by Turner, Lori
“Good” Lucien said. “…and I appreciate your help.”
The officer nodded—mainly because he couldn’t think of anything worthwhile to say.
When Lucien approached the medical chopper, he chose to talk to the wiser of the two men. The tech who’d seemed to grasp the seriousness of this situation.
“Where are you taking her?” Lucien asked
“To the Samaritan dock. From there—the Samaritan ferry will meet us, and then they’ll transport her to the hospital located on their barge.”
“But—that could take more than half an hour. I thought you said that she needs blood.”
“Yep—you heard me right.”
The tech pushed a button and the stretcher began a slow glide into the rear of the transport. Lucien touched his shoulder, causing the man’s brow to raise.
“Change of plans.” Lucien said…
“Excuse me?”
“I said change of plans…”
“You might be wearing white—and since it’s the dead of winter, that can only mean that you’re on your way to the White Ball.” he glared when he added… “I get it—you’re rich—but you don’t get to decide what happens here.”
Lucien calmly said…
“I didn’t insult you—and you needn’t insult me.”
The tech smirked saying…
“Look man…unlike you—I work for a living—real work—not pushing buttons or shuffling papers. Just because you’re rich, I don’t have to take bullshit from you. So get on the curb with the rest of the gawkers.”
Lucien felt a presence behind him and he didn’t have to turn to confirm his suspicions. He could see by the technicians expression, that more than likely Caesar and the police officer were standing at his rear. He quirked a smile, then he said…
“Look—my family owns a wing at Lincoln Medical Facility. You’re going to get on the phone, call Lincoln Medical and tell them to prepare a bed for a guest of Lucien Delors. You tell them to do whatever it takes to save this woman’s life. Is that clear?”
Lucien eyed the other tech, because he’d joined them halfway through his monologue—and they each looked like they need to clear their ears. Lincoln Medical Facility was the place to go if you wanted to receive the best of care. They only used the latest and most advanced equipment. Their diagnostic facility blew every other hospital out of the water and every patient was cared for by a private staff, whose job it was to cater to their patients every whim, desire and need. The amenities were many and no stone was left uncovered when it came to being the best. Lucien supposed that this, explained the deafening silence. After a few agonizing heartbeats, the officer finally said…
“Which one of you is making this call—you or you?”
He pointed at both men, then Caesar said…
“Come on guys—stop stalling”
The technician touched his ear piece, while bobbing his head…
“Dispatch—put me through to Lincoln Medical Facility. Yeah—you heard me right—Lincoln Medical Facility. And before they get on the line—tell them to roll out the red carpet—courtesy of Lucien Delors” he nodded at something he’d heard from dispatch, then replied saying…
“Tell them, we’re in bound, and reroute the data transmission from the Samaritan Hospital, since she won’t be going there. Instead—send the information to Lincoln Medical Facility. And tell them—we’ll keep them updated throughout the flight.”
Lucien turned to Caesar, then he said,,,
“Change of plans.”
“I sorta figured that out.” Caesar said… “You gonna call your family—or should I break the news?”
“Neither…” Lucien said. They stood back as the medical transport hovered overhead, then glided over three city blocks. While they walked over to the chopper, Lucien said…
“It’s the holiday, and I don’t see the wisdom in worrying my family. I’m sure they’ll tell me to let the solicitor handle this…but I don’t agree. I think this situation requires hands on involvement from a Delors’. And since I’m here—and I’m sort of a witness—I see no need to bother anyone else with this problem.”
“I get your point boss…but do you think that your family will feel any better if you decide to blowoff the rest of the day? I’m just saying…being a no show is a guaranteed way to seed worry and concern”
“Yes—you’re right.”
Lucien knew that his pilot was right. Before he left the Ball, he’d promised Chantel that he would return.
“Damn”
He cursed. He didn’t want to worry his family—but he also knew that he would not abandon that woman. He had a responsibility and he accepted, if he called home, no amount of reasoning would suffice.
They were flying overhead when clarity hit him and this answer was his only recourse. He lifted his phone, then pressed her number. After several rings, the phone was answered.
“Eliza Pendleton…” In the background, a chorus of sounds filled the receiver, making hearing her difficult.
Lucien spoke loud enough to be heard over the noise.
“Eliza…this is Lucien…did I catch you at a bad time?”
Eliza and Lucien had been friends for years, and before taking the job at the Governors office, she’d been on retainer for a subsidiary controlled by one of the Delors holding companies. He could barely hear her when she responded.
“You know me Lucien. Since the crack of dawn, I’ve been making the rounds with the governor, and a few of his cabinet members.”
There was a strange tone in her voice. A sadness that he heard, the longer she talked.
“Actually, the governor is leaving now, and I’m heading for the door—then, after a quick stop at my hotel, I’ll change into my white gown, then, I plan to spend the remainder of my day at your family’s White Ball.”
This was exactly what he’d expected. He could hear the lessening of sounds and he assumed, that maybe she’d found a quiet room to talk and continue their conversation.
“If you’re calling me…I take it that you’re not at your family’s house. What’s wrong?”
