Just Breathe

by Susan Wiggs

  Ethan tossed the sack to Zane, flipped his board to the ground and skated off. Aurora thought Sarah was looking a bit pale and distracted. Indicating the sketchbook on the table, she asked, “What are you working on today?”

  “This and that.” She flipped the book open to a page of cartoon faces.

  Aurora sensed that she and Sarah had more in common than their love of drawing. Sarah was a misfit, too, yet she’d clearly embraced her inner freak. Aurora wondered if that somehow made life easier for her. The sketches offered a glimpse into someone’s private thoughts, something Aurora found very cool. The swift renderings resembled the comic strip, but these were artistic. Mr. Chopin, her art teacher, might call the sketches impressionistic. They were bigger, bolder, drawn in a hurry with an assured hand.

  “I was brainstorming some ideas,” Sarah said. “I usually draw and think until something comes to me.”

  Aurora slowly turned the pages. She recognized caricatures of people around town—the caretaker at the yacht club, the day care crossing guard, the barista at the latte stand, a guy down at the fishing dock. There were a lot of studies of Franny, sleeping curled in a ball or looking through a screen door.

  “These are awesome,” she said, stopping at a page of studies for the comic strip, Just Breathe. The character called Shirl had a smart mouth and a smarter mother. Lulu always seemed to be spouting advice, like “If your brain was as smart as your mouth, we’d rename you Einstein.” Lulu always had something optimistic to say. Looking at the drawings, Aurora felt a familiar flash of longing. “Is she based on your real-life mother?”

  “She’s based on my mother, plus my own fantasies.” Sarah’s smile was a little sad. “The thing about cartoon people is you get to plan everything they’re going to do and say. You plan their mistakes and you plan the things that work out well for them. I don’t think real mothers always have the right thing to say at the tip of their tongue, like Lulu does.”

  Aurora paused at a panel showing Lulu contemplating a Brazilian bikini wax, and a laugh escaped her.

  “It’ll never be published, not in a paper, anyway,” Sarah said.

  “Why not? It’s funny.”

  “Mainstream papers have rules—no sex, religion, torture or death, to name several. No fifty-ish women getting waxed. You don’t want to offend readers because they complain to the editor, who then has to unruffle their feathers. The prevailing wisdom is that there’s enough sex and torture in other sections of the paper.” Sarah sighed and flipped the book shut. “Next time you’re wondering why so many comic strips are so bland, there’s your answer.”

  Aurora studied her and frowned. “Are you, like, okay?” Sarah’s face had turned pasty white, and there was a sheen of sweat on her forehead that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

  “I don’t feel so hot,” Sarah said faintly. She slipped the box of Pantone markers and sketchbook into her tote bag. “Probably just a sugar rush from the ice cream,” she said. “It’ll wear off during the walk home. I live a short ways up the road at a place called May’s Cottage.”

  Aurora jumped up. “I know exactly where that is. I’ll walk with you. If that’s, like, all right.” She couldn’t stand the thought of sitting here all by herself, with a Coke she didn’t want and Zane Parker seeing what a loser she was. Fumbling, she dug in a pocket of her backpack for some money.

  “I’ve got this.” Sarah left some money on the table. “Thanks,” she called to Zane, who was inside.

  “See you around,” Zane replied.

  Aurora nearly choked. See you around. Oh my God, she thought. I’m in love.

  “Come on, Franny,” Sarah said, patting her hip. Franny forged ahead, tugging the leash to its limit. They left the main street behind, heading along the shady lane that traced the edge of the bay. Aurora had been past the cottage many times. It wasn’t far. Maybe Sarah would invite her in, show her more drawings.

  She stole a glance at Sarah and was alarmed to see that she was paler than ever. Her skin was so translucent that Aurora could see a delicate tracery of veins at her temple. She felt a clutch of apprehension in her gut. This was not good. And she didn’t know what to do. She barely knew this woman.

  What if she was having some kind of fit? What if she was an addict or something? Aurora looked wildly around, but they were completely alone on the empty, tree-lined stretch of road.

