“Oh my God. Gordon? Don’t tell me he was hurt too?”
“No, he’s fine. He just arrived.”
Arrived? “I don’t understand.” Arrived from where?
“I’m sorry. I don’t have details.”
Wendy swallowed hard and pushed her hair off her face. “Can I have the address please?”
The woman relayed the address. Wendy punched it into her GPS and glanced over her shoulder, made a U-Turn across a four-lane highway and headed for the Edgewater Trauma Center. Her estimated time of arrival was thirty-three minutes. She had already been on the road over three-quarters of an hour.
She thought about her Grandma June, how she lay on a gurney the last hour of her life outside the door of a MRI room while the entire family paced the floor upstairs around her empty hospital bed. “Grandma, help him,” she said. “Help me get to him. I don’t want him to go alone. Help me get to both of them.”
A flash of light caught her eye. “Oh no! No!”
The police car siren blasted.
“No! This can’t be happening! Oh God, why?”
She pulled over. The police cruiser pulled in behind her. Before the officer could even get close she had her door open, crying and trying to explain. The man stepped back, his hand on his revolver.
“It’s my son. Help me. I need help. You don’t understand. They’re taking him to Edgewater and I have to get there. My grandmother died alone.”
“Ma’am, calm down. Ma’am, just calm down.”
“Here’s my license. Here’s my purse. Please just let me go. I have to go.”
The office took her license. “What’s your son’s name?”
“Matthew.” She wiped her eyes, sobbing. “Matthew Morrison.”
Just as the officer received confirmation of the information, Wendy heard the sound of a helicopter and looked up at the sky. “Oh my God! Matthew.”
The officer took her by the arm and led her to the police cruiser. “I’ll take you there. Be careful, watch your head. I’ll get you there in no time. Don’t worry.”
Wendy stared out the window, her face pressed against the pane trying to follow the helicopter. It was right in front of them, then overhead, behind them, and then it was gone. She turned frantically, trying to see out the back window.
“We’re only a few minutes away,” the officer said, siren blaring. “Try and relax. Your son is going to a good hospital. It’s the best in the area. They’ll take good care of him there.”
They sped by cars, slowed only through intersections, and drove up the ramp to the Edgewater Trauma Center at a blistering speed. The officer killed the siren. At the top of the ramp sat a helicopter, propellers still turning, engine idling.
Wendy sat paralyzed with fear as the helicopter door was opened. An attendant stepped out, then a young man. “Gordon.” The name of her youngest son escaped her lips. “That’s my son,” she said. “My sons.” Gordon stepped back out of the way as the emergency room attendant climbed up into the helicopter.
“Ma’am,” the officer said, door open and at her side. He offered her a hand.
“Those are my sons,” she said. She could see Matthew lying on the gurney, not moving, lifeless amidst a barrage of tubes and wires. No one knew her sons better than her. She’d practically raised them by herself. Their father had died so young. It was just the three of them for the longest time.
“Don’t, Al. Don’t take him,” she whispered.
Gordon looked up as the officer led Wendy to the landing pad. “Mom?” His eyes welled up with tears. “It’s bad, Mom. It’s bad.”
Wendy reached for his hand and gripped it tight, both trembling. She looked in at Matthew, so still, so close and yet so distant. The officer helped steady her. She looked at the helicopter paramedic. He shook his head. “We’re losing him,” he said.
“No…” Wendy cried. “No…. No….” She reached in to touch him. “Matthew, come on. Come on, Son. Come on.” She rubbed his arm, the way she always did when either of her sons weren’t feeling well. “I love you, Matthew…don’t go.” Gordon put his arms around her.
“Don’t go, Matthew. Don’t go….”
The paramedic studied the dials and motioned for her to keep talking.
“Matthew. Listen to me. It’s Mom. Listen to me. You have a long life ahead of you. You can do this, Son. You can stay.”
Gordon stood at her side. “Come on, Matthew, damn it. Come on.”
The paramedic nodded again.
Wendy rubbed Matthew’s arm over and over. “Son!” She glanced at the heart monitor. It was moving faster and faster. “Son!”
