34. Stella
THIRTY-FOUR
stella
After carefully loading Wade onto a stretcher, the paramedics sped him to the nearest trauma center, lights and sirens wailing.
Concerned about potential injuries, the EMTs insisted that every one of us get checked out. Besides the emotional trauma we anticipated, we’d escaped with only a few scrapes and bruises.
In Max’s arms, Charlie’s small body had relaxed, her breathing slow and deep, finally asleep.
I was sure he wouldn’t let either of us out of his sight anytime soon, a comforting thought that filled me with immense gratitude.
I felt the weight of an upcoming family therapy session; I could almost smell the tension and hear the strained voices as we worked through the trauma we had endured.
Thankfully, Charlie was only a toddler, and the traumatic events of the last 36 hours would be but a distant, hazy memory. Max and I, on the other hand, would never forget the adrenaline coursing through our veins, the pounding of our hearts a testament to what we experienced .
Once the paramedics had determined we didn’t need hospital care, we were released to provide statements; the crisp air of the parking lot felt vastly different to the chaos of the accident.
Because of the complexities surrounding Emmanuel’s discharge of his firearm during a work-related event, he was immediately put on administrative leave, and his responsibilities were temporarily transferred to his deputy sheriff.
No longer needed, our statements written down and filed away, we crammed into Wade’s truck—a cacophony of relieved sighs and slamming doors—and roared off toward the hospital.
None of us were going to sit idly at home, waiting for news; the suspense was too much to bear. Rushing into the sterile-smelling hospital, we immediately saw Hank and Ray anxiously waiting in the emergency department’s family waiting room.
Ray’s bloodshot, puffy eyes, rimmed with unshed tears, threatened to overflow with each blink. I pulled her into a tight hug, placing my hand on the back of her head in a comforting embrace.
“He’s going to be okay,” I whispered. “Wade is too damn stubborn to let a little bullet have any impact on how much he annoys all of us.”
“They took him back to surgery as soon as they got here,” she hiccuped. “they said that the bullet entered through his back and from what they can see, it only grazed his spine. We haven’t heard anything else, but the doctor promised to update us as soon as he had more information.”
Max came to stand beside me, having set Charlie down in Hank’s lap to sleep.
The nurse had supplied a scratchy wool blanket and a thin, flat pillow, but I knew none of us were going to be setting her down anytime soon.
He offered a comforting hand on Ray’s arm, but she couldn’t hold back the fresh wave of grief, launching herself against his chest with a shuddering sob.
“Shhh.” Max cooed, smoothing his hand down her back in comforting waves.
With a solemn sigh, he rested his cheek on her head, the quiet moment filled with unspoken emotions.
Ray was like a sister to him, and the quiet strength he showed as he comforted her, his voice a low murmur of support, gave me an added realization of how much family relied on each other in times of need.
With a gentle squeeze of his hand, I carefully made my way to the cold metal chair beside Hank, the silence broken only by the soft padding of my feet.
With a sigh, I sank onto the sticky vinyl seat, the day’s exhaustion settling over me like a heavy blanket; I could feel the tacky surface clinging to my clothes and it made me shudder.
I barely had a moment to rest before a doctor came in, shedding their blue paper gown and scrub cap in one swift motion, the sound of crinkling paper echoing in the quiet room.
I couldn’t quite make out the expression on his face, but it was passive and didn’t look overly sympathetic. That gave me the slightest pause of relief. I imagined that if he was coming to give us terrible news, his face would have been etched with worry and his shoulders slumped with grief.
“Are you the Daniels family?” he asked, looking around at each one of us in turn.
Hank stood and extended a hand. “Yes, Hank Daniels, Wade’s father.” he introduced himself, shaking the doctor’s hand in greeting.
“Mister Daniels, Wade is out of surgery. Things went as expected. We are positive that he will make a decent recovery.” He paused, letting the words sink in.
The sigh of relief, heavy with the weight of released tension, almost brought me to my knees.
“The bullet lodged itself in his spine, but it somehow managed to avoid his spinal cord and any vital organs. To be quite frank, sir, your son is extremely lucky. The paralysis he presented with upon arrival should abate, and he will more than likely regain full use of his legs.”
“Oh, that’s great news,” Hank said, a relieved sigh escaping his lips.
“But, and please hear me when I say this, Wade won’t be able to do a lot of things like he did before. His spine is going to be fragile and if he puts too much pressure or strain on his lower lumbar, he could exacerbate the current issue and would end up a paraplegic.”
“What are you saying, doc?” Hank asked, his brow furrowed in confusion, not quite grasping the weight of his words.
“I know Wade is an excellent horseman. I had the pleasure of watching him at the NFR the year before he retired. Unfortunately, due to the area of his injury and his prior medical history, getting on a horse again won’t be possible.
All it would take is one swift jostle in the saddle, and your son won’t ever walk again. ”
A guttural cry escaped Ray’s lips, a raw, broken sound as she collapsed against Max, the steady strength of his arms a comforting presence against her trembling body.
Wade wasn’t ever going to ride again.
I could feel the bitter taste of regret in my mouth, knowing it was all my fault. If he hadn’t been there, risking his life to pull my reckless self out of danger, he would have never been shot.
Sensing my inner turmoil, Max gently guided Ray to a seat, the quiet concern in his eyes palpable, then came back to rest a hand on my lower back, his touch warm and reassuring.
“Let’s go for a walk.” He whispered, pushing me towards the door. He nodded at Hank, a silent gesture to keep an eye on Charlie and Ray, as he walked me out the doors of the hospital and to a bench located right outside.
He gestured for me to sit, his hand outstretched, but I huffed and plopped down onto the unforgiving concrete, the cold seeping into my thighs in defiance.
“Now, I want you to listen to me,” he said, his eyes boring into mine, “and I want you to listen good,” the last phrase a low growl. “None of this is your fault.”
“But...” I started, the word catching in my throat, as I tried to reason with him. He held up a hand, fingers splayed in protest, and I rolled my eyes, the gesture a physical manifestation of my frustration. Even after all we had endured today, Max still had the ability to remain calm and steady.
“No buts. What happened with Wade was a freak accident. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, except the fucker who pulled the trigger and met his timely demise at the hand of Sheriff Cortez’s wrath.
Wade knew what he was getting into going into that building.
He came in armed, ready to get you and Charlie to safety.
He chose to put himself in danger because you two are important to him, to all of us. ”
A wave of despair washed over me, and tears flowed from in my eyes, salty and hot against my skin. Max took both of my hands in his, his touch warm and reassuring, and gently squeezed.
“Stella,” he said, his voice firm but laced with warmth, “you and Charlie are family, and one thing I hope you’ve learned is that we will move heaven and earth to protect our family. ”
He coasted his thumb across my lower lash line, gathering the wetness as he went. My eyes were swollen and burning from all the crying; I was so exhausted. The weight of everything that had transpired over the last thirty-six hours weighed down on my shoulders.
“Baby, look at me,” He whispered. “You are safe. It’s over. Wade is going to be okay. Sure, he won’t be able to ride anymore, but that’s not gonna stop that stubborn fucker from finding ways to get himself in trouble. You’re okay. We’re okay.”
“We’re okay,” I repeated, the steady thump of his heart a comforting rhythm against my ear as I leaned against his chest. He pulled me into a hug, a silent caress that communicated his love more profoundly than words ever could. His lips brushed my hair lightly as he held me close.
It was truly over. We were safe.