Life Support

by Candace Calvert

  “Eat up. I made lots.” She sat down, picked at a pancake, then reached for her black coffee instead. “Mom’s weather station says the wind is—”

  The lights flickered, eclipsed for a few seconds, then snapped back on.

  “I guess that proves it,” Jess continued. “Increasing winds. Rising creeks. Local flooding. We’d better bust out the candles and the hand-crank radio.” She smiled. “And lash Hannah Leigh to the nearest tree.”

  “Which will require a double set of barbecue mitts and—” Lauren’s voice rose on a laugh—“all the bacon we just ate.”

  Jess snorted, sloshing her coffee. “Maybe we could float her on Mom’s big exercise ball. Have her keep it spinning like one of those circus dogs.”

  “Or maybe . . .” Lauren hunched over, blinking back tears of mirth. Right this second, she didn’t care if it did flood. Up to their iffy roof. She wanted to keep laughing, freeze this silly and hopeful moment.

  “Your phone. Hospital ringtone.” Jess pointed. “Under your napkin.”

  Lauren answered, talked for a few moments, hating that Jess had begun clearing the plates. Their afternoon was disappearing.

  “Problem?” her sister asked as Lauren disconnected.

  “I’m on disaster call. They’re short in the ICU—weather’s causing problems with staffing. Folks are delayed or not coming in at all. I said I’d go in for a couple of hours.” She glanced upward as the kitchen lights flickered again. “Will your class get canceled?”

  “I have to check the website. As far as I know it’s still a go.” A look of regret flickered across her face. “Looks like the Barclay IHOP is closed for business, Lolo.”

  “We’ll do it again. Let’s count on that.” Lauren rose. “I said I’d be there in fifteen minutes.”

  “Go.” Jess waved her on. “You go ahead and get ready. I can clear these dishes.”

  “Thanks.”

  Lauren had made it to the hallway when she heard her phone ring again. She’d left it on the table. And that was the ringtone she’d assigned to—

  “Phone!” Jess shouted. “It’s . . . Eli?”

  Oh, great . . . Lauren hustled back to the kitchen, trying to decide if it was too conspicuous to take the call privately.

  “Hey, Eli,” she answered, avoiding her sister’s gaze for the second time in minutes.

  “Hi. Look, I’m sorry to have to ask this, but . . .” His voice sounded rushed, uncharacteristically anxious. “Are you at your folks’ place?”

  “Yes,” she confirmed warily. Was he coming here? “Where are you?”

  “On my way out to Mimaw’s.”

  Her relief turned to concern. “Is there a problem with Drew?”

  “Something like that. The roads are bad, and traffic’s ugly.” There were sounds of distant honking. “Emma needs to be picked up at four. That’s the problem. I’m not going to make it in time. Can you do that for me . . . for her?”

  “Where is Emma?” Out of the corner of her eye, Lauren saw Jess watching intently.

  “At a birthday party. Parrish Donnelly’s. They live close by—873 Tradewinds. They’d keep Emma there, but now they’ve decided to drive to San Antonio to wait out the storm. And they want to get on the road as soon as possible. If you could pick Emma up—Shrek, too, he’s there—and keep them at your folks’ place until I—”

  “Wait. I’m so sorry, but I won’t be here, Eli. I got called in to work. And Jess has class,” she added quickly, not sure if she was saying it for her sister or Eli. Her mind tumbled toward confusion. She wanted to help, but how?

  “All right. Let’s see . . . I could call my mother. Emma could go there—just until I get back. I don’t have a choice.” The sudden bitterness in his voice was drowned by another barrage of honking. “Could you drop her off?”

  “Take her to River Oaks?” Lauren glanced sideways. Her sister was signaling to her. “I’m not sure. I’d have to call the hospital and let them know I’d be late.”

  “I can help,” Jess offered, moving up beside her. “What’s he need?”

  “Hold on a second, Eli.” Lauren pressed the phone to her chest. “His daughter’s at a party a few blocks from here. She needs to get to her grandparents’ house. I don’t know, Jess. . . . You have class.”

