by Lynn Steward
Amanda made several circuits of the field, not worrying about jumping since neither she nor her horse had warmed up. After fifteen minutes, Amanda jumped a low three-bar fence several times and then jumped three higher fences in succession.
“Nice,” Paul said, riding back into the practice area, “but your right shoulder was a little out of alignment on the last jump. You also rushed the second fence.”
“What about overall form?” Amanda said.
“It’s okay, but slow down a bit. We’re just beginning, but you look tense. Just relax so you and Pepsi can get into the proper rhythm.”
“Got it,” Amanda said as she rode around the field again and then made a single jump.
Next, she moved to a different part of the course, jumping two fences before angling towards a different gate to her right.
“Whoa there!” Paul called, riding forward again. “You came up way too high out of the saddle on that last fence. You’re not concentrating.”
“I know, I know,” Amanda said. “Let me try again.”
Amanda returned to making circuits of the field, trying to steady her mind, but she kept returning to the altercation with her father, to Dana’s presence, to the ascot pin. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing her father, but her heart was aching as though she already had.
Pepsi maintained a steady gait as Amanda kept circling the pasture—two times, three times, four times. Paul was about to ride out and ask if Amanda was all right since she wasn’t going for the fences.
Realizing her father wasn’t on the field with Paul, she started to cry.
I can’t do this without him. I hate her.
Amanda cleared the three gates and started handling the full course. She had one more fence to clear before she would ride over to Paul and ask for feedback. The gate was ten yards ahead. The image of Dana appeared in her mind just as Pepsi started the jump, and Amanda’s body was grossly out of position. She was leaning forwards and her feet had slipped back in the stirrups.
Pepsi cleared the fence, but Amanda came out of the saddle, tumbling forward and to the right. Her body did a complete flip, landing on the right side of her back and right shoulder. Paul rode out in a flash to check on her, hopping off his horse before it came to a full stop.
“Amanda! Are you okay? That was a nasty spill.”
Amanda made no response.
Paul knelt next to his student and saw that Amanda’s head was turned sharply to the left despite her body being tilted to the right. Her right leg was flat on the ground, but her left leg was raised, bent at the knee. Paul knew immediately that something was terribly wrong.
“Don’t move!” he ordered. “Stay perfectly still.”
He turned to Wally, who had ridden closer from his position on the far side of the field. “Ride back to the house and tell Mark and Judd to get out here right away. And tell them to call an ambulance.”
“Is it that bad?” Wally asked.
“Just do it!” Paul said.
Amanda turned her head slowly to look up at Paul. “What happened?”
“You took one nasty fall, young lady.”
Amanda tried to sit up, forcing her left hand against the grass, but she could only lift herself a few inches.
“Like I said, Amanda, don’t try to move. Help is on the way.”
“I have a tingling in my left leg. Pins and needles.”
“What about your right leg?”
“I can’t feel it.”
“Can you wiggle the fingers of either hand?” Paul asked.
“Yeah. A little.”
“Good. You just lie quiet for now. Your dad and Judd will be here in two shakes of a lamb’s tail, but we’ll need to get you checked over by a doctor.”
“I don’t have time for doctors,” Amanda said weakly. “I’ve got to practice. The … competition. It’s … close. Got to … “
“Shhh,” said Paul. “Save your energy.”
Amanda closed her eyes, her breathing shallow.
This is bad, Paul thought. Really bad.
• • •
When Wally rushed into the house, Mark and Judd had already gone into the den to talk, and Margaret and Dana were exiting the back door for the farmers market.
“Mr. Baumann!” Wally cried out. “Mr. Senger! Quick! There’s been an accident.”
Mark, Judd, Margaret, and Dana all hastened to the main foyer, where Wally stood, out of breath as he tried to speak.
“What’s wrong?” Judd asked.
“It’s Amanda,” Wally replied, gulping for air. “She got thrown.”
“Is it serious?” Mark asked, looking rapidly at Dana and then at Wally.
“I don’t know, sir. Paul told me to come and get you as soon as possible. And to call an ambulance.”
