Chapter Twelve
Caked in mud and my heart as light as a feather, I nearly dance my way inside the house, riding the high of the day. The horse ride, the piglets, that kiss! And Eli asking us to be official in the most perfect way? It was the best way to end the day, and to make my heart sing in a way it hasn’t in years—in a way it never has.
Sure, I had loved Joseph, but even with him, the feelings hadn’t been this intense. This was a whole new world for me, full of this almost magical, fairytale-like rush of feelings, and I’m on cloud nine.
I peel off my dirty clothes and take a shower, and as I suds up my hair, all I can think about is him. His ruggedly handsome face, the way his lips felt against mine—soft yet manly as he kissed me hard in the barn, not caring who saw.
It feels good to be that wanted.
Darned good.
I get dressed in my pajamas, humming to myself as I twirl around, closing my handy dandy blackout curtains to get ready for a nap. Though, I’m not sure how I can with how worked up I am. Instead, I decide that maybe I should eat some lunch first before I try to lay down—a full belly might help.
Maybe if I drink some chocolate milk with it, I think to myself. Always worked when I was pregnant with Sparrow.
I make myself some eggs, bacon, a few sausage links, and some frozen waffles, sighing as I sit down at the empty kitchen table. It feels good to be with Eli, but when he’s not around, I’ve started to feel lonelier than ever. It’s not the greatest, but I suppose that all good things come at a price, and Eli is certainly a good thing, so I’m willing to deal. At least, for now.
My new doorbell rings, singing a sweet little southern melody as it jingles throughout the house. Who could that be? I wonder as I take another bite of my waffle before getting up to answer it. Before I can make it to the door, I’m hit by this sickening dread, and I freeze in place.
I just got back from Eli’s, and now the doorbell’s ringing?I think to myself as I quietly creep toward the door, sneakily sliding an umbrella out of the little metal bin by the door as I brace myself for a slew of vitriol. . . or worse. But as I swing the door open, umbrella hidden behind my back, I breathe a sigh of relief when I see it’s Sparrow and Jade.
“Hey, Mom! You okay?” Sparrow asks.
“Oh! Hello there!” I say as I slip the umbrella back into place. “Oh yes, I’m fine, just eating brunch.”
“You’re sweating,” she says as she points to my forehead and Jade claps and squeals with delight. I put my fingers to it, and sure enough, a well-developed bead clings to my fingers.
“I’m not sweating, I’m glistening,” I joke as I let them in and close the door behind them.
“Must’ve missed a bit when I blow dried my hair after I got home.”
“Oh yeah, your date!” Sparrow says as she lumbers in with Jade and the diaper bag in tow, letting it slide off her shoulder and fall to the floor. She then puts Jade down before rummaging through the bulging bag, pulling out a semi crinkled envelope.
“Happy Valentine’s Day!” she says as she hands it to me. I carefully open it and inside is a lovely card from everyone, and a little folded up heart with Jade’s handprint on it.
“Oh my gosh, that’s so sweet!” I say as I scurry off to the kitchen and put Jade’s little valentine on the fridge, and the card on the table.
“Well, I figured you deserved something nice from your favorite little one,” Sparrow says as Jade crawled over to the little toy chest I had for her. Sparrow sits down at the kitchen table next to the bouquet of wild lilies Eli had sent home with me. “So, how’d that date go?”
“It was amazing! He’s so sweet! We went out riding on his ranch, and I got to play with the piglets. He has such a beautiful property,” I gush, but I hold back a bit, feeling like I have to be careful of what I say.
I know Sparrow is angry at her father, but I would never try to pit her against him, and I didn’t want to offend her by giving her the full scoop.
“Now, I know it couldn’t have been just that with the way you were gushing about him when Daniel and I showed up to help with your car,” Sparrow sighs. Perceptive little bird saw right through me.
“You’re right, it was a little bit more than that,” I say, a smile I can’t contain slowly slipping across my face.
“Well, spill the tea,” Sparrow says.
“We kissed,” I said excitedly, and Sparrow’s eyes went wide.
“Really?”
“Yep! And he asked me to be his girlfriend!” I reply and I’m pleasantly relieved when Sparrow grins.
“I’m so proud of you! Look at you over here glowing!” she says. “You look like a whole new woman.”
