by Mila Nicks
Though no one else had seen but Mr. Lowry, a few others had given him strange looks. It could’ve been his overactive imagination, exaggerating glances for something more. At the same it was easy to do so, as he figured the whole ordeal was suspicious. Something had shocked Mr. Lowry into cardiac arrest and Natasia coyly ghosted the halls in the background, smirking.
His hands dropped from his face and he rounded on his heel. Lee asked him what he was doing, but his answer was a stride down the street. The ambulance had left him and there were no pedicabs anywhere in the vicinity. He had no other transportation than his two feet and so he would walk the entire way to the hospital.
Juliette wasn’t a fan of hospitals. Everything about them unnerved her. From the constant sting of antiseptic in the air to the unnatural bright lights, she hated setting foot inside. The feel of the medical staff’s rubbery latex gloves and the cold medical equipment they used were even worse. She clenched her eyes closed and struggled to breathe through her nostrils. The speedy ambulance ride left her head reeling.
Mom was sobbing into her shoulder. She had to be a rock for her. That was how emergencies in their family worked. Mom fell to pieces, particularly whenever Dad’s medical issues were concerned, and Juliette held things together like glue.
It wasn’t a role she minded, though sometimes it exhausted her. In that moment, racing down the roads in an ambulance, it was all she could do to stay stoic, to not give into panicked tears. Dad lay on the stretcher beside a paramedic who checked his vitals and temporarily kept him going.
She couldn’t look directly at him. The one time she did stole her breath and she choked on nothing. He wasn’t himself, body limp and motionless. His face slackened as if too numb to arrange his features. His eyes jarred her the most, lacking his usual warm fuzziness, replaced by two dark, empty voids.
Truthfully, she wasn’t a prayer type of woman, but how could she not during a situation like this? Sitting there on their ride to the ambulance she silently prayed. If only he could be okay, if only he could survive this…
The ambulance rolled to a sudden stop outside the hospital’s E.R. entrance. The paramedics leapt into action, lifting Dad out the back and through the automatic sliding doors. Juliette and Mom hopped out in their wake, trying in their panic to keep up.
Most emergencies on Paradise Keys were minor. A child with a fever a couple degrees over one hundred or a tourist who broke a limb after a moped accident. Emergencies as serious as Dad’s weren’t seen often. The surprise was apparent on the E.R. nurses’ faces watching the paramedics wheel Dad in. They carted Dad to the first emergency station available.
Juliette held Mom’s hand as they rushed to follow the group. A nurse intercepted them and asked they hang around in the waiting room.
“We’ll keep you updated every step of the way. The doctor may need to perform emergency surgery.”
Mom’s sob warbled louder. The torn tissue she clutched muffled the wet sound. Juliette thanked the nurse and guided Mom to a corner in the waiting room. At least Mom could sit down. She chose to stand and pace the area, unable to sit still with Dad’s fate uncertain.
On her tenth trip around the wobbly coffee table covered in months-old magazines, Juliette stopped and stared at the wall clock. More than half an hour passed since they wheeled in Dad. An hour since they’d hopped into the ambulance and left the Brosman beach house behind.
It wasn’t until they pulled up on the hospital that she noticed Preston wasn’t around. Her worry for Dad had consumed her to the point she lost any sense of orientation. When Preston's absence materialized as a marked emptiness in the ambulance, she had tried to ignore the sinking feeling it brought.
Mom leaned on her and she wanted to be strong, but deep down, she needed support too. She needed someone to hold her and she needed to release the worry bundled tightly in her chest. The tears that had begun to beg for outpouring.
She gnawed on her lower lip and watched the clock hands tick by. Maybe Preston had figured he wasn’t family. He thought it wasn’t his business to come with them to the hospital. The possibility wasn’t far-fetched after all. Just last night Preston told her about how he felt insecure about his standing in not only their relationship but around her family and the wedding guests. That was a habit he fully fessed up to, always the outcast. Forever the orphaned lone wolf.
