Life Support

by Candace Calvert

  “I remember all those things you told me about rainbows.” Emma’s expression was serious again. “About light being made up of every color, and raindrops are like that glass prism I have in my window at Grams’s house. And when the white light goes into the prism, it gets afflicted—”

  “Refracted.” Eli smiled. “Refracted and then reflected back. Science.”

  “And angels.” The smile came back, sweetly parrying. She glanced at the cardiac monitor, then around the room. Her shoulders rose and fell in a sigh. “Are Grams and Yonner coming to pick me up?”

  Yonner—Your Honor. For the first time, her loving nickname for his father rankled, making Eli recall the conversation with Mike right here in this room. That phone call from the chief of staff, who’d been contacted by the Honorable Judge Julien Landry. “No,” he told his daughter, hating that his tone sounded sharp. He took a breath. “You can stay here and sit in my office while I work. I’ll get you paper and pencils and a grilled cheese sandwich from the cafeteria.”

  “Are you and Yonner mad at each other again?”

  Eli couldn’t remember a time when they weren’t at odds. Or when his father had been anything other than completely disappointed in him. For being a father but not a husband, for joining the Army, and then for deciding against law school to become a physician assistant. And for not being my brother?

  “No,” Eli answered finally. “We’re not mad.”

  Emma rested her cheek against Drew’s arm. It was dotted with bruises from failed needle sticks, the muscles contracted from the one-sided paralysis caused by his brain injury. “I haven’t been staying with Yonner and Grams so much anymore. Are you keeping me away from their house because of the fire? Grams said it was an accident.”

  “She explained that to me too.”

  “Oh, good.” Emma nodded, concern in her eyes. “We didn’t want you to worry.”

  Worry? Eli wanted to tell his daughter that even if he didn’t buy into her angel theory of rainbows, he wanted to believe her grandmother was right. That it had been a careless moment, a cigar left burning in the kitchen during one of the judge’s frequent bouts of insomnia. The last thing Eli wanted to accept was that his father was drinking again. Heavily enough to impair his mental faculties, endanger his health, and threaten the safety of his family. Including Emma.

  If that was the case, it meant that Judge Landry’s ability to make decisions could also be impaired. Like his insistence on denying his oldest son mercy. Eli wasn’t going to let that happen.

  - + -

  “I really appreciate your help,” Lauren told Vee as they closed the doors to ICU and began walking back toward the emergency department. She swiped at a wavy tendril of hair that had escaped her haphazard ponytail, a last failed attempt to control the humidity’s havoc. “Even with respiratory therapy taking their things, pushing Drew’s bed with all that equipment was more than I could handle.”

  “No problem. Did you notice the rainbow?”

  Lauren’s brows scrunched. “It’s raining?”

  “No. That rainbow smudge on the side of Drew’s face. At first I thought it was a bruise from the intubation attempts or the BiPAP mask.” Vee smiled. “It rubbed onto him from Emma’s cheek. They did face painting at her summer camp; Eli was picking her up when he got the call about his brother. She’s a sweet kid. We talked for a while, and . . .” Vee sounded hesitant. “I think I’m going to approach Eli about moving his brother to Mimaw’s Nest when he’s ready for discharge.”

  “Wha . . . ?” Lauren stopped walking. Then moved aside to accommodate a nurse pushing a wheelchair with a labor patient panting and rubbing circles on her belly. “Why?”

  “Because,” Vee explained, “it’s clear the Landrys have been moving Drew from place to place over the last few months. None of the facilities they’ve tried meet their approval. At least not for long.” She clucked her tongue. “Emma said it’s been like ‘The Story of the Three Bears,’ with Goldilocks and the porridge: ‘Too hot, too cold . . .’”

  “Hmm.” Lauren thought of the Viettes’ quaint refurbished home about thirty minutes’ drive from here. Licensed and quite adequately equipped, it had surprising charm too. Porch rockers, overstuffed chairs, music, warm laughter—less that said “care home” and so much more that breathed “loving care.” She shook her head. “And you think you can satisfy those picky people?”

  “I think that sweet girl’s uncle deserves some stability and plenty of TLC. It’s crucial to his quality of life.” Vee’s eyes teased. “And besides, Mimaw’s porridge is just right.”

