by Loree Lough
A small hand slipped into his, and in his agitation, he shook it off. He turned, fully prepared to unload on the knucklehead who’d trespassed into his personal space in the middle of a catastrophe.
Taylor!
Relief surged through him like white-hot electricity, and instead of venting his full head of steam, he hugged her tight. “Thank God,” he said. “I thought … it was beginning to look like maybe …” He held her at arm’s length. “How long have you been here? Where’s Eli?”
“He’s just down the hall a ways.” Hands flat on his chest, Taylor nodded toward the melee. “We got here about five minutes before … before …”
“Before all hell broke loose?” he finished for her. He knew how strong and capable she was, but right now, in the middle of all the pandemonium, she looked so small, felt so vulnerable in his arms.
“I can only imagine what must have been going through your mind.” She blinked, bit her lower lip. “There hasn’t been time to call, what with all the insurance nonsense and Eli …” Taylor shook her head and loosed a trembly sigh. “Sorry, if we scared you.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said, giving her a gentle shake. “You got him here in record time.” He glanced toward the pastel-striped curtains that separated the ER cubicles. “They’ve got him on a glucose drip, right? And did preliminary blood work?”
“No, not yet. I’m sure they had every intention of doing all of that and more before …” Tears puddled in her eyes as she added “My heart aches for those poor people and their families.”
She looked up at him again, this time through thick, tear-spiked lashes. He watched a lone, silvery drop, tracking toward her chin, and caught it with the pad of his thumb. Even here, wearing no makeup under the unforgiving glare of harsh fluorescent lights, she looked more beautiful than any cover model or Hollywood actress.
But this wasn’t the time or place for such thoughts. For such feelings. “Guess we’d better check on our boy,” he said, stepping back. Instantly, it struck him as amazing—how quickly the warmth that had seeped from her little body to his turned cold.
One corner of her mouth lifted in a sad grin. “Our boy will be glad to see you.”
She led him to Eli’s cubicle and shoved the curtain aside. “Look who’s here, little man.”
Dark lashes fluttered as he tried to keep his eyes open. A tiny grin formed on his pale face. “ ’Bout time you got here.”
Reece dropped the side rail and sat on the edge of the bed. He was itching to check the boy’s chart, but thanks to the highway emergency, the staff hadn’t gotten around to making one yet. Times like these, when no one else could, what doctor in his right mind wouldn’t take charge of a family member’s case?
Fingers pressed gently to the pulse point in Eli’s wrist, Reece winked. “You want to tell me how you got here?”
A one-note giggle popped out of his mouth. “Taylor. In the Jeep, of course.”
Judging by his glassy eyes and flushed cheeks, Reece guessed Eli’s temperature at 103. At least. “Got a headache, huh?”
“Yeah. And my neck hurts even worser.”
Peeling back the sheet to check for a rash, Reece said, “Well, at least the nurse had the good sense to give you a gown with blue flowers.” He chuckled, though his heart wasn’t in it. “And tie it in the front.”
Eli’s pointer finger aimed Taylor’s way. “Taylor picked it. Got me a hot blanket, too.”
From the corner of his eye, Reece could see her over there, shoulders hunched and hands clasped under her chin, doing her best to hold it together. “She’s a pretty good mom, isn’t she?”
“Better watch it.” This time, the pointer ticked like a tiny metronome. “She’ll give you a time out for sayin’ that word.”
Reece leaned forward and slid his arms around Eli. “Love you, buddy,” he said. “I have to leave, but only long enough to gather up some stuff that’ll help me find out what’s wrong with you.”
One eyebrow quirked. “You mean … you’re gonna be my doctor?”
“Yeah, at least until we can scare up a better one,” he said, chuckling.
“No such thing,” Taylor said as he passed her.
Without slowing his pace, Reece reached out and gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Back soon,” he said.
