by Dianne Drake
See, that was her fundamental problem. She always had expectations. Even when she knew she shouldn’t, she did. But what if she didn’t? What if she could simply enter into something nice for a little while then walk away?
Yanking a piece of clear plastic from the roll, Dinah wrapped her fish in it then set about the task of removing scales from the second salmon. Thankless chore, smelly. Predictable outcome. People wouldn’t care about the prep, they’d care about the end results. And that’s where she always went wrong in her life—the end results. She cared too much, tried to make more happen than could, or would.
But could she enter into something without expecting anything at the end?
Grabbing up the de-boner, she looked at it for a moment then set it back with the rest of her knives. Even if she could get to the end without an expectation, there was always the possibility that Eric would want more. Then what?
“It’s not going to happen,” she muttered, totally disinterested in the whole salmon prep now. “Just not going to happen.”
Her sous chef, a nice little man named Oswaldo—half a head shorter than she, long hair pulled back by a red bandana, pencil-thin mustache—gave her a quizzical look but didn’t comment. Rather, he went about his sauce prep while she turned her attention to an asparagus risotto. Her concentration was lacking so badly, though, she couldn’t even decide whether to use only the tender asparagus tips or peel and chop the whole stalk. In fact, all she could think of was Eric, his missing wedding ring…her lapse in sanity.
“You’ve already salted that,” Oswaldo reminded her, trying to be discreet as he pushed the open salt container away from her.
“What?” she asked, trying to snap herself back into her work.
“Your risotto. Salted.”
Dinah looked at the salt she’d pinched between her fingers and had been ready to dump into the risotto. This was her job now. Food prep. Slicing and dicing. Salting. And if she wasn’t careful, she’d make a mess of that, too. “Look, I’m going to go take a short break. Can you cover for about fifteen minutes?”
Oswaldo nodded, and she didn’t miss that little glint in his eyes. He’d be happy to take over forever. Or, at least until Angela was back. And he was about to get his shot at it if she didn’t shape up.
Tossing off her apron, Dinah thought about going back to her room, locking the door and climbing into bed. But fifteen minutes wasn’t enough for that, so she opted for a quick walk to the rear of the lodge, and fifteen minutes in an employee-only area set up with outdoor chairs and tables. At the moment she was the only employee there, which suited her fine. Being alone, with nothing but a mountain slope and pine trees behind her, was a relief. No pressures there. Not to think. Not to react. Not to remember. Not to question herself.
“What am I doing?” she asked a chipmunk scurrying its way across the opening, heading straight for a pile of downed branches. “It’s crazy. I know better. Maybe I should crawl under that pile of branches with you.” Nice idea, except hiding never solved anything. Trouble was, she didn’t know what did.
“So think of the moment,” she said, switching her attention to a lone figure hiking his or her way up from a ravine in the distance. It was odd, seeing someone out here alone at this time of the day. Usually, they were in pairs, or more. In fact, she didn’t recall seeing a single hiker out here anywhere, ever, so she watched the progress of the one in the distance, and got herself so caught up in his slow gait that she didn’t even notice his pronounced limp until he was crossing over the back patch of lawn. Where, when he saw her, he collapsed in a heap.
Immediately, Dinah leapt up and ran to the man…a young man, not more than twenty, she guessed. Dropping to her knees beside him, she gave him a little shake on the shoulder. “Hey,” she said, patting his cheeks, noticing the slight flutter of his eyelids. “Stay with me, do you hear?” Was it exhaustion? Dehydration? Immediately her fingers went to his pulse. “Stay awake.”
He nodded in the affirmative, trying to speak, but a gash on his head, above his right eye, had been bleeding, substantially, and she wondered if he’d lost enough blood to make him woozy. Or was the head wound more serious than the superficial cut she could see?
“My brother…dad…” he whispered, his voice so low and raspy she was barely able to make out his words.
“We’ll call them as soon as we get you taken care of.” Her fingers pulled back his shirt so she could have a look at the way he moved air in and out of his lungs. His pulse was too fast, his breathing too shallow. He could have been too pale underneath the layers of dirt and blood but she couldn’t tell. So she did a quick assessment, felt his arms, his legs, probed his abdomen to see if it was distended or rigid. It was not. “Where do you hurt?” she finally asked him.
“Please, my dad and my brother, they…” His eyes fluttered shut, and he fought to open them again, but it was a losing battle as he lapsed into unconsciousness.
Immediately, Dinah clicked on her cell phone and speed-dialed the first name at the top. By the time the first ring sounded, she was already going through the young man’s pockets, looking for identification. First his jacket pockets, then his cargo pants…pants with numerous pockets, visible and hidden, everywhere.
“You having second thoughts about our date tonight?” Eric asked rather than saying hello.
“I have an unconscious young man, age approximately twenty, on the back lawn of the lodge. He walked here then collapsed when I got to him. Head wound, can’t tell how serious, but he’s done some extensive bleeding. Tachycardia, shallow respirations. Eyes responding, but very sluggish.” She found his wallet in a zipper pocket midway down to his knee and pulled it out. “His belly’s not rigid, there are no obvious breaks, at least nothing compound, and he stayed conscious only a few seconds before he went out on me so I don’t have any idea what happened to him.” One glance at his driver’s license, and she added, “He’s not a local. According to his identification, he’s from Canada…Ontario.”