The paramedic glanced at the emergency attendant. “All right, let’s do this.” The officer tugged Wendy back out of the way. She looked at the paramedic. He smiled. Not a great big smile, but a smile nonetheless. “Walk alongside and keep talking,” he said. “Both of you.”
Chapter Two
Joe Feigler tracked Tom down at the barn, “Here.” He handed Tom the note, out of breath and holding his side. “Wendy left this for you.”
Tom glanced at it and looked up at him. “When? When did this happen?”
“What’s going on?” Ben asked, from the tack room.
Tom turned. “Matthew’s been in a car accident.”
“Is he okay?”
“I don’t think so.” Tom grabbed his cellphone out of his pocket and dialed Wendy’s number. No answer. “I better go. Get someone to cover for me,” he told Joe. “I’ve got one in the fifth for Burton.”
Joe nodded and just then Tom’s cellphone rang. He looked at the ID.
“Wendy?”
“It’s Gordon. Mom’s with Matthew.”
“How is he?” Tom stared at the note.
“He’s uh….” Gordon cleared his throat. “He wasn’t good when he got here, but he seems to be doing a little better. They say his heart is beating more regular now.”
“Good, that’s good.” Tom motioned to Ben. “What happened?”
“He was driving and…” Gordon hesitated. “Texting me about his exam.”
“Fuck,” Tom said, staring down at the ground and shaking his head. “How many times have I said…?”
“I know. I know.” Gordon cleared his throat again.
“How’s your mom?”
“She’s okay. She’s okay, I think. We’re waiting to hear about the brain scan.”
When Ben said something, Tom turned. “Is he conscious?” Ben asked.
Tom stared at him. “Gordon, is he conscious?”
“No. He’s been out the whole time.”
Tom shook his head. “I’m on my way. Tell your mom.”
“We’re at Edgewater. They life-flighted him here.” Gordon’s voice cracked. “Tom, he died on the way. His heart stopped beating.”
“What?”
Gordon tried speaking and couldn’t. Tom turned away at the sound of the young man crying. “I’ll be there.” He hung up and looked at Ben and Joe. “Check with Freda about Burton. I’ll call you, Ben. Tell Dawn. Okay?”
Ben nodded. Joe nodded.
“If Freda can’t do it, get Junior.” Tom glanced back. “He can use Red. Get him to run stalls too. Don’t you be doing them, old man. You hear me?”
Ben waved for him to go. Edgewater Trauma Center was about a fifteen-minute drive from the racetrack this time of day when there was little traffic. It took longer to find a parking space once Tom arrived. As he walked to the entrance, he looked for Wendy’s car, for Gordon’s. There was a hearse parked close by.
He entered through the sliding door and walked to the desk. A young woman looked up at him. “Matthew Morrison,” he said.
“Are you related?”
“Yes,” he said. “Stepfather.”
She pointed. “Room four, on the left.”
Tom slowed his pace as he approached the room. He’d never referred to himself as the boys’ father before, a stepfather. Gordon looked up when he entered the room. Tom put his arm around h
im, gave him a pat. Wendy had her back to them. She turned. Tom motioned for her to not get up. She was sitting at Matthew’s side. The boy was pale, tubes everywhere, beeping machines, a crease in his young brow.
Tom walked to his other side, trembling. How was it that in less than two years, this family had come to mean so much to him? This was his family. He smoothed Matthew’s hair back, hair so long, and always Tom teasing about his needing to get it cut.
“Men don’t wear ponytails,” he would say.
“Oh yes they do,” Matthew insisted. “Real men anyway.”
Tom gazed at Matthew, as much a son to him as if he’d…. “Dear God,” he whispered. “Save my boy.”
Wendy, Tom, and Gordon turned when a man wearing scrubs entered the room. “Hello, family. I’m Dr. Hanover.”
Tom shook his hand. Gordon shook his hand. Wendy could only nod, frightened by the look in the doctor’s eyes.
