by Susan Slater
“I left a message with the tour office. They assured me they could reach Elaine before the group leaves for Ireland.” She turned her attention back to the phone and pressed in another number.
“Good.” Probably not before morning, he thought to himself. But he did understand Carolyn’s need to keep busy. He might not be Dan’s biggest fan, but he didn’t wish anyone ill. And according to the docs, things didn’t look good. He watched Carolyn with the cell to her ear walk into the hallway. Must be her mother.
***
It was a joke. It had to be. Elaine read the message again. A rollover accident, Dan in intensive care—head injury, broken wrist. Prognosis unknown. He’d just put her on the plane two days ago. He’d be with her on Saturday. But at gut-level she knew it wasn’t a joke. Carolyn reiterated what had happened when Elaine called back.
“I’ll get the first flight out.”
Numb. She sleepwalked through making arrangements— British Airways to New York, American to Atlanta, Delta to Albuquerque. Done. She repacked, made her apologies to the tour director, tried to get a few hours’ sleep, then, a cab to Heathrow, a window seat and thirteen plus hours to think. And not know.
It was a fledgling relationship barely three months old but with all the promise in the world. Dreams coming true, everything she could ever want. The summer had been brutal. Her husband of twenty years gets out of prison only to die in a flash flood, his body washed away. She buries an empty box, but then miraculously Eric shows up with all the bravado and pushy arrogance that she’d come to hate. But he did sign the divorce papers. Was she ready for another relationship? Yes, a hundred times, yes.
“Do you ever think about us?” She’d asked Dan when he dropped her off at Albuquerque’s Sunport, then bit her lip. Stupid thing to ask. Somewhere in some how-to-trip-’em-to-the-floor manual she’d just crossed over into the dating no-no’s.
“No.”
She poked him not too gently in the ribs.
He looked down at her, a smile pulling up one corner of his mouth. “If you can’t take the answer, don’t ask the question.” Then he was laughing, taking her into his arms, nuzzling her neck. “You know the answer. Why do you ask?”
“Because suddenly I’m having separation anxiety.”
“Hey, easy, I’ll be with you in a week.” He playfully bit her earlobe and then made a snuffing sound in her ear.
She pulled back to look at him quizzically, “What was that?”
“Puppy snuffs. Simon asked me to say good-bye.”
Both laughing now, they walked into the airport holding hands. Maybe the question hadn’t really been answered, but the last kiss didn’t leave much to imagination and the feeling was mutual.
So where did that leave her now? She simply could not stand to lose this man. The torment of not knowing was new to her, absolutely foreign to her very being. She was so much a put-the-problem-on-the-table-and-deal-with-it type. And suddenly she had no control. But she had the time—free of having to report to work every day. She was six weeks into a year’s sabbatical from the local university and maybe the trip to Ireland would be put on hold…again…but she was free to help Dan. Make certain he would heal and they would be together. There was some satisfaction in that.
***
She sighed. A person simply could not fly from the East to the Southwest quickly.
It was beginning to feel like she’d been in the air half her life when finally she walked into a restroom at the Sunport. Leaning across a sink, she stared in the mirror and did a quick evaluation. At forty-almost-six she was too old to bounce back quickly from a lack of sleep. Stress indelibly etched itself at the edges of her eyes and a sallowness replaced a normally creamy complexion.
She shook out a green-and-gold paisley silk scarf, pulled her thick dark hair back, wrapped the scarf around the low ponytail one time and tied it at the nape of her neck. Peach lip-gloss, a pinch to her cheeks, and time to evaluate. Better. The scarf gave her some color but the image staring back still looked drawn. Oh well. She headed for a stall, slipped into fresh jeans, a long-sleeved olive-green cotton sweater, and running shoes. Might as well be comfortable.
It seemed to take another eon to pick up her luggage, catch a shuttle to the rental lot, and complete the paperwork at the Enterprise desk, but finally she was on the road. It was already early Wednesday morning.
