by Freya Barker
I pick up the little guy and walk over to the large picture window where I gently widen his already open, screaming, little mouth to the daylight. Sure enough, the inside of his mouth and side of his little tongue is coated with small milky white patches. Cradling the unhappy baby against my shoulder, I turn to his parents. Katie sits quietly waiting on the bed and Caleb leans against the doorway, concern etching his face.
"Thrush. This little guy has thrush and Katie, babe, you probably do too. It's a fairly common yeast infection that can flare up in breast fed babies and is transferrable from mom to baby and vice versa. Have your nipples been sore? I mean getting worse instead of better?" I correct after seeing the slight wince on Katie's face.
"I thought I might be getting cracked nipples but I couldn't find anything other than that they seemed a little redder and more sensitive. So what? We need antibiotics or something?" She asks and I feel baby Mattias settle down a little at the sound of her voice.
"Actually no. No antibiotics, but what I'd like you to try is Gentian Violet. It's a topical treatment, perhaps a bit old-fashioned but it does the trick nine out of ten times. You should be able to pick it up over the counter at Walgreens and use a sterile gauze to wipe the inside of Mattias' mouth as well as your nipples. I'll write down instructions because I don't want you to use too much. It's gonna be messy enough as it is; I suggest you get latex gloves," I chuckle, remembering the time Fox had thrush and I had bluish purple fingers for days after getting too much of the stuff on the gauze. "You should sterilize everything he's had in his mouth, though; bottle nipples, soothers, toys—anything that might re-infect him. And run all your nursing bras through a hot cycle before wearing them again."
"Does she have to stop nursing?" Caleb wants to know.
"Absolutely not. Keep trying and keep pumping a little, ‘cause the bottle might still be a little less painful at first than the bottle, but don't start with the bottle, always breast first. That reminds me, any leftover breast milk has to be tossed, and don't forget to sterilize the pump."
I hand Katie over a now quieted Mattias, and he snuggles right into her neck with a little satisfied grunt before closing his eyes tightly, while I start writing down detailed instructions for the Gentian Violet. When I tear the prescription note off the pad and hand it to Katie, Caleb takes it from my hand and walks toward the door.
"Okay, let’s go." Caleb stands in the doorway motioning me to come when Katie throws him a scathing look.
"Caleb! What in the blazes is wrong with you? That's rude. Let me have a visit first."
"Little One, our boy is sick and I need to get to Walgreens to get this stuff. I'm gonna pass by Naomi's place on the way so I can drop her off. I'm just being sensible."
Katie rolls her eyes and opens her mouth to object but I beat her to it.
"Actually, that works well for me, honey," I tell her, "A lot of shit's going on, as you know, and I know Joe's back there already, but I'd still feel better if I were close to Fox right now."
Understanding settles on Katie's face. "Gotcha. I was being totally selfish."
"No way. We're gonna have some quality time when all this settles down. I have much to discuss with you." I smile at her.
"I bet, I wanna hear all the deets."
"As long as I can be out of the house when that happens," Caleb pipes up, still waiting in the doorway.
With a quick kiss for little Mattias and my best girl, I grab my bag and jog down the stairs after him.
Fox
This basement is da bomb. The only thing missing is a separate entrance, that would be perfect, but I doubt Mom would let me put one in. Still, it's way cooler than my room in the other house.
Instead of playing my game, I decide to hone my pool skills. Not that I really have any to begin with, but Dad had a table—smaller than this eight foot beauty—and I played a little. Wouldn't mind playing a game or two with Joe. He doesn't seem like such a bad guy once you get over the sheriff part. He did let me off the hook pretty easy. He's also been a decent guy to my mom. I didn't know if I was gonna like it at first, but I like seeing her happy. And despite this fucked up situation, he does seem to make her happy. I think. What the fuck do I know?