  They started walking again, Lauren taking a peek at her watch. It was 7:10. Her shift was nearly over. Jess would be in the ER registration office.

  “It sounds like Judge Landry makes the final decisions,” Vee continued. “So I don’t know if anything will come of my suggesting our care home. But I thought I should clear it with you first. We really need your help right now, Lauren, and I wouldn’t do anything that would make you uncomfortable.”

  “Uncomfortable?”

  “Because Eli would come there sometimes. And you’ve had some issues with him because of your sis—”

  “It’s fine,” Lauren insisted, cutting her off. She wrestled with a wave of regret; she shouldn’t have confided even what little she had to Vee. Her parents would hate that she had. “I don’t have a problem with Eli. And my sister has been doing fine. Great, in fact.”

  But when Lauren stopped by the registration office five minutes later, Jess hadn’t shown up for her shift.

  - + -

  “How may I help you today, Ms. Grafton?” Eli stepped into the urgent care exam room, immediately discovering a part of his patient’s problem: she was in police custody. A young officer leaning a shoulder against the wall straightened his posture at Eli’s glance. He was a few inches taller than Eli, with sandy-blond hair and an earnest expression. Though Eli had seen him around the hospital before, they’d never met officially. Eli returned the man’s nod, then took a good look at his patient.

  The twenty-six-year-old woman, barefoot and dressed in green shorts and a purple bikini top, sat on the exam table with her face buried in her hands. A long tumble of red hair made Eli think of Emma’s DVD of The Little Mermaid. Her thighs looked painfully sunburned.

  “Darcee?” Eli stepped closer. “I’m Eli Landry, a physician assistant here in urgent care. What brings you in today?”

  Her head jerked up “What brings me in?” Her scratchy voice gave way to a cackle of laughter as she pointed to the officer. “That guy! That’s what brought me in today. So much for your finely tuned observation skills, Doc.”

  “PA,” he clarified, knowing it was pointless to correct her. Though his white coat was clearly labeled with his name followed by PA-C, certified physician assistant, many patients continued to refer to him as “Doctor.” Some because they were uncomfortable using his name, most out of habit, and this woman likely because she couldn’t remember what he’d said. Eli was sure he’d caught a whiff of alcohol on her breath. He squinted, taking a better look at the woman’s face: attractive and basically clean, but badly sunburned—blisters, dry lips.

  Before he could question her further, Darcee Grafton groaned, stretched out on the exam table, and flung a freckled arm across her eyes. Almost immediately she began to snore.

  “Well.” Eli turned to the policeman, read his name tag. “What can you tell me, Officer Holt?”

  “Fletcher Holt.” The young man offered Eli a firm handshake. “Got a call about a woman making a scene at Hermann Park. Dancing in the reflecting pool. Singing at the top of her lungs since early this morning. You can hear that her voice is strained. One of the park employees said she’d been there yesterday, too. He alleges that when he suggested she go along home, she made some . . . inappropriate advances toward him.”

  “No one was there with her?”

  “No report of that. And no purse or ID. But she had that pill bottle tucked into a six-pack of
Shiner beer.” He pointed to the metal cart next to the exam table. “There.”

  Eli reached for the bottle, sensing he’d be turning this case over to the ER physician next door. The triage nurse had missed this one. Sunburn Eli could handle, even mild intoxication, but if there was a possibility of an overdose . . . “It’s Lamictal. Empty. And—” he checked the date one more time to be sure—“she probably ran out more than a week ago. That could explain a lot. It’s a seizure medication. But it’s one of the drugs that’s been found to be effective for patients with certain psychiatric disorders.”

  “As a mood stabilizer?” Holt cleared his throat. “I’ve been doing some research lately.”

  “Yes. It prevents rapid cycling from manic episodes—possibly what you saw today—into serious depression.” Eli glanced at the sleeping woman. “She’s under arrest?”

  “No. But I may have implied that to her.” Holt’s expression was one of undeniable compassion. “You can see how badly she’s sunburned. There were still five beers in that carton, and she only blew a .02 on my Breathalyzer. But I thought she needed a medical check. Maybe a psych eval. I didn’t think she’d stick around for the paramedics, so . . .”

