My cell buzzed in my pocket and I quickly grabbed it, thinking it was Gwen calling to tell me good night. It was a number I didn’t recognize, and I came close to sending it to voicemail. It was my private number, though, and unless someone had misdialed accidentally, I had no idea who it would be. Then came one of those little voice moments that told me to take the call.
“Hello?”
“Is this Colt Stillman?”
“Who is calling please?”
“I’m sorry, but the law requires I verify that this is Colt Stillman.” I was puzzled, it wasn’t as if they could serve you legal papers over the phone.
“Yes, this is he. With whom am I speaking?”
“Mr. Stillman, your name and number are listed as emergency contacts for Mr. William Clark?”
“Buddy! What’s wrong?”
“Mr. Stillman, your friend has been involved in a very serious automobile accident. My name is Mrs. Green and I am a social worker at Mount Mercy Hospital. We are trying to locate a next of kin or emergency contact individual to come in. Would you be available?”
“Oh, shit! Is he alive?”
“Mr. Stillman, I apologize, but I’m unable to release any personal information over the telephone. I would need you to come in with a picture ID. I’m sure you understand.”
“Dammit, tell me! Is he still alive?”
“The only thing I can say, Mr. Stillman, is that I am not calling you for mortuary services. Does that help?”
“Where do I find you?”
“Give them your name at the emergency desk and they’ll page me. That’s Mrs. Green, Marjorie Green. I’ll expect to see you soon.”
I already had the car in reverse and spun out getting onto to the road. Luckily, Mount Mercy wasn’t far and it was late, so the traffic was light. I swung into the emergency parking and sprinted through the doors to the reception desk. “Mrs. Green, I’m here to see her. Tell her it’s Colt Stillman. She’s expecting me.”
“Please have a seat in that first conference room on the left and she’ll be in to see you,” the woman there said, pointing down the hallway. I looked around the waiting room quickly but there was no one there I recognized. I must have been Buddy’s only emergency contact. I found the room and went in, pacing until the Green woman came in.
“Won’t you have a seat, Mr. Stillman?”
“I’d rather stand if you don’t mind,” I told her firmly.
“If you wish, but I have some papers for you to sign. That might be easier if you’re seated.”
I felt a sick dread in my gut and did as she asked. Whipping out my wallet, I extracted my license and slid it across the table toward her. “My picture ID,” I commented.
She took it and stood, clasping it in her hand. “I need to copy this, I’ll be right back.”
Jesus, this is like being in court! I knew I was agitated. Why the hell couldn’t the woman just tell me what shape he was in? She was back in a matter of moments according to the clock on the wall, although it felt like hours. Why did every hospital room have a clock? To tally your misery?
Mrs. Green slid my license back across the table. “Thank you, hospital rules and I understand your frustration. Your friend, Mr. Clark is alive. He was involved in an accident earlier this evening and paramedics were forced to extract him from his vehicle with cutting equipment. From what I understand, his car rolled over an embankment a number of times and he was unconscious when he was brought in. I really don’t have any more information than that for you right now because I’m not medically qualified to give you diagnosis or prognosis. You will, however, be able to speak to the doctors. Mr. Clark is still being examined and treatment determined.”
I heaved a sigh that he was alive… for the time being. “Where is he?”
“He is still in the ER, pending tests and I suspect will be either sent to surgery or ICU depending on the results and what sort of treatment is required. I will not candy coat this, Mr. Stillman. Your friend is in very critical condition—I’ve seen the charts often enough to note that. He has not regained consciousness as far as I’m aware. We found this card in his wallet while looking for identification.” She held it up and I recognized his Stillman Enterprises business card. She turned it over and there was handwriting on the back.
“May I?”
“Of course,” and she handed it over.
Essentially it was Buddy’s request that I be contacted and treated as medical power of attorney in case of emergency. He had no other family. He listed Mason’s phone number for the documentation, including a DNR requesting that life-saving measures beyond immediate requirements not be provided. I was blown away. His entire life was in my hands and his wishes stipulated on the back of a lousy business card.
“Mr. Stillman, you should know that Mr. Clark’s license is marked giving permission for his participation in the donor program, should he not survive.”
“Don’t!”
“I’m sorry?”
“Don’t say those words to me. Not now. Buddy is flesh and blood and like a brother to me. He has a hundred people who care about him, even if they aren’t blood relations. Do not refer to him as a corpse in your donor kitchen, do you understand?”
“But, Mr. Stillman, it’s important…”
“I said, do-not! If your services are required by me, I will let you know. In the meantime, I want to talk to the doctors and I will be consulting with a few of my own.”
“Mr. Stillman, doctors must have privileges with Mount Mercy to be able to treat patients here. That’s the law.”
“Then I’ll move him out. Whatever. Now, let me see him and his doctors.”
I knew I was being a jerk, but I’d learned how to deal with places like hospitals. You had to put your foot down and be assertive otherwise they’d wander around at their own pace and bombard you with rules designed to raise your tab while they practiced with their diagnostic toys. That wasn’t going to happen to Buddy—not on my watch.
