by Peggy Webb
By the time she reached the airport all her crying was done, and Callie Red Cloud boarded her flight home, head up and chin out.
Chapter Ten
Until she walked into the hospital in Tucson, Callie had never seen her father in a hospital bed. He looked shrunken, as if the illness had attacked more than his heart.
When he saw her, he smiled. “You didn’t have to come. I saw the news last night. They need you in Houston.”
“I’m here, Dad, where I belong.”
“Humph.” She saw right through him. The glisten in his eyes gave him away.
Callie wrapped him in a big hug, then turned to hold her mother close.
“How are you holding up, Mom?”
“Nothing like this has ever happened to Calder before.” Ellen didn’t try to disguise her tears. “I don’t know what to do without your father.”
“I’m right here, Ellen, and I don’t plan on going anywhere for a very long time.”
When Calder reached for his wife’s hand, she quickly left her daughter to sit on the edge of her husband’s bed.
That’s the way it had always been with them, Callie thought. So much in love. Inseparable. Two hearts beating as one. When one heart failed, the other suffered.
Watching them she’d often felt like an intruder. But today, watching them she thought of Joseph. Why had fate put him in her path and then stacked the cards against them?
“Why don’t you sit down, Sis? You look beat.”
She sat down beside her brother, and he squeezed her hand. “Dad’s a tough old bird.”
“You two needn’t talk about me as if I’m not even here.”
Callie and Eric grinned at each other. Sickness might have made Calder’s body look frail, but it had done nothing to his tart tongue and his sharp wit.
“What do the doctors say, Dad?” she asked.
“It’s nothing but a posterior infarct,” Calder told her. “I told you you shouldn’t have come.”
“They’ve checked the cardiac enzymes?”
“Once. Nurse Dracula will be here any minute to get her second gallon of blood.”
“And?”
“Listen to her, Ellen. Like the Gestapo. Why did we ever encourage her to be a doctor?”
“Dad, you didn’t answer my question.”
“Enzymes are up.”
Bewildered, Ellen turned to her daughter. “What does all this mean?”
Before she could answer, Calder reassured his wife. “It means there’s nothing wrong with me that diet and exercise can’t cure.”
“Still…” Ellen paused.
Quickly she excused herself. “I think I’ll go and get coffee. Anybody want a cup?”
“Make mine black and be sure you stir it with the feather of an eagle.” Calder winked at his wife.
It was obvious that Ellen didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“I’ll be right back,” she said.
“Take your time, Mom. Eric and I will watch after Dad.”
“Humph. I don’t need watching after.”
“Doctors makes the worst patients,” Callie told Eric.
“Especially Dr. Red Cloud.”
“I heard that. Damned right, I make a miserable patient. Lying here flat of my back when I ought to be out seeing about my own patients. That young whippersnapper I’ve got working in the clinic can’t find his butt with both hands.”
“Now, Dad,” Callie said. “He has excellent credentials. You told me so yourself.”
“Credentials don’t mean much if you don’t have any common sense.”
“It’s not as bad as Dad says,” Eric told his sister. “Dr. Brenner patches the twins up just fine.”
Eric’s twin boys were hellions, five years old going on twenty-five, adventurous daredevils always breaking skin and bones tumbling from trees and rocks and bicycles and horses and anything else they could climb onto or get into.
“Humph.” Calder wasn’t about to give an inch.
Everything Eric said was true. His grandsons couldn’t have better care if Calder himself did it, but he’d bite his tongue off before admitting it.
If complaining about Dr. Brenner could make Callie leave that dangerous job, he would complain until Mother Earth shed tears as big as basketballs.
Not that he wasn’t proud of Callie. Far from it. Both he and Ellen were bursting with pride, and yet both of them desperately wanted their daughter to have all the things they had, a loving partner, children and time to enjoy family.
He knew what it was like to be totally dedicated to a job. He’d been that way himself once. His life had been well-ordered and productive, and he’d thought it was very good. Then he’d met Ellen.
It took only one encounter with that blue-eyed, blond-haired sprite to show him exactly what he was missing.
He’d fallen in love with her the minute he set eyes on her, and he loved her as much today as he had the day they met. Could any man be luckier?
“Eric, go down and be with your mother. She needs comforting.”
Calder watched his tall, strong son. Blond, blue-eyed and a shade darker than fair of skin, he was more like his mother than Callie. She was Apache through and through. And stubborn to the bone. Just like Calder.
“Come here so I can look at you, Callie.”
When she stood beside the window he saw the fatigue etched in her face.
“It’s very bad down there, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
Callie knew it would be useless to try to spare her father. He could always see through her, and he knew too much about medicine to be blind to the horrors of a hot virus.
“Those other virologists, Dr. Cummings and Dr. Swift. Are they good people to work with?”
“Yes. This is Peg’s first field assignment, and she’s sometimes a little shaky, but Dr. Swift is brilliant…and driven.”
Something about the way his daughter said Dr. Swift made Calder sit up and take notice.