“Oh gosh, Sparrow, stop,” I say as I try not to blush.
“It’s true,” Sparrow says. “Ever since you started seeing Eli, there’s this radiance about you. It’s something I haven’t noticed in you in a long time.”
“You know what? I definitely feel it,” I say with a sigh as I sit down to finish my breakfast. “I feel ten years younger at least!”
“You deserve it, Mama,” Sparrow says as she lays a hand on top of mine and gives it a little squeeze.
“You’re right,” I reply. “I really do, don’t I?”
“Mm-hmm!”
“I’m just glad I found a good one on there,” I say as I bite a piece of bacon. “There’s some real wild ones on that dating app.”
“What do you mean?” Sparrow asks, and I just shake my head, not even wanting to get into it.
“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” I tease as I finish my breakfast, play with Jade on the floor until they leave, and then crawl into bed. Finally able to sleep, visions of Eli and I together dance across the back of my eyelids.
***
“Hyah!” I yell as I rush around the back of the herd of cattle with Mitch and the boys, Tango speeding around like he was a young buck still, not showing any signs of aging. Me on the other hand, my hips are sore from riding all day with Darla, and now having to round the cows up—who thankfully had stayed more or less all together—had me aching for a nice hot bath and some time planted in front of the television.
“Did we get ‘em all?” I yell to Zack and Noah, who are heading up the back.
“Yeah, I think so,” Zack calls out as I meet back up with Mitch at the front.
“Sheesh, that was rough,” I say to Mitch, but he’s eerily quiet, and no longer wearing his bandana on his face. He appears to be deep in thought. “Still not sure how this happened.”
“I guess we’ll have to check everything when we get back after we get these guys and gals up, hmm?” he replies quietly.
“Yeah,” I say, trying to gauge where Mitch’s head is at. The tone in his voice is level, but it also seems full of an emotion I can’t quite peg. It feels like the calm before a storm, and I don’t much like it.
“Look like the date went well,” he says finally after about five minutes of our silent ride to take the cows back.
“It sure did,” I say. “She’s a wonderful woman.”
“Agree to disagree, but you know what, I’m glad you’re happy,” Mitch replies, his face affixed in a scowl for a moment before leveling out.
“You seem angry at me,” I say.
“Less angry, more disappointed,” Mitch replies. “I’m trying to protect you, Eli. But you just won’t let me.”
“I think the one you need to be protecting yourself from is that Joe guy,” I say, trying to figure out how to ease into the possibility that Joe was trying to hurt Darla, but unsure how to without upsetting him further.
“Joe is a good man,” Mitch insists, shaking his head. “It’s too bad you didn’t meet him first or seen the things I’ve seen.”
Seen the things he’s seen? What things? I think to myself. Darla only just moved here, and there he is again, making claims about things he shouldn’t know.
“Well, I hate to break it to ya, Mitch, but I believe that man has it out for Darla,” I say, and Mitch looks over at me, his eyes seeming like two hollow pits. There’s just nothing there.
“Is that so?” Mitch asks.
“I think he tried to hurt Darla,” I say, and Mitch stops short, the cattle beginning to walk around him. So, I stop just behind him. “The night he and I had words at the bar, after I took off with her like you said, we came back, and her car wouldn’t start.”
“So?”
“Her son in law looked it over and someone messed with her battery, put the cables on the terminals backward,” I reply. “It could have blown right up.”
“That’s not possible,” Mitch says as he shakes his head.
“Is it not possible, or you just don’t want it to be?” I ask him and I see his jaw move around as if he’s fighting back anger.
“Joseph was with me all night,” Mitch says. “I saw him get in his car and leave.”
“So, you’re saying he doesn’t have the capability to come back and mess with it?” I say.
“How do you know Darla didn’t do it to herself?” Mitch asks. “Who got there first?”
“She did,” I said. “But—”
“But what?” Mitch growls. “You don’t think that wench is capable of popping her hood and rearranging some cables?”
“Watch your tone when you speak about my girl,” I say angrily.
“Ah, so she’s your girl now,” Mitch says quietly.
“That’s right, she is,” I reply. “And your ol’ buddy Joe needs to stay away.” Mitch gets quiet again, and the silence is deafening, even as the massive sea of cows moves past us.
“Well, if that’s the case,” Mitch says before he pushes me as hard as he can off Tango, and my head slams into the ground below.
