Morgan’s father continued to demand loudly for someone to tell him what was going on. The receptionist at the surgery waiting room desk attempted to quiet him but had little success.
“Sam!” Morgan’s mother hissed, gaining his attention. Lowering her voice, she said, “Stop yelling. This poor woman doesn’t know.”
Seeing beyond the bluster, he recognized panic and concern etched in Morgan’s father’s face. Standing, he walked over. Already knowing the answer, he asked, “Are you here for Morgan McAlister?”
“Yes,” her mother answered, her voice betraying her fear and, at the same time, her father barked, “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m Pamela McAlister, her mother,” the woman rushed on. “This is Sam, her father. I see you work here—”
“No, ma’am. I’m with the RES…Richmond Emergency Services. I was the EMT who was at the accident scene with your daughter.”
“Oh, thank God,” Pamela breathed, grabbing her husband’s arm for support.
“I know you…I saw you at the arena with Morgan,” Sam said, his eyes narrowed on him. “What the hell were you doing with her?” Sam jolted as Pamela jerked on his arm. “What?” he asked, staring down at his wife.
“Will you, for once in your life, shut up and listen?” Pamela begged, her words clipped as her blue eyes sparked.
“Yes, sir,” he interjected, bringing their eyes back to his face. “I have met your daughter. But today, I was on a call when your daughter was involved in an automobile accident. We were first on the scene and worked with the fire department to extricate her from her car, stabilizing her—”
“Oh, Jesus, sweet Jesus,” Pamela breathed, her face paling.
“Ma’am, let’s get you a chair.” He waved his hand outward to indicate a few empty chairs nearby. She nodded and allowed him to lead, Sam following, still mumbling under his breath.
Once everyone was settled, he continued, “The impact on her car was on the driver’s side, so the fire department had to cut the door off. I was able to be on the inside with her, as well as two of my co-workers.
“How bad was she injured?” Sam asked, interrupting his wife who asked at the same time, “Was she in pain?”
Keeping his eyes on Pamela, he nodded. “Yes, ma’am, at first. But we were able to get an IV in and give pain medication. Her vital signs were elevated, but we wanted to get her here so that she would be able to have surgery as quickly as possible.”
“Surgery on what?” Sam asked, his ruddy cheeks becoming redder, his eyes wide with fear.
Lifting his gaze to her father, he replied, “Her arm. Her left arm.”
“Fucking hell,” Sam cursed, leaning heavily back in his chair, his eyes squinting closed as though in pain. “I’ll sue the pants off whoever caused this to happen.”
“Just her arm?” Pamela asked, ignoring Sam as her eyes pinned onto his, hope burning bright. “Nothing else?”
“I’m not a doctor, so I can’t answer that. But to the best that we could see, the airbag protected her body. She had minor lacerations on her face from the glass shattering, but her arm sustained the most injury.”
“Oh, thank God,” Pamela gushed. Leaning forward, she grabbed his arm, clutching it tightly. “Thank you so much for what you did for her.”
“It’s my job, ma’am,” he said, not giving any indication to his real feelings.
She turned to her husband, and said, “Sam, isn’t this good news?”
“Good?” Sam all but yelled.
Before he had a chance to say more, the receptionist called out, “Family of Morgan McAlister?”
Sam and Pamela jumped up from their seats and bolted forward. The receptionist led them to a door at the end of the room and they moved through it to speak to the surgeon, leaving him standing alone, staring after them.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and without turning, knew Jayden was there, giving him support. Blowing out a long, slow breath, he said, “Wish I could have done more.”
“Jax, you did your job by giving aid and comfort to an injured woman, and one you care for at that. You came here and were able to give her parents some information to give them peace.”
“Peace?” he bit out. “Don’t think her dad has any peace right now.”
Sighing, Jayden agreed. “Yeah, Mr. Warm and Fuzzy, he’s not.”