“He looks Native American. Is he?”
“Yes. Sioux. He’s a full-blood.”
Calder retreated into silence while he studied his daughter. She’d been in the field many times, and each time she returned home he saw the fatigue. But he saw something more today, pain and an odd sort of reserve that Callie wore like a cloak.
“Tell me what’s going on down there,” he said.
“The hospital is still full, but we think we’ve passed the crisis stage.”
Calder shook his head. “I’m not talking about the hot virus. Tell me what’s going on with you, Daughter.”
When her father called her daughter, Callie knew he was searching for soul truths. He was not only her parent but her best friend and confidant. She had always told Calder everything.
But not now. He needed nothing on his mind except getting well.
She perched on the edge of his bed and took his hand.
“Dad, let’s save all this until you get home, okay?”
“You’re treating me like a sick old man. I despise that, Callie.”
“No. I’m treating you like a patient who needs to concentrate on only one thing, making your body strong and healthy again.”
As much as he hated to admit it, Calder was too tired to probe. Callie was smart. She would work things out, and when she was ready, she would come to him.
He opened his arms, and she put her head on his chest.
“I love you, Dad.”
“I love you, Callie.”
As he stroked her hair he made himself a promise: he would live to see his daughter happy, even if it meant giving up rib eyes and using that damnable treadmill Ellen kept in the corner of the bedroom.
Nurse Glenda Jernigan came into the room, all starch and efficiency.
“Good afternoon, Doctor.” She picked up his wrist to check his pulse. “And how are we doing today?”
“I feel like Tarzan, ready to swing from vines and beat my chest, but you’ll have to speak for yourself, Nurse Jernigan.�
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“Your father’s a pistol.”
“My hearing’s good, too. Would you kindly include me in your remarks?”
Nurse Jernigan rolled her eyes. “Just for that I’m going to punch a few extra holes in you.”
“You always do.”
Callie was thrilled to see her father in such high spirits.
“Dad, behave yourself,” she told him, laughing.
“Never. What kind of example would that be for a father to set for his children?”
That evening Callie and Eric convinced Ellen to go to the hotel and get some sleep while Callie stayed at the hospital with Calder.
“I don’t need anybody here,” he’d said, but Callie could tell he was pleased that she stayed.
He complained about the bed, he complained about the food, he complained about the view. That behavior was so unlike him that Callie finally called him to task.
“You’re not a whiner, Dad, and there’s nothing wrong with your bed or the food or the view, either, for that matter.” Actually he had the best room in the hospital, a large sunny room with a view that overlooked the garden.
She sat on the edge of his bed and took his hand. “So, what’s the real problem?”
Calder looked sheepish. “You’ll think me a foolish old man.”
“I could never think that of you. You’re my hero, always have been and always will be.”
“Someday you’ll have another one.”
Joseph floated through Callie’s mind, but she quickly shut him out.
“You’re changing the subject. What’s the problem, Dad?”
“Since Ellen and I married, we’ve never spent a night apart. I don’t know if I can sleep without her.”
“I’ll have the nurse give you something.”
“A pill’s not the same as a wife.”
“There are some who would disagree.”
Calder chuckled. “Not if they were married to Ellen. But I will have to say that some of your mother’s relatives…”
The door banged open, and there stood Ellen, arms akimbo.
“What’s this about my relatives?”
“Ellen! I thought you were at the hotel.”
“That’s obvious.”
“When did you get back?”
“Don’t you change the subject, Calder Red Cloud.”
She marched to his bed, and he snagged her hand. “As I was saying, darling, some of your relatives are smart and pretty, but not a single one can hold a candle to you.”
Ellen giggled, then leaned down to kiss her husband. Watching them, Callie couldn’t help but wonder about the choices she’d made in her own life.
“Mom, you shouldn’t be here. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of Dad for one night.”
“It’s not a matter of capability, Callie. It’s a matter of the right thing to do. I’ve never spent one single night away from your father and I don’t intend to start now.”
Ellen turned to Eric who was standing in the door, holding her night case.
“Eric, put my things in the closet. I’m not leaving this room again until Calder leaves.”
Having had her say, Ellen settled in a chair beside Calder’s bed and took her knitting out of her tote bag. Calder beamed.
“Sis, would you like a ride back to the hotel?”
“I might as well. It’s obvious these two have everything they need.”
Callie caught up with news of Eric’s family over dinner. A journalist and editor of the tribal newspaper, Eric had a way with a story, and by the time dinner was over Callie was in stitches over the antics of the twins, Kevin and Clint.
“They’re regular little savages,” Eric said. “One of these days I expect to come home and find Brenda tied to a pole with a fire lit under her feet.”
“How is she doing?” Brenda was a strong, quiet woman, as different from Callie as two women can be, but Callie liked her enormously.
“She’s pregnant again, Callie.”
Callie could picture how it would be with them, Eric plumping pillows behind Brenda’s back and rubbing her swollen feet at night, fetching hot tea with cream and honey and drawing her bath in the early morning before the twins were stirring.