  “There’s time. Tell Eli I’ll do it. Emma’s met me. Here, let me have the phone. I’ll tell him myself.”

  Lauren listened to the one-sided conversation, heart sprinting. She was afraid to let herself imagine Eli’s response. Or her sister’s reaction if he turned her offer down flat.

  “He says yes,” Jess reported, looking almost as surprised as Lauren felt. “But he thinks I should take your car. Better seat belts. He’ll call his mother—I know how to get to their house. And he’ll tell Emma to expect me. So all I’ll need is the birthday party address and we’re good to go.”

  Lauren took the phone back, but Eli had already disconnected. She stared at it, hating the uncomfortable sense of foreboding crowding in.

  “He hung up. Sounded like he was in an awful hurry,” Jess explained. “So write that address down and go get ready for work. I’ll dump these dishes in the sink, throw on some clothes, and head over to pick up the kid. And the hairy beast. I’ll let you handle the car detailing afterward.”

  “Okay.” Lauren scraped her teeth across her lower lip. “You’re sure about this, Jess?”

  “Of course. Pancake Queen Shuttle Service.” Her smile faded. “You don’t trust me?”

  “Sure . . . of course. Absolutely.” Lauren grabbed a pencil and scratch pad off the hutch, wrote down the Donnellys’ address. “There.”

  “Good. Just one more thing.” Jessica’s gray eyes met hers.

  “What?”

  “How long have you been dating Eli?”

  Lauren’s brain turned to chocolate-bacon mush. “Not long. Barely any time. How did you—?”

  “Figure it out?” Jess hitched the drooping apron up, making the Wicked Witch shimmy in flight. “That he called you just now—trusted you with his only child—would have been a major clue. Even without your lame excuse about going out last night so I could sleep. And then there was the report of his jogging into pouring rain to sit with you in your car in the hospital parking lot.” Her shrug looked forced. “I have my peeps.”

  Lauren hated that her knees felt so ridiculously weak. It was impossible to read the look in her sister’s eyes. “So . . . what do you think?”

  “About you and Eli?”

  “Yes.”

  “I think . . . that if you didn’t bother to tell me about it, then you couldn’t care less what I think.”

  “That’s not true.” Lauren battled a queasy wave of guilt. “It’s just that this is so new. And I wasn’t sure if—”

  “If it might bother me? Because of the obvious issues I’ve had with Eli?”

  “Yes,” Lauren admitted, barely above a whisper. “All of that.”

  “Well . . .” Jess glanced toward the remains of their pancake lunch and was quiet for an endless moment. Then she sighed. “I guess I’m not surprised. You’re both the same type.”

  Lauren’s brows rose.

  “Pushy, parental.” Her lips quirked in a bare semblance of a smile. “And don’t look so worried; it’s your life. I’m always telling you to butt out of mine, so I guess this makes us even.”

  “Jess . . .” Lauren wasn’t at all certain this felt resolved. “I never meant to—”

  “Go. Get out of here. You’re due at work, and I have a kid and a dog to chauffeur.” She shook her head. “Consider this your first hurdle because when you tell our parents you’re dating Eli Landry, it’s going to make Glorietta look like a kid blowing out birthday candles.”

  - + -

  “I drove through some water, but it’s still fairly dry here,” Eli told Lauren, nestling the cell phone against his ear. “I think high ground topped the priority list when Odette chose this spot.” He glanced at her portrait on the great room’s panel
ed wall. There was a tiny, glittering strand of Mardi Gras tinsel clinging to the frame. “Cyril has sandbags mounded like a bunker anyway, and the generators are gassed up and ready to go. You wouldn’t believe the food they cooked ahead of time—ice chests all over the kitchen. And propane cookstoves. Hurricane Katrina taught these folks some big lessons.”

  “Yes . . . I’m sure of that. Tough lessons.”

  “How is Houston Grace faring?” he asked, hating the distance between them. He wished he were holding her now. “From what I’m hearing on the news, you’re harder hit in that area.”

  “The power keeps threatening to quit. At this point I think we have more engineers working than nursing staff. I’ve been assigned to both Darcee and Gayle. Talk about a storm within a storm. But emotional issues aside, they’re both pretty stable physically, so that’s good. If the power goes out, at least I won’t have heart flutters waiting for the generators to take over ventilators. I’m glad to help, but I wish I were somewhere else.”

