Welcome To Corbin's Bend

by Thianna D

  "Good job. Okay, you keep that up and I'll check what's holding up transport. We'll get you taken care of, Elly. I know you're uncomfortable, but we'll give you something for the pain as soon as we can. I promise. All right?"

  Elly nodded again.

  "Good girl." Removing his gloves, Marcus gave her knee a squeeze, then rose to step out of the room.

  "Stay with us, sweetheart," Jerry coaxed. When she attempted to give him a smile, he smiled back. "That's my brave girl. You're going to be fine."

  Seconds later, paramedics arrived with a stretcher. "We'll take it from here, sir."

  "No," Marcus said, interceding. "He's trying to keep her from bleeding out. Work with him, gentleman."

  "Right," one of the technicians replied, sliding a blood pressure cuff up Elly's arm and inflating it. "85 over 55," he reported, reaching over to take her pulse. "Thirty-eight."

  Not good at all.

  "We'll start her on an IV as soon as we get in the ambulance."

  Devon nodded. "Excellent." He gazed at Jerry. "Want me to take over? I can accompany her to the hospital."

  "No," Elly protested, struggling to reach for Jerry's other hand. Her movement caused the towel to slip and more blood spurted out.

  Jerry pressed in a little harder and she gasped. "Don't try to move," he ordered, giving her trembling fingers a squeeze. "I need you to remain still, sweetie. We'll hold hands once we get in the helicopter. Okay?"

  With a shaky nod, she did as he asked, but her face had grown even paler now.

  Devon gave him a significant look. The doctor understood exactly what was going on, and Jerry did nothing to hide it.

  "You're both doing well. I'll stay in touch, but call me once the dust settles in Denver." And that was all he said.

  Working as a team, Jerry, Devon and the paramedics managed to get Elly onto a stretcher and into the ambulance that would rush them in relative comfort to the helicopter, cutting the hour drive to Denver Memorial down to fifteen minutes.

  Once she was covered in warm blankets, Jerry did his best to stay out of the technicians' way while they sliced open Elly's sweater to attach electrodes to her chest. Next, they placed a pulse oximeter on her finger and wrapped an automatic blood pressure cuff around her arm before adding a nasal cannula to give her oxygen. Elly was awake and compliant until they attempted to insert an IV. At that point, she objected. Realizing she needed fluids to bring up her dangerously low blood pressure, Jerry intervened.

  "Elly, enough," he said quietly. "Let these men do their job. That IV is an absolute necessity, so be a good girl and do as they say."

  She lay quiet after that, so he gave the paramedics a nod and they continued their tasks unhindered by their patient, who remained sullenly cooperative. Apparently, little Elly didn't like needles and her expression let him know that without a doubt.

  Once they'd moved over into the helicopter, however, Elly reached for Jerry's hand again.

  Inching a bit more to the right, he managed to give her fingers a squeeze and started to pull back, but stopped when she gripped him fiercely.

  "You said we could hold hands," she whispered. Realizing then how scared she really was, he gave a nod. They continued to hold hands until members of the hospital emergency staff gently moved him aside and wheeled her into an examining room to stabilize her for surgery.

  An orderly took Jerry by the arm and led him to a square cubicle with a table and chairs.

  "I'd like to stay with her," Jerry insisted.

  "She's in excellent hands right now, but we'll let you get back to her in a few minutes, sir," advised a nurse wheeling in a portable computer. "We need to gather some information first. Are you related to the patient?"

  Chapter 7

  Brent Carmichael glanced up from the new application he'd received when Jerry Douglas stormed into his office with the wrath of a Colorado thunderstorm darkening his face.

  "We need to do something!" Jerry demanded, slamming his fist down on Brent's desk. Good thing it was made of sturdy oak.

  Maintaining a calm, cool, demeanor despite his own fury over what had happened, Brent inquired, "How's Mrs. Benson?"

  Jerry ran his fingers through his hair and dropped into one of the chairs in front of Brent's desk. "I left when they wheeled her into surgery. I need to get back to the hospital, before she wakes up, but the doctors told me they believe she's cracked at least one rib and injured her spleen, among other things." His fingers curled into tight balls of fury.