The urge to at least hear the comforting rasp of his voice overwhelmed her. She swallowed against a newly formed lump in her throat and asked Mom to use her phone. Admittedly she didn’t have Preston's cell number memorized, but she hoped calling someone off Mom’s contact list would put her in touch with Preston.
First up, Gigi. Several rings later and the call shot to voicemail. She remembered then that Gigi and Dom were on a day date, and guilt hit her for not thinking to notify her sooner. She left her baby sister a lengthy voice message explaining the situation and asking for a call back. Her voice shook by its end.
Hanging up, she inhaled deeply and called Gram. The seventy-four-year-old wasn’t the best with technology. She often went hours without checking her cell phone, and when she did, she sometimes forgot her passcode or how to navigate different apps. Gram hadn’t answered and Juliette wondered if she were still a sobbing mess like Mom. At the time they discovered Dad on the kitchen floor, Gram had needed a seat, physically distressed for her only son. Mellie had volunteered to care for her.
Last try was a Hail Mary, but Juliette gave it a shot anyway. Mrs. Brosman and Mom had recently become friends, their two children marrying, and so Juliette selected her off the contact list. It rang numerous times like the others. Thankfully, Mrs. Brosman answered a ring before the voicemail greeting.
“Hi Sheila, this is Juliette. Sorry to call you from my mother’s phone, but do you…do you mind if I speak with Preston? It’ll be quick.”
“Of course, sweetie! Whatever you need. We’re all here shaken after what happened to Thomas. I hope he’s alright. Hold on a second. I’ll look for him.”
Juliette breathed a clear sigh of relief and mumbled a thank you. Twenty seconds went by and a garbled background conversation could be heard. The shuffle of a phone exchanging hands followed and she eagerly said hello.
“Preston,” Juliette said. “I’m so glad I was able to—”
“This is Natasia.”
Her insides dropped, the disappointment instant. Then the agitation arrived as a bother itch. “I didn’t ask to speak to you. I asked for Preston.”
“I told Mrs. Brosman I’d let you know Preston isn’t here right now.”
“Put Sheila back on the phone.”
“She’s talking to her husband, so you’ll have to call back,” Natasia said blasély. The unapologetic indifference in her tone pissed Juliette off even more. “Preston left with Lee, one of Dom’s best men. They went to the beach.”
Her patience snapped into two and snarled, “Listen, give Sheila back the fucking phone or I’m go—”
“Thanks for calling. I hope everything with Mr. Lowry goes okay. See you later.”
The dial tone cut in and Juliette's eyes widened in sheer disbelief. If she’d been agitated before she shook with anger now. She stood there for half a second staring at the phone and questioned if that had just happened. There was no going back from the blatant disrespect. Natasia Williams deserved a foot shoved up her ass, and she was about to get it as soon as…
“Mrs. Lowry, we have an update regarding your husband.” The E.R. nurse appeared in the doorway to the waiting room.
Mom rose in between sobs, eyes too swollen to see well. Juliette's brewing anger fell by the wayside at the nurse’s arrival. She grabbed Mom’s hand and together they walked over to find out the news.
“Your husband’s aortic valve situation has been a precarious one for some time now. Blood isn’t pumping properly to his heart like it should and won’t be corrected until he undergoes surgery,” she explained, clutching a clipboard to her chest. She offered them sympathy in her sof
t expression and voice. “Today what happened is a blockage occurred that prevented his heart from receiving the blood and oxygen it needs to function.”
“H-He’s scheduled for open-heart surgery in two weeks.”
“The E.R. doctor isn’t confident he can wait that long. He has managed to temporarily stabilize your husband, but he will need surgery in the next 48 hours.”
Mom broke down into her hardest-hitting sob yet. The tissue was now a soggy, sopped up mess, but it was the only thing she had to cry into.
Juliette rubbed her forehead and said, “There is no heart surgeon on the island.”
“That is correct,” the nurse said regrettably.
“But…he can’t…he can’t travel like this!” Mom cried.
“He is safe to travel by land and water. The doctor recommends a ferry off the island and then motor vehicle transportation. There are several specialists we can recommend who can perform emergency surgery.”