Christus St. Vincent Regional Medical Center was on St. Michaels Drive to the right off of St. Francis, one of Santa Fe’s main drags. Carolyn had said she’d meet her in the lobby and was true to her word.
“Anything new?”
Carolyn shook her head and simply hugged her. “I’m so glad you’ve come. I know your being here will make a difference.”
“Do they know how it happened?”
“I don’t think so. Not yet anyway. The driver was killed.”
“Driver?”
“Yeah, some old guy who was giving Dan a ride. Guess the Cherokee had engine trouble. Phillip called the dealer in Las Vegas and they towed it in.”
“And the driver…died?”
“Crushed. The truck rolled at least three times. Dan was thrown clear but the driver wasn’t as lucky.”
“That’s horrible. A simple Good Samaritan act leads to death. Poor man. Will I be able to see Dan now?”
“Of course, but I want you to be prepared.”
“For…?”
“All the tubes, the machines—” Tears welled up and Carolyn didn’t continue.
“I’ll be fine.”
But nothing ever really prepares someone to see a loved one incapacitated—someone who had been so vital, so strong. Elaine pushed open the door and stopped. “Oh.” She couldn’t seem to move but stayed rooted to a spot just inside the room. Finally, she stepped closer to the bed willing herself to breathe, take a deep breath, and then another.
“Will you be okay by yourself? I thought I’d go back to the motel.”
“Yes, go…I’m sure you haven’t slept much. Give my love to Phillip.” Elaine hadn’t taken her eyes off of Dan.
“Speaking of sleep, you look like you could use some, too. I asked them to set up a cot. But it doesn’t look very comfortable.”
Elaine glanced at the metal and canvas frame against the back wall stacked with folded sheets, a blanket and pillow. “Looks perfect. A slab of marble would probably work at this point.”
“Then, I’m off. The floor nurses check vitals hourly so I’m not sure how much sleep you’ll get. I’ll let them know you’re here.”
“Thanks.” Elaine walked to the cot and put her purse down next to her overnight bag. “Oh, I almost forgot, is Simon with you?”
“Dan knows better than to even ask—you can’t turn cat people into dog-sitters. I’m sure he kenneled him, probably in that place I recommended in the North Valley, Canine Country Club. I’m pretty sure he said he was driving up through Albuquerque to drop him off.
“I’ll call later. It would be great to have him with me…might make things easier.” After a quick hug Carolyn was out the door.
***
Elaine stood at the foot of Dan’s hospital bed. It was almost impossible to take it all in—the tubes, the quiet churning of machines, the drips from bottles hanging above him…but it was the stark, blanched paleness of what had been a tanned face that pulled at her heart. If she had a doubt, there was none now—Dan was struggling—maybe fighting for his life.
Bandages covered the right side of his head stretching from his ear, up and across just above his forehead. Someone had shaved his head—shearing dark brown wavy hair just barely peppered with silver. She almost smiled—that would pique his vanity. But it would grow back. Hair removal wasn’t permanent. His right hand and arm were in a cast and tethered to the bed. Broken, she remembered from Carolyn’s message. In addition, there was probably a lot of bruising that she
couldn’t see.
She bent over the bed and kissed his cheek. “Hey, I’m home. World’s fastest trip almost to Ireland and back. Now, we’ve got to spend some time on you.”
His eyes were closed, breathing assisted by machine. Elaine took his good hand and held it. Ice cold. She gently massaged it between her two hands to get some warmth into the flesh. “It’ll be all right. Not easy, but all right. I think you can hear me so I’m going to keep talking.” she paused to see if there was any change. None, but she continued to tell him about the trip over, what the group had done night before last, and, of course, her trip back home. “I’m going to rest now. I’ll be right over there. Let me know if you need anything.” She straightened. “I love you.”
***
She was so exhausted that even a shift-change at six a.m. hadn’t awakened her. But she was up by eight using the restroom behind the nurses’ station to splash her face with cold water and put on enough makeup to keep from looking dead. The cotton pullover was wrinkled but wearable for another day. She should borrow a shirt from Dan to sleep in but she hadn’t noticed any luggage in the room. Maybe it was being stored. There was probably only so much they’d allow in intensive care. She’d remember to ask.
