Chapter 44
Henry
Falling asleep with my hand wrapped around Venus’s, her face the last thing I see before drifting off, may go down as one of my favorite memories of all time. With Olly close to us, his occasional snore brings another comfort. My two favorite people, the family I’ve always wanted.
Sleep comes easily, especially with Venus’s assurances whispering through my thoughts. That she wants to stay. That she’s fallen for me again. Fallen for Olly.
Falling.
I’m not sure what wakes me first—Venus’s body jerking in alert and rising from our bed or my son’s muffled, pained cry in the distance.
Venus races from the tent, calling for him, as I register that he’s not here. His sleeping bag is a rumpled, empty mess beside ours. My heart rams mercilessly in my chest as my hand scatters across the space in a desperate search for my glasses.
I scurry from the tent to the sound of Buster barking, Olly moaning, and Venus saying, “Olly! Look at me!”
Around the bloated trunk of our tree, I find them. Buster barks and spins like he doesn’t know what to do. Olly sits in the dirt at the base of the tree, blood slathered over his pained face.
I slide next to him, pulling him into my lap as Venus looks him over. His glasses lie broken beside me. Blood from a gash along his hairline covers his forehead and drips down his cheek.
“I wanted to climb,” he says weakly.
Venus squeezes his hands, eyes wide as she says, “Look at me. We’re here. Don’t worry. I need to examine you.”
“Olly, tell us what hurts.”
“My arm. My head.” He makes eye contact with her, but he squints to see her clearly.
“There’s a lot of blood, and blood is scary, but you’re okay,” she assures him calmly.
He nods as she examines the cut on his forehead.
“Two inches, superficial laceration, some dizziness,” she reports, her voice even-toned. She glances at the tree branch overhead. “Your head hit an exposed root, and your arm…”
Olly cries and whimpers as she tries to move it gently.
“… Appears to be fractured. I know it hurts,” she says, her expression softening as she bops his nose.
“I’m okay,” Olly says weakly, though it’s clear he isn’t.
Her eyes land on mine. “It’ll be okay. I promise.
His airways are clear, breathing sounds good, and his circulation seems unencumbered.
His eyes look fine, and he is coherent enough to follow my instructions.
His head wound is probably superficial, though he may be concussed, and the arm is a concern. He’ll need an X-ray.”
I nod, remembering her EMT-B certification and feeling grateful that she’s here regardless. Her calm authority comforts Olly and me at once—a stark relief against the pure terror of the moment. My head spins with what-ifs, but somehow, Venus battles them back.
She unravels the scarf from her hair and pulls another from her pocket. “Henry, use this to apply gentle pressure to his head.”
I angle Olly against one arm while I tend to his gash with the other. “It’s okay, son. We’ve got you.”
Venus secures his bent arm in a makeshift sling, and he tucks it close to his chest. “Try not to move it.”
“I can’t move it,” he cries, his tears wetting my shirt along with his blood. I’m devastated for him, pained for him, and pissed at myself for not waking when he left the tent. “I just wanted to climb the tree. I thought I could be like Venus.”
He buries his head against me like he’s embarrassed. Venus glances at me, her brow pinched, and I can almost see the guilt settling on her shoulders.
“It’s not your fault,” I say sternly to them both. “It was an accident.”
She doesn’t look convinced. She grabs Buster’s leash. “Okay, Olly. Ready for a short drive?”
He shrugs and winces with the movement.
“Henry, if you’ll carry him to the Jeep, I’ll meet you there,” she says, tugging Buster toward the house. “Oh, and keep him talking.”
I rise, gently scooping him into my arms as I go. Cradling him to my chest with as little movement as possible, I say, “I know it hurts, but you’ll be alright.... How about telling me your favorite things about camping?”
Following the solar lights that mark the trail, I make my way through camp. It’s barely sunrise, gray with sun peeking through.
“S’mores,” he says, looking slightly loopy against my chest. “Sleeping in the tent with Buster…”
“Yeah, that was nice. Buster’s a good dog,” I say, snaking my way through the garden. “What else?”
He smiles against my chest. “Your stories… and Venus.”