“I’m not going to sugarcoat this. It’s going to be touch and go for the next couple of days. This young man suffered a severe blow to the back of his head.” He scanned the chart in his hands up close, looked at it hard for a few seconds and then tucked it under his arm. “That is the major concern and also the amount of time his heart stopped. Fortunately he was on oxygen at the time.”
Wendy looked at Matthew. She looked at Gordon. She looked at Tom.
“We’re going to keep him sedated, at least for a little while,” Dr. Hanover said. “If he wakes too soon he’s going to be extremely uncomfortable. I don’t want to have to introduce pain killers just yet, not until we see how much inflammation we’re going to encounter.”
“Is he going to make it?” Tom asked.
“He has a good chance. A lot will depend on how determined he is, what type of personality he has, what’s going on in that head of his at the moment.”
“There’s probably a lot going on in there,” Gordon said affectionately. “My brother’s a geek.”
“Oh gee, so was I,” Dr. Hanover said. He looked at Matthew. He just looked at him.
Tom watched the man, wondering, what was he observing? What was he seeing?
The doctor sighed. “We want to do everything we can to make sure the same Matthew comes out of this. That’s why we’re being so careful.”
Wendy, Tom, and Gordon let the weight of that settle over them.
“I’ll check back in with you in a few hours.” Dr. Hanover started out the door and looked back. “Be careful what you say around him. I have a feeling he’s listening.”
Wendy smiled, holding onto hope. “Thank you, Doctor.”
~ * ~
The Stewards lodged an inquiry after the finish of the seventh race. In question: whether or not the five horse; on the lead and lugging out on the rail, impeded the three horse that ended up running second. This was the first time since Ben and Dawn took ownership of Nottingham Downs that there was absolutely no one in the General Offices during race time. Richard was gone. Wendy was gone. Tom was gone. Dawn was gone. Technically, even Ben was gone. He was over at the barn on the backside running stalls. Given the circumstances, no one actually needed to be in the General Offices. The inquiry was the Stewards’ concern. But the fact that not one person of ownership or management authority was present, upset the racing secretary Joe Feigler to no end.
If it weren’t for the “nursing home” upstairs, he probably wouldn’t have minded so much. As it was, he couldn’t help but worry. What if something happened to one of the old-timers? What if something happened to Mim? He paced back and forth in front of the window overlooking the track and was startled when he heard a noise behind him.
“Excuse me,” he said, taken aback. He didn’t know this person, let alone the young woman’s appearance, flaming red spiked hair and dressed like a pixie. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m here to deliver a telegram.”
“A telegram? How did you get through security?”
The young woman hesitated. “I came in the back way.”
Joe stared. “The back way?” Just then the phone rang and he picked it up. “Nottingham Downs.”
“Is this Richard Spears?”
“No. Can I take a message?” As Joe reached for a pen and notepad, the young woman disappeared. He dropped the phone and hurried out into the hall. “Miss?” He glanced in one direction then the other. She’d vanished completely. He hurried back in and picked up the phone only to find that the caller had hung up. He sat down in Richard’s chair and sighed. “Hell of a job I’m doing.”
He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. He’d had an argument with his wife Lucille that morning. She said she hated him. She’d said that before. The menopause. He told her one day he was going to believe her. She said that day had better be today.
“Yes, dear.”
He reluctantly opened his eyes and glanced out the window. The official sign had posted. The five horse was taken down and placed second. The three horse entered the winner’s circle.
“Joe!” Someone yelled to him from the Secretary’s office. “Come here a minute.”
“I’ll be right there.” A message on Richard’s desk caught his attention. He checked the doorway and picked up the note. “More bad news,” it read. “Call me. Tee.”
“Who the hell is Tee? What kind of bad news? We don’t need more bad news.”
“Joe!”
“I’m coming!” He put the note down and straightened it the way it lay, walked away, and then came back and straightened it again just to be safe.
~ * ~
Dawn and Randy walked down the hospital corridor to Matthew’s room. It was at the far end of the hall on the left. The drapes were pulled shut, the room rather dark. “He’s sleeping,” Wendy whispered, motioning to a monitor. “Somehow they can tell.”