But when she’d checked with a nurse, there hadn’t been any luggage. Odd. But maybe not, if it hadn’t been stolen; it would be in the Cherokee. After she located Simon and released him from his imposed prison, she’d call the dealership in Vegas.
She borrowed an Albuquerque phone book, pulled out her cell and began calling. Five kennels and no one had admitted a rottweiler. There was a little thought in the back of her head that she fought to keep from surfacing—one of those “what if’s.” What if Simon had been with Dan? What if he’d been in the accident, too? No. That was unlikely. If Dan had left the Cherokee, he’d probably left Simon to guard the car until he could get back. Yes, that made sense. She dialed information and got the Jeep dealership in Vegas. But, no. No dog, no luggage. She waited while the service manager yelled back to the tow truck driver to make sure. Again, negative. She hung up and sat back.
Simon had been with him. She was certain of it. She pressed redial and got the exact location of where they had picked up the SUV. The Cherokee had been a mile from the accident site. If she were to go out there, she needed to go straight from Santa Fe to Las Vegas through Wagon Mound and take Highway 120 east out of town toward Roy. She closed the phone. Dan hadn’t come through Albuquerque, he’d come up the back way—now she knew that Simon had been with him. Dan hadn’t been near a kennel. She fought back a flicker of panic. Easy. She didn’t have answers…not yet. She’d simply have to go find him.
Elaine spoke with the floor supervisor, briefly explaining the situation. She would be gone about three to four hours. She scribbled her cell number on a scrap of paper and asked that she be notified of any changes in Dan’s condition. Plus, she had wanted to meet with Dan’s doctors this morning, but would the nurse convey her wish for consultation time that afternoon? Perhaps, four? The whereabouts of Simon took precedence. She wasn’t sure the nurse agreed with her, but she didn’t say anything. Some people were animal-people, some weren’t.
Elaine hurried back to Dan and told him where she was going and why. There was no response. She held his free hand to her cheek and thought he seemed warmer, but was she trying overly hard to find something positive? Probably. She promised to be back that afternoon…with Simon. She didn’t bat an eye at telling him something that might be a lie. She simply would not think the worst. She would find Simon.
She backed the white Ford Flex out of the parking lot. The morning was beautiful—a true Indian summer. Down St. Francis, onto I-25 and north. Some of the prettiest scenery in all of New Mexico—Pecos, Rowe, Glorietta, on to Las Vegas. Woodlands filled with piñon, spruce, and pine. Any other time she’d have stopped to explore. At least have lunch in the old hotel dining room in Las Vegas. So much history. So much surrounding beauty. But she was about forty or fifty miles from answers; there was no stopping now.
She drove through Wagon Mound and turned east onto Highway120, out past the high school at the edge of town. She couldn’t stop her heart from beating faster. Please, please, dear God let there be a happy ending. She didn’t watch her speed but the highway was deserted. She’d seen all of one car in twenty minutes. But she needed to slow down and check landmarks.
The guy at the dealership said she should go to the historical marker heading east, maybe twenty-two miles from town, and then turn around and come back west like she was backtracking to Wagon Mound. About a mile and a half, maybe two miles beyond the marker on her right, she’d see deep tracks that went over the edge this side of a culvert—right where the truck left the road. Couldn’t miss it. She hated it when people said things like that.
But she didn’t miss it. The ground was obviously more torn up after a wrecker had dragged the truck back up onto the highway, and the ruts stood out starkly against the bleached brown grass and gravel. She pulled to a stop, suddenly reluctant to get out. “What if,” with its ugly possibility, pushed into her consciousness again. What if she found Simon’s mangled body? What if she only had a body to take back? No. She absolutely would not think that way. Deep breath. Stiff upper lip or however that saying went, another breath; then, she pushed the door open and stepped out.
