by Susana Mohel
“Already on it, boss,” somebody replies.
I look at where we’re located, weighing the possibilities. Thankfully the house isn’t too far away, and if we open up the gates, the ambulance should be able to get to us without too many problems.
“You, Murphy!” I shout at one of the workers, thankfully remembering his name. “Go back to the house and wait for the ambulance, then bring them up here as soon as they arrive.”
Fuck, I hate waiting.
Even though it only takes the ambulance half an hour to get here, it feels like an eternity as Tara drifts in and out of consciousness. Once they arrive, the paramedics take Tara’s vitals and assess her. When they’re happy that she’s stable and can be moved, they put a plastic collar around her neck, then carefully roll her onto a stretcher, before moving her into the ambulance. I insist on going with her—thank God there’s no quibble about this as I’m her husband—and I’m just thankful when we’re finally speeding our way to the hospital. My chest squeezes painfully when I look at Tara lying there, eyes closed, deathly pale and ethereal. I feel so powerless, I’d do anything, give anything, if it meant she was going to be okay. I’d give every last drop of my blood if she needed it. I’d give her my heart if it would save her, because she’s had it from the very first night we met.
When we finally make it to the hospital, a nurse is waiting to escort Tara to the ER, and I’m ordered to wait behind while they lead my wife away, because I need to fill out all the fucking paperwork while they get on with treating her. My first inclination is to tell them to shove their stupid paperwork where the sun don’t shine, because no way am I leaving my wife’s side, but since I’m depending on these people to do their utmost for Tara, I reluctantly back off.
Paperwork dutifully completed, I enter the waiting room to find a worried looking Fermin pacing the floor. He obviously discovered what happened from one of the ranch hands and made his way straight here.
“I’m so sorry, Joel. There was no stopping her, trust me I did try, really I did. But you know what Tara’s like once she sets her mind to something, so then I tried calling you, but there was no signal…”
I just glare at him, pissed beyond measure. I like what he says next even less.
“There’s something else, Joel. You need to call her mother. Trust me, I’m not a big fan of Monique any more than you are, but I think she needs to know her daughter’s been in an accident. It’s the right thing to do.”
“I don’t care if you think it’s the right fucking thing or not, I don’t want that woman anywhere near Tara,” I growl. “She’s the last person I need meddling and interfering. Tara is my wife, my responsibility and I’ll decide what’s best.”
“Yes, but it’s not you in that emergency room right now, is it? It’s Monique’s daughter and you have to call her. Don’t be petty, be the bigger person here by doing the decent thing.” Fermin stares back at me.
I sigh in resignation, knowing that damn it, he’s got a point. Before giving into the desire to smash the phone against the wall, I call my mother-in-law and give her the news that her daughter is in the hospital.
At least we’ve been assured that Tara’s injuries from the accident don’t appear to be life threatening, although I’ve still not been allowed in to see her.
“What the hell did you do to her, you bastard?” Those are the first words out of Monique Appleton’s mouth the second she walks into the waiting room.
“Monique,” Fermin intervenes. “It was nothing to do with Joel, it was just an unfortunate accident. Tara fell off a horse and into a ditch.”
“What on earth was my daughter doing on a horse in the first place?” she yells, “Are you already attempting to turn her into some kind of a cowgirl?”
Fermin starts to intervene again, but I can handle this. I’m not some wimp who needs to hide behind the tight trousers of this Beau Brummell character.
“I was out working on the ranch when Tara decided to come looking for me. She took one of the horses from the stable, but unfortunately she was galloping too fast to notice the ditch in front of her in time, and got thrown off her horse,” I explain as calmly as I’m able.
“I blame you for this, Joel Sadger. You and your despicable cowboy ways—if my daughter hadn’t been anywhere near a horse, none of this would have happened, would it?” Monique shrieks accusingly. “Make no mistake, as soon as my daughter is well enough to get out of this place, she’ll be seeking a quickie divorce. I’m holding you totally accountable for what happened today, especially as she should have been resting and taking care of herself, considering her delicate condition.”
Fermin and I both frown in confusion.
“What condition?” We both turn and ask at the same time. Is she implying what I think she is? How is that even possible?
Monique stares back at us while we just stand there with gaping mouths. There’s a look of blind panic on her face, as if she’s let the cat out of the bag about something she wasn’t meant to, belatedly realizing neither of us knows what she’s talking about.
But my mind is already putting the pieces together, as is Fermin’s.
“Tara can’t be pregnant,” Fermin says slowly, shaking his head. “She’d never act so irresponsibly by putting her baby at risk if she were.”
“Of course she isn’t pregnant, you imbecile,” Monique blurts out, before suddenly crumbling into tears. “That’s not it at all. The truth of the matter is… Tara is terminally ill. She’s dying, in fact.”
As Monique starts sobbing loudly, I have to ask myself several times if what I’m hearing is true.
“She’s what?” I ask in disbelief.
“Tara is very sick,” she says. “She has a degenerative liver condition that doctors haven’t been able to accurately diagnose.”
“But surely… there must be something they can do,” I mumble trying to get to grips with what I’m hearing.