“I’m on my way,” Eric said. “Get him as stable as possible, and I’ll make the rest of the arrangements from here.”
“It’s bad, Eric. I think it’s really bad.” She clicked off with Eric and called the main desk at the lodge. “Hello, Redmond,” she said to the concierge who answered. “This is Dinah, from the kitchen. I have a critically injured young man out on the back lawn—”
“I’ll call for help,” he interrupted.
“No, listen to me. I’ve already called. What I need from you are blankets and a couple of pillows. Immediately.” The boy was already shocky, but warming him up and elevating his legs could lessen the trauma, help keep him stable until Eric got there. “And I need someone to go and find his family. His last name is Dawson. This is Troy, and he asked for his brother and father.”
When she clicked off, she didn’t have to wait for more than a minute before one of the lodge workers came running with an armload of blankets, followed by another one carrying pillows. Redmond followed up with a first-aid kit and several bottles of water, and he was flanked by two more workers who had come only in case more help was needed.
“We’ve got someone going up to his cabin now. According to the registration, they’re staying in one of the family cabins. And they’re a family of five—husband, wife, three children.”
Dinah had a sinking feeling that maybe Troy’s brother and father had been with him, that they might have been injured, too. But she didn’t want to voice that opinion and cause a panic. Best to leave the search to Eric, should a search become necessary.
“Dr. Ramsey called us. His ETA is two minutes,” Redmond informed her.
“How?” she said, then looked up as Redmond pointed to the helicopter coming into view.
By the time it had landed on the east lawn, which had been cleared of guests by another one of the lodge workers, Dinah had Troy’s feet propped up, and had him well tucked into his blankets. His pulse was still too fast, too thready, and he wasn’t responding at
all to her attempts to rouse him by calling his name or by pinching him. It was a serious head injury, possible fracture, with bleeding and swelling. She was convinced of it.
“Any change?” Eric shouted. He was running hard in her direction, carrying a medical bag.
“No response.”
He dropped to his knees, and handed his medical bag over to her. Immediately she went for the blood-pressure cuff. Thirty seconds later, she looked over at him. “It’s ninety over sixty.” Too low.
“Pupils are responsive, but very slow,” Eric said.
Bad sign. But not the worst-case scenario by a long shot.
“So was he coherent when you found him?”
“He was walking…more like staggering up the trail.” She pointed to the south end of the lawn. “I watched him for a while because he seemed to be moving so slowly. But I didn’t know he was injured. Then as he made the clearing, even though I couldn’t tell, I had the feeling that something wasn’t right. So I ran down there, and he…he collapsed. Wanted me to tell his brother and dad. At least that’s what I thought he wanted. But, Eric, I might be wrong. I have this hunch that his dad and brother are out there somewhere, and he was the one who was coming for help.”
“Damn,” Eric muttered. He looked up at Redmond. “Does anyone here know for sure? Has anyone seen his family?”
“We’re tracking them down now. Nobody’s at the cabin, but one of our guests saw the mother and daughter go off together earlier. Didn’t see the father and sons, though. So I’ve got my people knocking on doors right now.”
“Then they could be out there?” Dinah asked, looking out to the vast expanse of woods around her, and the never-ending mountains beyond that.
“I’m going to send him down to the hospital right now, go down there with him, then I’m coming back, getting Neil up here with me, and we’re going to start a search and rescue, unless I hear something different in the meantime.” He motioned over two of the hotel workers, instructed them to retrieve the stretcher from the helicopter then he made a phone call to the hospital. Two minutes later Troy Dawson, who’d yet to regain consciousness, was on his way to the helicopter, while Eric lagged behind for a moment. “I think I may have to take a rain check on that dinner later on,” he said, grabbing his medical bag and spinning away.
“I want to do this,” Dinah said, practically running to keep up with him. She was tall, but her strides didn’t come close to matching Eric’s, especially when he was in a hurry.
“What?” he shouted, the noise of the helicopter getting louder the closer they got.
“Help with the rescue,” she shouted back. “I want to be part of it.” Because she felt obligated. Because Troy had been trying to tell her something and she hadn’t been able to keep him conscious long enough to find out what. Hadn’t been able to hold on to Molly long enough…
“Can you find the trail he came up on?” he yelled, then motioned her away as he climbed into the helicopter. “That could get us off to a faster start if we know where to start looking.”
She was still nodding when the helicopter lifted off, watching it disappear over the older Sister in a matter of seconds. She had to find the trail… First thing she did was run to the kitchen to tell Oswaldo he would be in charge of the cooking. Next, she phoned Angela to let her know what was going on, and make sure she wasn’t in labor. Then she changed into hiking boots, put on a comfortable pair of jeans and layered on a couple of shirts with a green sweater, tied her hair up in a bandana and scrounged for anything that might be of help in a mountain rescue, even though she’d never been on one before. She had her medical bag…bandages, scissors, stethoscope. More bulk than she wanted to carry, but…
Out the door in a blink, she ran to the gift shop and grabbed up a souvenir backpack.
