* * *
I love my mother. I love my mother. I love my mother. Tia hoped if she kept repeating the mantra she would be able to hold her tongue until she was alone. She looked over at where her mother was poking through the kitchen cupboards and then away again. She plunged her hands into the dish water to keep from grabbing the cans on the cupboard and putting them back.
Mona Baumgartner had been searching for anything containing allergens in her daughter’s house. She was determined to remove all such foods before she returned home to St. Joseph. “What if Samantha hadn’t been able to call? Or what if she hadn’t been here?” She plunked a jar of peanut butter onto the growing stack. “You would be dead.”
“Mom, I’m fine. The girls are fine. We’ll avoid pine nuts from now on.” These encounters with her mother always left Tia emotionally exhausted. Drama queen didn’t even begin to cover it.
“Not good enough. And I was thinking, if you needed a blood transfusion, they would need to know what your blood type was. What if they didn’t have any O blood and you were unconscious? How are they supposed to know?” She whirled around, her black-colored bob flaring out with the centrifugal force. “Have you had the car seats checked lately? Is the baby seat in tight? You know they say something like half of all baby seats are improperly installed in cars.”
“Yes, I went to one of those classes before we had Samantha, remember? Everything’s nice and tight.” Tia tried to hold onto her calm expression even as her mother pushed her toward her limits. She rinsed the pan from dinner and set it on the towel to dry.
Mona moved to the next cupboard and began rooting around, pulling out two cans of mushrooms. “Nasty stuff, mushrooms. I never trust fungi.” She set them with the peanut butter and canned clams.
Samantha ran in with a drawing to show to them. “Look what I drew!” She held it up, displaying a crayon depiction of an ambulance complete with a gurney and stick figure people who were obviously supposed to be EMTs. “That’s Mom!” She pointed to the body-less head on the gurney.
“See, even your daughter is worried about you. I swear I’m going to have those medical alert bracelets made up for everyone with your blood types on them.” Mona’s hand fluttered over her heart. “It’ll give me peace of mind.”
And Tia would feel obligated to wear it because Samantha might let it slip if they only wore it when Mona was around. And that would cause hurt feelings. Tia tried to ignore her growing headache. “Whatever you want, Mom.” She was relieved when her brother-in-law, Garrett, walked in to pick up Samantha to go out for ice cream.
“Hey, Mrs. B. Good to see you.” His brown hair flopped over his eyes and a scruff of beard attested to his disdain for razors. He scooped up Samantha, tickling her armpits before turning to Tia. “Feeling better?”
“Much. Thanks for agreeing to take the girls for a few hours. I really do need to get out tonight.”
Mona plopped a can of cream of mushroom soup on the counter with the other food.
“We’re not allergic to any of those things,” Tia protested.
“It’s better to be safe than sorry.” Mona closed the last cupboard door. “I suppose that’s my cue to leave. I’ll throw these out on my way.”
“Mom,” Tia reached out and put a restraining hand on her mother’s arm. “I’ll take care of it. I appreciate you help and concern.” If appreciate wasn’t quite the word that came to mind, she didn’t have to admit it.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, I can handle it. Anyway, I need to get ready. A couple of ladies from my neighborhood are going out for dinner and a movie together. Just the girls.” It would be heaven to get out for a while.
“Okay, dear. I’ll call you tomorrow. Take care of yourself.” Mona hugged Tia briefly, then kissed each of her granddaughters on the cheek before hurrying out the door.
Tia helped move the car seat and booster to Garrett’s car, giving the seat belts an extra tug in defiance of her mom’s suggestion that she didn’t know what she was doing. She kissed the girls goodbye, and returned to the kitchen to put the food back in the cupboards.
Her mom had these dramatic life-or-death reactions to things two or three times a year. They rarely lasted for more than a few weeks and fighting Mona always made things worse. Tia had long-ago learned to go along, or at least pretend to, in the interest of family harmony. Hopefully this one would be short lived and the bracelets would never surface.
She put it out of her mind. Tia had fifteen minutes to freshen up her makeup before Nichole picked her up for their girl’s night.
Three
Danny was relaxing at home Tuesday night, listening to the news while he stretched out on the sofa. He’d spent the afternoon teaching a CPR/First Aid class to pre-teens at the community center and was ready for some downtime. He listened to news about upcoming elections, then swiveled his head to stare at the screen when the anchor announced they had received word of a major bus accident near Independence.
“Reports say a white van rolled across the median and into a large charter bus heading west along I-35. Information is still coming in and we’ll give you updates throughout the evening as we learn more.”
Danny switched his pager so he could listen to radio traffic. His cell phone rang. “Tullis,” he answered.
“It’s Stu. Can you come in and cover at the station?” his commander asked. “We’re sending some units and extra hands to the bus accident. Have you heard about it?”
“It just hit the news.” Danny stepped into the bedroom to grab a clean uniform. “I’m on my way.” Bus accidents were an emergency worker’s worst nightmare. Injuries could include anything from cuts and scrapes all the way to deaths and major injuries—and on a massive scale. The weather was wet and miserable, which wouldn’t help any, but at least it wasn’t winter yet.
