake on the road. The total bill was $188, with labor. Jake's vehicle was in running order, and he didn't have to spend the night in Sacramento as he had feared that he might. He was glad to get back to Interstate 80 and take the cloverleaf that would take him to Interstate 5, northbound.
Jake was somewhat surprised when he got to the amphitheater's parking lot to find only the security lights still glowing under the dark sky. Jake checked his watch.
It's not even 10:30. Even if the show ran fast, there should still be people cleaning up, he thought to himself.
But the parking lot was completely empty. Not even the rental van was in sight. It was possible that Diane had parked it nearer to the entrance of the hotel where the group was going to be staying, but that seemed unusual. Normally she placed the musician's vehicle as close to the stage as possible to lessen the steps that they had to walk while carrying their gear.
“This is nuts!” Jake said aloud.
He walked across the stage of the amphitheater to the backstage area where the group would have dressed for the show. When he found it deserted, he headed for the casino, a nagging worry in the back of his mind. He entered through the main door of the casino and looked for someone who might be able to guide him to the hotel entrance, thinking that the group might be waiting for him in their rooms, if they weren't in one of the late night eateries inside the casino. He found an information desk near the entrance door.
“Hi. I'm Jake Evans. I'm with the band.”
The man behind the desk was wearing a well-pressed gold Cache Creek casino blazer, bearing a name tag that told Jake his name was Rich. He looked up at Jake.
“And what band might that be, sir?”
Jake shook his head a little to try to clear it. “I'm with the group called Brandee that was the outdoor concert tonight. Can you tell me where they are?”
Rich's eyes widened. He remembered the general manager of the casino coming in a little over an hour ago, telling them to be on the lookout for Jacob Evans. The name Jake hadn't immediately registered with him, but now he knew that the husband of the fallen singer was in front of him right now.
“The G.M. is expecting you, sir. Let me call him.”
Rich pushed the red button on his desk phone and was connected immediately to the general manager's office. When the manager answered, Rich said.
“This is Rich Van Duzen, sir. Jacob Evans is here. East entrance info desk.”
Rich hung up and said to Jake. “He'll be here in just a moment, sir.”
Jake tried to ignore the nagging worry that was setting up shop in the back of his mind. The last time that Brandee had been off stage and packed up inside of two hours was when they had appeared with Nora Denice and Lizzie the second time. Performing alone, without the pressure of clearing backstage for another group, usually meant that the group was around for three hours or so before leaving, when you factored in the performance and clean up. Jake couldn’t imagine what had happened to cause the show to be so short.
Just then, the general manager of the casino came around the corner. He introduced himself and shook Jake's hand before getting quickly down to business.
“There was an incident during the show tonight. Your wife is in the hospital.”
Jake felt like he had been gut shot.
“What happened?” he managed.
“I don't know all of the details. I wasn't there. Apparently she got some kind of an electrical shock from one of her microphones. They took her to St. Helena in Woodland. I can have someone drive you there if you would like.”
“Is she going to be all right?” Jake asked.
“Our doctor seems to think that she's going to be fine. He wanted her to have some tests done just to make sure, though. She never lost consciousness, I'm told.”
Jake's mind was a Tilt-O-Whirl. Part of him blamed himself for not being at Brandee's show. He hadn't missed one since they had been together until tonight. Part of him was grateful that it hadn't been worse than it apparently w
as. Part of him was glad that the other members of the group were with Brandee right now.
A bigger part just wanted to get out of the casino and to the hospital as fast as he could. The fastest way to make that happen, he was sure, was to take up the manager on his generous offer to get Jake a ride into Woodland. This wasn't the first time that Jake had wished that he had installed a GPS unit in the vehicles, but it was the time that he most regretted not doing so. He couldn't imagine fumbling around with printed driving directions in the dark while trying to get to his hospitalized wife.
“Thank you, sir. I would like to have someone take me there. Now, if it's possible.”
The manager turned quickly to Rich, who was still behind the information counter.
“You take Mr. Evans to St. Helena," he said. “I'll have Janet come down and take your desk until you get back.”
Rich wasted no time in coming around the desk and taking Jake's elbow.
“I thought that would be the plan. I took the liberty of asking the valet service to bring my car the door," he said to Jake, who could only nod dumbly and allow himself to be led towards the door through which he had come.
***
Back at the hospital, Brandee’s burns had been treated with Silver Sulfadiazine to prevent the damage to her face from being infected. In the time that it had taken to get her from the casino to the hospital and situated in an examining room, the burns on Brandee's face had become more painful. The nurse had brought her a Popsicle while she waited.
“My face feels like it's on fire, and they give me a Popsicle. Can you fucking believe that shit?” she was saying to Janelle as the musicians walked in.
“I'm going to get you some ice," Janelle said, getting out of the chair beside the examining room bed. She called to a nurse who was walking by the curtained area where Brandee was laying.
“Nurse! HEY NURSE!”
The nurse did a U-Turn and came toward Janelle. “Can I help you?” she said kindly.
“My girl needs some ice in here. Her face hurts.”
The nurse looked past Janelle to where Brandee was turning toward her. The nurse stepped past Janelle and spoke directly to the patient.
“I'm so sorry, honey. Ice will only make an electrical burn hurt worse. It's not like a burn that's just heat.”
Having nothing to say in response, Brandee just lay back on the bed and looked more miserable, but Janelle wasn't finished with the nurse.
