by JoAnn Durgin
~~♥~~
Ten minutes later, Dr. Robinson completed his examination. Sam had answered the doctor’s questions to the best of his ability, and Lexa told him about the campsite.
“It would appear your husband was bit by a widow spider, but we can’t be certain if it’s from the western black widow or the brown widow. The effects are very similar, and they both have neurotoxic venom that travels through the bloodstream and can attack the vesicles at neuromuscular junctions.”
Lexa cringed at the mention of the word venom. What he said sounded serious, but what did she know of medical terminology? “Please just tell me if he’s going to be all right.”
Dr. Robinson’s expression softened. “He should be fine, Mrs. Lewis. Sam’s in excellent health, and he should recover quickly. While every widow spider is capable of biting and injecting venom, most are harmless. Their fangs are too small, and their venom is too limited, to cause more than swelling, irritation, and itching. Only five percent of these cases prove to be fatal, and that’s generally due to an underlying heart disorder. A spider bite of this type is most dangerous to senior citizens and children.”
“I’m not a senior citizen…yet,” Sam said. “Give me time.”
Thank you, Lord. She could breathe now. “Thank you, Dr. Robinson. Sam’s mother is in the waiting room as well as a good friend who’s a member of our TeamWork group. Do you mind speaking with them, as well?” In case she forgot something important, Lexa wanted Sarah and Mitch to hear the physician’s report.
After Lexa made the brief introductions, Dr. Robinson confirmed Sarah’s theory that Sam’s bite had most likely come from a brown widow spider. “Sam’s experiencing effects similar to a severe flu with muscle aches and a general rundown feeling,” the doctor said. “Widows typically build their webs in areas that sit undisturbed for long periods of time. From what Mrs. Lewis told me about the campsite where you’re staying, it sounds like Sam could have encountered a brown widow in any number of locations there. The good news is that widows are usually not aggressive. They will bite if handled or threatened, especially if an egg sac is present. I’d warn the others in your camp that this has happened, and if possible, keep the children in the newer and more open areas of the camp.”
“Thank you, Dr. Robinson,” Sarah said.
Mitch shook the doctor’s hand. “We’ll be extra vigilant.”
“Be forewarned that Sam will probably be agitated and restless for the next few days, especially in the next 12 hours or so. The best course of treatment is to apply ice to the wound to control inflammation and you can also use aloe vera to soothe the area. The wound site should be kept clean, and you can give him over-the-counter pain relievers.”
“So, no further medical treatment is necessary?” Lexa said.
Dr. Robinson shook his head. “From the information you provided, he’s up-to-date on his tetanus booster. In cases with severe symptoms, there’s a drug we can administer, but it’s no longer used routinely. Antibiotics aren’t recommended unless an infection develops, but the likelihood of that happening is rare. He might have some localized pain in the abdomen, and watch for cramping, nausea, fever, perspiration, tremors, and possibly elevated blood pressure. If any of those develop with any severity, or if you have any questions whatsoever, feel free to call.”
“Please tell me you have written instructions,” Lexa said.
The doctor smiled. “Of course. His symptoms should improve within 24 hours, and then Sam should be able to resume normal activities within a day or two.” Dr. Robinson’s gaze encompassed all three of them. “If you’d like to stay with Sam, that’s fine, but we should limit it to two visitors at a time.”
“You two stay with Sam. I’ll wait out here,” Mitch told them. “I need to call the others, anyway. They’ll want a full report.” His eyes widened. “Wait a sec. Didn’t Sam take out the trash after dinner tonight?”
“Yes,” Lexa said. “Dr. Robinson, could the lid or handle of a trash can be a breeding ground for a widow’s egg sac? The garbage cans sit under the overhang at the back door of the dining hall.”
Dr. Robinson nodded. “It’s a good possibility, yes.”
“If that’s the culprit, I’m thankful none of the kids were bit,” Lexa said. “They usually have the job of gathering and taking out the garbage every night.”
“I’m on it, Lexa,” Mitch assured her. “Hopefully no one will get ambitious tonight and dispose of any more garbage before we can check them out.” Cell phone in hand, Mitch walked a few paces away.