  “Got it.” Eli nodded. “I agree. Her vital signs are fairly normal, but she needs a thorough exam. Labs with toxicology and a Lamictal level, neuro workup, minor burn care, IV fluids. And that psych eval. I’ll consult with the ER physician, see if he wants me to start here or send her—”

  “Excuse me.” Lauren Barclay poked her head into the room. She did a double take when she caught sight of the officer, offered him a tense smile. “Hey, Fletcher.” Then her blue eyes met Eli’s. “I need to speak with you.”

  “Sure.” Eli wondered briefly about her connection to Fletcher Holt. “I’ll be just a moment here.”

  “Now,” Lauren insisted, her expression flooding with anxiety. “Please. It’s important.”

  “HAVE YOU HEARD FROM JESS TODAY?” Lauren tried to keep her voice calm, but it sounded breathless even to her own ears. Partly from worry, partly from being forced to have this conversation with Eli. Right now, she wasn’t sure which was worse. “She hasn’t shown up for work. She was scheduled to start at seven.”

  “What time is it?” Eli checked his watch, dark brows furrowing. The angle of his jaw and the half-lidded eyes—even the twitch of his lips—couldn’t have been more like Drew’s and Emma’s. “It’s barely seven thirty. Late is Jessica’s middle name.”

  Lauren stiffened. “You didn’t answer my question.” She struggled to keep her voice low outside the exam room. In the office directly across, Emma sat hunched over Eli’s desk. “Have you heard from her? Seen her? That’s all I want to know.”

  “No.” Eli’s gaze held Lauren’s for an uncomfortably long moment. “Not since the last time we worked together. I’m guessing you haven’t heard from her either.”

  “Not today. I’ve called and texted—nothing back.” Lauren thought she heard singing, maybe alternating with crying, coming from the exam room they’d left. And then Fletcher’s steady voice. “Look,” she continued, “I’m worried. I’ve been after Jess to get that car serviced; the tires aren’t good and she drives around on fumes half the time. Too fast all the time. I’m sure you know that.”

  “What I know is that the kind of help your sister needs isn’t offered at Jiffy Lube. I believe I’ve tried to discuss that with you. More than once.”

  “Don’t,” Lauren warned, barely holding back a glare. “Don’t start with that lecture. I didn’t come over here for your personal opinions. They don’t help, and I don’t have time to waste.” Her throat tightened. “For all I know my sister is lying in a ditch somewhere.”

  “Or dancing in a park.”

  “What?” Lauren gave in to the urge and glared. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have bothered you. Clearly you don’t care.” She took a step away.

  “Hey, wait.” Eli glanced at his office, his daughter. “It’s not that I can’t understand your concerns. Obviously I have family problems of my own. But we both know this isn’t that unusual for Jessica.” He raised his palms. “I won’t shove my opinions down your throat; I’m just saying that I hate to see you get so upset by—”

  “There you are!” Gayle Garner fanned herself with a clipboard as she strode forward. “So warm in here—goodness.” She nodded at Eli, then turned her attention to Lauren. “Of course we’re all glad to see Jessica, but it would have made things a lot less chaotic if I’d known ahead of time that she was going to be late.”

  “She’s here?” Lauren’s legs weakened with relief. Thank you, God.

  “Just arrived. I’d had the clerk pull someone from the main admitting office to cover. And we put out a call for a night shift replacement. All unnecessary as it turned out.” Her brows rose, making her eyes seem almost cartoon enormous. “Jessica tells me that she asked you to let the department know she’d be late.”

  “I . . .” Lauren felt Eli stir beside her.

  “She said you probably forgot,” Gayle added.

  “I must have.” Lauren’s stomach churned. “I’m really sorry.”

  “Well—” Gayle hugged the clipboard to her chest—“no harm done. This time.” She sighed. “It’s been a hectic day. For all of us.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Eli agreed.

  Gayle gave a short laugh. “And I’ve volunteered to stay over and help for a few extra hours. Some folks don’t know how to say no.”

  Eli cleared his throat. “I’ve noticed that.”