  Brent's eyebrows rose. "The doctors spoke to you about her condition?"

  Jerry shrugged. "Why not. I'm her brother, didn't you know?"

  Though a part of Brent wanted to laugh, the situation was far too serious for humor. "You could get in a lot of trouble for lying, Jerry."

  "Like I'm worried about that right now. I don't care what we have to do, or how we do it, but I want that fucker hung up by his balls, Brent." Brent straightened. Jerry didn't swear. Ever.

  Jerry continued. "Benson handcuffed and caned Elly until she bled or passed out last night, then he kicked her and her toy poodle, Muffin, this morning. I'm sure of it."

  "What does she say happened?"

  Jerry made a noise that was a half-snort, half-exasperated sigh. "The first time I tried asking her, she passed out. I didn't get another chance to question her until we were in the helicopter. Since a discussion about abuse is not what you want to be yelling at the top of your lungs, I haven't heard her side of the story, yet. But we x-rayed her dog and those pictures showed Muffin suffered three cracked ribs. An animal, especially a small dog like a toy poodle, doesn't get those sorts of injuries unless it's been kicked. And from the pictures we took, I suspect Arthur Benson kicked Elly's poodle like a football."

  Brent regarded his young friend carefully. He wasn't surprised Jerry became a vet. The lad had been collecting injured animals and "healing" them since he was old enough to make a splint out of Popsicle sticks. He was one of the gentlest men Brent knew. What surprised him was Jerry's phone call asking if they had any openings in Corbin's Bend. Seems the intrepid vet did some research into domestic discipline and found the practice answered a protective, nurturing need within him, though the women he'd dated didn't quite agree with the concept. Furthermore, Jerry's parents considered spanking abuse. Finding out after ten years that his young friend held a deep-seated desire to spank women who lied to him, were openly nasty or unkind to other people, or did things harmful to their own health or well-being, managed to rob Brent of words for a moment during their phone call. And shutting him up wasn't easy to do.

  "Accidents happen, Jerry, and dogs can't make depositions. So, unless Mrs. Benson is willing to file a legal claim against her husband, our hands are tied. This community is based on tolerance and acceptance. That means if the couple are both consenting adults, we don't interfere."

  Jerry leaned forward and swallowed hard. "She collapsed and had a miscarriage in one of my exam rooms, Brent, right before my eyes. A miscarriage. I practically had my fingers inside Elly Benson's vagina as I tried to staunch the flood of viscous red fluid streaming out of her body with every beat of her heart." Jerry swallowed again and his eyes grew moist. "Can you imagine what that was like? That red flood represented a life, Brent. A potential human being. And her bastard of a husband murdered their baby as well as critically injuring her. I'm sorry, but I refuse to accept she'd consented to that."

  "I understand how you feel, Jerry, but—"

  "Do you? Honestly? What if that had been Char lying in a pool of her own blood? What if Nathan Korven had injured your girl in that way? Would you still be sitting there telling me your hands were tied because you couldn't interfere?"

  Brent closed his eyes as his gut cramped at the thought. "No. But Nathan isn't a member of Corbin's Bend, Jerry. Until Mrs. Benson admits what happened, or we get hard evidence she's been abused, I have to grant Arthur Benson the same consideration I would give anyone else in this community, even if I personally disagre
e with their practices."

  "Fuck that!" Jerry shouted, rising to his feet. "I need to get back to Elly. I don't want her asshole of a husband anywhere near her if I can keep him away."

  Brent stood up. Though every inch of his being ached to protect Elly Benson, unless or until she admitted her husband hurt her, he couldn't go against the tenets of the community he helped build. However, if it turned out Jerry's assumptions were correct; Arthur Benson would be escorted out of Corbin's Bend with Brent's shoe print emblazoned on the seat of his pants.