“You can’t take that!” the teenage clerk exclaimed while Dinah was dumping her med supplies inside, totally ignoring the girl’s protests. After her own supplies, she added a lightweight blanket she found on one of the gift-shop shelves, as well as a flashlight, a small travel pillow, and several plastic bottles of water. On impulse, she scooped up a handful of candy bars and several pairs of fluorescent pink shoelaces popular with children. She had no idea what she’d need them for, but she felt better with a full pack.
“I said, you can’t take that!” The clerk was now yelling. “I’m calling Security.” Which she did. But the kindly old security officer, a man called Wallace Gilpin, who’d been perched on a chair almost outside the door, reading a magazine, scooped some packages of premade crackers with peanut butter from the gift shop shelf and handed them to Dinah.
“Protein,” he said. “Not much, but it could help.” Next, he dug a gold cigarette lighter from his pocket and handed it to her. “You might be needing this, too. But, please, take care of it. It belonged to my father.” With the lighter, he handed her his magazine. “And this, just in case you need a fire starter.”
“The brother and father were with him,” Redmond called from across the lobby. “And no one has seen them come back. We’ve sent someone down to the village to find Troy’s mother and sister. I’ve got a cell phone number for them, but I thought having someone tell them in person was better than a phone call.”
“Well, I’m going on ahead to find the trail.” In the whole scheme of a search-and-rescue operation, it would probably be a small contribution, but saving time had to be good. Especially with only a few hours of light left.
“Use this,” Redmond said, handing her a walkie-talkie. “Dr. Ramsey has his own communication, but it doesn’t hurt to have a back-up. And you won’t get cell reception once you’re too far away from the lodge. But these carry for quite away.”
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Angela asked. She’d wandered down to the lobby, where Wallace was already scooting a chair in her direction.
“No, I’m not sure. But the one thing I do know is that I can’t sit around and do nothing. Eric needs me to find the trail, and if there’s a chance that Troy has a brother or father out there, and they need help…” She ran to her sister, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Let Redmond know if you need me…one twinge, Angela, and I’ll be back. Promise?”
Angela lifted her hand to wave, but Dinah was gone before she saw it. Running across the lawn, she discovered at least a dozen different trails, all starting at approximately the same place, all leading to vastly different areas. Suddenly she wasn’t so sure where she’d seen Troy. At least four of the trail heads seemed likely, which meant she was going to have to go further. See if she could find traces of anything…blood, something he might have dropped.
Half way across the lawn, her cell phone jingled. “We’ve got Troy in the emergency room, and I’ll be back in a few minutes. Any luck finding the right trail?”
“When I find the trail, will you let me go out with you?” she asked.
“We’ll talk about it.”
“I want to go, Eric. I feel…responsible. If I could have kept Troy talking, I might have discovered where his brother and father are. Or, if I’d noticed him sooner, gotten to him quicker…” So many things bothered her, but the thing that bothered her most of all was thinking about someone else being lost out there. “I want to go, and I don’t want to talk about it.”
“On my rescues, you follow my orders, Dinah.”
“I’m a nurse, Eric. I always follow orders.”
“But you’re not experienced in mountain rescue.”
“Then send me back if I get in the way or impede the rescue. But give me a chance. I need to…need to do this. The idea that a young boy is out there somewhere…” She shut her eyes, trying to not picture all the possibilities of trouble that boy, and his father, could be in. But in the dark of her eyelids, she saw bad things. “I have to do this, Eric.” But she wouldn’t, if he didn’t want her. Because she was a good nurse. Because she knew how to take orders.
“Find the trail, Dinah. Just find the right trail.”
&nbs
p; The first two trail heads turned up nothing. She went some way on each, looking for clues that Troy might have come that way, and found nothing. It was on the third trail she discovered fresh drops of blood…probably from the gash on Troy’s head. “Hello,” she shouted, on the off chance that the Dawson family was within hearing distance. Of course, no one answered, not that she’d really expected them to. But on impulse, before she headed down that trail, she tied a pink shoelace to a tree branch so Eric would know where she was starting. Then she plunged into the woods, looking for more signs that Troy had come this way.
There were signs everywhere. Scuff marks in the dirt indicated he’d been dragging himself exactly where she was tracking. And she found more blood droplets, and other larger marks in the dirt…handprints? Perhaps where he’d stumbled and fallen?
But there were only signs of one person coming through here. She’d hoped for more, hoped that a few feet into the woods she’d find Troy’s brother, or dad. Maybe with a broken leg. Something incapacitating, but not too serious. Of course, that didn’t turn out to be the case, but she refused to allow early discouragement to get her down. Rather, she followed the obvious trail, one that was easy to read. Bargaining with God for an early success.
Everything reminded her of a giant jigsaw puzzle, and she was the only one there to solve it. “Solve it,” she whispered, bending down to have a closer look at the broken frond of a fern. Nothing. It wasn’t broken. Just not fully developed. And nothing else around her gave her a clue, which meant, to the untrained eye, the trail had run out not far after it had started. Maybe she’d gone the wrong way? Or taken a wrong turn?