He scrubbed his hand over his face, tired to his bones and knowing he would not get a chance to see her until the next day. Twisting his head, he looked at Jayden and said, “Let’s get outta here. I’ll come to see her tomorrow.”
Walking out into the sunshine, he piled into Jayden’s SUV and leaned his head back against the headrest, exhaustion pulling at his body. As they drove out of the parking lot, his eyes drifted back to the hospital and he wondered how she was doing.
Inside Captain Burke’s office the next day, Jaxon sat next to Bob. His sleepless night made his eyes bleary, but he focused on the meeting, knowing the importance of what was being discussed. Mary was included in the meeting as well, but since she had been in the back of the ambulance, she was unable to add to their report of what occurred at the intersection prior to the crash.
“So,” Ted stated, “You slowed, had the siren and lights on, determined traffic had stopped and proceeded?”
Bob, clearly nervous, bobbed his head, glancing sideways toward him. “Yes. The intersection cleared, and I proceeded forward. The light was still green when I entered, and all traffic had stopped. A car to the left...uh…it was Ms. McAlister’s vehicle, had pulled slightly into the intersection but stopped when she saw me. Then, from the right, a pickup truck moving at high speed, ran the red light and slammed into her driver’s side.”
Ted continued to take notes and said, “We will, of course, look at the traffic cam, but from the report you have given, it appears the fault lies with the driver of the truck. The police will be interviewing you as well, but I wanted to make sure we had our ducks in a row before the media circus becomes too extreme.”
“Media?” Bob asked, his eyes wide.
“This would have been a blip on the evening news, but with the victim being someone famous, what with her Olympic trials coming up, the media will swarm us. I have the city’s PR person involved, but I do not want any of my people talking to the media.”
Ted pinned them with a hard stare, but it was unnecessary. The last thing he wanted to deal with was a media shit storm. His attention was snagged by Bob’s heavy sigh. Glancing to the side, he watched as Bob’s chin dropped to his chest.
“Damn,” Bob said, “I keep playing it over and over in my mind, thinking of what I could have done differently.”
“And what would that have been?” Ted asked, leaning back in his creaky seat, his penetrating gaze heavy on the younger man.
Bob’s head shook side to side as he replied, “I don’t know. Just waited…not entered the intersection at all. I mean, she had slowed down for me and the guy hit her car. If I had stopped, then she would have proceeded at normal speed and he—”
“He wouldda hit someone else, possibly killing them,” he interjected, frustration spearing his fatigue. “He ran a red light at high speed. You can’t know what wouldda happened.”
“Jaxon’s right,” Ted said. “The driver of the truck was going to hit someone, driving recklessly like he was. You all were right there and because of that, Ms. McAlister’s arm, and possibly life, was saved.”
Dismissed, they walked out, Mary clapping him on the back, words not necessary between the two of them. She stopped Bob with a hand on his shoulder and said, “You wouldn’t be a good man or a good EMT if this didn’t bother you. Think about it, then put it to rest. Stay sharp for the next time.”
Bob nodded, offering them a small smile before walking down the hall. All three were on leave for a day, Ted not taking a chance that his team was not in the best shape. Mary headed to the locker room as he jogged to the parking lot, hoping to see Morgan.
14
When u
nderwater, the sounds from the world above were always muffled. Thankful for the peace, Morgan allowed herself to remain where the world was a little quieter. Words no louder than a whisper. No whistles. No coaches yelling. No questions from reporters. Just the muted sound of indistinct words.
Her body was blissfully weightless. Finally ready to emerge from her safe haven, when she attempted to kick her legs to rise to the surface, she simply continued to sink deeper.
“Morgan? Morgan, honey, can you hear me?”
She wondered why her mother was at the pool calling for her instead of her dad. The world was black, and she lifted her right hand in an attempt to straighten her goggles, but the only thing she accomplished was to drop her fingers to her face, no goggles found.
“Morgan!”
