by Jenni Wilder
Our big group sat in the first three rows of seats in the Blackhawks’ suite. Brian and Carter sat in the third row behind Kennedy, Rebecca, Emily, and me, and the three kids, who were quickly becoming friends, sat in the front row. I knew Tabitha didn’t like hockey very much, but I hoped Ben would be able to explain things and keep her interested in the game.
As usual on game day, there were a lot of people in this suite. Any family members the players invited were welcome, as were the major head honchos for the organization, although they also had rink-side seats that they normally used. Anyone who had made a substantial donation to the Hawks’ charities had an opportunity to join us in the suite, as well as any special invited guests.
On several occasions the Hawks had invited kids from the children’s hospital to watch the game. It was humbling to see those kids, most of them with bald heads and IVs hooked up to them. They all acted like being in the Blackhawks’ private suite was the greatest gift they’d ever been given, and all I wanted to do was hug each one of them and tell them they were going to be okay. I couldn’t actually do that, but it made me grateful for the life I had. Yes, I might have been scarred from the fire, but I had a good life, and my loved ones were all healthy. That was the important thing.
There were no hospital kids at today’s game, but I recognized several of the players’ family members who were watching the game with us. A few older men in suits stood in the back of the suite near the bar, more concerned with their conversations than the game in front of them.
“Does anyone want a refill?” Emily asked our group at the start of the third period. This was the first time she was able to join us to watch a game, and I think she was having a blast. Even if a person wasn’t a huge fan, the energy from the crowd was infectious.
Carter immediately stood up. “I’ll get it, Emily. What did you want to drink?”
Emily looked a little surprised at Carter’s enthusiasm, but she gave him her request. Rebecca asked for another beer, but I was leery of any alcoholic drink. I still felt good despite my night of drinking, and I had kept down breakfast and lunch, but I didn’t want to push it, so I just asked Carter for a soda.
When he returned and distributed our beverages I took a long drink of mine. The fuzzy bubbles and sugary lemon-lime liquid refreshed my senses, and before I knew it I had drank most of it.
I watched as one of Lincoln’s teammates fought an opponent for the puck in the corner of the rink. We were all yelling encouragement at our guy even though he couldn’t hear us. Finally the puck shot out from between the other player’s legs toward the goal on the opposite end of the rink. Lincoln swooped in and caught the black disc with the blade of his stick. He broke away from everyone else on the ice as he rapidly skated toward the opposing goalie. As he passed the blue line on the ice, he lined up for his shot. It looked like he was going to shoot to the left, but as the goalie moved to block him, he twisted his stick and sent the puck sailing into the net through the goalie’s legs.
The stadium exploded with cheers as a siren rang out and lights flashed. Goal! Goal! Goal! The words lit up across the giant scoreboard, and the fans went wild.
I jumped up to cheer for him, but as I rose out of my seat a wave of nausea hit me, and the whole arena suddenly tilted to the left. I stumbled against the seat in front of me but somehow managed to grab Rebecca’s arm. It was the only thing that saved me from falling forward and landing on Tabitha. My legs gave out, and everything seemed to happen all at once, but yet in slow motion at the same time.
Rebecca reached out to grab me as I collapsed to the floor. I heard Emily scream, and I think Carter hollered my name. I was able to open my eyes for a second. Long enough to see Tabitha staring down at me with absolute panic written on her face. I wanted to tell her to watch the game, but the room spun, and the fog in my vision got worse, and I blacked out before I could speak.
Chapter Eight
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Oh God. What was happening? My head. It hurt so bad.
“Jillian? Can you open your eyes?” a voice I didn’t recognized asked me.
My eyelids fluttered as a bright light above me pierced my vision, and I quickly flinched away from it, pinching my eyes shut. My head swam, and I blacked out again.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“Her pulse ox is back to normal,” a hushed female voice said.
“Do you want to remove the breathing tube?”
