by Marla Monroe
Randall studied the problem for a few seconds then appeared to come to a conclusion. His brother was good at figuring out stuff.
“Okay, you go on up using the rope. Then get in the truck and slowly pull us up when I tell you I’m ready. I’m going to wrap the rope around us, and I’m going to carry her up. Listen for my directions in case I need you to stop for some reason.” Randall began gathering up the rope.
Marcus hurried up the side of the ravine, losing his footing once. Once he made it to the top, he climbed in the truck and waited for Randall’s word. The seconds slowly slid by. He was about to get out and go see what was taking so long when Randall called out to bring them up slow and easy. Marcus put the truck in reverse and slowly backed the truck up until he heard Randall call out to stop. He shoved it into park and raced over to the edge to help Randall get Darla up and over the edge.
For the first time, he held her cold body next to his. He felt for a pulse and though it was thready, it was there. He had hope. Maybe they got to her in time.
Randall fooled with the rope. Marcus called out from where he’d climbed in the truck with Darla.
“We need to get her to the hospital fast.”
“I’m getting the rope off the bumper so we don’t end up with it in the undercarriage. That would slow us down.”
Marcus knew he was right, but he didn’t have any patience. Not with her cold body lying in his arms.
Randall got in the truck with a blanket from the back seat and wrapped it around Darla. Then he climbed inside and turned the heat on full blast. He shoved it in gear and raced down the road toward the hospital. He had to slow down several times so that they didn’t slide off the road themselves.
“Damn, now that she is warming up, her wounds are starting to bleed again,” Marcus said.
“We should be to Main Street in five minutes,” Randall said.
“Well, when you get there, if the roads are okay, floor it.” Marcus applied pressure to the cut on her forehead that had started to bleed.
By the time they reached the hospital, Darla was shivering. Randall assured Marcus it was a good sign. They pulled into the ambulance entrance of the hospital emergency room and a nurse ran out the door along with someone with a gurney.
“What do you have?” the nurse asked.
Marcus didn’t want to relinquish his hold on Darla but knew the nurses would take care of her.
“She ran off the road into a ravine. Don’t know how long she was there, but she was covered in snow, so she’s probably suffering from exposure.” Randall filled them in.
Marcus followed them into the emergency room when Randall handed him the keys and told him to move the truck. It grated on his nerves, but he knew the truck needed to be moved. Naturally, it fell to him as the youngest. Randall would know more information to give them anyway.
After he found a parking slot large enough to house their truck, he jogged back to the emergency room and asked to go back with Darla.
“There’s already someone with her. I can’t let you in till he comes out,” the nurse told him.
Marcus paced in the waiting room until he felt ready to scream in frustration. He even broke down and prayed for her to be okay. The last few minutes of their conversation with her played over and over in his head until he managed to shove it out. Several long minutes later Randall appeared. He looked grim. The news wasn’t good by the look on his face. Marcus prepared himself for the worst.
Randall drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly without looking at Marcus.
“What is it?” he asked.
“She’s in shock and suffering from exposure. She also has a severe concussion. They’re waiting on the results of the CT. They were on their way when I got kicked out. She could have internal injuries. Right now, all they do know is that she probably has some broken ribs. They don’t think she broke any of her arms or legs, but like I said, they are worried about internal injuries.” His brother rubbed his face. Dark circles emphasized the lines at his eyes.
“What are her chances?” Marcus almost didn’t ask.
“The doctor said right now with what they know, about fifty-fifty. She looks bad, Marcus. She’s white as a sheet and all that blood everywhere…” He trailed off and looked up toward the ceiling, obviously trying to get hold of his emotions.
“What about the baby?” Marcus was almost afraid to ask.
“So far she hasn’t lost it. She still could, though.”
“When can I see her?”
“It may be awhile. They kicked me out once they had the information about her they wanted.” Randall remained in one place while Marcus paced.
“Calm down, Marcus. You’re not going to help her if you’re wound tight as a clock.”
Marcus stopped pacing and jammed his hands in his pockets. He ached to see her. To reassure himself that she was really alive—at least for now. According to his brother, she was in bad shape. If they hadn’t lied to her, she wouldn’t have gone off half-cocked and gotten hurt. It had been his idea, and he truly regretted it. If she died, it would be on his hands.
Chapter Fourteen
“Seems like we should be calling someone about her, her family or some kin,” Randall said.
“She didn’t put anyone down on the paperwork, and she never talked about family or friends. I tried to get her to talk a couple of times, but she always changed the subject. We should have brought those damn papers with us.” Marcus shoved his hands back into his pockets and kicked one of the chairs bolted to the floor.
“Breaking your foot isn’t going to help matters any,” Randall told him.
“I feel like I should be doing something,” Marcus said.
“All we can do for now is wait for the doctor to come tell us what her tests show.” Randall looked around as if lost before finally settling in a chair close to the door. He watched Marcus collapse in the chair across from him.
Randall leaned forward and propped his arms on his knees and did just that, waited. It seemed to him that time had stood still. People came and went over the next hour, and each time the inside door opened, Randall and Marcus both looked up hoping to see a doctor and each time they were disappointed.