I rack up the balls again and wind back to break them when I stop to listen. Thought I heard the basement door and I look up at the stairs. Nothing else though—must've come from upstairs. I focus back on my shot and break the balls. Not bad, two stripes in opposite corner pockets. Stripes it is. Walking around the table I try to pick the easiest next shot, which is on the far corner. An easy shot, that is, if I can keep it in a clean line; something I've not been particularly good at with this cast on, bouncing my cue ball of the sides and other balls. It's a matter of hitting it in just the right spot.
I'm concentrating so hard, I don't hear anything until I feel the press of cold hard steel against the base of my skull. I know what that is—I've felt it before. Laying the pool cue down on the table I slowly straighten up dragging my hands over the surface of the table when I feel the smooth surface of a ball against my thumb. Shifting my body, I hope to distract whoever is behind me, while I slip the ball inside the sleeve of my hoodie and grab the end of the sleeve to keep it from sliding out again. When I finally stand, I try to turn around but a vaguely familiar voice stops me.
"Don't turn around. Got a phone? Pull it out. Carefully," he hisses, as I reach for my pocket. "Call your mother and tell her your contractor got hurt and they need to come back. Now."
I'm fighting hard not to piss my pants. I try dialing Mom's number but nothing happens. No ring tone. Nothing. I try again, but the call doesn’t even connect. When I check my screen, I see I barely have a single bar.
"Call your fucking mother, you little useless dickwad!"
"I'm not getting reception down here," I manage to get out quickly when he yanks back on my hair, the gun now wedged under my chin.
His hand holding me by the hair and the gun back behind my ear, he swings me around to the stairs, moving me forward. I let him push me up the steps, the ball still hidden against my cast. I'm not quite sure how it's going to help me yet, but I feel better for its weight in my sleeve.
When I stick my head through the doorway at the top of the stairway, movement to the left catches my eye. But before I can help it, the hitch in my movement must've alerted the asshole behind me, because with a final shove, he pushes me up the stairs and out in the hallway, where I land on hands and knees. Turning my head, I finally see Clint's sidekick standing over me, the gun still aimed at my head, but his eyes are focussed down the hallway.
There are three stop signs between Caleb's and the Parker place and I run them all. Luckily at the first two, I encounter no traffic, but at the third I have to swerve to avoid hitting a mini-van. No time to check, I blow through the intersection leaving the blaring of an angry horn behind me.
My instinct is to drive right the fuck up to the doorway, and jump out with guns blazing, but I catch myself just as I'm about to pull around the feed store. I take a minute to let my years of training override the fear and adrenaline that's fueled my movements thus far, and then I slip out of the Denali, leaving it on this side of the store, careful not to close the door. Even though I have the keys to the place in my pocket, I can't remember for the life of me if the connecting door between the store and the mudroom is unlocked or not and I'm not about to waste precious time on the chance of finding it locked from the inside, so the front door seems my only option.
Instead of coming along the driveway however, I decide to circle around the back way, so I end up on the far side of the porch, by the back windows of the house first. It might give me a chance to see what I'm up against before anyone knows I'm here.
Coming around the back, I can't see much from the first rear window, no movement anyway, but when I move to the second one, I can see work boots sticking out from behind the kitchen counter. No fucking idea whose they are. Slipping around the side, I sneak a peek inside the fir
st hole left by the blast and get a better look at whose feet are in those boots. Clint is lying face down and unmoving. Cold fear grabs hold of my heart as I think of what that motherfucker has done to Fox. In a few strides, I'm stepping through the door opening into the hallway. Muted sounds are coming from the basement, even though the door seems to be almost closed. Is Fox still down there? But when I make a move in that direction, I see the door crack open and the kid's head appears. I can pinpoint the exact moment he registers my presence, because there's a falter in his movement. Whoever is behind him notices too, because suddenly Fox comes flying through the door and lands on the ground, and the son of a bitch I saw earlier, getting out of the truck with Clint steps out of the basement behind him, holding a gun trained on his head. His eyes, though—his eyes are fixed on me. Creepy fucker.
"Maxim Heffler, I presume? You're gonna want to let the kid go."
The asshole only grins wider, putting a foot in the middle of Fox's back and pushing him further to the ground.
