Chapter 4
Ashley was sitting by Noah’s bedside and holding his hand when Dr. Fisher poked his head into the room and asked her to join him in the conference room again.
She kissed Noah’s hand before following Dr. Fisher out.
They sat across from each other at the table, and Ashley wove her fingers together, waiting expectantly.
He met her gaze with kind brown eyes. “Noah tolerated the external VP shunt procedure, and his intracranial pressure is finally starting to lower.”
Ashley let out a puff of air and sent up a quick prayer of thanks.
“However, we just received his latest lab work, and it looks like an infection is brewing.”
“Oh, no!” Her pulse sprinted. “How serious is it?”
A knock sounded on the door.
“Come in.” Dr. Fisher pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
Matt and Sabrina filed into the room, and Sabrina took a seat next to Ashley with a sympathetic expression.
“I asked them to join our discussion,” Dr. Fisher explained.
“Okay. Please continue.” Her leg bounced under the table impatiently. “. His white count is elevated, thirty-five thousand and climbing. We’ve had him on prophylactic antibiotics since admission because of the open femur fractures.”
Ashley nodded her understanding. “So, what’s the next step?”
“I’m ordering Vancomycin, which, as you know, is serious weaponry. If he doesn’t respond in a short while, I’ll add a combo of Piperacillin/Tazobactam and Clindamycin.”
“Alright. Is there anything else I need to know about?”
“Yes. I’m afraid there’s more troublesome news I need to discuss with you.”
Ashley scooted closer to the table, clasping her hands as she tremulously whispered, “Okay?”
“Noah’s blood pressure is still unstable.” He looked directly at Ashley. “He’s showing signs of renal failure.”
She covered her eyes with her fingers and rubbed her eyebrows, knowing the direction this conversation was going. No, please, God.
Dr. Fisher went on. “I would like to try a trial of dialysis treatments to clear the toxins out of his bloodstream, but we need to have a discussion about how far we go, especially since there is a high likelihood of him developing sepsis.”
He sat back and placed his hands on the table. “Mrs. Smith, I know this is difficult, but we need to discuss Noah’s wishes. Have you had this conversation with him?”
“Yes, several times. But—” She faltered.
Sabrina pushed several papers in front of her. On one document, the words “Advance Health Care Directive” were printed in bold letters at the top. Scanning the document, she found Noah’s signature dated several years ago.
She recalled him mentioning everyone at the station had completed the form, with copies sent to their primary MD and nearby hospitals.
The sudden death of one of the fire station captains in a structure fire had been the impetus for others to settle their affairs.
Noah had checked the box for no life-sustaining measures in the event that he would be in terminal condition or need life-support measures if he was determined to be brain-stem dead.
Another document designated Ashley as his durable power of attorney for health care.
A third document stated his wish to donate his organs and tissues upon his death.
A deep sense of foreboding overwhelmed her.
She folded her arms around her waist and rocked.
A primal animal sound came from somewhere deep inside her and flooded her brain.
No! No! This isn’t happening.
Sabrina handed her a tissue and placed a hand on Ashley’s quaking back. “It’s okay. Let it out.”
Ashley couldn’t hold back any longer. Sobs burst out. She cried until she was spent. Tears of anguish, disappointment, anger, and finally fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of facing the future without Noah by her side. Fear of raising their daughters without him. Lord, where are You?
Sabrina patted her back while Dr. Fisher and Matt gave her time to process. As the adrenaline dissipated, she became more clear-headed and focused.
After a while, she wiped her eyes and sat up rod-straight. I’ve got to be strong and do what’s right for Noah.
She fixed her eyes on Dr. Fisher, laser-focused.
“First, thank you all from the bottom of my heart for your hard work. Noah is loved by many, and we need him to be the strong person he is as a husband, father, son, friend, and firefighter. Let’s not give up yet.
Try the dialysis and vancomycin. Bring out the big guns and add the other antibiotics. ”
Ashley paused for a few moments and gazed around the room at the faces of all the people who were working so hard for Noah’s benefit.
“Let’s fight the fight until he shows us when to stop. God has a plan and a purpose. We need to trust Him and put Noah’s future in His hands.”
Heads around the room nodded in agreement.
Dr. Fisher slapped his hands on the table. “Well said. Let’s go to work. We’ve got a battle to fight. Let’s pull out all the artillery we’ve got!”
Atall, solidly built police officer in a bulletproof vest commanded Jason’s living room. In a no-nonsense voice, he introduced himself. “I’m Officer Wilson from the Placer County Sheriff's Department. You reported a stolen vehicle?”
Jason paced the room nervously while Hank rambled on and wove a rat’s nest of lies.
“Yup. Woke up Christmas morning, and she’s gone.
” He walked over to the streaked picture window in the living room.
He pointed his dirt encrusted fingernail at the front curb.
“I parked her right there, locked her up, and came inside to watch the news. Lots of bad stuff out there, and on Christmas Eve.”
The officer turned to Jason. “Where were you when this took place?”
