Ava's Prize

by Cari Lynn Webb

  Dispatch interrupted the conversation. Codes. Location. And more details rattled over the speaker, focusing Ava.

  Who was she kidding? She wasn’t an inventor or a forward thinker. She was a paramedic who’d served her country and now took care of her mother. She tended to the wounded and sick—that was what she knew how to do. What she excelled at. Ava buckled her seat belt and left her ridiculous thoughts about inventions outside, in the gutter.

  “Time to roll.” Dan buckled his seat belt. “Told you that you should’ve eaten while we had the chance.”

  Stress had stolen her appetite. With each block closer to the victim’s location, she crammed the stress deep inside her, where it wouldn’t distract her. She couldn’t rescue her struggling finances, but she could help save another life.

  * * *

  FORTY-EIGHT HOURS after her late-night job search in the ambulance, the reality of Ava’s life crashed over her. Game night at Kyle’s place seemed like a distant memory—an imagined one.

  Her reality was a domestic fight and a victim with multiple stab wounds. An overdose. One early-morning heart attack. A stroke. Not everyone arrived at the hospital alive. Those were only the life-threatening calls during the night.

  Five hours into their shift, Ava had checked the full-moon calendar, looking for something to explain the hectic pace. The full moon was still more than eight days away. Her shift had been another routine night on the job. A routine night that had left her hollowed out and exhausted.

  Ava walked into her apartment, her legs wooden, her steps slow. Surely a few hours of sleep would right her world enough to take on the day.

  But her home life collided with her professional life, adding a bleakness everywhere she looked.

  Joann, a registered nurse and her mother’s caregiver, sat at the kitchen table, her fingers wrapped around a wide mug. Worry and exhaustion faded into the older woman’s wide brown eyes and thinned her mouth.

  The long-time nurse—and second mother to Ava—didn’t need to speak for Ava to know her mom had relapsed during the night.

  Ava worked her voice around the catch in her throat. “How is she?”

  Joann sipped her tea as if requiring the warm liquid to loosen her own words. “We made it through the night.”

  They’d never called Ava. Not that she would’ve been able to answer, given their call load. She thanked the powers that be for Joann. She’d be lost without the remarkable woman caring for her mother.

  Joann pointed to a dry-erase board on the side of the refrigerator. “Doses and times are on the board. You’ll want to repeat.”

  Ava scanned the med list and her heart rolled into her stomach. This wasn’t a mild relapse. Nothing that would resolve in the next few hours. “You need to get some rest.”

  “I’m thinking the very same thing about you.” Joann tipped her mug toward Ava; a familiar motherly scold laced her tone. “Child, you look like you’re about to drop out to that tile floor. If you dare to do it, I’m leaving you right where you fall.”

  “Can you at least cover me up?” Ava asked, a small smile in her voice.

  “Fine, but I’m not getting you a pillow.” Joann rinsed her mug in the sink and set it in the dishwasher. “Go to bed before you really do face-plant on this floor.”

  Ava hugged Joann and watched the nurse leave. Exhaustion made her feet drag down the hall. She already knew sleep would be difficult to hold on to with the worry for her mom weaving relentlessly through her. She showered and changed, and then headed out of her bedroom. Her gaze drifted over the contest flyer she’d tossed on her dresser last week.

  She tiptoed into her mom’s room and curled into the recliner beside her mother’s bed. Concern pulsed through her, making her entire body ache.

  Her mental health needed a career change and soon. She’d never really paid attention to statistics, never considered herself a number on a survey. Until recently. Statistics listed a paramedic’s burnout rate at five years. If Ava listened hard enough, she could hear that clock ticking. She hadn’t shared with Dan or her mom that her past and present intersected during any quiet moment. In those moments, memories stole her sleep and haunted her with fear-induced adrenaline rushes.