"Not gonna happen. I'm gonna need the missus in here. Where'd you leave her?"
"She's not here. I left her with a friend."
I've kept my gun hand by my side and he either doesn't care or doesn't seem too impressed. Either way, he hasn't commented on it yet so I'm not about to draw any attention to it. Not yet anyway.
"Not falling for that bullshit. Get that bitch in here, or I'm gonna start shooting parts off her boy." He looks down at Fox, lifting his boot back on the floor beside the kid. "I'll be kind. Start with the hand that looks to be fucked up already."
A quick glance down shows me Fox has turned his face sideways and is looking at me with fear in his eyes, but there's something more there. Something calculating. Hoping to hell he's not gonna be trying anything, I attempt to send that message with my eyes. A quick blink from him makes me think he may have gotten the idea.
"I'm dead serious. She's on the other side of Cedar Tree checking up on her friend's baby. Won't be back anytime soon."
"Too bad," the bastard says, taking aim at the kid's hand. "Her old man told me he left some insurance behind with his family; thought it would save his life. Shoulda seen the surprise on his face when I pulled the trigger. Dumb fucking waste of space. But I am gonna need those files, and she's gonna help me find them."
My mind's going a mile a minute. Insurance? The fuck is he talking about?
A sound from the living room draws Heffler's eyes away from mine, and in that moment of distraction, I lift my gun. Heffler spots the movement and instinctively swings his gun my way at the same time as Fox turns around with a ball clutched in his hand. Shots are fired along with a litany of screams I hear from somewhere behind me.
"You're sure he'll be ok?" Caleb asks me for the third time since we got into the car. It makes me chuckle; this huge and highly dangerous man from what I've been told, is terrified of a little thrush.
"He's gonna be fine and so is Katie. It's possible it might come back at some point, but that's pretty rare and now you know what to look for, so you'll be able to catch it before it becomes a big problem."
"He's just so damn little and he can't tell me what's wrong. Drives me fucking nuts," he grumbles and my heart melts a little.
"From the mother of a teenage boy I can tell you, won't be long before you'll wish he'd stop complaining about everything. Try to enjoy him while he's this cuddly and sweet, okay? He's a boy. Trust me, it won't last long."
We turn onto the front parking lot and Caleb slams on the breaks.
"Something's wrong," he says.
"Why are the cars parked here? What do you mean?"
"Like you just said; both you and Gus' trucks are parked over here for a reason. Something is up."
Caleb pulls in beside Gus's truck and turns off the engine before turning to me.
"Need you to stay here while I go check things out, Naomi."
Bristling at being ordered to stay put like a good little girl once again, I whip my head around to face him. "Like hell I will. My boy is in there, Caleb—and my Joe." With that I push the door open and slide out, leaving Caleb to mumble expletives under his breath as he comes around the back of the truck and grabs my arm.
"Now you listen to me, anything happens to you and by some miracle your man lets me live, you think my wife will? Fuck no, Naomi. Dead man walking here, one way or another. Goddammit all to hell. Get behind me, you stubborn thing, and not a peep."
Leading the way, he keeps my wrist in his hand, carrying a gun that appeared from somewhere in his other. As we round the side of the feed store, Caleb stops me. When I sneak a peek around him, I can see someone climbing in one of the blown out windows off the living room. Caleb leans back and whispers over his shoulder, "That's Neil. They must've come round back. Stick close."
My eyes are drawn to the left where I can just see the back of Joe's shirt. He's standing still just inside the entrance and I can hear talking, but not what's being said. We are still partially shielded by the back wall of the store so I can't see much more than that, but I figure talking is good. Caleb isn't moving though and I'm eager to see my boy.
"Here's what were gonna—"
Shots ring out, almost simultaneously and when I look over, I can just see Joe crumple to the floor. I open my mouth and scream.