What. . . what just happened?I think to myself, dazed and trying to get to my feet, shaking my head as the ringing in my ears lessens until it’s more of a dull roar.
“What the heck, Mitch?” I say, and I just barely make it to my feet before I get trampled by oncoming cows, using Tango’s rump to steady myself.
“It’s really too bad you couldn’t take the hint, cowboy,” he says, and he leans over Tango with something in his hand. “Now I got to take you out of the equation.”
Before I can even register what he’s said, Tango rears up, whinnying in pain as he begins to act wild, and I try my best to calm him down. I fail miserably, feeling the slam of one of his hooves smashing into my skull, and as I lay on the ground and watch Tango take off, everything fades to black.
***
I’m still riding the emotions of earlier into the night as I get into work, settling in at the nurse’s station and looking over my list of patients for the night. I’m still grateful that LuAnne was able to switch with me, but there’s something about nights in the ICU that always makes me nervous. The silence is unsettling and a little bit eerie, not knowing which one of my patients wouldn’t make it through the night.
“Got a new one for ya,” an ER nurse says as she pulls someone through, his face all bandaged and taped up.
“No one called me to tell me anything,” I say.
“Well, emergencies aren’t planned are they,” the ER nurse snips, and I hold my tongue. I know the ER is stressful, but there was no need for attitude!
“I suppose not,” I say instead, forcing a smile as the woman thrusts the clipboard from her hands into mine.
“There ya go,” she says. “What room’s open, so I can get him set up?”
“Right there is fine,” I say, motioning to the empty room directly in front of me.“Thanks,” she says as she rolls her eyes, ruffling my feathers further. I decide to ignore her and look through the chart.
Elijah Garcia, 70 years of age, severe brain injury. . . emergency brain surgery. . . Jesus, this guy’s in rough shape.
I look up from the clipboard to see the nurse still working on hooking him up. Getting the IVs plugged up, sticking the EKG modules on his chest, and blood pressure cuffing his free arm. That eerie feeling comes flooding back again and riles up my stomach.
I can’t wait to get the heck out of this ward.
The hours go by, and whenever I’m not helping a patient, I’m nearly falling asleep at the desk. Already, one has almost died on us, an open-heart surgery survivor, and another woke up and tried to pull their breathing tube out and had to be sedated.
I don’t know how people keep this up all the time,I think to myself. Just me and another nurse covering the sizeable ward all by ourselves really isn’t enough. And I’m not even sure if it’s legal, even on overnights.
“Hey, Darla,” Jennifer says, the other nurse on duty, as she walks back to the desk. “Look alive, we have another one coming up.”
“Another?” I say sleepily. “Jeez, tonight is just full of surprises, isn’t it?”
“Never a dull moment,” she replies as she looks at the clipboard.
“We got a name?” I ask.
“Eli,” she replies, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat.
“Eli, huh?”
“Yep,” she replies. “Brain injury. He’s in surgery right now since this Elijah guy needed help first. But this one’s not looking too hot either.”
“What’s the last name?” I ask, my curiosity piqued. I’m very aware there are other people in the world named Eli, but I just want to be sure.
“Garcia,” she says, and my eyes go wide.
“Garcia?” I repeat, my voice cracking.
“Yeah, why?”
“What’s his age?” I ask.
“Looks to be. . . fifty-four,” she says, and suddenly I feel like the whole world around me has ceased to exist. My vision gets blurry, and my hearing is muffled.I can tell that Jennifer is talking to me, I can even feel her hand on my shoulder as she tries to shake me out of my daze. “What’s the address?” I ask.
“Pardon?”
“Does it list the patient’s address?” I ask frantically.
“No, Darla, you know that’s not on here,” Jennifer says as I snap back to reality.
“Next of kin? Anything?”
Jennifer looks at me like I’m a complete lunatic, or maybe it’s just a look of worry. Either way, I need to know who, if anyone, is on that list.
“Four boys,” she says. “Jeffrey, Robert, Noah, and Zack.”
My blood runs cold, and everything left in my stomach comes up as I rush to the garbage can and heave into it. “This cannot be happening!” I cry, my own voice echoing in my ears as Jennifer rubs my back.
“Darla, are you alright?”