“Well, what can you do for her? She's fucking in pain and this is a hospital! Give her something!”
The nurse looked at Janelle, and with the patience of one who has dealt with distraught and demanding friends and family hundreds of times said, “She isn't going to be allowed any pain medication until after the neurological tests have been run. She is just going to have to tough it out until then. I'm so sorry.”
Just as the nurse finished explaining, the three musicians entered the examining area to briefly see their friend before she was rolled away to have the tests run. They quickly surrounded the head of her makeshift bed.
“How ya' doin', Sweetie?” Diane said.
“My face hurts like hell!” Brandee said
“I'll bet it does,” Suzi said. “You look good, though.”
“The guy in the ambulance said that he's seen a lot worse than this. He doesn't think I'll have any scars after the burns get better. He may have just been making me feel better, though. I told him that I remember thinking that my face was on fire. He said that's because it was. The peach fuzz that we all have on our skin was burning.”
Diane lightly touched Brandee's cheek near her jawline, taking special care not to be anywhere near the burned area, which started just below Brandee's left cheekbone and moved down and toward her left earlobe. The affected area was about four inches in length, stopping two or three inches before reaching her ear.
“You're going to be just fine," she said encouragingly. “As soon as the doctor says you can, you're going to be rocking all over again.”
A young orderly came into the examining area just then, pushing a wheelchair. He stepped to the side of the bed. “Time to go, young lady. It's time for your midterms.”
The nurse that had accompanied the intern was a sturdy African-American wearing a name badge that read “Belinda Mayfield”. She helped Brandee to sit up, and rearranged the hospital gown so that Brandee's modesty could be preserved. She supported Brandee under her arm and maintained the support until the singer was safely in the wheelchair. Then, the nurse spoke to the others.
“She'll be finished in a half hour to an hour, depending on how she does. You're welcome to wait in the waiting room in emergency or you can go to the more comfortable area in the main hospital on the second floor. There are a number of couches and reclining chairs up there. Either way, the triage desk out front will give you a beeper so that you can come back when Ms. Evans gets back here. It's your choice.”
She started to leave with Brandee, but paused as she looked at the visitors.
“Are you all right, sir?” she said to Bruce.
Bruce hadn't said a word since they had entered the examining area of the emergency room. He wasn't sure that he was all right. The green pallor on his skin was just a small outward indication of the turmoil he was feeling inside.
Bruce was deathly afraid of hospitals and the needles that lurked inside them. The adrenaline that he had felt from the time that Brandee had gotten hurt had carried him to the hospital and inside, but once things settled down, Bruce realized where he was. The smells of the room, the beeping and booping of the various machines, all of it combined to make him a little woozy. Suzi stepped over and took him by the arm.
“Come on, big fella. Let's step outside for a minute. Remember, though, you've got about six and a half months to be okay. I'm not having your baby without you.”
Bruce nodded and, without a word, allowed himself to be meekly led toward the emergency room exit.
The nurse released the brake on Brandee's wheelchair and started out the door. On her way out, she smiled at Diane.
“Men,” she said. “Nothing but big ole' babies.”
When Bruce had taken a few lungs full of sweet outside air, he felt better. He told Suzi that they could go in if she wanted, but that he would rather that they stayed outside for most of the time that Brandee was going to be tested if it was okay. She assured him that it was fine and passed her decision to Diane when the drummer joined them, carrying the round notifier that would light up and vibrate when Brandee was safely back in the examining area.
“What a night!” Bruce said.
“It sure was," Suzi said. “One minute we were playing “The Darkest Time of Night” and the next minute an ambulance is coming for Brandee.”
“Poor kid," Diane said. “But we need to talk about some stuff. What do we do about the shows coming up?”
“We probably should wait until we find out how her tests come out before we decide for sure,” Bruce said. “We aren't due again until two nights from now in Crescent City.”
Suzi and Diane nodded, sharing in Bruce's unspoken relief that the next day was a fortunate pre-scheduled day off. Jake and Brandee had wanted a night in their own home in Fortuna before embarking on the last leg of the trip. Thank God for that, anyway.
“Why don't we tentatively plan on canceling the county fair in Crescent City," Diane said, thinking out loud. “Even if she's okay, and I think she will be, she could probably use two nights off after this. Let me try and call Jake again and get him filled in. We'll see what he thinks.”
Suzi interrupted Diane's move to get her phone out of her purse by placing her hand on the drummer’s arm. She drew Bruce closer so that the three of them were in a tighter huddle, and lowered her voice.
“She hasn't asked for Jake. Not once.”
Diane shook her head. “I love that girl to death, but I'd like to paddle her butt too. She doesn't appreciate what she has in Jake. Maybe, just maybe, this will wake her up. I ho
pe so anyway.”
As Diane turned from the circle to try Jake's number again, Bruce, feeling more himself than he had since they were inside, looked around the breezeway of the emergency entrance.
“Where is Janelle, anyway? Is she still inside?”
Suzi snorted. “She probably is trying the doors of wherever Brandee is getting tested. Did you notice how she assumed that she should be the one to ride in the ambulance?”
“I did," Bruce answered. “I don't know, though. It didn't really bother me. I think she was genuinely concerned.”
“I was concerned! You were concerned! Diane was concerned! The people who were watching were concerned! Nobody else climbed in the ambulance and plopped their fat butt in the back, though.”
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