Unable to speak underwater, she drifted, letting the current take her far away. Down to the depths but, instead of a concrete pool bottom, she felt her feet drag along a sandy bottom. Suddenly a light shone down and she moved her body slightly, swimming along, the peace lulling her back to sleep.
Jaxon, with his hospital visitor’s ID label stuck to his shirt, made his way down the hall to the nurses’ station. Only one nurse was at the desk and she was on the phone. She lifted her hand to indicate for him to wait and he nodded. Leaning back against the counter, he heard voices coming from a nearby doorway labeled Family Consultation. He recognized Morgan’s parents talking to a woman, but he was unsure if she were the surgeon or another of her doctors. Intending to wait for just a moment, he unashamedly eavesdropped.
“She is incredibly lucky,” the doctor said. “The arm laceration did not sever the nerves completely, although there was significant muscle involvement. Her bones have been screwed back together with plates and—”
“You call this lucky?” Sam questioned.
“Sam,” Pamela hissed. “Will you let her finish?”
“What I meant, is that as severe as the accident was, she could have died or had internal injuries that would have had more life impacting relevance. I know she is a swimmer—”
“A swimmer? A swimmer?” Sam bit out. “My daughter is scheduled for the final Olympic trials in a week. A week. Do you think she’ll make that?” he asked, the facetious words dripping with anger.
“No, Mr. McAlister, I don’t. I can’t pretend to know how this feels for you and when she awakes, how she will feel. But, I do know that she is very lucky to be alive. Very lucky the paramedics arrived when they did. And, one day, hopefully, she’ll be as strong as before and back in the water.”
“Back in the—”
“Thank you,” Pamela interrupted her husband.
Jaxon watched as a woman in a white doctor’s coat walk out of the room, her face composed, and he wondered if she heard arguments like Morgan’s dad offered all the time. Turning his back to the door, he heard her parents’ footsteps as they left and her mother suggested they return later in the day after they had a chance to eat lunch. Her father continued to grumble, so he breathed a sigh of relief when the elevator door closed.
Finding out Morgan’s room number from the nurse, he walked down the hall, stepping inside the dimly-lit room. Her face, pale against the pillow, captured his attention immediately. He was not thrown by the various machines and IVs attached, nor the way her left arm, swollen and propped on a pillow at her side, was covered in a mass of stitches and external pins. His medical training made it easy to separate the patient from the woman. The patient was in good hands. But the woman lying in the bed took his breath away.
He had never responded to a call for someone he knew. And he knew her. Intimately. In the short time they had been involved, he knew her laugh. Her smile. The way her eyes twinkled when they danced and the way they widened, the blue darkening, when she climaxed.
Blowing out his breath, he walked toward her, moving to her less injured side. His gaze shot to the monitors, noting her stable heart rate, oxygen rate, breathing. Her hospital gown was open on her left side, covering her breast but allowing her shoulder and arm full exposure.
He stared at her left arm, knowing the radius and ulna had multiple fractures. The surgery incision started at her wrist and made its way to her elbow, staples embedded in the red and angry skin. He knew that metal plates and screws would have been used to hold the pieces of bone together. In order to provide more stability, she had also been given an external fixture, pins protruding from her arm and screwed together with an external plate.
Another group of staples were above her elbow, sutured where the metal shard had been removed. Lacerations covered her shoulder and upper arm from the shattered glass, but none needed stitching.
The left side of her face and neck was also covered in tiny cuts, coated in antiseptic cream. He knew they would sting but heal quickly. Dropping his gaze back over her arm, his breath left his lungs slowly. He knew that was where the life-changing injury lie.
The image of her powerful strokes in the water hit him, knowing it would take months of healing and physical therapy to regain the strength in her arm. And, there was the very real possibility that she might not swim at Olympic competitions again.
A shift under the covers jolted his gaze back to her face and he startled to see blue eyes staring back at him. As she blinked several times, her face held no recognition.