“Mr. Stillman, if you will… there are a number of papers here we need you to sign.”
“What are they?”
“Mostly permissions for treatment, release of liability, the standard forms patients sign on admission.”
“Hold on to them. My attorney will be here shortly, and I will bring in my own people as second opinions.”
“Mr. Stillman, you do realize that we can’t proceed with treatment unless these forms are signed?”
I slammed my hand on the table and leaned over it, coming close to her face. I could tell she was alarmed and I didn’t give a shit. “Now listen. I don’t know you and you probably haven’t heard of me. We don’t run in the same circles, you and I. I will tell you this, however. There is a wing in this hospital that my family paid to have built. We endorsed major equipment acquisition here for treating children. In short, Ms. Green, your administrator will not be happy with the way I’m being treated. I don’t give a rat’s ass about your rules. My best friend in the world is in that ER of yours and you will treat him, with or without my signature on these god-damned papers, do you understand? My attorney will be here in a matter of minutes when I make the call, and you can expect the best and the brightest doctors to be arriving shortly thereafter. Why? Because they, Ms. Green, do know who I am and not to interfere with me or my orders. Have I made myself clear?”
Whether she responded from fear, or realization of the truth I spoke, it didn’t matter. Time was passing, and I didn’t know how much Buddy had left. “Go!” I shooed her away and slid out my cell.
I called Mason and while I waited for him to arrive, I made a few calls to friends of my father’s who were tops in their fields. Several were at Mayo and I sent my corporate jet to pick them up. They could be on site in a matter of a couple of hours. I hoped Buddy had that long.
Mrs. Green left the consultation room and returned, a visitor’s pass in her hand. “This will get you into his room but stay out of the way and do what the nurses tell you to,” she said brief
ly and left. I figured she was out of the way for the time being.
Pushing through the double doors, I found the cubicle marked on the pass and staggered when I saw Buddy. He was on a ventilator and his head almost totally bandaged. As I came closer to the bed, I could see his features were badly bruised and swollen beyond recognition. If I hadn’t known where to find him, I would have passed this man by. A bank of equipment with lights and beeps surrounded him and his arms sprouted a dozen or so wires from beneath the blankets. He was a fucking mess!
A nurse came in and looked at me, so I pulled out the pass. “Only a couple of minutes. We’re getting ready to take him for a CT scan.”
“I’d like to see his doctors,” I told her.
“I’m sorry. They’re with other patients right now and they really can’t tell you anything until the tests results are back. Now, if you’ll step out, Mr. Stillman, was it? I need to check his bandages for seepage and this won’t be pleasant.”
“I can take it. I’m not going anywhere.”
She looked doubtful, but shrugged and nodded, turning to her work. I backed off and stood in the far corner out of her way. She was right—it was a helluva nasty sight. I couldn’t imagine that Buddy was still alive, given what I saw.
When she finally left the room, I stepped closer to the bed. He was unconscious and, on a ventilator, but I bent low and whispered to him. “Buddy, it’s me, Colt. I’m here and I’m not leaving. I’ve got the big guys on the way and they’re going to make sure you’re up and around in time to come to work on Monday, you hear? Just relax—I’ve got this.”
The words rang loudly in my head. That’s what Buddy always said to me, “I’ve got this.” Well, it was my turn.
Chapter 14
Gwen
I awakened with sunshine emanating from my soul. I never thought I could feel that happy again. In fact, it was better than it could have ever been with Paul. I was in love, but it was on my terms. It doesn’t get any better than that.
Carrie seemed to sense my light mood and pulled up on the side of the crib and clearly said, “Mama.” I was thrilled and swept her into my arms as I headed for the kitchen to make our breakfasts.
Bitsy was groggy on the sofa. She normally didn’t get in until one or two in the morning, so I let her sleep. It was tough to be quiet with a baby and an open kitchenette that never had enough room for noisy pans. Carrie, having mastered her vocabulary, was repeating “Mama” over and over. I sat her in her high chair and gave her some small bits of grapes and a warm bottle of oatmeal. I broke two eggs into the warped frying pan and I think the smell of breakfast is what got Bitsy off the sofa.
“Hi,” she greeted me, sitting up on the sofa, rubbing her eyes and turning in my direction. “Is that my girl calling for Mama?” she chortled to Carrie.
“We’ve created a monster, I’m afraid. She thinks she has two mamas and of course you know what that makes other people think.”
Bitsy’s head cocked to one side. “Never thought of it like that.”
“So, listen, as soon as these eggs are done, I’m off to work. Metallica has some consultants coming in from some of our bigger lines and I’ve been asked to sit in. It’s sort of a pain, but more of an honor. I’m going to run late tonight, so I’ll check in with Mrs. Heathrow and make sure she can take Carrie off your hands when you leave for work.”
“Works for me. I’m headed to the bathroom and then I’ll fry myself some eggs. That smells good.”