The wind was gusting across the almost flat grasslands and blew a strand of hair across her face. Chilly, she realized she should have worn a jacket. She moved to the edge of the incline and forced herself to look at the spot where the truck had landed marked by pieces of twisted metal and broken glass. It was eerie being at a place of death. She wondered what had gone through Dan’s mind when he knew they were going to roll. And the driver. What was his reaction? Should someone erect a descanso? “Resting places” were celebrated along roads across the state with crosses where loved ones had been lost to traffic accidents. The idea had merit. She wouldn’t mind bringing a cross out and decorating it with flowers.
The howl, part wolf, part frantic animal broke through her reverie. Oh my God, “Simon?” Then louder, “Simon?” She was yelling now, just his name, over and over as she started down the steep graveled slope, sliding, losing her footing, sitting back smartly on her rear before reaching the bottom more or less upright. And the howling never stopped but now ended in excited puppy yips of recognition. Simon was a bare twenty feet to her left almost covered by a parched bundle of grasses and weeds.
But he wasn’t coming to meet her. Was he injured? Broken leg? Worse? She rushed forward and sank to the ground in front of him and then she saw them—Dan’s suitcase and shaving kit. Of course. Perfectly safe because they had been unswervingly guarded by a dog who obviously believed if he minded his owner, his owner would never forsake him but would come back.
And it was then that Elaine couldn’t hold back the sobs. Tears more than overdue…for a dog so trusting that he risked death by starvation, or worse, to do what he was told, tears for a man who didn’t deserve what he was suffering and tears for all three of them—a makeshift family who had struggled enough and wanted nothing more than to be together and be happy.
Chapter Three
Once back to civilization, Elaine called a vet in Santa Fe, explained the situation and was squeezed in between a cat, Arnold, who needed stitches after a fight and a very fat Corgi, Emma, who was there for shots. Simon wasn’t impressed with either animal—especially Emma who continually snarled at him showing some pretty impressive incisors. He turned his back, put his head in Elaine’s lap and drooled his content. When it was their turn to see the vet, Simon checked out amazingly well—a crusted-over cut above his ear, not deep, a puncture wound in the middle of his head, likewise already healing, and a contusion above his left eye that had raised a lump but otherwise didn’t seem to be causing a problem. A little dehydrated, but basically, a clean bill of health. A stop for a leash, a rawhide bone, kibble, doggy dishes,
a bed and they were back at the hospital a couple minutes after two.
Elaine left Simon in the back of the SUV with a bowl of water, a bowl of kibble and unwrapped the rawhide bone. “This will hold you for awhile.” But she didn’t have to invite Simon to eat—he literally dove into the bowl. She left every window cracked three inches, grabbed Dan’s shaving kit and the one piece of luggage, locked the SUV’s doors, and hurried up the steps of Christus St. Vincent.
“I had no idea you were leaving for the day. You could have at least called us.” Carolyn and Phillip were sitting in the waiting room. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave Dan without family support.”
Elaine ignored Carolyn’s peevishness and explained what had happened. Yes, she should have called but she was so caught up in Simon’s whereabouts and welfare, she just didn’t think. Carolyn seemed only slightly mollified.
“I’ve asked the doctor to join us. He’s obviously running late. I think you need to hear this, too.”
Elaine didn’t say that she had also made an appointment to discuss Dan’s prognosis for later that afternoon. She looked from Carolyn to Phillip. But he appeared to be staying out of any confrontation and had his nose in a Wall Street Journal, looking up only once to nod hello. Not that she expected a hug, but just a terse nod? She pulled a straight-backed chair away from the wall, put Dan’s things next to it, and sat down.
The doctor kept them waiting another thirty minutes and then invited them into his office to the right of the admitting area. It wasn’t personalized and seemed to be an office used by several docs for consultation. But it had a viewing screen for X-rays and there were two negatives already clipped in place.
“I’m Herb Zimmerman and you’re?”
Elaine held out her hand, “Elaine Linden.”
“Of course, the fiancée.”
Elaine didn’t correct him, probably gave her the privilege of a cot in Dan’s room. And, fiancée did have a nice sound.