Finally, almost two hours from when Randall had been kicked out of her room, the door swung open and an African American man of about forty stepped into the room. Weariness creased his eyes at the corners, matching the lines at his mouth. Both brothers stood up and waited for the doctor to speak.
“Are the two of you with Ms. Moore?” he asked.
“That’s right,” Randall said. “I’m Randall Sanders, and this is my brother, Marcus. She’s our fiancée.”
The doctor blinked twice then recovered.
“I’m Dr. Walker. I’m in charge of Ms. Moore’s case.”
“What can you tell us about Darla? Is she going to be all right?” Marcus asked.
“Let me start from the beginning.” He walked over to the chairs and took one.
Randall nodded at Marcus, and they both returned to their seats, waiting to hear what the doctor would tell them.
“She’s got a serious concussion, which means there is some swelling in her brain from being knocked around when her car hit whatever it hit. So far, there is no bleeding, so that increases her chances of coming out of this relatively intact.”
Randall interrupted him. “What do you mean intact?”
“Without any lasting damage from the concussion. You see, there is some danger that she will have permanent changes, such as loss of sensation in her right side or her memory may never come back. We just won’t know until she wakes up. And that is another danger. She could slip into a coma, and that poses all sorts of new problems. Right now, she’s responsive to pain,” Dr. Walker told them.
“What about internal injuries?” Randall finally asked.
“We don’t see any at this time. Unless something changes, we won’t be operating on her. If the swelling in her brain doesn’t go down fast enough, we
will drill a small hole in her skull and drain some of the fluid out, but we don’t want to do that if we don’t have to. It increases her chance of infection.”
He drew in a deep breath and let it out. “Which brings me to another problem. She was exposed to the cold for a good bit of time, I’m told. In some aspects, it was to her advantage in that she didn’t bleed to death from her cuts. The one on her forehead was deep enough to require ten stitches and the two on her shoulder needed another twenty more. Still, the exposure has caused some other problems.”
Marcus interrupted him again. “Like what kind of problems?”
“For one, she probably will have pneumonia. We are dosing her up on antibiotics for the lacerations and to help decrease the odds of the pneumonia being a bad case. I don’t have to tell you how dangerous pneumonia can be. You’re from here, and pneumonia is a common problem in this area.”
“No sir, you don’t,” Randall agreed.
“What about the baby?” Marcus asked.
“She’s only about three weeks pregnant. It’s too early to tell. She isn’t spotting vaginally at this time. The problem this poses is that some antibiotics and other drugs we may need to use could endanger the baby.”
“When can we see her?” Randall asked.
“I will let you see her for ten minutes. They are getting a room ready for her in ICU. There are posted times for visiting hours. You will need to follow them. I will write an order that you can see her despite not being related to her. She’s going to need someone she knows talking to her to pull her out of this I’m afraid.” He stood up.
“We need her next of kin if possible. Do you have that information?” He looked to Randall.
“No, we don’t. She has never talked about her family or friends since she left Mississippi.”
“If you come up with any, please let us know. We need to notify family if possible,” he said.
“We’ll look in her things to see if she has them written down somewhere,” Marcus assured him.
Randall held out his hand, “Thanks, Dr. Walker, for telling us what is going on. She means everything to us.”
The doctor nodded and motioned them through the door to the back. They followed him to a walled off room with swinging doors that said “Trauma Two” above them. Randall knew what to expect when they walked through them, but Marcus didn’t. He looked over at his brother and grimaced. He looked almost as stricken as Randall felt.
“She’s going to be okay, right?” he asked.
Randall could only nod his head. The knot in his throat prevented him from answering.
Marcus pushed through the doors first and Randall followed behind him.
“Ah, fuck, Randall. Look at her.” Marcus had stopped just shy of the bed.
Since he had been gone, they’d sewn up the cuts on her head, and a white bandage wound around her head, emphasizing the paleness of her face. They still had her covered from the shoulders down with several thick blankets. He knew they had been heated from when he had been back there with her before. The edge of a bandage stuck out where her left shoulder was covered with the blanket. The beginnings of black circles around her eyes could be seen, as well as bruises along her jaw.
“I know, Marcus. I know.” Randall swallowed hard and walked over to clap a hand on his brother’s shoulder in comfort.
“Do you think she knows we are here?” Marcus asked, not taking his eyes off of Darla.
“I don’t know, but I’m going believe she can. We need to talk to her, and tell her we love her. The doc said we should.”
Marcus nodded his head but didn’t say anything. Randall looked over and found tears in his brother’s eyes. He probably couldn’t speak right then. God knows he wasn’t sure he’d be able to say anything without crying.
Finally, Marcus cleared his throat and started talking to her.
“Darla, baby. Randall and I are here for you. Baby, we love you. Don’t leave us.” Marcus reached under the covers until he found her hand.
Randall walked over to the other side of the bed and did the same thing. He made sure he didn’t touch the tubes running into her inner elbow. He squeezed her hand lightly.
“Darla, can you hear us? We love you. Squeeze my hand if you hear me, baby.” Randall waited, hoping to feel even a flutter of movement, but there was none.