Eric was a kind and gentle man who loved deeply and wasn’t afraid to show it.
Now he watched her expectantly, searching for some sign of joy or at the very least sisterly support, but all she could do was sit across from her brother and be miserable.
“Callie, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she said, but Eric wasn’t buying.
“Come on, Sis. I’ve pulled your chestnuts out of the fire too many times for you to start being evasive now.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I think something’s eating you up and you need to talk about it.”
“Who appointed you my psychiatrist?”
“You did, when I was ten and you were five. Remember?”
“How could I forget?”
Callie started giggling. At five she’d been a spitfire, always getting into trouble at school. Unless the teachers sent a note home, Eric was the only one Callie told.
On that particular day, they’d made a blood pact to tell each other stuff and always be close.
“I’m thinking of adopting a little boy,” she said.
“A baby?”
“No, he’s four.” At the memory of Ricky and Joseph, Callie wrapped her arms around herself…for warmth, for comfort, for reassurance, for reasons she couldn’t even name.
“So many people died down there in Houston, Eric, but he survived.”
One of things Callie loved most about her brother was the way he listened, with a waiting stillness that said in no uncertain terms, “I hear everything you say and I’m giving it my best thought.”
She waited now, knowing that when he spoke his answer would carry the weight of his mind.
“I assume you’re planning to do this as a single parent.”
Callie hesitated only a moment. “Yes.”
“Hmm.”
“What does that mean?”
“I heard that hesitation. What does it mean?”
“Nothing. I’ve met someone, but it can never mean anything.”
Eric pulled out his pipe and Callie watched his studied ritual, the careful tamping in of tobacco, the way he held match to the bowl just so, the slow ascent to his mouth.
“You’ll make a wonderful mother, Callie.”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m just fooling myself. Maybe I’m doing this for selfish reasons—my biological clock is ticking. I’m jealous of Brenda. I’m even jealous of Mom.”
She pushed her hair from her face, watching for her brother’s reaction.
“Surely you don’t expect me to be shocked, Callie. After all these years?”
“Don’t remind me of years, Eric.”
He caught her hand. “I’ve told you what I think, and I mean that. I know you’re going to give this a lot more thought, but please remember that I will support your decision one hundred percent. Whatever it is.”
“Thanks, Eric.”
He came around the table and kissed her cheek. “Gotta call home.”
“Give Brenda my love.”
In her room, Callie flipped on the television for company, then took a long hot shower. Afterward she fell across the bed, too tired to even put on her T-shirt.
Joseph had tried to find a moment to call Callie, but there hadn’t been a minute in his hectic day. Between seeing to the needs of his patients and keeping an eye on the milling crowd outside, he’d had his hands full.
“I’ll do it when I leave here,” he muttered.
“Do what?” Peg asked.
“Call Callie…to check on her father.”
“It’s okay, Joseph. You’re allowed to be human.”
He could almost believe that was true. But the minute he stepped outside the hospital, he knew better.
The crowd surged forward, brandis
hing signs and screaming obscenities at him. A line of policemen tried to hold them back, but it was impossible.
A billy club whistled through the air. A knife answered it. Suddenly there was blood—and bedlam.
Joseph rushed forward to tend the wounded. A policeman nabbed his sleeve, yelling, “Get back!”
“I’m a doctor.”
“I know who you are. You’re the one they’re after.”
In times of tragedy that’s the way it always was, Joseph thought. People had to have somebody to blame. He was the logical one. After all, hadn’t they seen him on television? Hadn’t he been named as the leader of the team of virologists?
Still, he’d taken the Hippocratic Oath. He jerked free and knelt beside a man with a gash on his head. If he hadn’t been on his knees he might have seen what was coming.
Callie jarred awake. She’d fallen asleep without her clothes. As she reached for her gown, she froze, staring at the TV.
“Rioting broke out today in the east side of Houston where just yesterday Dr. Joseph Swift revealed a hot virus had struck.”
The camera panned the angry mob. In the background was the hospital, and just coming out the door was Joseph.
“Liar!” someone yelled at him. Then, “Murderer!”
“Oh, God,” Callie said.
Pandemonium broke loose in Houston. Callie jumped off the bed and knelt in front of the TV set trying to find Joseph in the crowd. It didn’t take long.
His image filled the screen, his face anguished. Callie had seen that look so many times. A man was down, hurt, and two policeman couldn’t restrain Joseph. He was a doctor and he was bound to do his duty.
Callie touched the TV screen and traced the lines of his beloved face.
Beloved. It came as a shock to her how easily she thought of him in that way. She tested the word aloud, and while the word was on her lips, everything exploded.
Simultaneously a gunshot sounded and the crowd erupted. Blood bloomed on the front of a policeman’s shirt as another shot rang out.
“Joseph! Where’s Joseph?”
In a panic Callie watched the crowd push and shove their way toward freedom. Another shot sang out, and above it all a calm voice-over: