The driver looked at Brenna. "That's her son," she answered. "Tell her he's safe with Karen."
"Will do," answered the paramedic from the back. "What's our ETA, Chaz?"
"Less than one."
"I've got Trauma on the other line. PG's scrambled the heart surgery team."
"Got it." The driver switched the radio. "PG this is Rescue 1-8. ETA update, pulling through the drive now."
To Brenna's relief, the last turn they screeched around was just beyond a sign declaring "Pasadena City General".
"You'll need to pull around to the dock. You've apparently got hot cargo there, Chaz. Reporters have already hit the place."
"Got it." He circled around past the drive leading to the large overhang labeled "Emergency" and took a service drive to the west wall where a loading dock was hidden by a line of bushes.
Brenna's mouth was too dry to speak as he put the vehicle into park and leaped out. She unbelted and reached for the door.
"Stop!" The driver's sharp voice froze Brenna in her tracks. "Let the doctors get her going inside. You take yourself around to the ER and check in." Leaving Brenna to stare after him, he turned to help his partner unload the gurney from the back of the ambulance.
Chapter 11
When James came out of the game room, he found his brother stalking around the living room and punching numbers into the phone. Every few seconds he would stop and stare at the television. "Yes? Pasadena General?...I need word on a patient, Cassidy Hyland." Thomas slammed a hand into the wall, rattling the pictures. "What the hell do you mean you don't have her? I just saw the damn news report!"
"What news report?" James asked.
"Shut up!" Thomas barked at him, then returned his attention to the phone.
James turned back to the TV. "Special Report?" He sat down. "What's going on?"
A reporter on site had a microphone and was recapping the breaking story. "At approximately one p.m. today, domestic violence claimed a very public victim."
Tape rolled. A melee scene filled the screen and the camera zoomed in.
"Shit, that's Mom!" James recognized their mother, and grabbed the air fruitlessly for his brother, still stalking, still on the phone, and apparently still on hold, cursing steadily. "Who's that she's leaning over?"
The reporter was continuing, "On the busy Pinnacle Studio lot, an ex-husband took his former wife on a journey of terror."
As James watched the tape, his mother moved aside, revealing the victim.
"Popular star, Cassidy Hyland, Time Trails' sexy rebel officer, Chris Hanssen, was severely beaten in a trailer on the Pinnacle lot, allegedly by ex-husband Mitch Hyland."
James inhaled. "Man, she's really messed up."
"As her costars hovered helplessly, Ms. Hyland was transported to Pasadena City General Hospital, apparently unconscious, possibly comatose, as a result of her injuries."
The tape followed the woman being carried on a backboard then loaded onto a gurney. Next to her, James also saw his mother, spattered with blood. Over his shoulder, James heard Thomas gasp.
James watched his mother tried to climb aboard the ambulance, using forceful language he had never heard from her. He called over his shoulder, "Mom'll be there at the hospital, too."
"Mom? Shit, what the fuck happened over there?"
"Ms. Hyland's ex, apparently." As Thomas headed toward the door, James called, "Where are you going?"
"To the hospital."
"In what? Mom's got the car."
Thomas kicked the wall. "Shit!"
"You couldn't do anything if you did go." James grabbed his arm. "Mom will call."
"They said Cassidy is comatose!"
"They said she might be."
Thomas sank to the sofa, dropping his head to his hands. James grabbed his shoulder, feeling it shake as his brother gave in to his emotions. Watching the TV, James wondered how their mother was doing. He had just known there would be trouble eventually, but he hadn't figured it would be this bad.
The gurney legs snapped down noisily, and Brenna followed as they wheeled through a supply corridor. A nurse approached and grasped Brenna's arm as she tried to follow the gurney into the exam room.
"Do you know the patient?" When Brenna nodded, the nurse said, "Follow me."
"But-"
"We need some information from you."
Brenna sighed. "This won't delay her treatment, will it?"
"The trauma team will stabilize her. After that, we'll see."