“Ambulance?” Judd said. “Margaret, call for the medics while we ride out to the practice field. Come on, Mark.”
Judd, Mark, and Dana quickly piled into Judd’s Jeep and rode to the field, where Paul was still kneeling by Amanda’s motionless body. Mark jumped from the front passenger seat and ran towards his daughter.
“Amanda, honey,” he said. “It’s Dad.” His hand reached out to lift her head, but Paul grabbed his arm by the wrist as he shook his head. The two men’s eyes locked, and Mark knew that this had been no ordinary fall.
“Can you hear me, honey?” Mark asked, his face creased in worry.
“She’s lapsing in and out of consciousness,” Paul explained. “I suggest we just wait and make sure she doesn’t move a muscle. Her breathing was a little shallow at first, but it’s steady now. That’s a good sign.”
Dana stood five feet behind Mark and Paul. “Is she going to be all right?” she asked.
Mark looked up but said nothing, indicating the seriousness of the situation.
“Is there anything I can do?” Dana asked.
“Dana, go to the gate at the edge of the field. Stand by the end of the dirt road where we just drove in. Make sure the ambulance knows where we are. Judd, you get Wally to take Pepsi back to the stable and then drive over to meet Dana.”
“Right,” Dana said as she ran to the path and stood, waiting nervously.
It was ten minutes before the wail of a siren could be heard approaching in the distance. Minutes after that, the ambulance rumbled to within five yards of Amanda’s limp body, two men in white uniforms jumping out and running over to Paul and Mark. The first man began taking Amanda’s vital signs, feeling her pulse and examining the pupils of her eyes. The second listened to Paul explain what had happened.
“We’re almost certainly dealing with spinal trauma,” the second medic said. “We need to get her to the nearest hospital fast. We’ll get a stretcher and use our immobilization protocols.”
“Wait,” Mark said, standing. “I’m her father, Mark Senger. My daughter is Amanda. I want her taken to New York Hospital.”
“That’s going to require an airlift and additional time. It’s your call, but there could be internal bleeding.”
“Call for a helicopter,” Mark said. “There’s ample room for landing in the field. I’m not familiar with the hospitals on Long Island, and I don’t want my daughter being transferred from one facility to another. That might waste valuable time. New York Hospital will have whatever she needs.”
“Yes, sir, but we’ll need to prepare your daughter so that we can load her directly onto the chopper as soon as it arrives.”
“Do what you have to,” Mark said, returning his attention to Amanda.
The medics hurried back to their ambulance and called in the request for an air evacuation. They then hurried back with a wooden body board rather than a conventional stretcher, gently lifted Amanda onto its smooth surface, and immobilized her head with a cervical neck collar. They checked her blood pressure every five minutes after strapping her to the board.
“Shouldn’t you be doing more?” Mark asked.
“Her color’s good,” the second medic said. “No need for ox
ygen. And no fluids since we don’t know what internal injuries might have been sustained.”
The helicopter arrived thirty minutes later, its rotors causing the branches of nearby trees to sway wildly. The copilot jumped from the cockpit and took the preliminary report from the medics, who then picked up the body board and, under the direction of the copilot, loaded Amanda onto the chopper.
“Room for two family members,” the copilot said sternly, holding up two fingers of his right hand as rotor noise filled the field.
Mark motioned to Dana, and they climbed onto the helicopter before turning to Judd to ask him to call Amanda’s mother. “Try not to alarm her, but let her know we’ll be in the emergency room at New York Hospital within the hour.” He then joined Dana on the jump seats behind Amanda.
The copilot hopped aboard and, facing forward, twirled his index finger in the air, signaling the pilot to lift off.
“Where’s the airlift medic?” Mark asked.
“I’m a medic,” the copilot replied as he sat next to Amanda. “I’m going to listen to her heart and then take her temperature and blood pressure. I also need to check for any visible bruises. Last, I’m going to put EKG leads on her chest so that the hospital can monitor her heartbeat as soon as we hit the ER.”