The pager squawked and hummed between reports coming in from police and emergency workers on the scene. By the time he reached the station, the news rolling in wasn’t good. At least four dead, several others in critical condition. Hospitals in a sixty-miles radius were bound to find their emergency departments crowded and the next six to twelve hours would be sleepless for most everyone involved.
An hour passed, then two, as the guys at the station listened to updates coming through. They went on a couple of runs and returned. Danny didn’t start to worry until the television station reported that the bus had been carrying a group of women on a retreat to St. Louis.
Remembering his conversation with Laura the previous week about her trip to the symphony, he snatched his phone from his front pocket and speed-dialed her number. Surely she was fine. Her phone rang several times and went to voice mail. He thought about calling her family to find out if they’d heard anything. She could be in a hospital being treated. But he thought better of it. If she was fine and her phone was lost or her batteries dead, he didn’t want to freak out her parents.
Then again, he knew if it was her bus and she was all right she would’ve let him know somehow. She would’ve called him by now, aware he’d know about the accident.
He tried calling again. And again. Then he finally left a message. “Laura, you better call me now. I need to know you’re all right. I don’t care how late it is.”
He responded to an accident a few blocks away and took a patient to the hospital. A stroke victim. A possible drug overdose. The shift change came and the other guys went home, but Danny was on the schedule for the next twenty-four hours, so he inventoried all the supplies on the rig. They went on a call for a broken femur, and when they got back, he power-washed the outside of the rig and started detailing it. He should sleep while he had the chance, but he was too restless.
As he vacuumed the carpet in the cab of the rig, he hit his head on the steering wheel and had to clench his jaw to keep from cursing. He needed to calm down and take it easy; letting himself get worked up wasn’t helping. But he couldn’t stop thinking about the bus accident. Why hadn’t Laura called him back? Drea
d tightened in his gut and he reminded himself it could just be the phone. She might be fine. Nothing could have happened to her.
Part of his mind wouldn’t let go of the truth: every day he helped people who thought that their emergency would never happen, wasn’t possible. He knew better than to think anyone was exempt from trouble.
Then his commander, Stu, approached him. “Danny, come on back to the office.”
“What’s up?” Danny didn’t like the grim set of his boss’s jaw, or being pulled aside. Had he screwed up something in their run earlier? He was more than a little distracted. He couldn’t think of anything he’d done wrong, though.
Stu didn’t answer, just ushered Danny into his office and shut the door behind them. He fidgeted with a pen from the desk for a moment, then looked Danny in the eyes. “I received a phone call a few minutes ago. You mentioned earlier that you’re worried about a friend of yours who might have been on the bus.”
“Yes. Have you heard something?” Danny’s stomach clenched, his heart rate picked up and he tightened his hands into fists as he fought to control the wild possibilities that ran through his head. Stu looked too serious for the news to be good.
“I just spoke with your parents. Laura’s injuries from the accident were extensive.” He paused for a few seconds and when he spoke again his voice was tight with emotion. “I’m sorry, she didn’t make it.” Tears swam in the man’s eyes. Laura had come by the station many times, joined them for meals, chatted and laughed and brought cookies to the guys.
Danny gulped in air, feeling like he was drowning. His throat started closing up and he shook his head. “No. No, it isn’t true. She can’t . . . ” His stomach turned and tears filled his eyes, then overflowed. Surely not. It couldn’t. No, no, no. He shook as he tried to deny what he was hearing but he could no longer deny what he’d feared.
All Danny could think was that others had been there when Laura died. They’d been on scene, and Danny hadn’t. He hadn’t been there for her when she needed him most. He could see her, crying out in the night, her body wracked with pain, and not getting the help she needed.
Images of the horrific things he’d seen in his job came back to him, and he saw her with broken bones and struggling to breath. He set his face in his hands, trying to calm the sobs that stole over him.
“I’m sorry, Danny.” Stu touched Danny’s arm. “I already called someone to cover the rest of your shift. Mike will be here in a few minutes.”
“Mike was out all night.” At the accident scene.
“He’s coming in anyway.”
“Do you know what her injuries were?” He fought for control, but couldn’t get it; his chest heaved from the emotion.
“No. Your parents said it was quick. She didn’t suffer, at least not for long.”
Danny’s sobs increased and Stu squeezed his shoulder, then got up and left him to grieve alone.
When Danny came out of the office later, he had no idea how much time had passed, but Mike was already there. The guys gave their condolences, but he was glad to get away without having to discuss it
* * *
Tia hoped she’d heard the end of the blood-type issue until she received an email from her mom the next day.
Sweetheart, please check to see what blood type you and your girls are so I can order those bracelets. They should be here in a couple of weeks. It would so ease my mind.
Mom
The problem with ordering them was her mother would expect them to be worn at all times, which was ridiculous. Maybe when the shock of worry thinned out Tia would be able to calm Mona so they wouldn’t have to use the things. In the meantime, it was easier to humor her.
She made a note to check the file of medical records that night and send the information along.
The next morning when she checked her email again, however, she had a new note from her mother.
