Читать книгу In Care of Sam Beaudry - Kathleen Eagle, Kathleen Eagle - Страница 8

Maggie shooed Jimmy through the heavy glass door ahead of her. Stern-faced principal Dave Cochran greeted her with a nod, the better part of his attention fixed on the approaching ambulance. The siren crashed through Maggie’s head, in the left ear, out the right, tugging on her like a knotted thread.

“Looks like they’re headed for the motel,” the principal said, eyes glued to the action. “Dr. Dietel is looking for you, Jimmy. Tell her you already saw me.”

“I’m sorry, Mr.—”

“Be in my office at three-thirty. Get to class now.” He craned his neck toward the glass, the very image of a long-legged blue heron getting ready to take off. “Don’t think anyone’s staying there. Didn’t see any cars this morning. Hope it’s not Mama Crass.”

“Or Teddy. I’m going to run on down there and see if they need help.” She hadn’t gone for her daily jog yet. Halfway out the door, she hesitated, caught between duties, leaning toward escape. “Unless you want to talk to me. Jimmy was hanging around Sam’s office again.”

“Sam shouldn’t encourage—”

“I’ll stop back.” She backpedaled until the door left her fingertips and slowly swung shut. “Or call, depending. Consequences at school, consequences at home. Team effort.” She gave him a thumbs-up through the glass.

The principal cracked a smile. A good sign for Jimmy. Maggie knew at least two things about this man—he was attracted to her, and he liked being quoted. The first was unsettling. Dave was two things that didn’t interest her: old and married. The second was useful. Since she probably wouldn’t be able to “stop back,” the homage to the last discipline lecture he’d given her was a sacrifice in behalf of her son’s defense. She didn’t condone Jimmy’s actions, but it wasn’t like he was leaving school grounds to go on a crime spree. He wanted to be Sam Beaudry.

Maggie jogged across the graveled parking area toward the flashing lights of the now silent ambulance. Driver Dick Litelle was opening the back doors while motel owners Cassie and Ted Gosset took turns jumping in and out of the emergency team’s way as they directed Dick’s partner, Jay, toward the cause for concern.

“She called the desk, but I couldn’t tell—”

“She said she couldn’t get up, didn’t she?” Teddy put in, shifting his negligible weight anxiously as though he worried about getting blamed for something. “I told Mama to check on her, but she had to go…You had to go fix your hair first! Just the woman and her little girl checked in, so I didn’t wanna—”

“Need any help?”

“Yeah, hey, Maggie.” Dick made a be-my-guest gesture in the direction of door number three. “I’ll bring the gurney. Ted, Cassie, let Maggie through.”

“She’s the skinniest woman I ever saw,” claimed Cassie, who had applied considerable effort to keeping her own weight up. “Not you, Maggie,” Mama Crass hastened to explain as she nodded toward number three. “The one in there.”

“What’s her name?” Maggie called out over her shoulder.

“Is the little girl in there?” Cassie called toward the open door. “You should send her out.”

“The woman’s name,” Maggie insisted.

“Merilee Brown,” said Teddy.

“The little one shouldn’t be in there watching,” Cassie said, lifting her voice to whomever would listen.

The room was dark and smelled like rancid potato chips and sweat. “Hey, sweetie,” Maggie called out, glancing toward the bathroom as she moved to the side of the bed opposite Jay. “There’s a child,” she whispered. She raised her voice. “We’re going to take you and your mommy for a ride in a big van.”

“She’s got a pulse, but it’s pitiful,” Jay reported from the bedside, where Maggie joined him. With space at a premium, he stepped aside, deferring to the unofficial top-of-the-pecking-order designation Maggie’s skills had earned her in the two years since she’d been on staff.

“Merilee, can you hear me? We’re here to help you.” Maggie directed Jay toward the bathroom door, which stood open. He knew what to look for. “Where’s your little girl, Merilee? What’s her name?”

“What’s she saying?”

“Sounds like she’s counting. Did you take pills, Merilee?” Maggie leaned close to the woman’s pale lips, fingers on the thready pulse. At her back, Dick was raising the gurney. “Anything, Jay?”

“Not much.” Jay came out of the bathroom brandishing a small plastic bag. “Meds. No kid.”

“Check under the beds.” Maggie tucked a white blanket around the patient while Dick strapped her down. “I’ll ride with her.”