Hank interrupted. “He was at work, bagging groceries. Got off at 7:00 and came straight home to spend Christmas Eve with his dad.”
The officer held up his hand and spoke in a clipped voice. “Sir, please let your son answer the question.” He turned back to Jason and flipped to a new page on his notepad. “Your turn.”
Hank scrutinized his son with a cunning expression and a secretive wink. “Tell him, son, how you got home on your ten-speed and spent the evening here watching TV.”
Officer Wilson’s jaw clenched. “I’m warning you one last time, sir. If you interrupt again, I will arrest you for interfering with a criminal investigation.”
He positioned his hand on his holster and scanned the room. His gaze lingered on the pile of empty beer bottles surrounding the easy chair. An ashtray overflowing with butts sat next to a half-empty bottle of whiskey.
Jason shuffled his feet, looking down at the stained, fraying carpet. “Just like he said. I bag groceries at the One Stop market and got off around 7:00. Came home on my bike as usual, and streamed Christmas movies with my dad.”
“What’s your manager’s name? I need to corroborate your story.”
Hank walked over to the officer and stood face-to-face with him, thrusting his chest out. “Hey! Are you calling my son a liar?”
Officer Wilson stiffened his back and replied in a stern tone, “Sir, your car was found earlier today out of town in a heavily wooded area. It had been burned, and our investigators suspect arson.”
Not backing down, Hank compressed his meaty hands into fists. “Of course it was arson. Duh!”
He twisted his face into a cruel expression and put his fingers to his head in a trigger-pulling motion. “You’re blowing my mind. You, of all people, should know what people do. They steal, strip the car for parts, and torch it. I see it on the news every day.”
“Sir,” the officer responded with a steely glare, “I am well-versed in criminal activity.”
He looked at Jason and rolled his eyes. “Cops these days.” Jason continued to stare blankly at a stain on the rug. The mounting tension in the room was palpable.
Hank pointed his finger at the officer’s chest. “I called you. You’re supposed to be helping us here. Why don’t you get out of my house and do your job?”
The officer stepped back and pressed his radio to request backup.
On no! He’s gonna lose it. Jason squeezed his reed-thin body between the officer and his dad. He squeaked out an answer he hoped would placate the officer.
“My managers weren’t there last night—they went home early for Christmas Eve, but the cashier, Joanna, acts as assistant manager when they’re not there. You could talk to her.”
Officer Wilson wrote down her name and the address of the grocery store. When a second police car pulled up in front, he turned and pointed his pen at Hank. “I should arrest you on the spot for verbal assault of a police officer.”
Hank sputtered, face darkening with rage. He stepped forward and spat out, “You idiot!’’
The second officer entered the house, assessing the situation.
Jason moved toward his father. “Dad. Stop! Just tell them!”
“What’s this?” Officer Wilson’s brow furrowed as he raised his eyebrows.
“Shut up, Jason.” Hank stomped over to him and struck him across the face. “You just shut your face, you punk-mouthed brat!”
“Hey now!” Officer Wilson moved over to block Jason from another blow.
Hank lifted his arms and shoved him. The second officer spun Hank around and cuffed him, then pulled out his Taser while Officer Wilson called in the arrest and read Hank his Miranda rights.
Jason’s dad never stopped ranting and shouting obscenities as he was hauled out the front door to the waiting police car.
He turned to Jason, snarling. “This is all your fault. You’re gonna get it so bad when they release me! I’m gonna beat you into tomorrow!”
Jason collapsed on the couch, hands shaking.
The officers made another call and locked his dad in the back of a squad car. Then they came back inside to talk to Jason. “What was that you said about the car?”
He doubled over at the waist and rubbed his burning face. It was already swelling. Holding his body with his arms, he started to tremble. His dad was going to kill him the next time he had a chance. There was no doubt about the murderous look on his face.
Officer Wilson pursed his lips as he studied Jason. He walked over to the refrigerator, opened it, and shut the door on its empty contents.
He spun around to face Jason, who waited, chewing nervously on his thumbnail. “What’s going to happen to me?”
“You’re a minor. We have to put you into foster care. It’s the law.”
“But I don’t want to go,” he begged. “I can take care of myself. I always do.” Jason’s eyes reddened, and he spoke in a rapid, pleading tone. “I have school...and a job... Please. Let me stay here. This is my home.”
The officer glanced around the trash-filled room and shook his head. “Sorry, but that’s the law, and it’s really in your best interest. Child Protective Services is already on the way.”
He squeezed Jason’s shoulder, his face contorted with concern.
“Son, the best thing for you is to move you out of this place and somewhere safe. You heard your dad’s threats. What did you want him to tell us?”
Jason folded his hands over his face in defeat and tinges of fear.
Never had he seen his dad so out of control.
All that venomous hate aimed at him like a bullseye.
He knew what his father would do once he got out.
A shudder ripped through his body as he recalled his dad’s parting words. “Nothing.” He said in a small voice.
The police officers shot a look at each other. The officer next to Jason patted his shoulder. “Okay—for now. But we will be following up about your dad’s burned-up car.”