“When is he free to go?”
“We’re keeping him for another few hours as we run tests and then he’ll be released. We recommend you waste no time getting him to a specialist.”
Juliette and Mom glanced at each other, heaviness in their hearts and their eyes.
Preston noticed only after a mile into his walk that he forgot his wallet and cell phone at the Brosman’s. Both were upstairs in the bedroom he shared with Juliette. In his haste to follow the others out of the house, trailing behind the paramedics wheeling Thomas toward the ambulance, his phone and wallet had been the last things on his mind.
When he embarked on foot to the hospital, it had escaped him too. He only noticed once he flagged down a pedicab and reached into the back pocket of his denim for cash that he realized his mistake. The pedicab sped off without him and frustration anchored him to the spot, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.
The entire day was a disaster. Not only had Mr. Lowry witnessed Natasia's latest trick, but worse, it worsened his heart troubles. The poor man was suffering immense pain when he should’ve been relaxing at the beach house with his family. The others like Juliette and her mother were just as effected. And here he was being useless…
Preston stopped these thoughts straightaway. Falling into old sabotaging habits was the last thing he needed at the moment. This was the Lowrys hour of need. Juliette needed him. His responsibility as the man in her life was to help her and her family through their tragedy. He wouldn’t fail her. He would do whatever it took to provide support. Juliette and the Lowrys meant that much to him and more.
Along the curve of a wide road sidelined by the beach on his right, a horn blared. The honk bleated an aggressive tone, perpetrator’s palm smashed against the horn. Preston assumed the moped rider thought him too over on the road. He didn’t bother turning to look at the jerk, but he threw frustrated hands in the air and stepped closer to the road’s edge. With no sidewalk, he didn’t know what the moped rider expected.
The honking continued, more and more insistent. Already an easy wire to trip, Preston's bomb detonated. He grit his teeth and spun around, hands clenched into fists. His chest started to rumble out a confrontational shout, but he held off as two mopeds cruised down the road. He squinted from afar, trying to make out the drivers. The closer into distance they drove, the more details on their faces materialized.
His hands uncurled and he tilted his head watching Dave and Betsy skid to a stop. The Coco 4 Mopeds married couple arrived smiling at him. Apparently they had been out for a joyride around the island, Dave on a green moped and Betsy on yellow. Dave held out his hand for a friendly shake. The greeting was as avid as just yesterday on his first date with Juliette. Though twenty-four hours earlier, it felt so long ago in the midst of a tragedy…
“Hey, Preston! Whatcha doing walking all this way? Are you lost? Betsy!”
“Really, Davy? I’m sitting right next to you. What?”
“Don’t we have maps in our backpack? I thought we packed some,” Dave said, twisting to glance at his wife. “I swear I put some in the front zipper. Remember that time we came across that family who had gotten lost on the far east of the island? I put ‘em in there for them—or tourists like them. No offense, Preston.”
“Lemme check!” Betsy snatched the backpack off her moped and began rummaging.
Preston interrupted their frantic attempt to help. “It’s alright. I’m not lost. I’m just in a rush to get to the hospital.”
The married couple froze, jaws dropping with audible gasps.
“Nothing serious, I hope.”
“Where is that gorgeous fiancée of yours?” The color drained from Betsy’s slim oval face and she clutched her cheeks in panic. “Please tell us she’s okay! Oh, I hope it wasn’t an accident on one of our mopeds—it wasn’t, was it? Inexperienced riders go too fast and flip on hills or roads with sharp turns. Just last week we had a guy who—”
“Betsy, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Dave countered hastily. “Our mopeds aren’t responsible. Right, Preston? Right?”
Preston appreciated their concern, but he had no time to stand around. “It’s a family emergency. I need to be there for Juliette and her family. Sorry to cut our talk short. I really have to go.”
“Take my moped,” Dave said, swinging his leg off the side and standing up.
“Great idea, Davy!”
“I…I don’t have any money to pay you right now. I left my wallet behind.”
Betsy dismissed him, rolling her eyes. “Money doesn’t matter. People do. You and Juliette are friends of ours. We want to help. Davy, give him the keys.”