Sam watched Dick Litelle back through door number three, pulling the loaded gurney out after him. The patient came out feetfirst, swaddled like a mummy. Sam endured a few seconds of dry-mouthed suspense before getting his first glimpse of a frowsy head with unopened eyes and uncovered face—not dead, but deathly pallid—as it slid into the sunlight. The translucent frailty of a once hard-edged beauty now stung his eyes. Merilee Brown. The name the Gossets had given him was a surprise, but the face was a shocker. The years were written on it a thousand times over.

“Mommy!”

Sam spun on his heel.

“They’re taking my mom!”

“Wait, honey.”

Sam jerked his head toward the sound of a voice more familiar than his own. Sure enough, his mother was there, wrapping her arms around a child who had suddenly become her honey. The same child claiming Merilee for her mom.

Hilda looked up at him, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. “Sam, what’s happened? This little girl just showed up at the—”

“Merilee Brown.” A flurry of disconnected images—some sweet, some sordid—swirled behind Sam’s staring eyes. “I used to…” He shook his head hard and got his wits back in line. “Ted says she called the front desk and said she couldn’t get up. Says his wife went to the room right away and found her like this.” He got his feet moving as Maggie hopped into the ambulance as soon as the stretcher was in place. “I’ll clear the way,” he called to the driver.

His mother grabbed his arm. “This is her daughter.”

His glance ping-ponged between the two faces—Ma, kid, Ma—and he jerked open the back door of his patrol car. “Let’s go.”

Sam shut off the lights in the back of his mind. He moved quickly. Siren, radio contact, eyes on the street, head in the moment. His mother knew better than to speak to him on the way to Bear Root Medical. The dizzying whoosh from here to there made for insulated silence within the car, wailing without.

It wasn’t until they were back on foot, following the gurney through the emergency entrance like three spell-bound pilgrims, that Sam’s thoughts got personal again. Merilee had come to Bear Root. He glanced at the top of the little head bobbing along between him and his mother.

She’d brought a kid with her.

What the hell?

He called the office to check in with Phoebe Shooter, his deputy, told her to “woman the fort” and then stationed himself in a chair with a view. Had everything covered—the door to the ICU, the nurse’s station, the outside world through a window in the lobby down the hall…everything except what he was getting paid for. He should have been finishing the paperwork he’d left on his desk so he could take a ride out to the abandoned Osterhaus place and check out Minnie Lampert’s umpteenth sighting of “suspicious activity.” Any change with Merilee, he’d get a call from somebody. His mother was hovering over the girl like they were cuffed to each other, and they’d both been admitted to the room with Merilee.

Was that a bad sign?

“Where was the little girl?”

Sam turned toward the welcome sound of Maggie’s voice. Her question didn’t register, but the just-between-us look in her green eyes did. She handed him a warm foam cup with a plastic lid as she settled into the chair next to his. “We were looking for her in the motel room,” she explained.

“At the store, I guess.” He peeled back the tab on the plastic lid. “Ma has a way with strays.”

“Strays? That’s an odd—”

“Looks like she strayed off to the store and left her mother in a bad way without any…” He trailed off on a sip of black coffee.

“She’s just a little girl, Sam.” She glanced toward the door marked Intensive Care as she took a drink from her own cup. “Where are they from? Do the Gossets know anything about the woman?”

“Merilee Brown,” he said quietly.

“Other than what’s on the registration card.”

“I don’t know what’s on the registration card. She used to work at a truck stop in Wyoming. She moved to California eight, close to nine years ago.”

“You know her?”

She sounded startled. Like she didn’t know he’d ever been outside Bear Root County. Not that they’d ever talked about his travels. Generally, that was where his mother came in, talking up his so-called adventures.

“I didn’t know she was here in town. Can’t imagine what she’d be doing here.” He braced his elbows on his knees, cradled the coffee between his hands and studied the jagged hole in the lid. “Is it drugs?”

“I don’t know,” she said solemnly. “Jay found some meds, but I didn’t see what they were. Does she use?”

“She did when I knew her. I haven’t seen her since I joined the marines. How bad off is she?”

“It doesn’t look good. They took her to X-ray.”

Maggie settled back in her chair. Her white skirt crept a few inches above her knees. The other nurses wore white pants, but not Maggie. He couldn’t figure out whether she was old-fashioned or she just liked dresses better. She looked good in a dress, even if it was a uniform, but she might have blended in a little better if she wore pants.

Or not. Maggie was different, no doubt about that. Blending wasn’t her way. Not that he was an authority on the ways of Maggie Whiteside, but he’d taken considerable notice. Thought a lot about studying up.