Marcus looked across her at Randall silently asking if he’d felt anything. Randall shook his head. His brother closed his eyes and then looked away.
“Sir?” a nurse walked in with a plastic folder in her hand. “We need to move her now. I’m going to have to ask you to step out while we get her ready.”
Marcus looked like he would argue, but seemed to change his mind and nodded. They walked out together but didn’t go back to the waiting room. Randall planned on following them when they moved her to ICU. That way they would know for sure where she was. He didn’t want to lose sight of her at all, but they weren’t going to let them in ICU until visiting hours.
“Randall, we can’t lose her. We just can’t.” Marcus seemed to have aged ten years in those few hours since they’d found her in the ravine
“I know, Marcus. I know,” was all he could think to say.
* * * *
Marcus jumped from the waiting room chair as soon as visiting hours were announced. Randall hadn’t returned yet from dealing with ranch business. They had been taking turns being with her for the last three days. So far, nothing had changed. They were going to make a decision today on whether or not to place the drain hole in her skull. He hoped they didn’t have to. She was already battling pneumonia. She didn’t need another kind of infection to deal with, too.
As soon as they let him and the other three visitors there for other patients through the doors, he claimed the sink and washed his hands exactly the way they had shown them how to prevent spreading germs. He dried his hands then hurried over to cubicle four where Darla lay in much the same way as the last time he saw her. He knew they turned her periodically, but usually during visiting hours they had her on her back.
He reached for her hand and squeezed it to let her know he was there. Then he started talking to her. He wasn’t sure what he said anymore. He just talked about the ranch and the everyday things that went on there.
“Randall cooked breakfast this morning. I sure miss your scrambled eggs. His are always brown when he cooks them. Course, I can’t do any better. My vegetable soup turned out okay, except it was way too watery.”
There was no response to either his words or his hand stroking hers. He rested his forehead on the cool railing of the bed. He felt defeated and hated it. Why didn’t she wake up?
He sighed and looked at her through the bars of the railing. Since she’d come in, the bruising on her face had begun to change colors. Now it was as sickly greenish black and blue color. It hurt him to look at her like that. He huffed out a breath and tried again.
“Darla, baby. We miss you so much. Randall will be here soon. Wake up baby and talk to us. You can scream at us if you want to, just wake up. Please.”
He squeezed her hand a little more forceful than usual. He was frustrated. Nothing he did or said was working. He almost let go of her hand to pull up the chair and sit for awhile when it fluttered. The barest of movement had him smiling like an idiot.
“That’s it, baby. Let me know you’re there. I know you are. Squeeze my hand, baby.”
Marcus waited and was rewarded with another movement in her hand. He laughed and brought her hand up to his mouth to kiss it. Then he gently replaced it on top of the covers and hurried out of the room to find a nurse. Someone needed to know.
He found one at the desk typing in the computer. She looked up when he slid to a stop in front of her.
“What’s wrong?” she immediately asked as she stood up.
“She moved her hand. Darla moved her hand.” He all but shouted.
“Shhh. Okay, let’s go check on her.”
The nurse walked into the room eyeing a
ll the monitor equipment before taking Darla’s hand in her own.
“Talk to her and tell her to squeeze my hand,” the nurse told him.
“Darla. It’s me again. I need you to squeeze the nurse’s hand for me, baby.” He leaned over and gently kissed her check. “Can you hear me?”
Marcus looked over at the nurse who shook her head. Disappointment curled around his heart and squeezed. He tried again.
“Come on, Darla. Don’t give up. Show the nurse that you can do it. Squeeze her hand, baby.”
He watched her hand in the nurse’s, and when she moved it a tiny bit, he breathed out a sigh of relief. The nurse beamed at him.
“Keep talking to her. I’m going to call the doctor and let him know.”
“Thanks,” Marcus said. He took her place holding Darla’s hand.
“Way to go, Darla. I know you can hear me. Have you been listening to Randall and me telling you how much we love you? We do. More than anything, Darla. Come back to us, baby.”
She didn’t squeeze his hand that time. Maybe she was tired, he thought. Or maybe she was still mad. He grinned at that. She’d wake up soon and light into them for sure. He couldn’t wait to tell Randall. He couldn’t use his cell phone in the ICU, so he would have to wait until the visiting hour was over. He wasn’t leaving her until they made him.
He continued talking to her until the nurse came and shook her head at him with a smile. He grinned and nodded that he understood. It was time to go. He bent over and kissed Darla lightly on the lips then again on her chin.
“Love you, baby. I’ll be back as soon as they let me. You just keep on getting better.” He squeezed her hand one last time, and she wiggled her fingers.
Marcus left her room a little lighter then when he’d gone in. He had his cell phone out and dialing Randall before he’d even returned to the waiting area. Randall answered on the third ring.
“What is it? Is she okay?”
“She moved her fingers, Randall. She actually moved them for me.”
“Hot damn! She’s going to be all right.”
Randall’s voice sounded watery to Marcus. He felt the same way. Tears were threatening to fall, only they were tears of joy this time.