“There’s a problem Eliza—and I need your help. But…, first…I have to ask; are you all right? You sound like there’s something wrong on your end.”
There was silence and he didn’t venture to make sense of it. Lucien could hear muffled party noises but as for Eliza; he couldn’t even hear the rise and fall of her breaths. A few seconds passed, when he broke the silence.
“Eliza…talk to me. What’s wrong?”
“Lucien…didn’t you just say that you needed my help.”
“Yes…but…”
“No buts. You know me. I know how to separate my life from my job.”
“But, Eliza…you don’t work for me anymore. This favor is from one friend to the other—and what I’m hearing in your voice leads me to believe that you need a friend right now.”
Eliza sighed heavily when she offloaded her troubles.
“I just found out that a friend of mines took his own life.”
“Oh no, Eliza. I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“Yes… so was I. But…well, what’s done is done and I can’t change what happened.”
Lucien strained to hear because he thought he heard a sniffle. Eliza said…
“So…what’s that favor.”
“Eliza…after what you’ve just shared…I couldn’t possibly impose upon you.”
“Please Lucien….I want to help. I need to keep busy.”
Eliza was a workaholic and when she’d worked for him, one of her responsibilities had been crisis management. As far as he knew; she worked for the governor in the same capacity. But…he couldn’t pretend that she had not been affected by the death of her friend. Then Lucien wondered if this person had been a mutual friend.
Trying to be tactful, he asked…
“Was this person a close friend?”
Eliza paused before answering and truthfully, she was heartbroken.
“Yes…we were close but when I last saw him…we parted ways—and feelings were hurt. I never had the chance to say that I was sorry—and now…well, I guess he’ll never know that I’d forgiven him.”
“I’m so sorry Eliza…look…no worries. I’ll handle this.”
“Lucien…you know me. Work is my brand of medicine. Hell…I’ve got a long day ahead of me…and the governor is expecting me to escort him to your family’s White Ball.”
“Did you tell him about your friend’s death.”
“No…and when you see him this evening…you won’t mention it either. Do you understand?”
He nodded while saying…
“Of course. I’d never do anything that might compromise you or your job.”
“Thanks Lucien.”
“For what…?”
“For being you. For being a good friend.”
Eliza’s voice switched to a commanding voice. She sounded like she was rounding up her troops and preparing to head out into battle.
“So…what’s the favor? Today has been one party after the next—the governor is behaving, and his aids are being perfect angel’s. I’m a problem solver and these people aren’t giving me anything to work with.”
“All right…but are you sure.”
“Yes…I’m sure.” She said without a seconds hesitation.
Lucien confided in his friend, explaining about the accident—and the woman being admitted to his family’s private hospital wing. Passing his responsibility off on Eliza was a cowards move—but, he knew this news would be best received coming from anyone, other than himself. He thought about this as he walked through the hospital’s entrance. He rode the elevator to the fourteenth floor, and when he stepped off, he was greeted by Dr. Hazzar.
“Hello Mr. Delors—you were right to send that young lady here.”
“Where is she?”
“Being prepped for surgery.”
“Will she make it—I mean—will she live?”
“To soon to say. After I reviewed the records, it became clear to me that precious minutes had been lost. Had she arrived even five minutes earlier—those few extra minutes could have made the difference in her outcome.”
Dr. Hazzar sighed, then he said…
“But she’s here now—and we’ll do our best.”
“Thank You Dr. Hazzar.”
The doctor strolled down a hall completely devoid of patients and in that instant Lucien had to wonder—what was the good of having money when he couldn’t save this woman? He owned an entire hospital wing, for goodness-sake; but in the big scheme of things owning this possession didn’t really matter—and it wouldn’t change that young woman’s outcome. Time—that’s what Dr. Hazzar had said she’d needed—time and he’d stood by watching while the tech’s wasted precious seconds debating what amounted to her fate. He’d been a part of the problem; the Delors van had hit her—and the moment he arrived on the scene, he should have told Caesar to call Lincoln’s medical evac-team. If he’d called, she would have had the best doctors and nurses money could buy; not the medical techs employed by the city. Lucien would blame himself if she died.
“You’ve got to live.” He mouthed the words, causing a passing nurse to question him.
“I’m sorry Mr. Delors—were you talking to me?”
He shook his head, then he said…
“No…I was talking to myself—but I didn’t answer.”
She smiled, then said…
“Can I get you a cup of tea? I understand that we might receive a patient on your family’s wing—a guest, I’ve been told.”
Lucien nodded but he couldn’t get that one word out of his head—might. She’d said that they might receive a patient. He waved his hand, then said…
“No tea—but thank you for offering. If anyone is looking for me—I’ll be in the waiting room.”
Lucien turned, wanting more than anything to be alone. He didn’t deal well with crisis—and this was his first time waiting to learn if a person had lived or died. Oh God, he prayed. Please—don’t let her die.
“I don’t even know her name.” He said.