“Were you close?” she asked.

He pushed up on his thigh with the heel of his hand and questioned her with a look.

“Well, she’s lying there unconscious, and nobody else around here seems to know her. Just you.”

“It’s been a lotta years, Maggie, what can I tell you? She did weed, coke, pills and I don’t know what else, but I never saw her like this.” He gave a jerk of his chin. “And she didn’t have any kids. How old is—”

He squared up at the sight of his mother rounding the corner of the hallway just past ICU with a reluctant little girl in tow. The child homed in on Nurse Maggie, down-shifted for traction and marched past the nurse’s station like a little soldier, all business. “They took my mom somewhere, but they won’t tell me what’s wrong with her. Do you know?”

“Not yet, sweetie. The doctor’s trying to figure that out right now.”

“Can’t she wake up?”

“The doctor’s working on getting her to wake up. Has she been sick very long?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I think so. I know she was sick on the bus. She doesn’t like to ride the bus. She said she’d be better after she got to sleep in a bed for a while.” She turned and stared at the ICU door. “Why can’t I stay with her?”

“Because the doctor wants us all out of the way for right now. He’s the one who can help your mom, but he needs room to maneuver.” Maggie scooted to the edge of her chair and touched the back of her lanky little arm, testing. “I know it’s hard to wait.”

Tension melted visibly from the small shoulders as Maggie’s hand stirred, but still the girl stared as though she could see through walls. “What’s he doing to her?”

“They’re taking pictures. Do you know what an X-ray is?”

“Yes. I had one on my arm last year.”

“After the doctor’s finished, they’ll bring her back to that same room, which is where we take extra special care of our patients. You’ll be able to see her again for a few minutes. I’ll make sure.” Maggie stood, sliding her hand over the girl’s shoulder as security against her promise. “Are you hungry?”

An attendant appeared and called Maggie’s number with a gesture. She patted the little girl’s shoulder. “Hilda, would you take…”

“Star,” Hilda supplied.

“…Star to the lounge and get her something to eat?”

Once Star was out of earshot, Maggie turned to Sam. “Did the woman come looking for you?”

“You’ll have to ask her.”

She stared at him for a moment as though she thought he had more answers than he’d given. Like he’d ever known what was on Merilee’s mind, which was why he answered the way he did. He wasn’t being a smart-ass.

But Maggie must have thought so. She distanced herself with a step, a look and a tone. “Let’s hope we get the chance.”

Sam nodded, but Maggie turned from him and missed it. She had nursing to do.

Hoping had never helped much where Merilee was concerned, but he was willing to give it another shot at Maggie’s suggestion. Hope she could beat whatever this was and come back to her kid. Meanwhile he had to figure out who the hell he should notify if hope didn’t fly. Heading for his car, he thought up one more hope—that the person to contact in Merilee’s behalf didn’t turn out to be Vic Randone.

He checked in at the office and then took a run out to the Osterhaus place, which was tucked into the foothills just below the little high country town of Bear Root. Old Bill Osterhaus had been dead more than a year, and his relatives had sold what little stock and equipment he’d had, but they were still fighting over what to do with the property. His neighbor, Minnie, who was as old as the hills with a head twice as hard, had visions of “squatters” moving in. Sam stopped in to let the old woman know that the only squatters he’d found this time were four-legged, but that she should call him whenever she had concerns. He meant it. Hell, she was a voter.

He meant to drive right on past the hospital when he got back into town, but he hadn’t heard any news, and it was just as easy to stop as call, especially on the chance there had been some improvement. He found Merilee—or the shell of Merilee—alone in the cool, antiseptic-smelling, closely monitored room. He straddled a chair, rested his forearms over the backrest, listened to a soft rush of air and a machine’s rhythmic beep. Watching her pale purple eyelids twitch, waiting for something else to stir, wondering what, if anything, was going on inside that crazy head—oh, yeah, he’d been there before.

“What’s goin’ on, Merilee?” He stacked his fists end to end and rested his chin in the curl of his thumb and forefinger. “Tell me. Maybe I can—” damn your thick head, Beaudry, don’t even think it “—help.”

Saying it was even worse than thinking it. Luckily, the only other ears in the room seemed to be shut down.

“But who knows, huh? Maybe you can hear me, so…well, your little girl’s safe. She’s a beauty. Looks just like you. I haven’t had a chance to talk to her much. Didn’t wanna scare her with a lot of questions right off. Is she old enough to tell me what’s goin’ on?”