When Matthew furrowed his brow, perhaps hearing his mother speak from a sleepy distance, Randy smiled and nodded. It was just a little over twenty-four hours since Matthew’s accident and already the young man appeared to be stabilized. Randy scanned the monitors. Heart rate good. EEG good. Matthew’s blood pressure was a little high but under the circumstances that was likely normal. Randy glanced at the catheter bag hanging low on the side of the bed rail. Urine clear.
At one point Randy had thought about going into Internal Medicine. Cardiology interested him a great deal, but with growing up on a working farm and his inherent love of animals it was little more than a fleeting thought. He was destined to become a veterinarian.
“Ben was here earlier,” Wendy said softly.
Dawn gave her a hug. “How are you doing?”
“Okay. I’m hopeful. Tom was here all night.”
“He said to tell you him and Gordon picked up your car and that he’ll be here later.”
Wendy nodded. “He’s bringing me things so I can wash up. I don’t want to leave until….”
Dawn held her tight. “He’s going to be fine. Shhh, don’t cry.”
Wendy wiped her eyes. Randy stepped back out of the way when a nurse entered the room. She made some notations on Matthew’s chart and smiled. “I can tell this boy is loved.”
“Definitely,” Wendy said, wiping her eyes again.
“Wish we could IV him some latte,” Randy said. “That’d move him right up, Matthew style.”
They all chuckled.
“Perhaps tomorrow,” the nurse said, leaving.
The plan was to wean the young man off sedation gradually. Everything depended on tomorrow. Randy looked at Wendy. “Why don’t you go take a break.”
Wendy hesitated, shrugging as she looked at Dawn.
“Go on. You two go. I’ll sit with him,” Randy said.
Wendy looked at her son. “If I only knew what he was thinking….”
Randy smiled. “I think he’s thinking you need to listen to the doctor,” he said, meaning him.
Wendy laughed. “Fine, we’ll go. You have my cell number, right?”
“Yep,” Randy nodded. “Go on, go.”
Wendy and Dawn walked down the corridor, arm in arm. “What a difference a day makes,” Wendy said, as they boarded the elevator. “I still don’t know what happened, not really. If he comes out of this....”
“When,” Dawn said, “Not if.”
Wendy nodded. “When. He’s probably going to lose his license. They’ll need to get another car too.” The two of them stepped off the elevator and followed the signs to the cafeteria. “It’s not as if they really need a car with them both living in that ridiculous frat house right across the street from the campus entrance,” Wendy added, thinking out loud.
Both women laughed. The house was indeed a dump. Not having a car would hurt Gordon the most. The majority of his classes were to the south side of the mile-long campus. “They have a shuttle but really they’ll need another car soon. I’m not sure how this works. If the accident is his fault, what’s covered?”
“Everything,” Dawn said. “That’s what you have insurance for.”
“You’re right. I’m repeating myself. I’m not thinking straight. Everything’s going to be all right.”
Upstairs, Randy was assuring Matthew of the same thing. “Everything’s going to be all right.” He studied the young man’s face. Matthew reminded him a little of him at this age, all except for the long hair. He sighed and then glanced around the room. There was a Time magazine on the windowsill. He walked over, started leafing through it, then settled down in the chair next to Matthew and started reading softly. “This is interesting. You’ll like this. It’s an article on the molecular structure of snails.”
He propped his feet on the bed rail and turned the page. “The female is in a perpetual state of estrus and can produce young throughout her entire lifetime. The male on the other hand is subject to periods of infertility.”
The actual article he was reading was about natural gas fracking; a drilling practice Matthew vehemently opposed. There was no way Randy was going to read that one and chance Matthew comprehending from deep inside the fog and getting riled up.
“Read me a story, Daddy,” Randy could hear Maeve and D.R. say. How many times? Probably a hundred. Randy had making up stories down pat.
“Now the youngsters in the snail family never go far.” He chuckled to himself. “That’s because the mother snails have radar in their antennae and can summon them back with an annoying vibrating sound that only their own young can hear. And the snail is wired so that they can’t refuse.”
Winning Odds Trilogy Page 84