“I need to go down there,” I say as I wipe the tears from my eyes, so thick and stinging so bad I can hardly see. “I need to go see them.”
“Oh my gosh, do you know them?” Jennifer asks as I manage to stand up.
“Eli’s my boyfriend,” I told her.
“Oh my. . . Go, Darla!” Jennifer says as she waves for me to go.
“I’m sorry,” I say as I run as fast as my legs will carry me to the elevator, pressing the button rapidly until it finally opens. It feels like ages before the door finally closes, and I head on down to the ground floor, streaking through the halls and trying to find the operating rooms.
“Hey, hey, woah,” a voice says as I skid to a halt, and in front of me is the last person I want to see right now or ever again. Joseph.
He’s coming out of the cafeteria, and on a quick glance, I notice there’s blood on his jeans.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“A friend got hurt, he’s in the ER,” Joseph sighs. “Bar fight.”
“Well, I’m sorry about your friend, but I need you to move out of my way,” I say, trying to stay calm.
“You can’t stop to chat?” Joseph asks. “I’m real worried about him.”
“I ain’t got time for you and your dumb drinking buddies,” I say as I try to push past but he won’t let me.
“Slow down, what is going on?” Joseph asks.
“Nothing that concerns you,” I say as I try again, but he blocks me.
“Now, don’t be so sassy, Darla,” Joseph says. “That’s no way to treat a concerned friend of a patient in your hospital, now, is it?”
“Seriously Joe, now is not the time,” I say.
“When is it the time when it comes to you?” Joseph asks.
“As far as you’re concerned? Never,” I say as I finally bob and weave enough to get past him. “My own friend is in trouble.”
“Wait,” Joseph says as he nearly flies around to get in front of me again. “Listen, I’m sorry about the other day.”
“Joe—”
“I’m sorry I got so heated, I just miss you so much,” he says, “I love you, Darla, I miss what we had. What we could still have.”
“We have nothing anymore Joseph, don’t you see that?” I say. “Throughout our whole marriage, I did everything I could to make you happy. I helped build our home, I gave you two beautiful babies and all the love I could give even with your busy schedule. But then you decided to burn it all to the ground.”
“Come on, Darla,” Joseph says as he puts his hands on my shoulders. “We can fix it, there’s still time.”
“No, we can’t, Joe!” I snap as I shake my head. “No amount of apologizing or gifts will ever, ever fix what you’ve done,” I growl through gritted teeth.
“You are my wife,” Joe snaps, anger finally bleeding to the surface as his gentle hold on my arms becomes a painful grasp.
“We are divorced, Joe,” I say, not wincing or showing even a bit of fear. I refuse to let him think he has one over on me. “Now either you move out of my way, or I’ll have you escorted out. Find another sucker.”
He looks at me for a moment, appearing to be dumbfounded by my words, so I rip his hands off me and continue to run down the corridor. He continues calling out for me and I keep ignoring him as I focus on the sign that says, “operation waiting room” on the wall, and I follow the arrow.
When I enter the room, I see Zack, Noah, and another man who I assume to be Jeffrey in there, the two twins sitting together with their heads hung, and the other brother pacing back and forth behind them.
“Zack? Noah?” I call out, and both their heads pop up, and I can see their eyes are red and puffy.
“Darla!” Zack says as I run up to him and instinctively wrap my arms around him. “What are you doing here?”
“I work here,” I say. “I just happened to be covering the night shift tonight, and the other nurse read off the chart. . . I didn’t want it to be true.”
“It’s awful,” Zack cries, burrowing his face into my shoulder as Noah stands up and rubs his back lightly.
“It’s going to be okay man,” Noah says. “Dad wouldn’t want us to be a mess like this.”
“I don’t think Dad’s going to know,” Jeffrey says as he walks over to us.
“You must be, Jeff,” I say.
“And you must be the new girlfriend,” he says with a sigh. “Nice to meet you, wish it was under better circumstances.”
“Likewise,” I reply. “What happened?”
“The cows got out and Mitch, Zack, and I were rounding the cattle up. Next thing we know, Dad falls off his horse and Tango kicks him.”
“Tango? Really?” I ask. “He seemed so well-behaved.”
“We think he got stung by something,” Zack says. “There’s a little wound on his shoulder.”
“Where’s Mitch? Did he see what happened?” I ask.