  “You really don’t look so good,” she blurted out. “No offense, but you don’t.”

  “Yeah, well, I think there might be a reason for that,” Sarah said, lurching sideways.

  “What’s that?”

  “I feel like death on a stale sesame seed bun.” She was trembling now, and sweat ran down her temples. “I need to sit down.”

  “There’s nowhere to—oh.” Aurora watched as Sarah sank to the grassy berm at the side of the road. She wasn’t sitting like a normal person would sit down, but was crumpled in a heap, crushing the wildflowers beneath her. “Oh my gosh,” Aurora said, feeling an icy thrust of panic. The dog whined, as if Aurora had scolded her. She got down on her knees and gave Sarah a little shake. She nearly collapsed with relief when Sarah blinked at her. “What happened?”

  “I think you passed out,” Aurora said.

  “I’ve never fainted before.” She looked dazed, her face still ashen. Her hands were damp and cold.

  “Maybe, um, put your head between your knees?” Aurora suggested, setting down her backpack. She grabbed her phone out of a side pocket.

  “Oh, come on,” Sarah said. “Don’t go calling 911.”

  “I’m calling my dad.”

  Sarah frowned and wiped her sleeve across her forehead. “So who’s your dad?”

  Aurora selected his number from the menu of her phone. “He pretty much is 911.”

  Eighteen

  Aurora almost never called Will at work, so when his phone jingled with her unique ring tone, he picked up immediately.

  “Aurora, is everything all right?”

  “Yes. I mean, I’m fine, but I’m with someone who might need help.”

  He made eye contact with Gloria, who was doing some paperwork. By the time she nodded and waved him toward the door, he was already grabbing his jacket from a hook. “What’s going on?”

  “You know Sarah Moon?”

  “Not exactly, but—”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Aurora said. “We were just walking down the road together and she kind of collapsed.”

  Will heard someone in the background. He couldn’t make out the words but there was definitely a sound of protest. He resisted the urge to yell at Aurora about talking to strangers. “Is she conscious? Bleeding?”

  “She’s kind of sick, I guess. All pale and sweaty.”

  The EMT rig was on call at the moment, responding to a summons from a boatyard ten miles away. The substation in the next town could send one, but that meant adding twenty minutes to the response time.

  “Where are you?” He signaled to Gloria that he was on this, and headed for the duty captain’s truck.

  Five minutes later, he found them—his daughter, Sarah Moon and a large mutt. At least, he supposed it was Sarah. Her short blond hair was tousled and matted with sweat, her face was pasty white and didn’t look familiar to him in the least.

  He got out of the truck and approached them, torn between worry and suspicion. What the hell was this stranger doing with his daughter?

  She gazed up at him, expressionless and glassy-eyed. Drugs, he thought, and his suspicion deepened. He’d seen more than his share of people who couldn’t keep away from the stuff. D, R, A, B, C, he thought, reminding himself of the rescue drill. Danger, Response. Airway, Breathing...what the hell was the C for? He couldn’t remember. Though Will was trained in emergency medical techniques, this was not his area of expertise, so he simply ask
ed, “What happened here? Are you okay?”

  He could tell she wasn’t expecting to recognize him. When she did, a small sound of confusion escaped her. “Will Bonner?” she asked.

  “Aurora says you’re not feeling well. Did you faint?”

  “I’m not sure. I felt light-headed and had to sit down. Next thing I know, I’m down. Really, I probably need to sit still for a minute, and it’ll pass.” She frowned. “Are you a paramedic?”

  “Fire captain. Are you on any medication?” Circulation. C was for circulation. He grabbed her hand and checked her pulse. “Are you a diabetic?”

  She seemed dazed and disoriented. “No. I...no.”

  Putting two fingers under her chin, he tilted her face up to his to see if her pupils would respond to the light. Her skin felt clammy to the touch. Gently using the pad of his thumb, he held open one eye, then the other. Her pupils contracted with the light and her eyes were...extremely blue. He checked for the smell of alcohol or pot on her breath, in her hair and clothes. He felt surprised and perhaps a touch relieved to discover she didn’t appear to be under the influence of anything. She smelled of bruised grass and wildflowers.