I reach the Jeep at the same time as Venus. Buster barks from inside the house. My med bag hangs across her chest—I hadn’t even thought about my inhalers—and she has my keys in her hand. She opens the back door, and I ease Olly into his booster seat.
“Ride with him,” she instructs. “It’s best if he doesn’t fall asleep.”
Venus closes the door once I’m inside and settles in the driver’s seat. She peeks at us in the rearview mirror as she drives away from the fairy house, kicking up dry dirt along the path.
“Do you remember that time when you had the flu, and you had to get an IV?” I ask Olly.
“It was awful,” he breathes out.
“But you felt better, right?”
“Yeah,” he answers.
“We’re going to the hospital so you can feel better.”
“Okay,” Olly says. “I feel bad.”
“How bad? What do you mean?” I ask.
“Like… like… I ruined the campout,” he says through muffled tears. “I’m sorry, Dad.”
“No! You didn’t ruin anything,” I assure him with a smile. “That’s the thing about campouts. Anything can happen. Right, Venus?”
“That’s exactly right. Everything will be okay,” she says. “We’re together. We know what to do. You’ll be fine.”
Traffic is thankfully light this early on a Sunday morning. She navigates the few miles to the hospital and pulls up directly to the emergency department’s front doors. She helps me get Olly out of the truck and starts to follow us inside, leaving the Jeep with its doors open.
A security guard stops us at the door.
“Can’t park there, ma’am,” he says gruffly.
Venus leaves us to deal with the car, and I rush inside with Olly.
A few people are scattered in the oversized waiting room, but a nurse assesses the severity of Olly’s injuries and takes us through to the emergency department.
I carefully set him on a bed in a small, curtained-off section of the ER as the nurse asks questions and enters information into the computer.
When the doctor arrives and begins his exam, I peek outside the curtain to find Venus.
She’s at reception, looking slightly wild with her loose hair and distressed expression. I wave her in our direction. She meets me just outside the curtain with a sigh of relief, her hand circling my elbow.
“Is he okay?” she asks.
“Of course, he is. Thanks to you. He’s with the doctor now.”
A shuddering breath escapes her, as if the morning’s events are just now catching up to her and shaking her free of her steady calmness.
I lead her inside the curtained section. Olly sits upright on a bed. Her bloody scarf lies unraveled beside him.
“Nasty cut you got there,” the doctor says genially.
Olly nods, looking weepy.
Venus hesitates near the curtain, but I pull her along with me to the bed.
“How’d it happen?” the doctor asks.
“I was showing Buster, the dog, how to climb a tree,” Olly says, almost proudly. “But I fell. We were camping.”
The doctor chuckles. “An excellent pastime. I take my family camping every fall when the leaves start changing. We don’t climb trees, though.”
Olly’s shoulders slump. “Yeah, I shouldn’t have done it.”
“Whatcha got there?” the doctor points to Olly’s closed hand. He loosens his tight grip to reveal Mango.
“It’s a fossil. Venus gave it to me. It’s a snake named Mango,” Olly answers with a smile.
“Cool,” the doctor says.
He performs a neurological exam, testing Olly’s vision, balance, and coherence.
Finally, the doctor turns to us with a wide smile. “Relax, Mom and Dad. The head wound is superficial…”
Venus’s eyes meet mine with relief and uncertainty. She expects me to correct him, but I don’t. She is his mom right now, and a damn good one, too. My smile grows with hers, like she knows what I’m thinking.
“We need an X-ray of that arm, though.”
“Will it hurt?” Olly says, nervously.
“It’s just a picture,” I say, lightly rustling his hair.
“I’ll tend to the wound first,” the doctor says. “A popsicle will help. What’s your favorite flavor?”
“Um, cherry,” he whimpers.
“Coming right up,” the doctor says, rising from his stool.
“Thanks, Doc,” I say as he leaves. My hand slips around Venus’s waist. “Will you stay with him for a minute? I need to make some calls.”
She nods weakly, though she looks unsure—I don’t know if it’s over worries about Olly or this gigantic, sink or swim, shove into parenting.
All I know for sure is how I feel—impressed, comforted, and even more in love with her.
With a short peck on her forehead, I whisper, “Everything’s okay.”
Then, I step into the hallway to let his mom and grandmother know what’s happened.