  With me. Eli heard it in her voice, a sudden warm and peaceful eddy in the tempest of his day. “I promised Emma we’d order pizza and watch movies tonight if there’s still power. She asked if you could come. I have candles.”

  Lauren’s laugh was a purr. “I know you do. That sounds good. Or you guys could come to my parents’ house. I think we might have the world’s largest collection of Disney DVDs. And a closet full of Weather Channel videotapes—we’ll skip those.” He heard her take in a breath. “I told Jess. About us.”

  Eli’s arm rose in a victorious fist pump. “That’s great. I told you she’d handle it—she handled it okay, right?”

  “I . . . guess. She said she wasn’t surprised. Because we’re alike. Pushy and parental.”

  Eli smiled. “That sounds like your sister. I appreciate her helping me with Emma.” He wasn’t going to let on that he still had qualms about that rushed decision. But he’d been stuck, desperate to get here. Besides, any implied distrust of her sister could distance Lauren. He didn’t want that to happen. “I’d been planning to bring Emma here with me today, but then Florine called.”

  “Because of Drew’s fever and lack of appetite.”

  He dragged his fingers across his chin. There was no reason not to tell her. “And because the judge has been throwing his weight around again.”

  “Your father?”

  “He made good on his threat. Florine was served with a copy of a temporary restraining order this morning. Demanding that I have no further contact with my brother.” Eli’s teeth clenched. “For his safety.”

  “He can do that?”

  “He can—he did, without even informing me. It’s only in place until the court date.” Eli heard Lauren take a sharp breath. “According to the papers, it’s set for three days from now. But it’s not like he even has a case. This could be another big bluff. And I’m calling that bluff. I’m here.”

  “Is the staff having issues with that?”

  “There’s not much they can do. I don’t think Florine would, but even if someone here called the police, I doubt they’d come out. I have to think law enforcement’s time is better served troubleshooting the effects of this storm. And I think Houston taxpayers would agree.” Eli glanced up as Vee walked by towing a portable oxygen tank. “The medical transport rig wouldn’t even come out because of road conditions. Drew’s doc ordered a nonemergency chest X-ray.”

  “Do his lungs sound bad?”

  Eli glanced toward the hallway to his brother’s room. “Some crackles, scattered wheezes. He’s had two doses of antibiotic. Breathing treatments. He’s . . . he’s glad I’m here with him. He trusts this staff. If my father had his way, Drew would be tied to a hospital bed by now. And I’d be banned from seeing him. I’m not going to let that happen, Lauren. I won’t let him do this to me.”

  “VOLUNTARY EVACUATIONS for people in mapped floodplains,” Lauren explained after checking Gayle’s medication pump. “That’s all they’ve called for so far. It shouldn’t affect the hospital. Or my parents’ neighborhood, thank heaven. And my apartment is seven floors up.”

  “Our house isn’t affected either. Though I guess that’s a moot point now. Since neither of us may go back there at all. I wonder if the county jail is in the floodplain.” Gayle attempted a grim smile just as the overhead lights flickered, making her bruised face look close to macabre.

  “Have the police said anything?” Lauren knew better than to offer Gayle false assurances; the manager was too realistic for that. There was an officer stationed outside the ICU doors. And from what Lauren had heard, Leo Garner would be facing assault charges himself. Thankfully, he’d been transferred to Memorial Hospital—less awkward for everyone.

  “I haven’t heard anything specific about the charges. But then, I’ve ‘lawyered up’—isn’t that what they call it on Law & Order? Someone from the public defender’s office. He feels there’s a strong case for self-defense.” She swallowed, closed her eyes. “I still can’t believe I did that to my husband.”

  Lauren’s throat tightened. There was a small hospital-issue Bible on the nightstand; chaplaincy had come by. The card left with it indicated that Angela had been the one who made contact. The cookie-toting chaplain had been busy.