  “Can you help her, Daddy?” asked Aurora.

  “Aurora’s your daughter?” Sarah looked even more confused than ever.

  People were always surprised by that, and he was used to ignoring the question. He was no expert, but he didn’t like the feel of her pulse. Too rapid and thready. Something wasn’t right.

  “Just as a precaution, I’m giving you a ride to Valley Regional. It’s a fifteen-minute drive from here.”

  Aurora hopped to it, opening the passenger side door of the department’s F-150.

  “Take my hand,” he said, offering it to Sarah.

  She eyed his hand, and then Will. “Really, I just need to rest. If you could give me a lift home—”

  “Nope. It’s either Valley or your private physician.”

  “I don’t have one.”

  “Valley, then.” He bent down a little, moved his hand closer. “Let me help. It’s my job.”

  Her eyes narrowed. The sharpness of her look nudged at a vague memory from the past. He didn’t really remember much about her from high school, but in that moment he had a little flash of recognition. He thought maybe he recalled that narrow-eyed stare, emanating from the furtive, bitter misfit she’d been years ago—the oysterman’s daughter who came to school with chapped hands and a bad attitude.

  She grabbed his hand and let him help her up.

  “I have your things,” Aurora said. She was right there, at Sarah’s other side. Together, they helped her into the backseat. The dog jumped in without hesitation. Will radioed Gloria to let her know what was up.

  Once they were on the road, he checked the rearview mirror. “All right?”

  She was pale and perspiring, her eyes closed. “This is a wild-goose chase.”

  “Think of it as a detour. And a chance to prove me wrong,” he said.

  “Priceless.”

  Aurora was quiet, next to him in the front seat, her school backpack at her feet. She held Sarah’s bag in her lap. Their eyes met and Will gave a slight nod: Good call.

  Every few seconds, he checked on Sarah in the mirror. The fact that she didn’t resist being taken to the regional hospital was telling. If a person wasn’t really sick, or if she had something to hide, she wouldn’t agree to a trip to the doctor.

  The dog sat alert in the rear of the vehicle. Will was grateful that someone had finally adopted the mutt. He’d seen it around and figured it wasn’t long for this world. Too often, strays wound up dead at the side of the highway. Others disappeared late at night, victims of cougars, coyotes or wolves.

  Pets were often a problem on a call. There was no prescribed protocol for dealing with them. More often than Will cared to think about, a fiercely protective dog tried to deter firefighting efforts or keep a rescue team from reaching a victim. And often, rescuers were too late to save an animal—or more than one—at the scene of an accident. The old image of the firefighter rescuing a kitten from a tree was a suburban legend.

  He checked the rearview mirror. Sarah Moon was slumped against the door of the truck’s club cab.

  “Sarah,” he said loudly. “Sarah, can you hear me?”

  Aurora unbuckled her seat belt and twisted around. “Hey, Sarah. Sarah?” She whipped a glance at Will. “Dad!”

  “Check her pulse and make sure she’s breathing.”

  Aurora climbed into the backseat. “I’m pretty sure she has a pulse, and she’s breathing.”

  “Keep shaking her and talking to her. We’re almost there.”

  He was already punching in the code of the E.R. Valley Regional lacked a high-level trauma center but its E.R. was first-rate.

  “This is Captain Will Bonner from Glenmuir,” he told dispatch. “I’m headed your way with a female...in her twenties. Average height and build.” This was not his specialty, and the information did not come automatically. Blond hair and blue eyes, he almost said, but figured that was irrelevant. To the E.R., anyway. “She experienced weakness, maybe a fainting spell.”

  “Is she altered?” asked the dispatcher.

  “Negative. She claims she’s not on any medication and is not diabetic. Now it appears she’s lost consciousness, but she still has a pulse.” Will probably shouldn’t sound so certain of his own conviction. “We’re about three more minutes out. Should I stop and reassess?”