  When Lauren arrived outside the ER registration office, Jess was holding court with her coworkers as if nothing of importance could have happened without her anyway. Ambulances would be put on hold, fibrillating hearts suspended, a bleeding artery magically stanched. Certainly her older sister’s concern and acute embarrassment were of no consequence. A mix of irritation and relief washed over Lauren. Would it always be this way?

  Jess’s willowy arms punctuated the air as she talked, corn-silk hair brushing her shoulders. She was smiling, observably giddy, acting as if right this moment everything was perfect in her world. Like in Camelot, the old film that had been Jess’s favorite as a child. She watched it over and over, wearing a plastic, jewel-encrusted dollar-store crown. Dancing and singing along with King Arthur’s words about his kingdom. “‘In short, there’s simply not a more congenial spot for happily ever aftering . . .’”

  “We need to talk,” Lauren interrupted. “Can you break away for a minute, please?”

  “No problem.” Jess tossed a megawatt smile at the clerk who’d volunteered to take over when she was a no-show. “Back in a flash, ladies. Y’all don’t start the party without me. Hear?”

  Party? Lauren hid her grimace and led the way toward the hospital exit, using the time and space to remind herself that there had been no actual disaster. She’d come home to make a difference in her sister’s life, which involved patience. Understanding and misunderstandings, too.

  “I can’t be away long,” Jess told her once they were standing outside the hospital doors. “I was a teeny bit late to work. It wouldn’t be right to take an early break, so—”

  “But it was all right to push the blame onto me?”

  “Um . . .”

  There was a long rumble of thunder in the distance, and Lauren realized that it was raining—hard. Bouncing up from the parking lot, sheeting from the roof overhead. She noticed, too, that her sister’s hair was damp. It clung to the curve of her jaw, suggesting she’d been caught in the downpour at some point. The sodden strands, combined with gray eyes, soot-dark lashes, and those high, hollow cheekbones, made her look hungry and vulnerable, like a child seeking shelter from a cruel storm. Ah, Jess.

  “You told the department manager that you left a message with me,” Lauren continued, more gently this time. “But I haven’t talked to you all day. Your bedroom door was closed when I left this morning. You didn’t return any of my calls or texts.”

  “Oops.” J
ess aimed a finger at her temple, fired an imaginary bullet. “Screwed up again. I’m sorry. Really. Time got away from me. I pulled an all-nighter studying and then scrambled to get to class. After all that, I needed to get the kinks out, so I drove down to Galveston Island and ran the beach. I couldn’t stop. It felt so perfect—the clouds, wind . . . except for that evil sun.” She frowned and pressed her trigger finger to her cheek, making a white imprint on the blush pink. “Word to the wise: don’t trust SPF 30 or cloud cover. Anyway, I ran, built a sand castle, hooked up with some great folks . . . It was an awesome day!” She swept a golden thatch away from her face, the stunning gray eyes teasing. “You’ll love this: I even went to the storm memorial, tried to see if that woman in the sculpture really looks like Great-Great-Grandma. I snapped a photo, and—” Her smile faltered. She reached for Lauren’s hand. “Don’t hate me, Lolo.”

  “Of course I don’t,” Lauren said quickly, disarmed by the silly nickname, Jess’s first name for her big sister. “But you put me in a bad light with Gayle. You made me look irresponsible, Jess. I don’t think there’s anything worse than that. If you’d answered my texts, I would have relayed a message to—”

  “I’d do it for you,” Jess blurted, a sudden edge in her voice. She let go of Lauren’s hand. “My sister’s keeper. We’re supposed to be a team. If you asked me, I’d cover for you.”

  “But I wouldn’t ask that. Not for a lie. Ever.”

  Lauren wanted to flatten her palms over her ears as Eli’s words rumbled like menacing thunder. “The kind of help your sister needs isn’t offered at Jiffy Lube.” He was wrong about Jess. She was high-spirited, rebellious, spoiled probably. She needed guidance, not clinical intervention. How many times had their parents said that? And despite today, things had been measurably better these past weeks.

  “I heard Eli’s brother was in the ER,” Jess said, skillfully changing the subject.

  “In the ICU now. He was pretty sick.”

  “And Eli took a stand, I’ll bet.”