Half an hour later, he delivered half a dozen blood vials to the lab. Flies with honey, he thought again as the harried technician labeled them. “Let me know if I can help in any way,” he told her. “I’m probably not nearly a big enough ‘shot’ around here to pull strings, but a couple people around here owe me favors.” Reece handed her a business card. “I’m happy to trade a few to get you what you need.”
She stared at the card, then at him. “Is this your personal cell phone number?”
“It is.”
The tech pocketed the card. “I’ll guard it with my life. And thanks.” After rearranging a couple dozen vials, she winked. “He’s your nephew, right?”
“Right.”
Last he’d heard, it cost LewisGale upward of two million in salary dollars for its nearly 3,500 employees. How she’d picked up a detail like that in a place this size was anybody’s guess. But if thinking she had an “in” with him—and his personal life—moved Eli’s blood work to the top of her list, he’d show her his bank statements and tax returns!
“Since his mom and dad died, his aunt and I sorta share custody of him.”
“Yeah, so I heard.” She waved an underling closer and handed him the tray. “Give those everything you’ve got.”
The assistant frowned. “But … but I have, like, a thousand ahead of these.”
The tech narrowed one eye. “Yeah, but like, I really don’t care. Put a rush on those.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Whatever, dude. You’re the boss.”
She waited until he was out of earshot to add, “And don’t you forget it, brat!”
Reece said, “You have no idea how much I appreciate—”
“Don’t give it another thought, doc.” She made a Marlon Brando face and patted the business card in her pocket. “Some day,” she rasped Don Corleone style, “and that day may never come, I will call upon you to do a service for me.”
As he thanked her, his smartphone buzzed. He’d asked the nurse in ICU to alert him if Randy’s condition changed, even slightly. It wasn’t likely that the change was a good one, given the boy’s condition before exposure to meningitis.
He thought of Eli, lying still and pale against his pillow. Of Taylor, putting on a brave show for her boy. He’d never felt more helpless and ineffective. Oh, what he’d give for a whopping dose of the god complex nurses were forever complaining about! Not the pompous know-it-all attitude displayed while doling out orders related to patient care, but a bona fide, genuine ability to snap his fingers once and end Randy’s MD, and again to cure the boy’s meningitis. Snap them a third time and guarantee that Eli had not contracted the disease.
“Oh, Dr. Montgomery, thank God you’re here!” Mrs. Clayton said when he walked into Randy’s room. He grabbed her son’s chart, first thing. Not good, he thought, studying it. A glance at the monitors confirmed it. As she stood there, red-eyed and weary and wringing her hands, Reece thought Snap … and words of hope and encouragement would materialize, just like that.
He’d been a doctor long enough to know that nothing that came from within this building would tell her what she needed to hear. He’d been a disappointed Christian long enough to know that if God was the merciful, loving Father every preacher claimed He was, parents wouldn’t abandon their kids to do His work, soldiers wouldn’t die in battle … and their young widows wouldn’t grieve themselves to death. Good people like Taylor and Mrs. Clayton wouldn’t be widows, either, and kids like Randy and Eli wouldn’t be teetering at the edge of life.
He held out his arms, and she willingly stepped into them. “Miracles happen every day,” he said. He didn’t believe a word of it … but he wanted to. “Let
’s not give up hope just yet, okay?”
Reece felt her give a weak nod, felt her tears, dampening his shirt. Hope. A pretty tall order, all things considered.
And surprisingly, he felt the sting of tears in his own eyes.
13
She’d forgotten her watch, and the hands of the wall clock above the door were frozen on two and eight. If she wasn’t afraid Reece would show up with test results, she’d head for the nurses’ station to ask for a fresh battery. Then to the chapel to pray that when he did arrive, the news would be good, for Eli and for Randy.
Eli was sleeping relatively peacefully, thanks to whatever calmative was drip-drip-dripping from that second clear-plastic pouch into his arm. Would they replace the glucose with antibiotics if the lab results showed meningitis?