“Our phone number is on the form the nurse will give you.” The doctor led Lexa and Sarah back to the curtained area where Sam was resting. “I’ll check on him again in a few hours. We’d like to keep him here in the ER for observation for another hour or two, but then we can release him then if he exhibits no further symptoms.”
After thanking Dr. Robinson, Lexa turned to Sarah. “I guess now we wait. As I’m sure you know, Sam does many things well, but he’s not a very good patient. To tell you the truth, I think I prefer Corny Sam.”
Sarah nodded. “I know what you mean.”
“I heard that,” Sam said from the bed.
“You rest, young man.” Sarah winked at Lexa. “Remind me to tell you about the time I assisted in a childbirth back in Rockbridge, and the reaction of Sam’s dad.”
“For tonight’s entertainment, I could sing again.”
Lexa laughed. “Sam, please tell don’t tell me you’re going to wear a blonde wig that looks like a spiky pineapple and sing ‘Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?’ for the talent show.”
Sam laughed and then coughed. “I might. I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”
“I said rest,” Sarah reiterated. “No singing for now. Or laughing. Or talking.”
“Spoilsports. You two are no fun.” Sam frowned, but at least he closed his eyes.
“Yep,” Lexa said. “Cranky Sam has now arrived.”
Chapter 32
Day 7, Sunday
~~♥~~
“I’ll bet the smartest chickens in the coop aren’t even up at this insane hour.”
Eliot stole another glance at Marta as she trudged beside him on their way to the Hummer. In her jeans, T-shirt, athletic shoes, and medium weight jacket, she looked great. Sporty and athletic. A dark green Baylor Bears baseball cap covered her head, and her curly blonde ponytail cascaded out the back.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing over there,” she said. “Even in the dark, I can feel your eyes on me.”
He chuckled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Fine. Am I dressed appropriately? I followed your rules—sturdy, flat shoes with good traction, long sleeved wool jacket, no nylon outer clothing because it creates static electricity, and no drawstrings.”
“You’re fine, and I was thinking how great you look,” he said. “And those aren’t my rules. They’re for everyone.”
“Oh. Thanks for the compliment. Did you bring the leather gloves for both of us?”
“Check. They’re in the backpack.”
“I hope you got a smaller size for me.”
He glanced over at her as they walked. “Trust me, I know the size of your hand and how well it fits in mine. If your hand was as large as mine, we’d have a real problem.”
“On our hands? Ha! I’m so annoyingly ‘punny’ at this hour. No wonder I’m not a morning person. You sure know how to flatter a girl. Nice to get compliments this early.” She skimmed her gaze over him. “You look great, too.”
“What? This old thing?” As usual, he wore his jeans and a blue T-shirt, but he’d tossed on his leather jacket. He’d brought just enough clothing for the trip—no more, no less. Traveling around the world taught a guy how to streamline a wardrobe real fast.
“Too bad you’re so tired,” he told her. “I was going to offer to let you drive my tank.” Teasing her, Eliot tossed his keys in the air and then caught them one-handed.
&nbs
p; Marta perked up immediately. “Yes, please. I’d love that! The power! The speed! Oh, the places we could go!”
He laughed and, being purposely annoying, dangled the keys as enticement in front of her face. “On second thought, maybe not. I’ve witnessed all the yawning you’ve done in the short, ten-minute walk from the campsite. Didn’t you get enough sleep last night? I warned you we’d be up before the crack of dawn.”
“Hey, I tried,” she protested. “Suffice it to say that Landon was on guard duty last night and Mr. and Mrs. Warnick were enjoying some time together. The night before, it was Kevin and Beck, but at least she’s feeling up to a little canoodling with her husband.” Marta punctuated her words with yet another yawn. “Who am I to stand in the way of true love? I think it’s simply swell.”
“Where I come from—if they’re doing it right—kissing doesn’t make enough noise to keep someone else from sleeping.”
“It was all the quiet laughter and talking. My bed’s closest to the door.”