Caleb's already off and running, yelling at me to stay. When he's almost to the porch, my legs finally get the message to move, because there is no way in hell I'm waiting here. Caleb is in the doorway, blocking my view. With the adrenaline coursing through my body, I manage to push him to the side and step into the hallway, where Joe is lying at my feet and further down, Gus is just pulling the guy who was working with Clint earlier off the prone and bloodied body of my son. My breath sticks in my lungs not moving; just sitting there painfully filling my chest until I feel my heart will stop from the pressure. A hand grabs my leg and a voice filters through the void I'm caught in.
"Beautiful..."
A sob bursts free releasing all the air that was trapped as I look down at my feet to find Joe's eyes on me, his hand loosely circling my ankle, which has started to shake along with the rest of my body.
"He's all right, baby—Look."
"Mom?"
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
"Two regular coffees please. To go"
I'm getting so sick of this cafeteria. Actually, I'm pretty sick of this whole hospital. I've spent at least as much time here after quitting as I did before.
Paying the tired-looking older lady with a nametag displaying her name, Elaine, the cash after being handed my coffees, I'm about to walk into the hall when I bump into Dean; Fox's orthopedic surgeon.
"Here you are. Was looking for you. The new cast is on and he is miserable now that I've told him it will be at least another four weeks before I'll take it off. It's your turn now. Better go try and cheer him up." Dean leaves in the other direction with a smirk on his face. Bastard. First I have a coffee delivery to make.
I'm wearing the scrubs Stacy provided me with when we first arrived. I looked a mess. After hearing Fox call out to me and looking up to find him standing across the hall, I had him wrapped in my arms in a nanosecond. He was in one piece. The blood he was covered in belonged to Heffler who hadn't faired so well. He had collapsed on top of Fox after being shot. Twice. My boy just hurt his injured arm when he flung a ball at Heffler who was about to shoot Joe. Caught enough of Heffler's arm to save Joe from a full on hit. The bullet took a chunk out of Joe's thigh, but it could've been so much worse. Heffler himself was hit by two bullets, one in his shoulder and the other a headshot. That one is likely the one that killed him.
Both Neil and Gus had been hiding in the living room and I don't know, nor do I care, who actually fired their weapon. Detective Dooley gets to sort that out. He arrived within minutes, with first response vehicles in tow. Joe was transported by ambulance, with Fox and I in Caleb's car right behind them. I struggled with that; wanting to stay with Joe, but not ready to let go of Fox just
yet. Until Joe called me over, pulled me down to him for a sweet kiss and told me to take care of 'our' boy.
So I did.
I know it's all kinds of wrong as a physician to feel any kind of gratification at the death of a human being, but Maxim Heffler has left so much destruction in his wake, I can't help but feel his death is justified. The mayhem he caused didn't just affect Fox and I, but so many other people who got caught in the cross-fire. Especially poor Clint who got hit over the head with a sledgehammer. His own fucking sledgehammer. The impact apparently left a substantial tear in his scalp and knocked him unconscious. With his vitals stable he's been taken by ambulance to Durango; the hospital there is better equipped to deal with complex head trauma.
I'm itching to find out how he's doing, but for now I'll just bring my impatient man a cup of coffee. He's still waiting to be stitched up, while I found Dean on his way out the door and got him in to see Fox right away. As a result, while Fox was being looked at, I snuck out for some much needed caffeine.
I don't know what it is that sets the hair on the back of my neck up, but walking down the hallways back toward the ER, I get an uncomfortable feeling I'm not alone. The hallways are relatively quiet, but still there's some traffic. I don't get it. I don't see anything when I look around and behind me. Must be jitters. I'm actually surprised I haven't been hit with a panic attack yet. You'd think with the stress and emotional upheaval of the past few hours, I'd be whimpering in a corner somewhere. Huh.
My jitters are fast forgotten when I push the door to Joe's room open gently with my shoulder, hands full of coffee. Don't want to wake him if he's sleeping. Well hell. Through the crack I can see a half-naked Jenna leaning over the bed. I battle the rush of panic that sweeps through me and force myself to take in the scene before me. Not gonna run. I know this is not what it looks like. I know it, despite what my body tries to tell me. I swallow when I see Joe's hand come up off the bed and reach up to grab her hair and my heart almost pounds out of my chest.