Breathing tube? I have a breathing tube?
Instinctually, I reached up to try to move the odd weight pulling at my mouth, but someone stopped me.
“Jillian. Open your eyes.”
I squinted my eyes open and found a woman with a stethoscope around her neck leaning over me. She had a friendly-but-concerned-look on her face. Panic rose up inside me. What had happened to me? Why was I in the hospital? I struggled against the tubes and tape attached to me as the beeping from the machine next to me increased.
“Shh… Shh… calm down. Don’t try to talk. We had to put a tube in to help you breathe. But you’re stable enough now that we can take it out.”
I didn’t understand. Why did I need a tube? Where was Lincoln or my sisters? Oh God, it hurt to think so hard. I closed my eyes again as my head throbbed.
“Jillian, open your eyes. I’m going to count, and when I get to three, I need you to take a deep breath in and then blow out and cough, okay? Jillian? One. Two. Three. Deep breath!”
I breathed in as deep as I could and prepared to cough, but when they pulled the tube out of my mouth, I had little choice. I coughed so hard I gagged myself. After several more deep breaths and another coughing spell, I succumbed back into my unconscious world.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“Jillian.” Lincoln’s voice broke through the darkness. I felt a soft pressure on my cheek. “Wake up, baby. Please wake up for me.” He sounded so worried. I needed to respond to him.
“Jilly Bean.” My mom was here. “Open your eyes. I’m tired of looking at your eyelids.”
I struggled to blink my eyes open as I tried to answer them, but only a small cough escaped my lips.
“Jillian?”
“Mom?” I croaked and coughed again.
“Princess.” Lincoln was looking at me with concern. Worry was etched in every detail of his face, and he looked exhausted. He reached to the table next to my bed and retrieved a large plastic mug with a flexible straw. “Here’s some water.”
He pushed a button on a little control panel on the rail of my hospital bed. The head of the bed elevated slowly and allowed me to sit up better. Holding the straw close to my lips, he offered it to me, and I took a long drink. The cool water soothed my scratchy throat, and I coughed again.
“What—what happened?”
“Let me call the nurse,” my mother said and pushed a red button on my bed rail. “Do you hurt anywhere?”
“My head.” I felt like my hangover had finally caught up to me. Any time I moved my head, my brain throbbed and my vision went a little blurry. “And my throat.”
“Here. Drink some more water,” Lincoln said.
I complied, and the cool liquid helped ease the scratchy pain in my throat.
“What happened?”
But before Lincoln could answer, a woman in a white doctor’s coat stepped into my room. She was much older than me. Older than my mom even. But she had a warm and friendly look to her. She was followed by a young man in nursing scrubs.
“Jillian. You’re awake. I’m Dr. Ashburn. How do you feel?” The woman leaned over me, her eyes roving over my face.
“Confused,” I answered honestly. “And my head hurts.”
Dr. Ashburn shined a penlight in my eyes and asked me to open my mouth and stick out my tongue. She listened to my chest before making me sit up and breathe deep as she moved the stethoscope to several places on my back.
My mom stood up. “I’m going to step into the hall and make some calls to tell everyone you’re awake. We’ve all been so w
orried.” She squeezed my foot through the blanket and left the room.
Lincoln stayed by my side while the doctor examined me. She made me squeeze her fingers and touch my nose while my eyes were closed. She checked my reflexes and ran a metal tool up the underside of my feet, causing my toes to curl. I don’t know what she was looking for, but I must have passed her tests because she smiled warmly and told me she would order some extra-strength Tylenol for my head.
“Can’t you give her anything stronger than that?” Lincoln demanded.
“Lincoln,” I scolded him for being so abrasive toward the doctor, but Dr. Ashburn simply smiled.
“We’ll start with Tylenol. If you’re still in pain after that, Jillian, we can try something else.”