Brenna was ushered through a doorway and emerged at the end of a large waiting room. She was settled on a chair in a small room just off that, looking at a woman perched before a computer and holding out a clipboard. Brenna automatically took it, and the nurse left before she could ask another question.
"Patient's name, date of birth, home address, insurance, and any known allergies. Please."
The request was issued in a monotone, as if she said these words dozens of times an hour. Which no doubt she did. Brenna blinked, putting aside the ice pack and studying the clipboard. "I'll do my best."
"Insurance card?"
"No. Everything's back at the set," Brenna explained, indicating her attire. She was still in her own costume from filming.
The secretary's eyes widened then narrowed with realization. "God, you're the two they've been looking for." She nodded out into the waiting room that could be seen through the small window in the door, hundreds of people seemed to be moving around within the crowded space. "They have been pounding my door every twenty seconds to find out when you were coming in."
Brenna briefly recalled throwing one reporter to the ground back at the trailer. How long could her energy hold out against a room full? From the growing commotion just outside the door, it sounded as if she was about to find out. Groaning, she looked pleadingly at the secretary. "Couldn't we just ignore them?"
"If you can do it, I can do it," the woman said with a conspiratorial grin, turning back to the computer.
They worked through the necessary information, as much as Brenna could provide, while the reporters hovered just outside, snapping pictures through the security-threaded glass.
Brenna hoped all they got was glare from the glass. "Please tell me there's another way out of here. A tunnel under your desk would be fine."
"Nothing so devious, but there is a back door to the exam room bathroom. We can get you out that way." She nodded toward a slender door on the opposite wall, mostly invisible because of an angled bookcase.
"I'd really appreciate it. I need to get back to see her as soon as possible."
"What happened?"
"I won't know everything until she wakes up, but we found her ex-husband attacking her in an empty trailer on the studio lot. We tried to break it up."
"You got caught in the middle, I see." Brenna nodded, starting to return the ice pack to her cheek when she realized it was no longer cold and set it on the desk. "Well. So...how did you get nominated to come along? Usually a studio grip brings the workman comp paperwork."
"There was no way I was not coming," Brenna stated emphatically. "Please, can we go back? I need to see her." For all her politeness, she was nearing the end of her rope.
The secretary nodded. "Give me the studio number so we can get her file from them. We'll also need a next of kin..."
"She will make it," Brenna insisted firmly.
"But only next of kin can make her medical treatment decisions...unless we find a healthcare proxy in her documents or a living will?"
Brenna frowned. She didn't know whether Cassidy had either °f those documents, but she knew that in any event, her name was not on them. She swallowed and nodded. "I...I'll see what I can do."
Finally, the secretary led Brenna into the antiseptic white and green hallway behind the office. Behind her there was a burst of clatter against the secretary's door. She sighed. God, I want to get out of here! She closed her eyes and amended, but only if Cassidy's coming with me.
"Here's t
he nurses station. Let's find out what room your friend is in." The secretary leaned over the desk and spoke to the nurse, sitting there going through the clipboards. "I've got to get back to the office. What do you want me to tell the reporters?" she asked Brenna.
"To go away. Barring that, give them the number for the studio's PR office." Brenna sighed. She grabbed a prescription pad, tore off a sheet, and wrote two numbers on the back. "The first is for HR. They've probably got Cassidy's medical file. She was in last year, I think, for a sprained ankle during a publicity event." The secretary nodded. "The second is the studio's PR." The secretary nodded more enthusiastically. "Thank you for everything."
"She's in exam room 8." The station nurse pointed then handed her a pad. "If you'll just sign in, you can meet with the doctor."
Brenna breathed a sigh of relief and signed the form. At last. "Thank you."
Taking back the sheet, the nurse asked, "What's your relationship to the patient?"
After a thoughtful pause, Brenna answered, "I'm her lover." Ignoring the gaping reaction, she turned on her heel and strode down the hall.
Pushing the door open to room 8, Brenna stepped inside, her eyes quickly locating the bed. The room was crowded with equipment, but she only had eyes for the woman looking small and hooked up to most of it.