Tara is dying? No, that’s just not possible. Dying. That fucking awful word pounds around my head like thunder.
There has to be something, a cure, a new treatment. I’ll travel to the ends of the earth to find a way to save her, I refuse to accept there’s nothing more that can be done for her.
“We’ve tried our best,” Monique murmurs, “But Tara is very stubborn and refuses to waste money on doctors and hospitals since we don’t have sufficient health insurance, and with the economic difficulties we’ve been going through ...”
“What the fuck? What’s wrong with you? Your daughter is sick and that’s not a priority? You’re prepared to waste money on bespoke suits for your latest husband, yet you’re not prepared to fund more treatments for her?”
I’d spend every penny I had, every penny I could beg, steal or borrow to find a way to make her better. And that’s what I’ll do. Tara is my number one priority, for sure. And two, three, four to infinity. Even if I’m really, really mad at her right now for keeping all this from me.
“Tara is stubborn, so what could I do?” Monique repeats again like that’s the answer to everything. I just don’t understand this selfish, stupid, vapid woman, and I can’t bear to deal with her, or even be in the same room as her, even if she is Tara’s mother.
“Gotta go,” I say, without speaking to any of them in particular. I can’t breathe in this fucking waiting room, it’s suffocating me. I need some air, to be on my own to get my head around the bombshell that’s just been dropped on me. Why the hell didn’t Tara tell me?
I stumble out, blindly making my way to the elevator, and I’m just about to put my hand on the call button when a hand grips my shoulder to stop me.
I have pretty quick reflexes, and my first instinct is to lash out.
“Woah there, cowboy, just cool it.” Fermin steps back from me, his arms raised in surrender.
“Not now, Fermin. I have to go.”
“Where are you going?”
“I have no idea.”
“You can’t just leave.”
“Why not?” I say, raising my eyebrows. “Who’s going to stop me?”
“Tara needs you,” he says softly.
“What she needs is a good spanking,” I retort.
Any other time the mere mention of Tara and spanking would get me hard as a rock, but right now I just want to force some reason into that head of hers for keeping me in the dark about all of this.
“I can see where you’re coming from, the way that stupid stubborn girl’s been acting,” he says. “But in order to do what you’re suggesting, you need to hang around.”
“I told you, Fermin. Not. Now.”
He sighs heavily. “Listen Joel, I get it, I really do. I understand you’re pissed, and I am too. Tara didn’t confide in me, she didn’t turn to me for help either, did she? And that fucking stings, but even I’ve worked out that throwing a hissy fit won’t solve anything, because right now her health is the most important thing.”
“Yeah, I know, you’re right,” I reply grimly.
“Wow, I can’t believe I’m the one here giving the lecture for once. Christ, my mother wouldn’t believe it—Fermin Carrillo giving someone like you a good scolding, along with a good dollop of sensible advice.” He rolls his eyes and scoffs in disbelief.
“Well then, Carrillo, I suggest you shut the fuck up and stop dishing out your crappy unsolicited claptrap,” I retort, shoving him on the back good naturedly. He might be a weirdo, but I guess his heart’s in the right place.
“Listen, cowboy, all the time Tara’s laid up in a hospital, I get a free pass to say whatever needs to be said. And you’ll do the right thing by her because you love her.”
“Is that so?” I frown at his confident assertion.
“Yep, sure is,” he says. “And she loves you too, so you can’t leave.”
“You’re going to need more than that to keep me in here,” I stubbornly insist.
“You CANNOT leave Tara in Monique’s care,” he vehemently protests, raising his voice. “You can’t POSSIBLY believe that’d be in her best interest.”
At that moment, a nurse appears and tells him to be quiet, reminding him where we are. As if that were possible to forget.
“Joel, if Tara goes back home with her family, I swear she’s not going to get better. Letting Monique and Oscar take care of her would be akin to signing her death warrant,” Fermin whisper shouts at me.
“If that’s what she wants,” I shrug, allowing the bitterness raging inside make me appear callous and uncaring. “Seems to me the only thing Tara cares about is getting me to save her precious fucking ranch. Otherwise, why wouldn’t she have told me she was ill before we got married?”
Fermin narrows his eyes and lowers his voice. “I think Tara came to find you because deep down she knew that you could save much more than just the ranch. That was just the excuse she needed to come and find you.”
I stare at him for a moment. What Fermin’s saying does ring true, because all along I sensed there was something else, I just couldn’t figure it out. That desolate look she had when she walked into my office that day. Her reluctance to commit to anything permanent with me until I forced her hand.
He’s right.
She came to get me. Because she needed me. Me. No one else.
“Damn it!” I exhale loudly, and as the air leaves my lungs, so does the blind rage.
Although, I’m still pissed. Especially with Monique. What kind of a mother is she?
“I’ll let you into a little secret, Fermin,” I say quietly, taking him by the shoulders. “I wasn’t really going to leave Tara, I would never do that. I just needed some fresh air and some time to think.”
I grin wickedly as he mutters a string of curses and thumps my shoulder with his clenched fist.
“So, enough with all the fucking lectures, let’s go talk to my mother-in-law and see if anyone is able to give us an update about Tara.”