The nurse scooted out of the room just as my mother returned with an unfamiliar man in a dark leather coat followed by Carter. Lincoln’s brother didn’t speak, and the uneasy look in my mom’s eyes as she took her seat next to my bed made me wary.
“Jillian? I’m Detective Murray. I’ve been investigating the slashing of your car tires and the broken window at Lincoln’s house.”
He was younger than I expected and incredibly stoic. He didn’t have a single trace of humor or lightheartedness about him. I blushed when I realized this man had seen the naked picture of me.
“I’d like to say it’s nice to meet you, Detective, but I’m not sure if it is.” I didn’t know what else to say. Why was he here? Why was I here?
“I suppose you’re wondering what’s going on.”
I looked to Lincoln and then to my mother. From the looks on their faces, they already knew what was wrong.
“What do you remember from yesterday?” the detective asked.
“Yesterday? Um… we were at the parade, and then we went to Patrick’s—”
“No, that was Saturday. Today is Monday.”
I furrowed my brow. “Today’s Monday?”
Lincoln squeezed my hand and rubbed my arm around the IV tubing. “You’ve been asleep for almost twenty-four hours.”
I pinched my eyes closed and pushed the heel of my palm against my forehead, trying to think hard without causing my head to hurt.
“Maybe we should do this another time,” Lincoln said quietly.
“No.”
“Jillian, you’re in pain—”
“No,” I protested. “I want to know what happened. Yesterday I was at Lincoln’s game with my sisters, Carter, Kennedy, and the kids. I remember watching the game”—I trailed off as my memories became fuzzy—“but that’s all.”
Carter shifted uneasily on his feet, and my doctor spoke up. “At some point during the game, you collapsed and went unconscious. Thankfully, your sisters and friends were insistent that you be taken to the emergency room immediately, because by the time you got here you were in respiratory arrest.”
“I stopped breathing?”
“We were able to stabilize you, and eventually you began breathing on your own again.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head. I didn’t understand.
“Here. Take these.”
When I opened my eyes, the male nurse was giving me a small smile and holding a tiny paper cup out for me. With a shaky hand, I took it from him and swallowed the two large pills while taking another drink of water.
“I don’t understand,” I admitted. “Why did I collapse?”
Detective Murray stepped forward. “Jillian, did you take any pills yesterday?”
“No,” I said. “Oh, wait. I took some aspirin in the morning.”
He shook his head. “Anything while at the game?”
“No,” I said again. “I didn’t take anything. I didn’t even have any alcohol. I had a soda. That was all.”
Lincoln huffed. “I told you she didn’t take anything.”
“Please tell me what’s going on,” I begged.
My doctor cleared her throat. “Jillian, when you were brought in we did a tox screen. It tests for any drugs in your system. The results showed an extremely high level of gamma hydroxybutyrate, also known as GHB. In high doses, it causes an extreme relaxed state to the point of slowing your heart rate and causing breathing problems.”
My brain pounded at this information. “GHB? Isn’t that ecstasy?”
“That’s one use,” Detective Murray said.
I looked at my mom with panic. “I swear. I didn’t take anything. I’m not on drugs.”
Even though I was a grown adult, I still feared my mother’s disapproval. I needed her to know I hadn’t taken anything. I knew Lincoln knew I wouldn’t do drugs, but I didn’t want my mother to think I had done something wrong.
She reached forward and ran her hand over my hair. “I know. I know, Jilly Bean.”
“Jillian.” Detective Murray called my attention. “Another use for GHB is as a date rape drug.”
I felt my face pale as blood drained from it. Rape. The word alone strikes fear into the hearts of most women.
“I was raped?” My voice was almost a whisper.
“No.” Lincoln said immediately. “No. You were never alone. No one would have had an opportunity. And I would be in jail for murder right now if someone had.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep calming breath. I squeezed Lincoln’s hand again. My poor Lincoln. He must have been beside himself with anxiety while I was unconscious.
