Chapter 1 #2
The newspaper quivered, but Mr. Wilkinson didn’t reappear from under it.
Charlie must have been at least a smidge smarter than Diane gave him credit for, because he seemed to read the situation and raised his hands.
“Fine,” he said. “I apologize for hitting her. Okay? Can you let me go now?”
Anders was still breathing hard, rubbing his breastbone as though in pain. That wasn’t good. Diane planted her feet, ready to jump up, but the aisle was full of people at the moment. She wouldn’t be able to get to Anders should she need to.
Could she vault over the tables? Not in her skirt …
“No!” Anders said, shaking his head. “You’re just going to hit her again in private for causing a fuss. Aren’t you?”
Diane saw the flicker of confirmation in Charlie’s eyes. Of course he would.
Anders was struggling now. His breathing was far too rapid, and his adrenaline-fueled action was taking a toll on him. He let go of Charlie and staggered backward a couple of steps, groaning.
Charlie pushed him. Anders stumbled further back into one of the other men. And then, in all his idiocy, Charlie hit Anders in the gut and then in the face.
Things became uncertain then. Fists started flying, and Anders was pushed back out of the mess of things. The two younger men piled into Charlie, who went down in a pile of bodies, accompanied by the wet, thudding sounds of punches landing on flesh.
Diane didn’t worry about the younger men and their fighting.
She might have to stitch a cut here or there later.
Worst case, she would have to set a broken bone.
None of those were a problem for her; she had done all of that a million times over.
All of those injuries were minor and not life-threatening.
What was happening to Anders was in a whole different category.
Moving to the table that Anders and Mildred had been sitting at, she slid over it, clutching her bag as she went. A wildly thrown punch sailed past, missing her face by a quarter of an inch.
She hardly noticed it.
Anders sat on a chair, clutching his abdomen and breathing hard. He grimaced in pain. Mildred was by his side, fussing ineffectually around him.
When Diane reached them, Mildred breathed a sigh of relief. “Help him! What’s happening?”
“Loosen his collar, Mildred. Do it quickly.”
Mildred’s stubby fingers went to work on her husband’s shirt.
She undid the top three buttons quickly.
Anders leaned back, making his prodigious stomach push out.
His hands were up at his breastbone again and then around just under his pectorals.
That was a clear sign. Diane dug in her bag among the carefully stacked tincture bottles.
These were a fraction of what she had on hand and kept in her purse for emergencies.
After a tense moment, her questing fingers landed on the right bottle, and she withdrew it.
“What’s that?” Mildred asked.
“It’s milk thistle and slippery elm,” Diane said. “Take his wrist and put pressure right here in line with the little thumb. Okay? Can you do that? Press hard, Mildred. Hard.”
“He’s going to die, isn’t he?” Mildred wailed, eyes filling with tears. Diane quickly realized Anders’s wife was probably not going to make a good medical assistant.
To her surprise, she found Sarah stepping forward. “I can do it,” she said. “Where must I press?”
Mildred moved aside, sobbing hysterically. Diane showed Sarah the spot and once the small blonde woman had her finger in place, Diane forced Anders’s mouth open.
A couple of drops of the mixture of tinctures should do it.
The mixture was strong because it needed to work quickly.
Diane began to monitor his heart’s rhythm, which was all over the place.
The beats were erratic and staccato under her finger, a sure sign of great pain.
Most folks didn’t know that one’s liver could become inflamed and could cause a most excruciating pain to run through the torso.
On a man like Anders, who was quite overweight, the strain could bring on other issues, even a heart attack.
Pulling her pocket watch on its chain from her skirt pocket, Diane counted off the beats.
Far too many in a minute.
Behind her, she heard more running feet, and someone cried, “Security! Everyone stop moving!”
She didn’t. Sarah didn’t either. Mildred wailed, stroking her husband’s hair, which was damp with sweat.
Lord, please don’t let me lose this patient. He’s a good, kind man who deserves many more years with his sweet wife.
“Come on, Anders,” Diane said under her breath, wishing fervently there was more she could do. “Come on. Breathe through it. It’s the only way.”
The vein in the side of his neck began to shrink, and the terrible redness of his face began to turn pink and then back to white. He was still rubbing his chest and breastbone alternately but with less vigor.
Under her fingers, his heart rate slowed. His eyelids fluttered open, and he stared at them, a look of confusion on his face. Suddenly, he burped. It was long and loud, and his hand shot to his mouth to cover it.
“Wha…?” he asked in a hoarse voice.
“I think your liver is inflamed, and it caused you to have great pain, heartburn, and some gas, Anders,” Diane said calmly. “But you’re okay now.”
Anders frowned as though he couldn’t believe it.
“Is he going to be okay?” Mildred asked, wiping her tears away with a delicate lace handkerchief.
Diane hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Yes. I think he will be.”
Mildred began to laugh and hugged her husband.
“Gently!” Diane warned. “His body is going to be sore.”
Anders burped again. “Pardon me,” he said with a bewildered chuckle.
Sarah sat back out of the way, smiling. Belatedly, Diane noticed the woman’s cheek was a vivid red where she’d been struck.
“That looks nasty,” Diane said. “I have something for it in the women’s sleeping car.”
Sarah looked nervously over her shoulder but found Charlie wasn’t there. She frowned and looked around. “Where is he?” she asked.
“He has been arrested by the train’s security staff,” Mr. Wilkinson said. He had folded his newspaper and come to stand behind Diane. “You should go and speak to the head of security.”
Sarah paled.
“I will be more than happy to go with you,” Mr. Wilkinson said kindly. “I can act on your behalf, legally speaking, if you like.”
“But I can’t afford a lawyer,” Sarah said, looking afraid and downcast.
“Don’t worry about that,” Mildred said. “Consider it our gift to you for helping to save Anders’s life.”
Anders’s condition was far from life-threatening in a strictly normal sense; however, Diane had seen people in great pain go into shock and suffer from heart failure, so she didn’t correct Mildred.
In fact, she was keen to have Anders’s wife think that he was in mortal danger so that some changes could be implemented in their lifestyle.
Mildred’s remark settled the question of Mr. Wilkinson’s involvement, and he and Sarah headed off to speak to security. Diane returned her attention to her patient. His color was coming back, and his breathing was normalizing.
“I didn’t have a heart attack?” he asked, seeming to find it difficult to comprehend. “I had a gas attack?”
She smoothed the hair from his brow. “I suppose that’s one way to put it. You’re all right now though. You just need to take it easy.”
“Now what do we do?” Mildred asked. “How do we stop it from happening again?”
Diane smiled. “We make some changes, Mildred. A lot of changes.”