I nodded and soon scooted Carrie into my arms and got her ready for the day, my eyes glued to the clock. Colt had promised to call, and he knew I had to be at work. I sort of expected him to have already texted me or something.
I put Carrie in the playpen and slid on my shoes.
Bitsy was fully awake and looking around. “I noticed some fancy trash in the kitchen. You have company?”
“You know very well who,” I grinned and said.
“We need another bedroom.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I said and winked as I left.
Chapter 15
Coulter
Although I had the best people money could buy, it was pure anguish to watch Buddy lie there, unconscious with me unable to help him. I wracked my brain to come up with solutions. I had the jet standing by and could have flown him anywhere in the world if it would have helped. My doctors told me he was too fragile to be moved and after consulting with the staff doctor at Mount Mercy, they assured me he was in the best situation possible and only time would make the difference in his outcome.
I wasn’t allowed to sit in the ICU room with him, and I understood that. I took up post, instead, in the family waiting room on the same hall. While his body had sustained cuts and skeletal damage, it was his head injury that caused the greatest concern. When they came in to tell me they were taking him into the operating room to drill a hole through his skull, I thought it was all over. They explained they were releasing pressure from the swelling and even if he made it through the surgery, they would keep him in a coma to put the least demands on his body. I paced and thought and then repeated it. Finally, it occurred to me that Bitsy should know and perhaps it could even be a good influence for him to hear her voice. I texted her and in less than forty-five minutes she came into the waiting room, little Carrie in a stroller and a diaper bag over her shoulder. “They won’t let me in to see him,” she told me.
I nodded. “I know. They’re about to take him into surgery and release pressure from the swelling on his brain. I’m sorry about all this,” I said, motioning to the room in which we sat, “but they tell me he can’t be moved elsewhere so this is what we have to work with.”
Bitsy followed by glance and looked around. “I’m sorry? I don’t understand what’s wrong?”
I realized that to Bitsy, this rather unknown hospital was what she was accustomed to. I would have had him in a private suite at Mayo if they’d let me.
What the hell am I saying? What an ass I’ve turned into—an arrogant, privileged ass.
“What can I do?” Bitsy asked, her kindly eyes filled with empathy and dampness on her cheeks. She’s really not so bad, I thought. She seems to really care about him.
“Nothing, right now. It’s out of our hands.” I sat forward in my chair. “Look, Bitsy. Buddy has the best I can get for him. He’s going to get worse before he gets better—they tell me that’s normal. But he will come out of this—that much I promise you. Between you and I, we will bring him back if we have to suction his consciousness right out of his nostrils!”
She laughed at that and I was glad to see we could relax and be less morose. It made the waiting that much easier. That was a good thing because there was plenty of it to be done.
Chapter 16
Gwen
Metallica was in her element. She reigned like a queen over her subjects as the consultants fought for her attention and I stood by silently, doing her bidding and learning. I’d yet to ever see her smile, but the radiance on her face came as close to it as I suppose she was capable.
It was, however, exhausting. There was so much to remember and although I sat in the corner and furiously took notes, at some point it all began to run together.
I was having problems concentrating and Colt was the reason why. I’d emerged from my building that morning, having completely forgotten that my car was still marooned at work and not running. To my immense surprise, my car was sitting in the parking lot, clean, detailed and filled with gas. I used my spare key to open it and there was a gold keyring on the seat, inscribed with my initials. There was also a second set of keys and an envelope with my name on it.
“Stop by Waltham’s on your way home. There’s a little something there I want you to have. I don’t want any strangers giving you rides home—they could decide they want to stay!”
I had no idea what kind of place Waltham’s was, but it didn’t matter because I was running late, and my car was safely in my hands. I turned the key and the engine answered like
a knight on a white horse.
Colt had probably ordered that all done the day before, even before he slept with me. He had planned to leave me marooned, after all. Why wasn’t he calling?
Then I knew.
He’d seen me—the real me. He’d seen where and how I lived in that shoddy, little, odd apartment with the cracks in the ceiling and tiny shower with rust stains. He knew he couldn’t have me lugging Carrie around on my hip on dates and that he certainly wasn’t going to spend the night at my place—not when the only place to sleep was half of a cramped bed with a young child staring over the crib railing at him.
Of course! What a fool I’d been! I’d allowed myself to forget, in the space of one cozy little evening, that men were all the same. They used you, like a cat toy. They flirted and bragged and promised, when all along, all they wanted to know was how good you were in bed and whether they should brag about you to their locker room buddies or try to forget they’d ever touched you.
When would I ever learn?
Metallica was looking in my direction and I could tell I’d been drifting mentally and not paying attention. I struggled to pick up the thread of conversation and realized the meeting had come to an end and she’d asked me to show out the guests. I scrambled to comply and as I shook hands and let the last one out the door, I turned around to see her glaring at me.
“You had better things to do?” she barked, and the store grew quiet as both customers and employees stopped what they were doing to hear me getting chewed out. I knew my face was flaming. This was all Stillman’s fault—he’d gotten in the way of my career, just as Paul had ruined my dreams.
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