Dave handed over the keys to the green moped and wished him luck. Preston thanked the couple.
“Don’t thank us. Just take care of your family business!” said Betsy.
“And if you can, how about you and the fiancée stop by to let us know everything’s okay?”
Preston nodded to both requests and climbed onto the moped. He waved at them and gripped the handles, pressing down on the gas pedal to speed off down the road. Thanks to Dave and Betsy, the hospital was only a ten minute ride away.
“We have to pack,” Mom wept half an hour later. They stood in the small emergency room, sectioned off by a curtain.
Dad was conscious, but entirely too weak for regular function. He lay in the bed, hooked up to machines, breathing tubes up his nose, and his eyes watered watching Mom’s breakdown. He couldn’t speak much nor was it recommended as it required drawing effort on his part. Instead he spoke silently through his gaze.
Juliette held his hand and tried to keep Mom calm. “You stay here with him. I’ll go back to the house and pack everything. Then I’ll finish contacting specialists.”
“Oh, honey. You don’t have to. You’re taking on too much.”
“It’s no problem. Just spend time together, okay?”
Dad squeezed her hand. The might behind it was scant, the most strength he could muster, but she looked down at him and smiled. He thanked her for looking after them and ensuring things were taken care of. She gave his hand a slight squeeze back to give a message of her own—you’re welcome.
“My phone. It’s Gigi! She and Dom must be back on land.” Mom fumbled to answer her cell. She launched into a tearful explanation over the phone to her youngest daughter.
“Don’t worry, Dad,” Juliette whispered. “We’re going to get through this. Just please take it easy. You heard the doctor. You need to rest. I’m going to take a pedicab back to the house and arrange everything.”
“Wedding,” Dad croaked.
“We’ll figure out something. Gigi won’t have it any other way. Rest. I’ll be back.”
Juliette bent low and kissed his brow in goodbye. Mom hung up with Gigi and flung her arms around her.
“I love you so much, honey. Without you I wouldn’t know what direction to go in. But don’t take on too much. Here, take my cell phone. I have your fathers. Call me if you need a break. I’ll stay here with him. Gigi is also on her
way.”
“I’ll see you soon. Take care of him.”
Juliette wore her brave face for the rest of her walk out the emergency room. She thanked the emergency staff on exit and emerged outside the hospital to wave down a pedicab. One rolled pedaled up in seconds, asking for her destination.
“808 Suncrest Lane.”
The pedicab shot down the road and Juliette used the time alone in the backseat for unraveling. She slumped against the leather and labored deep breaths. Her focus was on squaring away Dad’s medical situation. Though another, angrier slice of her thirsted for a confrontation with Natasia.
Then again, she also yearned for Preston's comfort. She hoped and prayed he would be at the beach house when she returned. Natasia's lie failed to fool her even remotely. She trusted in Preston's character. He wouldn’t go the beach after an emergency struck her family. Knowing him he was climbing the walls waiting for any news on Dad.
Juliette sat up and stared at the streets around her. They were entering the city center, leftovers from the weekly market obvious. The live band still jazzed and a couple food vendors lingered. Her stomach dropped thinking about yesterday and how happy she’d been. How things had seemed so perfect…
“Wait!” she exclaimed. She craned her neck for a look at the light moped traffic passing them by.
The pedicab driver glanced at her in the review mirror. His brow furrowed.
“Turn back!”
“Ma’am, 808 Suncrest Lane is—”
“I said turn back!”
15
Zooming down roads on a moped was a lot less pleasant today. He tried not to miss Juliette clinging to him, laughing breathlessly in his ears. Her body pressed up against his back, somehow her scent distinct even against the sea air. He hadn’t imagined a day later he’d be on a moped again, but this time alone, rushing off to help with a Lowry family emergency.
Nevertheless, he didn’t let up on the gas. He urged the powered moped to go faster. He maneuvered down the twisty roads, slipping between other riders, and squinted against the wind smacking into his face. Nothing would distract him from reaching the hospital and being there for Juliette and her family.