Taylor paced the small space between Eli’s bed and the empty one near the door, alternately chewing her knuckle and picking the cuticle of her left thumb. During Mark’s illness, she’d gnawed her fingernails to the nub and bloodied every cuticle, waiting for one doctor after another to analyze CT and MRI films, blood and urine tests. It seemed the thing she’d always been worst at was the thing she did the most: wait. The Almighty’s way of teaching her the value of patience?
Her cell phone vibrated inside her jeans pocket and she stepped into the hall. Isaac, the caller ID said. When she’d called to let him know she and Eli were on the way to the hospital, Taylor had promised to update him.
“Hey,” she said. “Sorry I haven’t called before now. It’s been pretty crazy around here.”
“Don’t give it another thought. How is the little guy?”
Taylor rattled off the facts, surprised at the clinical tone of her own voice. She softened it slightly to bring him up to speed on Randy’s condition.
“Bummer,” he said. “Count on Tootie and me to pray like crazy.”
There was a certain hesitancy in his voice that made her wonder how things were going at the Misty Wolf. She’d canceled all the guests and made sure that Isaac and Tootie knew better than to book any newcomers. She’d know if Jimmy had shown up unexpectedly, because he would have headed straight for the hospital as soon as he heard the news.
“Everything okay over there?”
In the silence that followed her question, Taylor knew what the problem was.
“It’s Millie, isn’t it?”
“ ’Fraid so. O’Toole is here and wants to talk to you.”
She heard the rustling and crackling and then the veterinarian’s soft-spoken voice. “Sorry to dump this on you with all that’s going on with Eli and Randy,” he said, “but that ’coon must have been rabid.”
He explained that Millie had been stumbling and swaying, and the corners of her lips had been twitching. Worst of all, she’d been biting and kicking everything in sight … her water bucket and feed bag, the stall.
“If this keeps up,” O’Toole added, “she’ll either have a seizure or go comatose. Either way, we don’t have a choice, here. It’s time to put her out of her misery.”
It was hard to picture her sweet Millie behaving like a wild maverick. But euthanasia?
“Are you sure there isn’t anything we can do for her? A shot or a pill or—”
“You know me, Taylor. If there was something, I’d have done it already.”
She leaned her forehead against the cool tile wall outside Eli’s door. “Yes, yes I know.” But that didn’t make it any easier to accept the inevitable.
Eyes shut tight, she willed herself not to cry. “When will you do it?”
“Right now, if you’ll give the go-ahead.”
“It can’t wait until I can be there? Eli’s test results are sure to come in any time now, and once I know he’s all right, I can—”
“Taylor, listen to me. Please. Millie’s in a highly agitated state. I’m afraid she’ll have a heart attack if we put it off much longer.”
“But she’ll be terrified without me there.”
“I know it’s no real consolation, but Millie is out of her head right now. She wouldn’t know you from a barn cat.”
Taylor turned and slid to the floor. Oh how she wanted to let the tears flow! You’re stronger than this, she ranted. Get up and face the music. Eli needs you. And so does Millie.
On her feet again, she rubbed her eyes, and on the heels of a ragged breath, said, “All right. Do it.”
Back in Eli’s room, she stood at the window.
A half moon hung high in the inky sky and thousands of stars winked, as if they were all in on the punch line of some cruel joke that Taylor didn’t get. On the highway outside, the tail lights of cars and trucks and motorcycles scratched thin red streaks into the blackness, while the bright white light of headlamps lit the way for people driving in the opposite direction. Traffic lights went from green to yellow to red. Restaurant signs promised fast, inexpensive food. A revolving gas station logo boasted “The lowest prices in town” and the flickering green neon of the motel across the way said “Vacancy.”
Ordinary, everyday stuff … all of it. But how could that be when Randy was in Intensive Care, and Eli—who’d mirrored the boy’s every symptom—could be there soon, and Millie was probably taking her last breath, right this very minute! Didn’t the universe realize that the earth had tilted off its axis? That everything that used to be normal wasn’t any more?