“Daddy?” Amanda said, her voice barely audible.
“Yeah, sweetie. I’m here.”
“Am I going to be all right?”
“Of course, you are,” Mark said, putting his hand on her left shoulder. “We’ll fix you up good as new.”
Dana glanced out of the side window, the figures of Judd, Margaret, Paul, and the medics growing smaller and smaller as the helicopter gained altitude. She was already feeling remorse, wondering if her presence had upset Amanda to the point of distraction as she’d tried to take Pepsi over the fences.
She said nothing, but felt certain that she should have trusted her initial instinct. She shouldn’t have come to Muttontown.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The air evacuation chopper carrying Amanda landed at the East 34th Street Public Heliport, where she was transferred to an ambulance and rushed to New York Hospital since it lacked a helipad of its own. Mark and Dana followed the stretcher through the large glass doors of the ER as two nurses and a doctor followed Amanda down the hall while taking the report of the medic. Within minutes, Amanda was wheeled into a cubicle and its curtain pulled for privacy.
“I’m Dr. Rosenbaum,” a figure in green scrubs told Mark. “You need to wait outside while we do a preliminary assessment.”
“But I’m her father,” Mark protested. “My daughter Amanda was thrown from a horse and—”
“I’m aware of the circumstances,” Dr. Rosenbaum said with quiet reassurance. “I’ll be out in a few minutes when I know more, but you’re going to have to let us do our jobs.”
“Shouldn’t you get a consult from a—”
“Mark, let’s wait out here in the hall,” Dana said. “The important thing is that Amanda is now in the ER. She’s going to be well cared-for. You have to trust the doctors.”
“You’re right,” Mark said, stepping back and leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the corridor. “I should have been in the field watching her. This is my fault.”
“You don’t know that, nor is it time for self-recrimination. She stormed out of Judd’s and you decided to let her cool off. Let’s wait to see what the doctor says, okay?”
“That’s what’s bothering me. I shouldn’t have let her ride when she was so upset.”
One of several nurses passing through the corridor approached Mark. “Mr. Senger, please follow me,” she said. “We’re going to need some information at the desk.”
“What? Oh, of course.”
Mark and Dana walked down the hallway, where Mark filled out insurance forms and a questionnaire listing Amanda’s weight, height, age, and medical history.
“Thank you,” said the nurse. “Please have a seat in the waiting room to the right. You can get some coffee, and someone will get you as soon as the doctor is ready to speak to the family.”
Dana put her arm through Mark’s and guided him toward the waiting room when the door to the ER swung open and Susan and Irwin, accompanied by an attractive brunette in her late thirties, rushed in.
“Mark, where is she?” the woman asked.
“She was admitted a few minutes ago,” Mark replied. “The doctor’s with her now.”
“Is she conscious? How serious is it?” The woman spoke urgently as she dabbed away tears with a tissue.
“She was conscious, but I don’t know much more.” Mark answered. “It’s too soon to tell. The medic at Judd’s said that he thought there was probably spinal trauma.”
“Oh my God!” the woman cried. “That means Amanda could be paralyzed?”
“She has some movement in one of her legs,” Mark explained, “but it’s a serious injury.”
“How did it happen? Wasn’t Paul there?”
“Yes, but I don’t know anything more than that she was thrown during a jump.”
“Marsha,” said Irwin as he walked up from behind. “Try to keep calm. Amanda’s in good hands. We’ll know more very soon. Let’s all go into the waiting room and sit down.”
Irwin pulled Mark aside as the women continued into the waiting room.
Dana waited for Susan and the brunette to be seated before asking if she could bring them something to drink. For the first time, the brunette looked closely at the woman in riding clothes standing before her and then across the room at Mark in his breeches, a puzzled look on her face.
“Marsha,” Susan quickly said, “This is Dana McGarry, a friend of Mark’s. Dana, Amanda’s mother, Marsha Senger.”
“I’m so sorry,” Dana said as she looked at the pain on Marsha’s face. “I wish—”
“How much do you know,” Marsha interrupted. “Were you and Mark there when it happened?”