  Realizing Jerry's anger stymied his ability to reason objectively, and fearing his young impulsive friend might do something rash, Brent strove to keep Jerry from rushing out of his office in a rage. "Jerry, I'm sure Mrs. Benson is emotionally fragile right now. If you go to her filled with anger, you're only going to upset her more. Calm down and think. She needs your support and understanding, not your fury. When you get back, why don't you schedule an appointment with one of our therapists and ask them how an injured spouse can separate herself from an abusive relationship. If you do, take care not to reveal any specific information about Mrs. Benson's situation."

  Jerry gave a short nod. "You're right, of course. Just like you were when we were kids. Thanks. I'll get it back under control before I'm with her again. Promise." Turning on his heel, Jerry Douglas strode out, leaving Brent with a migraine.

  Lost in thought, Jerry occupied a physician's rolling chair next to Elly's bed in the ICU and watched her sleep. Her unit was separated from the others in intensive care by small partitions, which gave the patients a sense of privacy without hindering the nurse's movements from one patient to the next.

  Elly looked so vulnerable and frail with tubes running in and out of her. So fragile. He wanted nothing more than to protect her, but a part of him was furious with her too for not coming to him as he'd asked. He could have prevented this from happening, but she was too proud. Too insistent she and Arthur were fine, and everything that happened between them was the result of a simple misunderstanding. A part of him swore if she even tried to say those words to him again, he'd turn her over his knee and spank the truth out of her.

  He shook his head and sat back. Brent was right. She needed his support and understanding now, not his fury, but he wouldn't be at all happy if he caught her in another lie.

  The moment her eyes started to flutter, he reached for her hand. The surgeons had been able to stop the bleeding, but only after they'd done a partial splenectomy and a D&C. Most of her blood loss had been due to the miscarriage she'd suffered, but the blunt trauma to her spleen had caused internal hemorrhaging as well. She'd lost so much fluid, they'd ordered two units in an effort to stabilize her before they operated, and she had another one going in her now. Though the wound at her temple had bled heavily, the doctors listed it as a mild concussion. She had quite a lump, however, so they intended to keep a careful watch out for complications. In addition, she'd sustained hairline fractures in three ribs, which they predicted should heal without complication. What she needed now was undisturbed rest so she could recover. And he intended to ensure she received it.

  Seeing her eyes finally open, he smiled at her. "Hi, beautiful."

  She frowned and opened her mouth, but all that came out was a croaked, "Whaa?"

  "Water?" he asked, pleased when she nodded. "Good. Don't try to speak, yet. They intubated you during the surgery, and I suspect your throat is raw right now."

  Told she could have water if she requested it, he fetched the glass and bent the straw, then rolled in close to her. They had her bed already propped up in a near sitting position, so he didn't need to move her. "Sip slowly, sweetie. You can drink as much as you want, and I'll fetch it any time you ask, but only a little at a time until we're sure your system can handle it. All right?"

  She gave a nod and released the straw, so he put the glass down nearby. All she had to do was point and he would give her more. He wrapped his fingers around her bandaged wrist, pleased she didn't pull away. Her pulse was a bit fast, which considering how sluggish it had been earlier, he took as a good sign. He ran his hand along the length of her arm.

  She glanced down at the hospital gown she wore. "Clothes?"

  "Gone. Your skirt was ruined, and they cut off your turtleneck rather than attempt to pull the sweater over your head. You don't remember?"

  She shook her head as her hand moved over the covers right below the ribs on her left side, undoubtedly aware now of the bandage and drain they'd inserted. He gently clasped her fingers.

  "You had surgery. Your spleen developed a tear, which meant they had to remove the damaged portion. Are you in any pain at the moment?"

  Her eyes grew thoughtful as she considered his question, then she shook her head again. "Not now." Her voice sounded so low and hoarse he barely recognized it.

  "They can give you something if you're uncomfortable." Her eyes drooped. "Go on back to sleep, honey. I'll stay with you until they kick me out." She frowned and opened her mouth to object, but he placed a quieting finger against her lips.

  "Don't worry, Elly. Just sleep for now."

  And without further discussion, she obeyed him.

  Twenty minutes later, Jerry's cell phone vibrated. He checked the display, then stepped out into the hall away from the nurse's desk so he could talk to Brent privately. He suspected he already knew what his friend was going to say.