  “Just get here. We’ll clear a bay for you.”

  The remaining few miles, winding through a thickly wooded state park, felt endless. He had already flipped on the lights and siren. Now he buried the needle of the speedometer and it still took forever. It didn’t help that he could hear Aurora calling Sarah’s name over and over again or that the dog, sensing disaster, was whining.

  At long last, he arrived at the emergency entrance of Valley. True to the dispatcher’s word, a team waited with a well-equipped gurney.

  Moments later, they were wheeling Sarah through the swinging double doors.

  “Stay with the dog,” Will instructed Aurora, pulling the truck into an ambulance slot. “I need to make sure she’s all right, and call her father.”

  “What if she’s not all right?”

  “I have to call her father either way.” He took off his shades. “What were you doing with her, Aurora? I didn’t even realize you knew her.”

  “Shows what you know.”

  “Aurora—”

  “We’ve talked a couple of times, that’s all. We were at the Magic Bean and she was showing me her sketches.”

  “Did she seem sick to you?”

  “Not at first, but then I noticed she got really pale. Then she became all sweaty, and she was swaying on her feet. I think she just wanted to go home and rest.”

  “She’s lucky you came along.” He wished he could hang around and enjoy the way Aurora beamed at him. Instead, he said, “I need to go inside. I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

  A team of six had clustered around Sarah. She was conscious, lying back on an adjustable cot atop crinkled paper sheets.

  She was still pale. A blood pressure cuff wrapped her arm and an IV had already been started. An oxygen mask covered her nose and mouth. The fingers of her right hand were banded with white Velcro tape attached to a line leading to a monitor.

  “Hey, how are you feeling?”

  “All right.” The clear mask made her sound as though she was calling down a well. “What about Franny?”

  It took Will a moment to figure out who Franny was. “My daughter’s with the dog in the truck. We’ll take care of her until you get home.”

  A nurse stood beside the bed, hanging a bag of clear fluid.

  “I’m going to call your father,”
Will said.

  “He’s probably at Mounger’s garage, working on his car.”

  “Would he have a cell phone with him?”

  “You can try.” She dictated a local number.

  Will took out his phone and moved away as he dialed. He grabbed a guy in a lab coat and pulled him aside.

  “What do I tell her father?” Will asked.

  “Probably dehydration,” the doctor said. “We’ll do some tests.”

  “So no cause for alarm.”

  “Not at the moment.”

  The call connected to voice mail, which was no surprise. Cell phone coverage in the area was all but nonexistent. Will was very clear in his message. “Your daughter is all right. I brought her to Valley Regional because she had a fainting spell. You should come as soon as you get this message.” Then he rang off and stuck the phone in his pocket.

  “You did that well,” Sarah said in a thin voice that echoed within the oxygen mask. “I can see how you have to be careful of how you break news to people. At least now he won’t freak out and have a heart attack.”

  “Hope not.” Will tried to imagine getting a message that his daughter had been taken to the emergency room. He probably wouldn’t wait around to hear the rest.

  “Will you stay?” she asked suddenly, anxiously.

  “What?” He was surprised she wanted him to stick around. Any port in a storm, he figured. “No problem.” He hadn’t planned to linger, but all she had to do was ask. He could see a lot more questions in her wan face and worried eyes, but he had to step back to let the house staff work, gathering samples and observations for the tests that had been ordered, bombarding her with questions about her medical history.

  So here was Sarah Moon, all grown-up.

  While the staff seemed to percolate all around her, speaking in medical code, Will hooked his thumbs in his back pockets, stood aside and held her distressed gaze with his. He wanted to tell her she was going to be fine, but he couldn’t say so with certainty. Young, healthy people didn’t collapse by the side of the road for no reason.

  The E.R. looked just the same as it had the last time he’d had to bring Marisol here. He wished he didn’t remember every detail, but he couldn’t help it. He had memorized the conical shape of the overhead lights, and the greenish glare that fell over the exam table. He knew the hollow sound of a detached, faceless voice on the PA system, the clack of instruments on a tray.