Bending closer, he greeted, “Hey, Morgan. I’m Jaxon. I don’t know if you remember me, but I—”
She licked her lips before opening her mouth. Only a croak emerged, and he reached to the table next to her bed and picked up a cup with a bent straw in it. Holding it to her lips, he encouraged, “Here’s some water. Take a sip to help with your dry throat.”
She obliged and sucked on the straw several times, swallowing gratefully. “Of course I know you,” she breathed, her voice still a whisper, but with more strength. “Why are you…”
Instead of answering her question right away, he asked, “Do you know where you are?”
Her head barely moved but her eyes darted from side to side. “Hospital.”
“Yeah, that’s right. I wanted to come to see how you were doing. Do you remember anything?”
Again, she licked her lips and he could see her mind working behind her eyes as she attempted to process her surroundings. Her brow furrowed and she gave a slight shake of her head.
“You were in a car accident.”
Her eyes gave no indication that she remembered what he was talking about.
“I was in the ambulance with you, so I knew you were here.”
Her eyes widened slightly, and she whispered, “Accident?”
He watched as her gaze drifted down her body, landing on her arm propped on the pillow.
She gasped, croaking, “I can’t feel my arm. I can’t feel anything there.”
“Morgan, babe,” he called to gain her eyes back on him. “I’m going to call for the nurse, but they’ve got you on some pretty powerful painkillers.” He pushed the call button and, in a moment, a pleasant-faced nurse walked in, her smile wide.
“Good to see you awake, Morgan. My name’s Connie and I’m your primary nurse.”
“I can’t feel my arm,” she said, her voice sounding stronger and more panicked.
“That’s good, dearie,” Connie said, moving over to check her injuries. “Right now, you’re still on a morphine drip. The doctor will be in this afternoon and will determine when we go to the PCA pump so you can control the pain medication yourself.”
“My arm…”
Connie shared a quick glance with him before saying, “Your arm was broken in several places, as well as needing surgery to repair the damage from a foreign object that had become embedded in the muscle. The doctor will go over the various surgical procedures, but they were able to save your arm.”
“Save?”
Connie bent over, her voice soft and caring. “It was a pretty severe injury, Morgan. But thanks to the work of the paramedics and getting you here so soon, the surgeons were able to save your arm whe
n you got to surgery.”
He watched Morgan closely, knowing the pain medicine was making her fuzzy and unable to process the nurse’s words quickly. Connie patted her arm and said, “Call me if you need me,” before walking out.
He moved back to her side and sat in the chair, leaning over so she was able to see his face easily. “You understand what she was saying?”
She shifted her gaze from her arm to his face, her brow lowered in confusion. Shaking her head slightly, she closed her eyes.
He realized the morphine was pulling her under and knew that rest was the best thing for her at the moment. Bending over he placed a kiss on her forehead before heading back out the door. Just as he turned the corner, he noticed her parents appeared to be arguing by the nurses’ station. Wanting to avoid her father’s negativity, he ducked out of the way, waiting until they had left before he headed to the elevator.
Jaxon lay in bed that night, his arm thrown behind his head as he stared at the ceiling fan slowly turning. The media had not gotten hold of the story yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time. Snorting ruefully, he wondered how her dad would manage the frenzy when it hit. Rolling over to his side, his heart felt heavy at the thought of how Morgan would handle the storm.
He had spent several hours at his computer, watching old video clips on YouTube of Morgan as she rose through the ranks of the swimming world. He viewed her as a child prodigy swimmer. Observed her through her awkward, early adolescent years—a time when her gawkiness disappeared as soon as she entered the water. Then he watched several of her college meets, admiring her strong body gliding through the water, smashing college times before moving to the national level of competition.
How the hell can I be consumed by a woman I barely know? The answer to that question did not come to him as he lay for hours, unable to sleep. He had two more days off and planned on going back to the hospital tomorrow. Maybe I just feel sorry for her and, once she is better, I’ll be able to move on.
Jaxon: Heroes at Heart Page 10