  "How's she doing?" Brent asked, his voice kind, but guarded.

  "They've got her in the ICU right now, and she'll most likely be here tomorrow, too. She woke briefly and even drank a little water. She recognized me without problem, though her throat's raw, so she's having trouble talking. Despite her injuries, I think she'll come through okay. Right now we're in a wait and see period."

  "She's lucky to have you nearby." Brent paused for a moment before he added, "I called Arthur."

  "And thank you for ruining my evening."

  "I had to, Jerry. Legally, he's her husband. He would have found her missing when he came home anyway, and I'd be the first person he'd seek out."

  "Got it."

  "He called the hospital."

  "And?"

  "And they wouldn't put him through. Any idea why?"

  "No clue. Did they give a reason?"

  "He said he got the impression someone was spreading malicious rumors about him."

  "Really? That's choice."

  "Jerry…. What did you tell them?"

  "Only the truth, Brent. Only the truth."

  "I understand how you feel, kid, but you can't deny her husband his right to visit her."

  "I'm not. The hospital is. Besides, they don't want a slew of visitors bombarding her while she's in the ICU. They don't even want me here, but I'm stubborn enough they've reluctantly made room for me. However, I doubt I'll be allowed to spend the night."

  "Any chance she'll be out of intensive care tomorrow?"

  "Doubtful. Depends on how she does tonight, I guess."

  "What about other family? I checked, but she hasn't listed anyone outside of Arthur who we should contact in case of an emergency."

  "She hasn't mentioned any; however, she's not talking much, yet. I'll ask when I think she's up to a conversation."

  "All right. I'll do what I can on my end to smooth things over with her husband and talk to you tomorrow."

  "Thanks." Jerry disconnected the call.

  The nurses politely asked him to leave during their next shift change. So, Jerry made the hour drive home. After speaking briefly with the young, dedicated vet student who'd remained behind to watch over the clinic's borders in his absence, Jerry thanked and dismissed the young man telling him to get some rest.

  Alone, Jerry stepped in the back to check on Muffin and his two other patients, an elderly Bichon Frise that had ruptured her anterior cruciate ligament hopping down from her owner's couch, and a feral, malnourished cat, which a concerned Bethany Angel had brought into the clinic earlier that morning. Though the tom appeared
underfed and scrawny, he had all his claws and knew how to use them. All three animals were on IVs, but seemed to be doing well for the moment.

  He went through his evening check, which included setting up baby monitors that would alert him to any problems. He sometimes slept in back with the animals, if one was in critical condition, but such measures didn't appear necessary tonight. So, he turned the lights to low and left the inside door from his house into the clinic open in case he needed to get back in a hurry.

  His vet duties done for the time being, he greeted Jack, who did his version of the Labrador happy dance when Jerry opened the bedroom door. "Yeah, I know, you only had Sally and Jenny to fawn over you all day. Sorry, bud, but you're not getting any sympathy from me tonight."

  After Jerry let Jack out and fed him, he took a shower and tried to eat something. The food tasted bland and unappetizing. He considered himself a capable cook, but his nerves remained too jangled, so he suspected nothing would taste good.

  He doubted he could sleep; however, the hospital staff requested he not return until after 7 AM, which would make it easier for the night staff to change Elly's dressings without having to climb over him. Their adult ICU units were meant to hold patients and nurses. Not visitors. It was 10 PM now, so he threw away the food he couldn't eat, cleaned up his dishes and went back to the clinic one last time to check on the animals. They were all sleeping peacefully.

  With nothing left to do for the moment, he returned to his house, watched a little TV, let Jack out for his final romp, and climbed into bed only to toss and turn through the night.

  Jerry stood at Elly's bedside at 7 AM the next morning. Seeing she was still asleep, he walked over to the nurses' station and asked if she'd had a good night. A nurse, wearing a nametag with Karen etched in bold letters, started giving him the platitudes hospital staff tended to offer worried family members until he informed her that besides being Elly's brother, he was a doctor, not bothering to add his degree happened to be in veterinary medicine.