Mark and Irwin were now standing behind Dana, and Mark replied, “I told you, Marsha, that Amanda was with Paul, and that’s all I know. We didn’t see it happen.”
As Marsha continued to glare at Dana, Mark added, “You’re aware that Amanda practices with Paul frequently, and I’m usually not there.”
“Only when you have better things to do, and obviously that was the case today,” Marsha said.
“Marsha, we’re all upset,” Mark replied. “You don’t have to direct your anger towards Dana.”
“Excuse me, Dana,” Marsha sarcastically replied. “I should be more sensitive to your feelings.”
“Oh no. I understand,” Dana said, suddenly feeling that it might be best for her to leave.
Mark, tired and short-tempered, fired back, “All right, Marsha, that’s enough.”
“Dana and I are developing a line of women’s clothing for B. Altman,” Irwin said, trying to switch the focus from Mark and Dana’s dating. “It’s a new opportunity for Bauer & Sons.”
“Really?” Marsha said, turning to Susan, “Why haven’t you mentioned this? What else are you all keeping from me?”
Dana, looking down, turned to Mark and said, “May I speak with you for a minute? I think I should leave.”
As they started to step aside, a nurse approached them.
“The doctor would like to meet with you now, Mr. Senger. Come this way, please.”
Mark and Marsha followed the nurse, with Dana, Irwin, and Susan walking closely behind them.
Dr. Rosenbaum, a stethoscope draped around his neck, stepped from the cubicle and directed them into a private office. Marsha stood by Mark on one side of the desk with Susan, Irwin, and Dana on the other side.
“We’ve completed our initial work-up, and the good news is that Amanda is stable and not in immediate danger.”
“Thank goodness,” Mark said, letting out a long sigh.
“We need to get her to X-ray now,” he said. “I’ve given her something for the pain in her shoulder and chest, so she won’t be very coheren
t for a while. She’s conscious, however.”
“Her chest?” Marsha said. “What does that mean?”
“I suspect that she has some bruised ribs,” Rosenbaum said, “but her EKG is normal, and there’s no sign of internal bleeding in her thoracic cavity.”
“What about her legs, doctor?” Mark asked.
“She has feeling in them, although there’s more in the left than the right.”
“What does that indicate?” Marsha asked.
“I’m afraid it means that Amanda’s still not out of the woods. We’ll know more after the X-rays. Do you have a family physician for Amanda?”
“Yes,” Mark said. “Dr. Russell Nadelman at Greenwich Hosptial.”
Rosenbaum nodded. “I’ll have someone call his office. We’ll also need a consult with a neurosurgeon when the film comes back since there does indeed appear to be some degree of spinal trauma.”
“Will she need surgery?” Marsha asked, her face ashen.
“It’s a possibility, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’ll also need some skull X-rays to rule out concussion and brain trauma, and I’ve ordered one of her right shoulder as well.”
“But is she ever going to walk?” Marsha asked, bursting into tears as she clung to Mark and put her head against his shoulder.
“I can’t answer that either way,” Rosenbaum said candidly. “There could be crushed vertebrae, pinched nerves, and a host of other injuries, but it’s really too early to tell. It would be mere speculation. Only a neurosurgeon will be able to give us a definitive diagnosis. I’m sorry, but I would like to speak privately now with Mr. and Mrs. Senger.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Marsha said, looking directly at Dana. “My husband and I would appreciate some privacy.”
Dana, shocked and in disbelief, locked eyes with Mark. His troubled, pained expression, confirmed that what she’d just heard was true.
Dana was emotionally numb as she walked with Irwin and Susan back to the waiting room, barely hearing Irwin’s explanation of Mark’s situation.
“They’ve been living apart for two years now,” Irwin said when he saw that Dana’s face was pale and her lip was trembling. “And it’s not the first time they’ve separated. It’s complicated, but Mark has every intention of getting a divorce. I’m sure he’ll tell you everything as soon as things settle down.”