She caught sight of her purse on the nightstand beside Eli’s head. A scrap of fabric poked out of the front pocket—blue plaid flannel from one of her father’s shirts. If she’d thought to grab her sewing kit, she could add it to Eli’s quilt instead of standing here like a ninny, staring at her own teary-eyed weak self in the mirror.
Footsteps just outside Eli’s door forced her to swap self-pity for bravado. She’d gotten pretty good at it while Mark was dying; hopefully, she could still fool some of the people some of the time.
Reece took one look at her and said, “My God, you look awful.”
Taylor didn’t know why, but it struck her funny. The laughter started out quiet and small, and before long, it had him looking left and right and placing a forefinger over his lips. But he was grinning when he asked if she was trying to wake the whole floor.
By now, she’d nearly doubled over with silent giggles that brought tears to her eyes. Weak-kneed and nearly out of breath, she staggered toward the sickly pink plastic chair beside Eli’s bed.
But she never made it that far, because Reece stopped her. He stood in her path and held out both arms. “Taylor,” he whispered, wearing something that almost resembled a sympathetic smile. “C’mere.”
She wanted to go to him. Wanted that more than anything, because she could still remember how, when he’d held her in the middle of the bustling ER, the craziness seemed to melt away, leaving tranquil quiet in its space. But her feet wouldn’t move, and she knew without a doubt that if she opened her mouth, only sobs would come out. And how would that look, if Eli chose that moment to open his eyes?
Taylor hadn’t expected Reece to close the space between them. But when he did, every inch of her pressed against him. Maybe, if she got close enough, some of that rock-solid stability that was so … so Reece … would seep into her.
She heard the steady ticking of his watch, felt his heart, keeping time with it as it beat beneath her palms. If anyone had ever told her the day would come when grumpy, judgmental, all-important Dr. Reece Montgomery would be her source of comfort and strength, she would have laughed like a madwoman. Sorta the way you did a few minutes ago. Oh, if Margo could see them now!
The thought inspired a smirk, which spread into a slow smile. If this kept up, she’d break into a fit of giggles. Again. What would Reece think then? The same things he’d always thought of her, no doubt … that she was a ditzy, silly blonde. He’d never said anything even remotely like it, at least not out loud. And neither had anyone else, not even Margo. But even dizzy blondes can recognize scorn when they see it.
All of a sudden, she didn’t feel so com
forted, standing in the circle of his arms. “Sorry,” she said, backing away. “Didn’t mean to fall apart that way. It won’t happen again. Promise.”
“Isaac called me.”
That’s all he said. But then, he didn’t need to say more. With those three little words, he’d told her that he knew about Millie and that she didn’t need an excuse to break down. Standing there with his arms hanging down at his sides, shrugging, he looked as uncomfortable as she felt.
“So are the lab results in yet?”
“Yeah, they are. And …”
The furrow between his eyebrows deepened, and that scared her.
“And what?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t know any easy way to say this, so …” Reece looked her dead in the eye and said, “Eli has meningitis, and Randy’s off life support. I figure he has half an hour, if that.”
Half an hour? Surely he didn’t mean …
Reece nodded, and she slumped onto the seat of the ugly pink chair. “But he’s barely five years old,” she whispered through clenched teeth. “His whole life has been a challenge. It just doesn’t seem fair,” she added, punching her knee, “for him to die this way.”
Eli stirred and moaned quietly in his sleep. She’d admitted to herself, not five minutes ago, that Eli’s condition had echoed Randy’s, symptom for symptom. Heart pounding with fear and dread, Taylor got to her feet and grabbed Reece’s hand. “What’s that mean for Eli?” she demanded once they were in the hall. “Tell me he isn’t on the same track.” She gripped his forearms. “I need to hear you say that you’ve ordered the strongest antibiotic on the market, and any minute now, a pharmacy tech will be in here to deliver it.”
“No, he isn’t on the same track. It’s the same type of meningitis, but unlike Randy, Eli was healthy and strong when he was exposed. And, yes, we’ll start him on—”
“Oh, thank God,” she interrupted, cupping her elbows. “Thank God, thank God, thank God.”