Detective Murray pulled out a small notebook and pen. “We think someone slipped it into your drink at the game. Do you remember anyone that looked out of place? Maybe someone standing near you at the bar?”
I shook my head and pointed at Lincoln’s brother. “I didn’t even get my drink. Carter got it for me.”
Carter looked as if he were in pain, but the detective simply nodded. He already knew this information.
“No one that seemed out of place in the suite?”
I shook my head again. “Could I please have a minute alone with Lincoln?”
Detective Murray shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I still have some questions.”
Lincoln glared at the detective. “You’ve interviewed everyone who was there. You already have your answers. She didn’t see anything.”
“Lincoln, it’s okay—” I started to say.
“No, you need to rest.”
Dr. Ashburn spoke up. “Lincoln is right. She needs her rest. Any more questions can wait until tomorrow.”
Detective Murray didn’t look happy, but he put his notepad away. “Fine. I’ll be back at nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”
“Here? Can’t I go home?” I pleaded with the doctor.
“I’m sorry, Jillian. I’d like to keep you one more night for observation. But we’ll take the catheter and IV out in a little bit.”
I scrunched up my nose. “Ew.”
My doctor, the detective, and Carter left my room. Carter hadn’t said a word the whole time he was in my room, and I hoped the police hadn’t given him a hard time.
My nurse stepped forward. “Are you hungry?”
I shook my head.
“Princess, you need to eat something,” Lincoln said.
“What about some macaroni and cheese?” my mom asked. “You used to love that when you were sick.”
I agreed but only to appease everyone. I didn’t really want any mac and cheese. I just wanted to go home.
“Okay, I’ll put an order in to the cafeteria, and I’ll be back in ten minutes or so to get rid of some of these tubes. Make you feel a little more normal.”
“Can I take a shower then?”
“We’ll see how you feel after you eat something.” The nurse exited my room, leaving only my mom, Lincoln, and me.
I looked up at my mom, hoping she wasn’t offended that I wanted to be alone with Lincoln. She had tears in her eyes as she leaned over me.
“I’m so glad you’re okay, Jilly Bean. I don’t think I could have taken losing you. Not after everything. Well, I’m just so glad you’re okay.” She kissed my forehead. “I’ll leave you two alo
ne. I’ll come back after the nurse is done.”
“Thanks, mom.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Thompson.”
My mom looked at Lincoln and then back at me. “He’s a good one, you know? He never left your side.”
Tears welled up in my eyes as my mom left my room.
Lincoln stood and leaned over me. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths as he rested his forehead on mine. “Shh… baby. Don’t cry.”
“I’m okay. I’m okay,” I chanted as I tried to convince both him and myself. I didn’t want to fall to pieces. I had been weak my whole life and had avoided anything that could potentially cause me emotional pain. But not anymore. I had someone worth fighting for now, and I knew he would fight for me. I wasn’t going to be scared away from living a full life any longer.
I sniffled as my tears fell despite my attempt at a positive attitude. “Did you win?”
“What?”
“Did you win the game?”
Lincoln exhaled sharply and sat down on the side of my bed keeping close to me. He brushed my tears away from my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “You almost died, and you’re worried about if we won our game? Princess, I almost lost you. I couldn’t care less about hockey right now.”
I sniffled again. “Is there anything else I should know? I assume based on Detective Murray’s questions that they don’t have any idea who did this.”
“No. They interrogated Mackenzie and a few others last night, but didn’t get any answers.”
“Why would Mackenzie put a date rape drug in my drink? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Who knows? I’m not putting anything past her at this point. Especially after the way she reacted after being told she couldn’t be in the parade.”
“But it wasn’t even obvious which drink was mine. Carter bought drinks for all of us. This could have been meant for anyone.”
“Then how did you end up drinking it? Why did you have to be the one that almost died?” When he said that, his hand clamped into a fist on my pillow next to my head.
“Bad luck?” I asked with humor.