  The more she worked, the more her empathy dwindled away. Last night’s first call had been to a car accident involving a seventeen-year-old who’d been texting. The teen had cried his life was too hard with balancing school and girlfriends and expectations. He’d swerved into oncoming traffic, too absorbed by the videos on his phone to watch the road. Ava had wanted to lecture the teen that hard was having both legs blown off from an IED and living to talk about it. Hard was leaving your pregnant wife at home while you served for a year overseas and not knowing if you’d return at all. Hard was burying your child. Too soon. Too early. Because of irresponsible drivers like him. Anger warred with her compassion. But teens should be having fun and being carefree, shouldn’t they? They weren’t adults yet. And didn’t everyone deserve a second chance?

  She wanted to believe she could attend physician assistant’s school, shift into an office environment with normal hours and less stress. Then she’d rediscover her empathy and passion for helping people. But attending graduate school would sacrifice her mom’s care. She’d never risk losing Joann. If only there were more hours in the day. Then she could have everything.

  Kyle’s contest was another option. A chance—however small—to change her future if she won. Maybe all she needed was to just take the risk and enter the contest. Maybe believing she had a chance to win would be enough to quiet the past and give her hope. Hope that would surely bring back her compassion.

  Her brain was too exhausted to think logically. She wasn’t actually considering entering Kyle’s contest, was she?

  She had an idea of sorts. Something she’d considered over the last few nights in the lull between calls. Something she’d woken up thinking about yesterday afternoon.

  Ava slipped out of her mom’s room, grabbed her laptop and returned. She opened the contest website and clicked on the entry button. She’d enter and not tell anyone. If nothing came of it, at the worst, she was out a few hours’ time. She’d wasted more time scrolling through TV stations, searching for something to watch.

  Filling out the entry form gave her a chance to decompress—something the facilitators of the Critical Incident Stress Debriefing group recommended.

  More than an hour later, her mother woke up. Her smile barely twitched across her lips; her voice was no more than a raw scratch. “Glad you’re home safe.”

  Ava set the laptop on the bedside table and held her mom’s pale hand. “Sleep, Mom. I’m here.”

  “I have two guardian angels,” her mom whispered. “What would I do without you both?”

  Ava waited for her mom to drift back to sleep. She wasn’t qualified to be a guardian angel. Joann had earned that distinction more than once. Ava might not be guardian-angel eligible, but she was there to protect her mom.

  She reached toward the computer with her free hand and pressed the submit button on the entry page. She had to try for her mother and herself.

  She shut the laptop and curled into the recliner. She fell asleep cradling her mom’s hand between her own, wanting to hold on to the dream of a different future. Not the pink skies and fantasy future, but one that might be a real possibility. If only...

  CHAPTER SIX

  KYLE WALKED AROUND the outdoor garden oasis he’d designed on the rooftop of his building, checking the ice bin, appetizer trays, and avoiding the guests mingling around him. Small talk had never interested him. Too much politeness and too many gracious compliments made him suspicious. He always ended up searching for the flip side—the criticism wrapped inside the sweetness.

  At eight, his grandfather had declared Kyle was man enough to learn how to shake a hand and stand behind his word. Papa Quinn had taught him t
o rely on the strength of a handshake, not empty promises. His grandfather looked people in the eye, always had a firm handshake and listened.

  Sam Bentley, one of Kyle’s judges and soon-to-be mentors, walked over to the buffet table and shook Kyle’s hand. Sam had a handshake Kyle could rely on.

  “Quite the crowd,” Sam said. “I didn’t expect so many people to be here.”

  Neither had Kyle. The contest open house had been last weekend. The number of contest entries had exceeded his expectations by more than double. “You might want to try the shrimp before they’re gone.”

  “Good idea.” Sam piled several bacon-wrapped shrimps onto a napkin. “You doing okay?”

  Kyle paused and looked Sam in the eye. His grandfather had always cautioned Kyle not to ask a question if he wasn’t fully invested in the response. Sam seemed prepared to listen. Sam’s wife, Glenda, bounced between them and air-kissed Kyle. “You’ve outdone yourself, Kyle. How did you manage this so fast?”