Tia, don’t be ridiculous, did you even check the records? You can’t be B+. Your father is A- and I’m A+. Go find your files. And double-check the girls, while you’re at it.
She had checked her records, and she was B+. Her mother must have been mistaken about her ex-husband’s blood type—not a surprise when they’d been divorced for twelve years. Rather than responding, Tia opted to let the email sit for a couple of days.
When the thought that he might not be her dad crossed her mind, Tia brushed it off. Her mom wouldn’t push the subject if that was a possibility.
* * *
The drive home to Junction City passed in a blur as Danny remembered the hundred little things he and Laura had done together over the years. He’d been asked to be a pall bearer at the funeral and the date had been set for Saturday.
Though he’d been putting off the call to Carrie for several hours—yard work had kept him moving, even if he’d had far too much time to think—he decided it was time to let her know what was going on. He had called the previous day saying that Laura had died and he was going home for a few days, but the conversation had been short. He hated the thought of disappointing Carrie, and his news was not going to please her.
After getting a glass of water, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Carrie’s number. “Hey babe,” he greeted when she picked up. “How are things going for the wedding?”
“Great. We picked up the dresses this morning, the bridal photos are gorgeous, and the wedding favors are all ready to go. I hope things are okay at home. When are you getting back? Don’t say Saturday morning; I can just see you coming in late and out of breath.”
Guilt ate at Danny and he rubbed his shoulder muscles. “Actually, the funeral has been set for Saturday, so I’m not going to be able to make the wedding.”
“What do you mean you aren’t going to make it?”
Danny had to move his cell phone away from his ear to prevent damage from Carrie’s screaming. He gritted his teeth and repeated himself, “The funeral is set for Saturday morning. I can’t be at your sister’s wedding and Laura’s funeral at the same time. I’m sorry I’m not going to be there for you.”
“But this is an important day for me. I’m the maid of honor, I have responsibilities. I need you there.” Her voice took on a wail. “I can’t go dateless!”
He wanted to end the call and forget it, but he’d been taught better. “I’m sorry I’m not going to be there for you, really I am,” Even though I didn’t want to attend the wedding in the first place. “I need to be here though. You know she’s—was,” he swallowed hard as a knot of emotions clogged his throat when he used the past tense, “my best friend.”
“Are you sure that’s all she was to you?” Carrie’s voice snapped across the line. “I could swear sometimes she was more important to you than I am. How can we have a relationship if you put her first—she’s not even here anymore and you’re still putting her first.”
Danny had about lost all patience with Carrie. It had been an awful twenty-four hours and the next few days didn’t look promising. He understood her sister’s wedding was important to her. He wasn’t asking her to miss it to support him. Was it too much to ask that she understand his grief?
A hand touched his shoulder and he turned to see his father standing behind him, lending support. Danny returned his attention to his call. “You know you’re not being fair, Carrie. I hope the wedding goes beautifully, and I’m sorry I won’t be able to see you in your new dress. You’ll have to show me the pictures, and maybe I can arrange a special night so you can wear it again soon.” It was as close to conciliatory as he was going to get in his current mood.
There was a short pause, then a hefty sigh. “Okay.” Another pause. “I’m sorry about Laura and everything. I know this hasn’t been easy for you. I just reacted badly to the surprise about the schedule change. I ought to go, my boss doesn’t like me taking personal calls while I’m at work.”
“Yeah. Bye.” Danny wanted to rub his face, his tired, burning eyes, but didn’t want to lose control in front of his parents. He turned back to
his dad. “What’s going on?”
“Your mom’s got lunch ready. Come on in and get some food into your bottomless pit.” He hooked an arm around his son’s shoulders, though he was several inches shorter. “Woman trouble?”
“What other kind is there?” Danny got his reward his when father cracked a smile for the first time since Danny had been home.
Four
Danny needed something to distract him, to fill his time and get him back into normal life once the funeral was over. He returned to Kansas City the day after the burial and threw himself into preparations for National Fire Prevention Week festivities. His next date with Carrie went badly as she watched every nuance of his actions. She pouted when he picked up an extra shift for one of the guys at the station, fussed when he was busy with the annual activities, and rolled her eyes if he so much as brought up Laura’s name in conversation.
The final straw came when she was at Danny’s place for dinner. He was pulling chicken off the grill and plating their meals when he saw her pick up the picture of him, his sister Janie, and Laura at a Christmas activity several years earlier—they were crammed in close together so they’d all fit in the shot. She gave the photo a moue of distaste, then set it face down on the end table.
“Put it back up, please.” Danny continued to dish out the potato salad beside the meat, trying not to grind his teeth.
“It’s not healthy to hold on to all of her pictures and memories.”
“It’s barely been two weeks since she died and I don’t appreciate you making this even harder on me.” He fought to keep his voice even, knowing he was more irritable than usual.
“I don’t appreciate coming in second all the time.” Carrie put her hands on her hips and tossed her shoulder-length, bottle-blonde hair.
Surely she hadn’t been so self-absorbed when they first started dating, had she? He slammed the plate back on the counter, loud enough to express his roiling emotions. “Then you can go home.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes narrowed. “If I leave now, we’re through.”
The Switch Page 2