  “I’ve been a nurse for nearly twenty-five years,” Gayle continued. “Can you imagine how many domestic-abuse forms I’ve filled out? How many times I routinely asked a patient that ‘Are you safe at home’ question?”

  “I should have seen it.” Lauren touched her hand. “Those bruises recently. And your illness—there were symptoms. I should have figured all of that out. I’m sorry, Gayle.”

  “No.” Gayle blinked back tears, eyes still wide from her thyroid condition. “I hid it the best I could. Leo’s always had problems with his temper and with alcohol. He could be sweet, too, really sweet. But losing his job did something awful to him. I tried hard to make things better. But I’d felt so sick for so long and couldn’t sleep. It was like I was in this pressure cooker with no way out.” She shuddered. “And then his hands were around my throat again. . . .”

  Lauren winced.

  “It was my Valentine’s present,” Gayle whispered. “That knife set.”

  Lauren stayed silent. As hard as it was to hear, Gayle needed to get this out.

  “I can’t count the number of times he’s hit me. But I could take it. I’m pretty tough. I shouldn’t have stabbed him.” A tear slid down Gayle’s cheek. “I love Leo. He’s the only man I’ve ever loved. I should have left long ago, made him get help. I should have done something before things got so out of control. But I wanted to believe it wasn’t that bad. That he’d get better—I needed to believe that, you know?”

  “Yes.” Lauren nodded, thoughts of Jess intruding. “I think I know what you mean.”

  “I’m ashamed. I’ve made so many mistakes.”

  The words slipped out before Lauren could stop them. “Yesterday after they brought you in, you asked me to pray for you. You said something about Leo needing pills. And that you’d lied.”

  “I did.” Gayle shook her head. “Why does this seem like the lesser of two evils now? I did lie. To get pain pills for Leo. He was abusing them. Some part of me knew that. But the truth was, he was easier to be around when he was high, and less dangerous than when he was drunk. Then his doctor cut him off, and every doctor I tapped to get him a prescription said no. I was desperate. So . . .”

  Lauren held her breath.

  “I went to a clinic down in Pearland. Gave a false name. I faked a back injury. I probably looked awful enough to be believable. I paid cash for a no-refill prescription for Valium and Percocet. I was really buying time.”

  Lauren swallowed. “I was afraid you were talking about those missing drugs from Mrs. Humphries.” Afraid . . . or hoping?

  “Our patient’s medications? No. Don’t worry. I’d never do something like that.” Gayle’s faint smile was rueful. “I guess that sounded completely absurd. Considering.”


  Lauren checked Gayle’s IVs and the circulation to her casted arm, then reassured her that she had been praying for her and would continue to do so. She encouraged Gayle to let the chaplain stop by for a visit.

  As Lauren was on her way back to the nurses’ desk, her cell phone buzzed. Jess.

  “I’m here. Coming up in the elevator.”

  “At the hospital?” Lauren asked, confused. “What about class?”

  “Canceled. Because of the storm. I think I Jet Skied your Beetle all the way here. A lot of the streetlights are out. The highways are packed. That voluntary evacuation.”

  “What about—?” Lauren stopped herself from mentioning Emma. Jess would equate that with a lack of trust. “Did you come to trade cars? You didn’t have to do that.”

  “They want me to work a few hours in the ER, help them catch up on some paperwork. But Mrs. Grafton called too. Darcee wants to see me. So I thought I’d come up here first and—oh man, the lights are blinking in this elevator.”

  “Hang on. It’s been happening off and on.” Lauren glanced upward as the unit’s lights flickered. Monitor alarms dinged in the distance. “I’ll meet you at the ICU doors.”

  - + -

  “Just a sip, Champ. You can do it.”

  Eli watched his brother’s dry lips close around the straw, his flushed cheeks sucking inward in earnest but weak compliance. An immediate cough and gag shook Drew’s shoulders. He was choking on every sip of water, despite the fact that Florine had dutifully propped him on three—no, four—pillows. Eli thought of Emma’s desperate attempt to hide those pillows . . . because my father said I’d smother him.

  “Easy, Champ. Here, let me wipe your lips. If Emma were here, she’d say ‘dab’ your lips. You know how she is.”