Lucien reached in his pant pocket. When he pulled out the band, a wash of shame overtook him. This was evidence and possibly a means of identifying the young woman. While he’d been talking to the street cop, he should have given the band to him—but he didn’t; largely because he couldn’t. This fabric was a tangible connection to her—the beautiful broken dove. The Samaritan woman who’d compelled him in ways no other woman ever had. Lucien closed his eyes, and his thoughts went to Marisela. His sister had been right. For years, he’d noticed her friends attention and the way she flirted and always complimented him, over other men. Marisela was lovely, poised, attractive, and any man would be lucky to have her. Lucien opened his hand, and he examined the black band, twisting it using his thumb. He was sure this band belonged to a man—and the idea pained his stomach. Samaritan’s never married outside of their Sect—and he knew this. But—Lucien couldn’t help himself. Some part of him wanted this woman to be single—and it didn’t matter that the idea went counter to every idea that governed his and her life.
He flipped his wrist, checking the time and he wondered if her surgery had begun.
“Be all right. Please—be all right.” He said…because for now—more than anything, it didn’t matter if she was single or married to the owner of the black band. For now, Lucien would give anything if it meant that his broken dove would survive.
**********
Chapter 6
6:58 PM
Samaritan Commune
Zachary and Aldeara Zelle’s home
“How many times does he have to repeat himself mom? He went back to the Conclave and Ona wasn’t there. She wasn’t there and she wasn’t anywhere in the area.”
Caleb was the Zelle’s adopted son, and he’d lived with them since he was twelve. Before joining their family, he’d lived a life of wealth and privilege. After his parents had been killed in an unexplained accident, through the generosity of the Zelle’s; Caleb had been taken in, then adopted into their family. That had been eighteen years ago, and still he found it difficult adjusting to Samaritan customs, rules and practices. For him, being a Samaritan, living alongside a modern world; the idea was maddening, as well as an extreme contradiction in terms.
Zachary Zelle held up his hand, appealing for silence. In a compromising voice he said…
“We’re only asking to be sure. In this situation, there are any number of reasons that would explain Ona’s tardiness—and we wouldn’t want to ignore either of them.”
Caleb was exhausted. The second Noah arrived at their parents home alone, he’d had misgivings and he wanted to know what had happened to Ona. When his protective instincts kicked in, every emotion surface unchecked. He hadn’t meant to raise his voice but he’d never been known for his even temperament. Besides, he was convinced that something else was at play, and his intuition told him that his sister was in trouble. So, he stirred the hornet’s nest, trying to shake some sense into this situation.
Noah scanned the room. His eyes rested on his adopted brother, pleading for serenity. He didn’t speak until he was sure that Caleb would still his tongue and when his brother stumped across the room, taking a seat at the dinner table, Noah cleared his voice, then he calmly addressed his mother.
“The last time I saw Ona, she was happy and heading into the Conclave chambers. We’d agreed to meet at the dock. Geff and I waited, until the last ferry arrived. We didn’t want to leave, not knowing where she was, so I called the Conclave to find out what was delaying her departure.”
Noah’s expression became strained. When Ona had not arrived, he’d pleaded with the boat-master to wait while he returned to the Conclave to gather his sister. It was decided that Geff would search the areas surrounding the dock, while Noah searched the route most Samaritan’s took in route to Conclave Square. Their combined searching held up the ferry, but not one passenger c
omplained. Since Samaritan’s live on communes, most outsiders believed that they all knew each other; but that wasn’t true. However, most of the people on the ferry knew Zachary and Aldeara Zelle. His parents and their projects were legendary because the Conclave had never turned down their philanthropic proposals. So—the ferry waited, but when Noah and Geff both returned without Ona, the boat master suggested, that however unlikely, they couldn’t rule out the fact that Ona may have traveled home on an earlier ferry. He suggested they return to the Samaritan barge, and continue the search there.
That had been two hours ago, and still—no Ona. Aldeara’s eyes held back her tears, because she was fighting her overwhelming need to cry. Her voice quivered when she said…
“Zachary…if Caleb is right, and something has happened to our daughter—what are we to do?”
Zachary crossed the room, wrapping his arms around his wife to console her. He didn’t know what to say because he’d never encountered a situation quite like this one. Samaritan’s lived uneventful lives, devoted to helping others. He cleared his throat, then he said…
“Well—first off, I think we need to call Geff’s family, and explain why we won’t be joining them for dinner tonight.”
Zachary looked at his son and Noah nodded.
“Sure—I can take care of that.”
Noah walked pass his parents, entering the small room adjacent to the kitchen. Before he’d moved out, the space had once been his bedroom. Now, the room doubled as a guest room and an office. Noah sat at the desk, then he dialed his friend Geff. While he busied himself doing this, Zachary knew that he had to give his other son a task that would keep him occupied. Over the years, he’d watched and witnessed the inner struggled that tormented Caleb. He’d grown up, being raised by wealthy parents, and to have all that taken away; then to live in a manner completely opposite to what he’d been taught was normal behavior—to say that this had been a struggle, would be greatly underscoring his son’s plight.
Caleb tapped his foot. He lifted his head when his father said…
“Caleb—check the hospital.”
His eyebrows furrowed when he said…