“Ah,” he said. “Gotcha.” In a quick move, she tried to wrest the keys from his hand, but he’d anticipated it and thwarted her efforts.
“You’re good. Do we have time to stop for coffee on the way to the Balloon Fiesta? Please?”
“Yep.” As they reached the Hummer, he checked his watch: 4:38 a.m. Right on schedule. “We don’t have to report to Tyler until 6:00. If you can wait, let’s get some food once we reach the festival area.”
“I can wait for food, but I definitely need coffee. Trust me, you don’t want to be around me until I’ve had my first cup.”
He chuckled. Even silly and sarcastic, Morning Marta was adorable. “Thanks for the warning.” Pulling out his key fob, Eliot clicked to unlock the doors. “You already know caffeine’s my poison of choice. You do have a valid driver’s license, right? I’m counting on you.”
“Would you like to see it?” She started to unzip her small backpack.
“Not necessary.” When he held up the keys, she smiled and held out her palm. Opening the driver’s door and ushering Marta inside, he showed her a few of the controls and then helped her adjust her seat. Then he climbed into the passenger seat beside her as she started the engine.
“What a sweet ride. This tank is awesome, Eliot. I bet it cost a pretty penny, but would you listen to that engine purr!” Marta’s grin was addictive. He’d thought he might have qualms about her driving his Hummer, but surprisingly, he didn’t. His Hummer was his baby, and he spent more time in it than he did his condo. As a swimmer, Marta must have great reflexes. More importantly, he trusted her.
She adjusted the rearview and side mirrors. “Okay, you’d better give me some basic directions before we head out. Then we’re off.”
Listening intently, Marta nodded as he gave her the basic directions. “There might be some Fiesta traffic, even at this hour, but it shouldn’t take too long,” he said. “Should I say a prayer before we head out?”
“Good idea.” Marta bowed her head and Eliot began his prayer. “Give us a good day at the Balloon Fiesta, Father. Keep everyone safe, both in the air and on the ground. We pray for Sam to heal quickly and that he can attend the worship service this morning. Thank you for your many blessings to us. We ask these things in Jesus’s name. Amen.”
“Amen. Thanks. That’s something about Sam getting bit by that spider, huh?” She pulled out of the parking area and headed down the narrow gravel road. “I know I joke about creepy crawlies, but that hit a little too close to home. I hope no one else irritates that mama spider.”
“At least it wasn’t something worse.”
“Have you ever been bit by a widow spider?”
“No, but I’ve been bit by a poisonous snake and a few other assorted disgusting creatures.”
Marta gasped, and he could tell it was genuine this time, not feigned. “Well, thank the Lord you didn’t lose anything vital. At least not that I know of.”
He laughed and shook his head. “No worries.”
“Any alligators?” she said. “With those huge jaws that snap down on their prey, and those big, sharp teeth.” She shuddered. “They scare me almost as much as snakes.”
“You can rest easy. No gators. Next topic? There are certain things I’d rather not discuss before I’ve had my morning java. If you don’t mind, I’m going to lower my window and let the wind whip through my tresses as you drive.”
Marta shot him a grin. “Sounds good. Think I’ll do the same. And I’ll pull into the first convenience store we see unless there’s suspicious looking characters lurking around outside.”
“Define suspicious.”
“More tattoos than teeth for starters. Sloppy hygiene habits and visible weapons are another.”
Eliot laughed. “You must hang around some interesting places in Houston.”
A few minutes later, they departed a convenience store with their coffee cups in hand, medium-sized for her and extra large for him. They’d started a fun debate in the store with several customers—surprising how many there were for that hour of the morning—over the best flavoring to add. Eliot took his straight up and black, the stronger the better. Marta insisted she couldn’t possibly drink coffee without Irish Crème or French Vanilla flavoring. Not surprisingly, her opinion won out. Bunch of sissies. When he was thirteen, his dad told him black coffee would put hair on his chest. Whether or not it was the caffeine, it worked, so he’d been drinking the stuff ever since.