“He’s here somewhere,” Noah replies. “He was right there actually. Said they were talking and then everything got crazy.”
That seems fishy,I think to myself for a moment, but it’s a fleeting thought, my hands shaking as I let go of Zack and sit down, the adrenaline coursing through my veins tapping out. I sit with them all night, and it’s not until the sun starts peeking through the windows that someone comes out from the OR to speak with us.
“He made it through the operation,” the nurse says. “But to be honest, with how hard that kick hit, and how much blood we had to release from the hematoma, we aren’t sure what the damage will be over time.”
“What are you saying?” Jeffrey asks curtly. “You mean to tell me that you don’t know if he will be okay?”
“Brain injuries are touchy,” I say, trying my best even at my worst to try to calm Jeffrey down. “They won’t know until he wakes up and sees how he does.”
“Jesus,” Jeffrey groans angrily, muttering to himself as he sits back down.
“Thank you for letting us know,” I say as the nurse gives me a little nod.
“We will see if he rouses from the surgery on his own, which could take a few hours,” she says. “Either way, he will be brought up to the ICU then. You’re welcome to stay here or head home to gather up some things for him.”
“I’ve got to get some headache pills in me,” Jeffrey says as he rubs his temples. “Are you guys heading up to the house to grab stuff for him?”
“Yeah, I guess Mitch went home and got his toiletries together at least,” Zack says as he looks at his phone. “Thanks for sitting with us, Darla.”
“Of course,” I say as my lip quivers, the mask I’ve been wearing to try to keep calm starting to slip.
“We will keep you updated, okay?” Zack says as he hands me his phone and has me put my number in.
“Thank you,” I say tearfully as the three boys head out, and my legs, fawn-like and wobbly make me have to sit down again.
Of course, I meet the man of my dreams and he’s now in critical condition, I think to myself as I finally let it all out, crying loudly in the big, lonely room. Unsure of what to do with myself other than put my hands together in prayer, I hope for a miracle.
***
Darla
I had offered to stay and wait for Eli to get on the ward so the nurse on call in my place could go home, but she refused. So, I’d spent the whole day—though I was supposed to be asleep—either lying in bed crying or pacing the floors of my house. I spent hours waiting for Zack to text me, to say anything.
But the text never came.
I was still scheduled to work a mid-shift, and I did my best to hold myself together, hoping beyond hope that when I got there, Eli would be alright. Eventually, when I get to the nurse’s desk, all eyes are on me.
Just as expected, the gossip mill always turns no matter where you work, and the day crew whispers as I shuffle through the charts. I look for Eli’s and Eli’s alone.
My eyes flutter up for a moment and I notice that the old man from last night isn’t in his room either. To get the hens of the roost to stop murmuring, I decide to ask about him.
“Where’s Elijah?”
“He’s out for an MRI right now,” one of the girls says as I continue to thumb through the charts, still not finding the one man I’m looking for.
“Where is Eli Garcia’s chart?” I ask calmly, my eyes wandering over to the other nurses.
“You mean, Elijah,” one says.
“No, I mean, Eli Garcia,” I say. “Fifty-four, head trauma and brain surgery.”
“Doesn’t ring any bells,” another one says, and I turn around to look at the whiteboard on the wall.
No Eli Garcia.
“Move out of my way, please,” I say to the nurse in front of our floor’s computer, and she eyes me suspiciously as I sit down and my fingers fly across the keyboard. I enter my username and password and begin searching the ER, OR, and ICU databases for records of Eli Garcia. Just as I thought, ER released him to OR. . . but where did he go after? Did he need a transfer to a bigger hospital?
I clamp my hand over my mouth as I read the words, muffling a loud, painful scream that sends the whole ward into a panic.
Eli Garcia, Male, 54, deceased. Made it through the operation with success, but then seized downstairs in the recovery room, and passed away. The patient has been moved to the morgue and placed under the care of Doctor John P. Fisher, a hospital pathologist.
“No,” I say out loud as I nearly fall out of my chair. “No, no, no!”
“Darla?” I hear Doreen call out, but I am balled up on the floor at this point, sobbing uncontrollably.
“He’s gone,” I say. “Eli is gone.”
“Quit gawking at her and help me get her off the floor, you morons!” Doreen yells at what I assume is the other nurses, and with their help, I’m eventually taken off the cold tile floor, and seated in a chair.