  The effervescent woman answered her question with another one. “Did you see Vanessa Ryan, the news anchor from Channel 15, and Brendan Payne from Channel 10? Brendan looks better without all that studio makeup. Do you think they might be an item?” Glenda glanced at Kyle. “Don’t you get nervous talking to reporters? Worried you might say the wrong thing.”

  Sam handed his wife the napkin with the shrimp and grimaced at Kyle. “Honey, try these. They’re quite delicious.”

  “I can’t eat now.” Glenda adjusted the cashmere scarf around her neck. “Nikki James—also from Channel 10—is headed right this way.”

  Kyle disliked the press even more than small talk.

  Nikki lifted her champagne glass in a toast to the threesome. “Kyle, are you going to show us where the finalists will be working on their inventions?”

  “Not tonight.” Or ever. Kyle motioned to Sam. “Mr. Bentley can answer any questions you have. We designed the lab together the last few days.”

  Glenda widened her smile and tugged her husband closer to Nikki James. Grateful, Kyle slipped around the buffet table and escaped. He checked his watch. Only twenty minutes until the finalists were announced.

  The finalists with the ideas that would save him.

  He’d spent another endless round of nights pretending to work inside his lab. Even the five-star meals prepared by Haley Waters, his personal chef, had failed to inspire him. He’d played Skee-Ball more than once in the early morning hours, searching for something with every toss of the ball. All he’d discovered was that the game was better with Ava challenging him and Ben and Dan’s laughter surrounding him. The ideas remained stuck inside him.

  He’d considered arranging another visit for Ben, Dan and Ava, but nixed that thought. He wasn’t that lonesome to have people around. Even his sister hadn’t popped in to disturb the silence. Iris had texted to tell him about several job interviews she’d scheduled for the week. She hadn’t texted with news that she’d secured a new job. How was he supposed to judge his sister while he failed at his own job?

  Iris circulated through the crowd, bringing her usual cheer to every guest. Not only did his sister excel at small talk, she made every person she met feel special and comfortable. She treated strangers like cherished old friends, claimed she’d never known a stranger. For one breath, he envied her. Wanted to be like her. Wanted to belong with such effortless ease.

  Fortunately, his survival instinct forced him to inhale the evening air, driving that senseless wish away and returning him to more secure ground. He might stand apart, but at least he was safe there.

  His gaze caught on an all-too-familiar redhead. The same redhead he’d imagined challenging him to a late-night game of Ping-Pong. The same redhead he’d want as a friend if friends were his goal.

  He’d stopped looking for friends in the sixth grade. He’d been wary and distant on his return to middle school after Troy Simmons had tested Kyle’s allergy claims. In high school, he’d accepted that inviting the guy who might need an EpiPen jammed into his thigh and an ambulance ride was too much of a party buzzkill. By college, that twinge of missing out had faded. He’d been too busy with his studies and sharing his inventions with his grandfather.

  Yet that almost-familiar clench to his insides, as if he’d missed being around Ava, surprised him. He’d moved on from his past and was more than satisfied with his life. After all, he had more important priorities than a misplaced wish to belong.

  But Ava was here. Dressed in a bold bottle-green dress and looking like the model she never claimed to be. Kyle wanted to be near her again. That should’ve made him run in the other direction. Instead, he moved through the crowd, offered a chin dip acknowledgment to different guests, yet never lost sight of Ava.

  Finally, he stood within touching distance. And hesitated like he’d stepped back into middle school and watched the party invites flash across cell phones in the hallway. He’d always held his breath, waiting for his phone to vibrate with a new text alert. The invites had never arrived. He’d long since stopped hoping. Stopped holding his breath.

  Until now. With Ava. His breath stilled. That deceitful hope flared. Had she come to see him?