To one side an oxygen machine rasped, the accordion pump hissing as it compressed and expanded, feeding Cassidy oxygen through a tube wrapped around her cheeks and under her nose. The heart monitor beeped slowly but steadily.
Stepping closer, Brenna laid her hand gently across the sheet-covered chest, feeling the reassuring rise and fall. A tube fed out from under the sheet, flowing with a murky liquid. She was not sure whether it was good stuff going in, or bad stuff coming out.
She lifted Cassidy's bandaged right hand and kissed the fingertips just peeking out beyond the edge. "Can you open your eyes for me? Please?" There was no response to her touch, not even a flutter of eyelids. She bent close. "Please get well."
"She's not going to be well for some time."
Exhaling, Brenna turned. "Doctor?" She was face to face with a man of Asian descent, in a green smock wearing a stethoscope around his neck. He was about her height, giving her a clear view of the fact that he was not smiling.
"What do you know?" She had not meant for the question to sound like a challenge. She amended, more softly, "So far."
He examined a few readouts and made some notations, all the while leaving Brenna hanging for the answer to her question. "Your friend here—"
"Her name's Cassidy. Cassidy Hyland."
"Well, Ms. Hyland suffered several separated ribs. When the X-rays come back, we'll know how many are broken. There's at least one. It punctured and collapsed her left lung." Brenna looked at Cassidy in alarm. "We've already reinflated the lung," the doctor assured her.
He checked the tape sliding out of the heart monitor and frowned. Brenna noticed the expression. "What's wrong?"
"There's some pressure buildup around her heart. She may have pericardial bleeding. Or it could just be fluid build up. The lab has several samples, so we'll know shortly what we're dealing with."
"What can you do?" Brenna forced herself to remain more composed than she felt, but she had to work hard to focus on the doctor instead of the limp hand she cradled in her own.
"We'll have to relieve the pressure. That will involve surgery. I'm scheduling an O.R. with our cardiac surgeon as soon as she's stabilized." He flipped through a printout he had brought with him. "You signed her in?"
"Yes."
"Is there any family we can contact for the admissions paperwork and the permission to do surgery?"
"No one is local. Her family's in Missouri." Brenna added, "She has a five year old son. Her ex-husband did this to her, so I guess that leaves me."
"Do you have a medical power of attorney to act as her health guardian?" She shook her head. "Are you a relative?" She shook her head again. "Then who are you?"
"I'm...we're involved, though it's only recently, you see, but-"
"I'm sorry, you're going to have to leave."
"What?"
"I need to discuss Ms. Hyland's medical condition with someone who can authorize the treatments. Her injuries are extensive and severe. We need to determine—"
"You need to heal her!" Brenna interrupted emphatically.
"Within the guidelines of her wishes and those of her family, yes." He left the rest unsaid, but Brenna heard it in her head, and wanted to scream: You're not family.
"How long before surgery will be absolutely necessary?"
"Her blood pressure is still too low. Probably by morning, unless she goes into respiratory failure before then. We're moving her up to CCU as soon as I can get someone to authorize her admittance."
"Who can do that?"
"Her insurance company. Or her employer."
Brenna felt the tendrils of hope. "Where's a phone I can use? Local call."
"You can use one at the nurses station but then you'll have to return to the waiting room. You can't stay back here." She started to protest and he reiterated firmly, "You can't stay here."
Turning to look at Cassidy's face, she kissed tenderly alongside a bandage covering most of her injured jaw. "I'll be back; I promise." Maybe the studio could authorize her to act in their stead. There has to be something that can be done so that I can stay with you, she thought. Because I am not leaving you alone.
Back at the nurses station, Brenna made her call as the duty nurse hovered. "Human Resources. ... Yes. This is Brenna Lanigan. Tell them I'm— ... Yes, that's right. Pasadena General. ... They need to admit Cassidy." She grabbed a pen and a piece of paper. "Right." She wrote quickly. "No, they don't know everything that's wrong yet, but she's in trouble. ... I guess you should. Ask Victor Branch to handle it. I'll...do this." She frowned then hung up.