He glanced at the monitor that made her heartbeat visible. A blip on the radar. She had that much going on. For now.

“Anyway, she’s with my mother. I told you about Ma. She runs the store here. I can’t remember what all I told you about Bear Root. Back when I met you, I thought I’d left home for good.” He straightened his back, drew a deep breath just to be sure he could and sighed. “Live and learn, huh?” He reached for her hand.

He’d lived ten years and learned many more hard lessons since his roughneck days, knocking around the Western oil fields with Vic Randone, the buddy he’d met up with in Alaska. He’d gone from knocking around to being knocked out—almost literally—by a beautiful, butterfingered waitress in a Wyoming truck stop. Merilee Brown. Talk about a knockout. The ghost of a woman nearly lost in hospital-bed sheets and struggling for every ventilated breath wasn’t much more than a sliver of the vibrant girl Sam remembered. His first glimpse of her laughing face had been branded into his brain. She’d slopped some water on the floor behind his chair—got him in the back with it, but he didn’t mind—and then came back and slipped in it and conked him over the head with a tray. He’d caught her and fallen for her in the same instant.

Merilee, Merilee, Merilee, Merilee, life is but a dream.

She was magic. She could be silly one moment and thoughtful the next. She wore her heart on her sleeve, but she changed it with her clothes. She was passionate about being passionate, and her passion show never failed to captivate Sam. She could get just as excited about the color of an apple as the purchase of a much-needed pair of shoes. She made no apologies for doing what she had to do to get what she wanted, but she gave easily, and she never kept score. She was everything Sam wasn’t, didn’t have the makings or the means to be, but always wondered what it would be like. Rubbing shoulders with magic was one way to find out.

Vic hadn’t been with him at the truck stop that day, but he was never far away, and it wasn’t long before they’d become a threesome. On the outside they were three carefree pals stopping over in Wyoming on their way to the rest of their lives. But on the inside, there were cares. Big, bad, unbearable cares. Merilee cared for living on the edge. Vic cared for money. Sam, who had cared for getting out of Bear Root, now cared for Merilee. With cares safely stowed in their separate little bags they’d left Wyoming for California, where Vic made some easy money, Merilee made some edgy choices, and Sam eventually made peace with becoming the odd man out by doing what generations of Indian men before him had done. He’d enlisted.

“And living with you and Vic, I sure learned.” With his thumb he sketched a slow circle on the back of her hand. “No regrets. A guy’s gotta get educated somehow.”

He fixed his eyes on the cool, thin hand lying in his—a china trinket on a wooden shelf. He had to force himself to look at what was no more than a mask of the face that had once left him breathless. He ought to regret leaving her, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. Worse, he wanted to get up and leave her now. It hurt to look at her. She was in a bad way, and he could do nothing to undo whatever had been done. He wasn’t a doctor or a miracle worker or a magician. He was, like any man worth his salt, a guardian. And like any man who could survive on little more than the salt that measured his worth, he’d made keeping the peace his life’s work.

“So why are you here, Merilee? You didn’t want anything from me when you could’ve…” He shook his head. So he’d had some regrets, carried them around for a while, but not anymore. He couldn’t remember exactly when he’d last thought about her. “Why now?”

Because she’s dying now, and she has a kid.

Where had that come from? Dying? Hell, she’d made it to a hospital and gotten fixed up before. She’d do it again. She was young. And, yeah, she had a kid. She had something to live for besides Merilee.

The last time he’d seen her, it was all about Merilee. And Vic, she’d told Sam, she was “so into Vic.” Sam had actually tried not to see any of it coming. The drugs were their business. Maybe they’d been busier with their business lately, but he was pretty sure it was mostly weed. Harmless weed. Was that what was making them bug-eyed and jumpy and downright mean lately?

No, that was him. He was always on their case about “taking the edge off the day” the way everybody did, with a pipe or a little blow. They had it under control. Besides, Sam wasn’t exactly a saint. And they weren’t shutting him out. There was plenty of everything to go around.

Back then it was all about Merilee.

She’d looked bad the day he left, but not this bad. Not death’s-door bad. “You’re such a good man,” she’d said. “I’m doing you a favor. You’re doing yourself a favor. The marines build men, you know. I take them apart, piece by piece.”

She’d been right. After Merilee, boot camp had been a piece of cake.

But seeing her this way reminded him of his tour in the Middle East. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it, so he sucked it up—mind, body, soul—and packed it all in tight around his heart.