“I’m surprised you don’t have more of an inflection in your voice when you speak English,” Marta mused as they began to see signs for Fiesta Park. “You could pass for an American, but now I know better.”
Better to steer her away from that line of thinking. Early on, he’d worked like a dog with a linguistics coach to erase all evidence of his native French accent. Not that he was ashamed of his home country in any way, but it was a necessity in his line of work. Kind of like creating a blank slate upon which to write the story of his life. At times he wondered if he’d lost himself somewhere along the way. In his lowest moments, he always came back to the one thing in his life that was constant: his faith.
“Great job driving the tank,” Eliot said as she parked and they exited the Hummer at Fiesta Park.
“Thanks, but the tank made it easy.” Marta tossed him the keys, which he pocketed. “Oh, look! There’s a sign for Vendor Row. I’m assuming that’s the place to go get some grub.” She inhaled deeply as they walked closer and rubbed her hands together. “It smells like…”
“Roasting chiles,” he said. “Chile’s the defining ingredient for New Mexican cuisine. It comes in two varieties: red or green. Are you okay with spicy foods?”
“It’s generally not a problem.”
“In restaurants here, they’ll ask if you want red or green. If you want to sample both, you say, ‘Christmas.’”
“How fun is that?” Marta said. “Lila told us a lot of their food is a blend of Native American foods like blue corn, squash, chile peppers, and pork. Everything I tried at the dinner the other night was very good.” On the way to Vendor Row, they walked by tents, booths, trailers, TV station trucks, and radio booths. People were milling about, drinking coffee, and—in spite of the early hour—an excitement hovered in the air.
“Look, Eliot!” Smiling, she pointed to a few of the balloons in the early stages of being inflated. “This is so exciting.”
“Why don’t you sit at one of the tables, and I’ll go get us some breakfast burritos. It’s one of the specialties here.” A few minutes later, he returned with a hot, wrapped burrito. “Here you go. I also brought you a water bottle. We can get more coffee, but I thought you might want this.” Once she sampled her first bite of the burrito, Eliot figured she might need the water.
“Do you mind if I sit next to you?” he said. “Since it’s cold, we can huddle while we eat.”
She smiled. “Have a seat. Thanks for this huge burrito. You might have to help me finish it.”
Moving his a
rm around her, Eliot prayed for their meal, pleased when she snuggled next to him. As he took the first few bites of his burrito, he kept a close eye on her as she bit into hers.
“This is really good,” she said. A few seconds later, her eyes widened and she reached for the water bottle and downed a third of it in one long drink.
“The level of spice can be an acquired taste.”
“No,” she said, fanning her mouth. “It’s fine. Just, um, a little unexpected.”
“Should I get another water bottle for you?”
“That might be advisable. Thanks.”
Ten minutes later, they headed to the prearranged area to meet Tyler. “I take it that noise is the sound of the balloons being inflated?” Marta said.
Eliot sighed in appreciation. The only thing more exciting was to see the glorious and colorful balloons rising and then floating across the sky—majestic and graceful.
“You’re right. It’s the butane torches firing the hot gases,” he told her. “It uses hot air first to begin the inflation and then when it gets enough room inside the huge bag, the pilot fires up the fuel at full power and the heat does the rest. When the bag reaches its full size, the operator shuts down the flame and then intermittently fires it up to keep the balloon full of hot air.”
“Hot air ballooning has been around for a long time, hasn’t it?” she said.
“I know a little about it. I can share a few tidbits, if you’d like.”
“I’m all ears. I’d love to hear it.”
“A scientist named Pilatre DeRozier launched the first hot air balloon in 1783. His passengers were a sheep, a duck, and a rooster. The balloon stayed in the air for 15 minutes before it crashed. Two months later, a couple of French brothers launched a balloon from Paris and flew for 20 minutes. That was considered the birth of hot air ballooning. In 1785, another French balloonist and his American co-pilot were the first to fly across the English Channel, a benchmark in ballooning history. And for your last interesting tidbit: our scientist DeRozier, the world’s first balloonist, unfortunately met his demise at his own attempt to cross the Channel.”