Chapter 33
Cole
Growing up, I always thought we lived in a small town.
In a suburb outside of Detroit, we knew all our neighbors and had frequent potlucks. My mother was intimately involved in the town drama. Claire could tell who was coming down the street just by the make and model of their car.
But this—Lancaster, Missouri—takes all that to a new level.
We have to travel through Lucy’s hometown to get to the slightly larger town one over, where her sister is in the hospital. According to the sign outside the city limits, Lancaster has a population just over a few thousand.
A Casey’s gas station scrolls past us on the right, several small businesses on our left. The roads are pale ribbons, main street there and gone in a blink.
Lucy sits in the seat next to me, her chin in her hand as she stares out the window. I would ask her what it feels like, to come back here now, if it weren’t for the circumstances.
In fact, I have no idea what to say to her right now.
You don’t say anything, Claire’s voice instructs, in my head. You just be there for her. Treat panicked people like plants—food, water, fresh air.
Gazes snap to our car the moment we pull into the small hospital lot, following the signs for Emergency. The driver met us at the airport at Nico’s arranging, and he instructs him now to wait in the car for us, to pull around and park.
We climb out together, a strange group here in small town Missouri. Gazes are already trailing us, and we’re just in the parking lot.
Lucy, in her corduroy skirt and black turtleneck, doesn’t even notice. She’s too busy charging into the hospital, her voice apparently having come back to her.
“My sister,” she rasps, her palms landing on the nurses desk. A middle-aged woman spins slowly in her chair, eyes widening when she takes in first Lucy, then the three of us standing behind her.
“What’s the patient’s name, honey?” the woman asks, casting her gaze up at Lucy. It flicks to us again, but given the situation, she does a fairly decent job of staying focused. “Let me look her up.”
“Mary Sulli—sorry, Mary Gerot.”
The nurse nods, types, and says, gently, “Alright… looks like she’s in room 302.”
Lucy turns and follows her guidance, and Nico flashes the nurse a grin, “Thanks. You’re a doll.”
The nurse, flustered, blushes a little and swipes her bleached hair away from her face before turning back to her computer.
We follow Lucy down the cramped hallway, dodging carts and equipment along the walls. Each time I’m in a hospital, I think about Claire. Then, about how, at one point, this was going to be my future. Long, grueling shifts. A slow track forward, specializing and treating patients.
Except I never would have worked in a hospital like this.
If I’d taken my M.D. and done something with it, I would have gone somewhere with prestige. Maybe I would have done my residency in surgery.
Whatever that other future might have looked like, I have no doubts that I’m happier where I am, doing what I’m doing.
Interacting with only the people that I have to.
Choosing my own hours and avoiding bureaucracy.
Nico and Dane handle all that, and my only job is to solve the problems, find the answers.
And that train of thought is why I’m thinking about the prototype for the self-cleaning sex toy cases when we walk into Mary Gerot’s hospital room.
“Mary,” Lucy breathes, the moment we step inside. The woman in the bed with the large belly looks up, makes eye contact with Lucy, and bursts into tears.
“Oh my god,” she says, as Lucy leans down and gives her a hug from the side. “Lucy, how the hell did you get here so fast? Mom and Dad aren’t even here yet.”
Lucy pulls back, sniffling. “Wow, don’t sound so happy to see me. Is everything…?”
“Just a little scare,” a balding, copper-haired man says from the corner, stepping forward. That must be her sister’s husband. Lucy’s brother-in-law.
During our week on the island, Lucy talked about her siblings. Rambled through the long list of them, from beginning to end. Enough for me to recognize that they were all religious names.
I should have been paying better attention. Should have made a note to commit those names to memory. If I don’t work at it, people slip in and out, my mind automatically assuming it’s not important information.
“You must be Elliot,” Nico says, stepping forward and offering his hand. His silk shirt hangs open in the front, and his blonde hair is mussed from travel. He looks like he could be welcoming people into the Playboy mansion.
Lucy’s brother-in-law blinks at Nico, looks at the rest of us, and finally takes Nico’s hand. He’s clearly confused about why Lucy brought with her three men old enough to be her father, but to his credit, he doesn’t call it out.
“I am. Nice to meet you—?”
“Nico,” he supplies, before gesturing to us. “And Dane, and Cole.”
“Shit, sorry,” Lucy sniffles from her place by the bed, running the back of her hand over her face. “I should have introduced everyone.”
Mary is staring at us with wide eyes, which dart quickly back and forth between Lucy and us. So, Lucy did not tell her sister about her new dating life, then.
“They weren’t real cramps, according to the doctor,” Elliot says, like he can forge through the awkwardness if he just continues talking. “But since her blood pressure has been high, and it spiked, we came in. They’re keeping her just a little longer to make sure the blood pressure thing is okay.”
I’m nodding, “Prodromal cramps. Very common.” The other three look at me, and I stiffly go on, wishing I hadn’t spoken at all.
“They’re false labor cramps. Present in all pregnancies, even when the pregnant person doesn’t recognize them as such.
Some believe they help to promote blood flow in the placenta. ”
“Oh-kay,” Mary laughs, tearfully, and at least she’s not looking at us with abject horror anymore. Glancing up at Lucy, Mary says, “You didn’t tell me you were… friends with a doctor.”
Technically, I hold several doctorate degrees, but I don’t practice in medicine. I open my mouth to tell her that when the curtain just inside the door rustles to the side and a woman wearing a leaf-patterned long-sleeve shirt comes bursting inside.
“Oh—Mary!” she says, pushing right past Lucy and taking the patient in her arms. “Oh, goodness we came right as soon as we could. What did the doctor say? Are you going into early labor? I told you that twins do that…”
“Mom,” Mary says, pushing the woman off of her. “Relax, please. Breathe. Did you not notice—”
It’s at this moment that their mother turns to the side and shrieks when she sees Lucy, who looks startled but not surprised.
“Hey, mom,” Lucy says, her voice muffled as she’s quickly pulled into a hug. “I came as soon as I could.”
Their mother whirls around with the question on her lips of how she could have possibly gotten here so fast, but before her gaze lands on us, someone else speaks.
A man who walked in after their mother, his hands in his pockets. His head gleams, and his brown eyes would be soulful if they weren’t full of suspicion.
“Who the hell are you?” he asks, collectively, to the three of us.
I’m usually a step behind in conversations. Typically, it takes me longer to read body language, if I’m able to do it at all.
But right now, with this man glowering at us, looking between Lucy and our group, it doesn’t take a social genius to know that things are not going to end well.