I walk back into the waiting room to see Monique sitting there as if nothing’s wrong. No more tears, her cold mask back in place. How does she do that, switch her emotions off when right now her daughter is lying in a hospital bed? Does she have warm blood flowing through her veins or pure ice? Has she already resigned herself to her daughter dying?
Before I can say anything, a guy in scrubs appears at the door, calling for Tara Sadger’s husband.
Much as I resented filling in all those stupid fucking forms earlier, now I’m thankful because it means I’m the one being called forward.
“Yeah, that’s me.” I rush over, desperate for an update on Tara’s condition right the fuck now. “How is my wife?”
The doctor tilts his head and furrows his eyebrows, which isn’t very reassuring.
“Mrs. Sadger suffered some bruises and a slight concussion, so we’re currently waiting for the results of the scans the neurologist ordered, although I don’t think there should be anything too serious there,” he explains, then hesitates, which I don’t like at all. I sense a ‘but’ coming.
“Okay, so that means she’s going to be okay, right?”
“Unfortunately, we also noticed some other issues with your wife’s health that require further investigation.”
“What kind of issues?”
“Just some unusual results from the routine tests we carried out, but I’m afraid I can’t really give you any more details since it’s hard to know exactly what we’re dealing with at this stage,” he says. “Do you know if your wife has any pre-existing illnesses?”
“Yes, she does,” her mother interrupts before I can answer. “My daughter’s been ill for a few months now. It’s something to do with her liver, but no one has really been able to give us an exact diagnosis.”
“Why wasn’t I informed of this before? Who’s her current physician? What drug regime has she been prescribed? What treatments has she undergone?” The doctor immediately snaps his attention to Monique to fire off his questions. “We’ll need her medical records sent over as soon as possible for us to proceed with the correct protocol for her condition.”
“I… I’m not sure… that is… I can’t really remember. Maybe she has some papers at the house somewhere….?” Monique answers vaguely. How the fuck can she be so clueless when her daughter’s life is at stake?
“Then as a matter of urgency, may I suggest that someone goes to the house to fetch Mrs. Sadger’s records, along with any current medication.” I think the doctor is struggling with Monique’s careless ineptitude almost as much as I am.
“I’ll go, and I promise to get back to you as soon as possible,” I assure him. “But can I see my wife first? Please, just for a few minutes?’
Damn it, I need to see Tara for myself, surely they won’t deny me that?
“Not yet, I’m afraid, Mr. Sadger. As I explained, we’re still running some tests on your wife, and now with this latest information, I’ll need to order more tests. At least that means you have time to go home and get her medical history.”
Reluctantly I accept this is the best course of action for now, and as I don’t have my truck, I gratefully accept Fermin’s offer of his car, after first getting his assurance that if there is any change in Tara’s condition, he’ll let me know straight away. I totally ignore Monique, who’s been completely useless this whole time, more interested in vindictively blaming me for her daughter’s riding accident than showing any real concern for her welfare.
I head straight back the ranch driving Fermin’s ridiculously tiny sports car that I can barely squeeze my large frame into. It’s a flashy car meant for impressing the girls, but totally impractical. Give me my roomy truck any day of the week. Can’t deny his wheels run along pretty well though, which is good since I’m desperate to get to the ranch as fast as I can. It hits me then how much I’ve already come to love Redlands, in part because of how much it means to Tara, but also because it’s brought us together again. She’s fought so hard to keep it going, and I’m not going to let her down. Neither am I going to give up on her, because after hearing Monique’s
vague input, I can’t believe every possible avenue has been exhausted yet looking for a cure.
The first thing I do when I arrive is head to Tara’s room to search through all the drawers, rifling through all her clothes, underwear, makeup—Christ there’s one hell of a lot of crap to go through.
I find nothing of interest in the dresser, or the bedside tables, so next I head to the bathroom and search through the drawers under the sink. In a colorfully decorated floral bag, I finally discover several small prescription bottles labeled with her name, plus a box containing some multivitamin capsules.
“Shit.” One of the bottles slips out of my hand and smashes on the bathroom floor.
I carefully gather up the broken shards of glass, but as I throw them in the trash can, something catches my eye. The label has peeled away from the broken glass beneath to reveal something else. Although difficult to read, I make out the faded letters. Cyanamide.
This can’t be right. A deep sense of foreboding floods through me. I need to figure out what’s going on here, so I retrieve my phone from my pocket, open up the Internet search engine and with shaky fingers, type in Cyanamide on the small flat screen.
Medication used in the treatment of chronic alcoholism.
Why the fuck would Tara be taking this? And what’s even stranger, why was it disguised as a multivitamin?
My gut instinct tells me that something here is really, really wrong.
I quickly scan through the rest of the pages, finding basically the same information with every result that I pull up.
I put in another search, and an article from Spain appears, which is several years old.
I keep reading until I have to lean against the wall so I don’t fall to the floor.
Everything I read makes me realize that the price I had to pay for having Tara back in my life was her life.
Fuck.
My phone rings and Fermin’s name appears on the screen.
“Are you on your way back yet?” he asks breathlessly.
“No, I’m still at the ranch. I found Tara’s medications, but I can’t find any medical records.”