The doctor reappeared. "Well?"
"I've got your authorization here." She waved the paper at him. "Personnel already faxed her file. There's no living will."
He nodded. "We're not there. Yet." He went on, "Family?"
"The studio said they'd contact her parents." Brenna could not stop the dejection from entering her voice. "Another colleague is on his way over with her son, though."
"But you said he's five. He can't authorize anything."
Brenna was firm. "He needs to see his mother. He was there when she was put in the ambulance and whisked away from him."
The doctor frowned and strode away, and Brenna handed the authorization note to the nurse. "Please notify me when they move her. He probably won't think to do so."
The nurse nodded slowly. "Can I ask you a question?" Brenna nodded. "Are you and she really dating?" When Brenna nodded again, the nurse shook her head, wearing an expression of confusion. "You sure don't act like the others that come through."
"What others? Actors?"
"Nah, the gays. They wave those health proxies around like red flags."
Brenna inhaled and exhaled slowly. She needed a friend back here. "We haven't been seeing each other very long."
The nurse shrugged. "Haven't had your second date yet, huh?"
There was a hint of amusement in her voice, and Brenna fumed.
"Thanks for nothing." She stalked away, leaving the exam area and emerging into a cacophony of light and sound. The press still crowded the waiting room. She couldn't even see the other patients waiting for emergency services.
"What's Ms. Hyland's condition?"
"Serious," she supplied with a growl.
"Is she being admitted or released soon?"
"I just said serious!" she snapped. "What the hell does that suggest to you? Now get out of my way." She pushed through the throng, heading for an empty chair, but they followed.
"What was your role in the events that occurred?"
"I helped break up the fight."
"Who was her attacker? Her husband?"
"Her ex-husband. Can't you ask the police these
questions?" She pushed past the empty chair and more of the reporters in exasperation.
"They say it was a domestic dispute. Jealousy?"
Brenna was still upset she had not known Mitch was in town. She had not fully understood the level of danger he posed to Cassidy. The question hit on that. "I found him standing over her with a baseball bat! She was barely conscious!"
Pushing her way through them again, she stumbled against a door, and noticed the universal sign for the ladies room. Thank you, God! She pushed inside and shoved the door closed, locking it before sliding down to the floor and huddling while reporters posed their questions loudly through the door.
Tears streaming down her cheeks as the tension finally overwhelmed her, Brenna prayed. She prayed for the reporters to go away. She prayed Cassidy would recover. She must have dozed because suddenly there was a sharp rap on the door and a thick male, authoritative voice demanded, "You have to leave the restroom, ma'am."
"Are the reporters gone?" she asked weakly.
"We've ordered them off the premises."
"Thank you," she breathed, rising to her feet. Unlocking the door, she stepped out and looked into the quiet waiting room. No one carried a writing pad, or a camera. She exhaled in relief.
"Are you Brenna Lanigan?" one officer asked her.
"Yes."
"Man here says he's a friend of yours and a patient inside. He has a little blond kid with him."
Brenna pushed through the throng of officers and spotted Terry Brown — God bless his familiar and friendly face — seated beside Ryan Hyland. Both looked up as she rushed forward. She got a strong one-armed hug from Terry as she lifted Ryan and hugged him, pressing her face into his jean jacket. She kissed his hair and caressed his cheek and set him back down in the seat.
"I thought you might need these as well." Terry held up two handbags.
"Her insurance card should go to the nurse in there. Also, we need to know if anyone in town is authorized to sign treatment forms."
"Just Pinnacle, I think."
Brenna frowned. "That's what I thought, too. The office is looking up her parents' number but that may not get her help."
"Why not?"
She looked down at Ryan looking up at her, brushed her hands through his hair and lowered her voice when she responded to Terry. "Over Christmas, she had to leave their house of her own volition or be thrown out."
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