  Ava stepped forward, embraced him without hesitation. The hug was too quick. Too impersonal. He wanted to reach for her again. Pull her against him and hold on, for longer than appropriate, until all those tense places inside him calmed. Until he tackled that awkward boy from his past and wrestled every old insecurity back into place. Until the hope faded.

  Ava motioned to an older auburn-haired woman in a wheelchair with a bright multicolored shawl draped around her thin shoulders. “Kyle, this is my mother, Karen.”

  Kyle jolted, yet managed to keep his expression contained, his smile in place. Her mother? He hadn’t expected family introductions. Friends met families. Boyfriends met parents.

  Ava and he weren’t...anything. But could they be? That urge to take Ava into his arms lowered to a simmer and refused to fade.

  He ignored those useless thoughts. His schoolboy days of crushes and old wishes were in the past. Forgotten underneath his master’s degree and practical business pursuits. He took Karen’s hand, kept his grip steady and gentle. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  “I haven’t been this nervous since Ava deployed for her last time.” Karen held on to Kyle’s hand. “I hope they make the announcement for the finalists soon.”

  Ava touched her ear, and then her bracelet. Her hands fluttered around her, but never stilled. Only her smile settled on Kyle. “Can’t deny my own nerves, either. Or that I’m still in shock about getting the call from your contest people.”

  His people? That hope splintered. He’d known better than to trust it anyway. Ava wasn’t here for him, but for the contest. For the money. He pulled out his best host smile—the one that Iris had taught him and leveled the alarm out of his own voice. “Can I get you anything?”

  “I’ll celebrate when Ava is officially announced as a finalist.” Her mother smiled. A finalist? Now Kyle knew what it felt like when the world tilted on its axis. Ava was just an acquaintance. Someone he might want as a friend. Someone he might like... No, that was wrong. This was very wrong. Ava wasn’t supposed to be a contest entrant. Most definitely not a finalist. He wasn’t supposed to know the finalists. He wasn’t supposed to like the finalists. He wanted one of their ideas. Not any complications, like friends or his conscience. Panic and dread pooled inside him like quicksand.

  “We were just asked to attend, Mom.” Ava searched his face as if looking for a clue. “It doesn’t mean I’m a finalist.”

  Kyle patted Karen’s hand and tapped composure into his tone. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you. I don’t know the finalists myself.”

  “But it’s your contest.” Karen peered at him, pride and love for her daughter reflected in her open gaze.

  The last time he’d hugged his own mom, only grief had
filled her gaze. That’d been one month after his grandfather’s unexpected death. At the airport before his parents’ one-way flight to the Florida coast. He’d expected to see joy and pride in his mom’s gaze when he’d brought his parents home to the house he’d built for his family.

  Kyle held on to his neutral expression. He’d always excelled at masking his emotions—a downfall for his few previous relationships. His exes had always complained about his emotional unavailability as if it was a bad thing. Finally, his skill proved useful. “I’ve intentionally stayed out of the selection process.” Although he was second-guessing that decision right now. “That’s why I chose the judges I did.”

  “Important to remain impartial.” Karen squeezed his hand as if giving him her approval and encouragement. “You wouldn’t want to appear biased.”

  “That would ruin the integrity of the contest.” Kyle managed that without a flinch. He’d ruin the integrity of his contest later. Right now, he needed to get through the next half hour without demanding a do-over. How could Ava be a finalist?

  “You aren’t going to give us even a hint?” Dan walked up, tapped Kyle on the shoulder with his fist before shaking Kyle’s hand.

  The rest of Ava’s friends swarmed across the rooftop and surrounded Ava like bees around their queen. His family had gathered around Papa Quinn the same way, with the same love and support. But they were family and that had been expected. These were only Ava’s friends, yet they acted like protective family members.

  There was that pinch in his chest again. As if he’d missed something important. But he had everything he needed with his family. All he needed was his family back with him.

  That quicksand surrounded Kyle as doubt made his world roll off its axis into a tailspin. His voice was the only part of him not spinning. “Even if I knew, I wouldn’t ruin the moment.”