“Darla,” Doreen says quietly. “I think we should call Sparrow and let you go home.”
“No. . . I can’t. . . I have bills,” I say.
“Paid,” Doreen says. “One way or another. But you need to go home. I can’t have you here like this. It’s not good for you or our patients.”
“Okay,” I say shakily as I take out my phone and find it without word from the boys. Weeping inconsolably, I call Sparrow and attempt to explain what’s happening, all of it feeling like a nightmare that God could have ripped such a beautiful light out of this life so soon. A light that I needed, one that was now extinguished, along with any hope I had left that life wouldn’t always be so painful.
***
Eli
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
“Will you. . .” I start to say, wanting someone to shut the beeping up, every beep making me wince in pain as my eyes slowly opened. But my mouth feels like someone’s poured a gallon of sand in there and left it, my tongue like cracked, desert mud, and so I can’t seem to get the words out.
Everything hurts. Head to toe. And as I try to move, I realize that I can’t. Not easily at least. I hear snoring to my side and slowly look over to see someone sitting in the chair next to me. Who is that? I think to myself as I look at his curly hair. My son? Zack. . . asleep and loosely holding my hand.
What’s going on? I think to myself as I try to speak again, but my head pounds, and I feel nauseous. “Ugh,” I manage to get out as I move my hand up toward my head, only to see a blood pressure cuff attached to my arm. Am I in the hospital? I think to myself. What the heck happened?
“Z-Zack,” I croak out, and he stirs a little. So, I squeeze the hand in his grip as hard as I can and try again. “Zack!”
“Huh? Wha—?” Zack murmurs as he finally begins to wake up, In the dark of the room, I can see his eyes open wide as he looks at me.
“Oh my gosh, you’re awake!” Zack exclaims. “Don’t move, I’ll get the doctor!”
“Wait,” I whisper, but he doesn’t hear me, flying out the door and leaving me alone with my thoughts. I’m in the hospital. Got it. But why? What happened to me? I feel like I lived through an earthquake.
I sit there and think, but nothing comes to me, and I’m becoming increasingly frustrated. What do I know? I know my name is. . . Eli. Yeah. That sounds right. And I have. . . four kids, boys. Jeffrey, Robert, Zack, and Noah.
Where do I live?I ask myself and pause to think, even though it’s making my head hurt worse. Up on the ranch. . . in a white house that Mel and I bought together.
Mel!I think to myself, but then, like a bad movie, my brain shows me the accident. The car had been torn to bits. She’s gone. She’s been gone. I don’t know how long, but she’s left us. Other than that, I don’t remember anything.
“Mr. Garcia!” a man in a white coat says cheerfully as he strolls into the room, the words “Doctor Jacob Trachner, MD” embroidered above his breast pocket. “Nice to see that you’re awake.”
“Garcia? Is that my last name?” I ask, things still feeling fuzzy and out of place in my head. It’s as if my mind was a bookshelf and someone has toppled it over, and now I am struggling to get everything back in order.
“Yes, that’s our last name, Dad,” Zack says, and I nod. I figure Zack would know best.
“You’ve been through a pretty serious accident, Eli,” the doctor says. “So, I need you to make sure you stay still, at least for now.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“You fell off your horse, and got kicked in the head,” Doctor Trachner replies. “It’s caused some bleeding in your brain and a part of your skull has been damaged.”
“Is that why everything is so hard to remember?” I ask. “Is this normal?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Doctor Trachner replies. “It will take some time to know how extensive the damage is to your brain. But the fact that you’re awake and alert is a great sign.”
“Will I. . . be like this forever?” I ask, and the doctor sighs.
“We are unsure at this time,” Doctor Trachner says. “But since you’re awake, I would like to have you participate in a simple neurology test. I want to see what you can remember.”
The doctor then asked me a slew of questions about my kids, my house, and my wife. He also asked me who the president was at the time, which I couldn’t remember.
“Thank you, I’ll let you rest now,” the doctor says when I’ve answered everything I could. “Remember, don’t cause him any undue stress,” he tells Zack before he walks out and leaves us alone.
“Want to watch some TV while we wait for Jeff and Noah?” Zack asks.
“Sure,” I say. “Not like I’m going anywhere.”
Zack gets me some water, and he helps me sip it with a straw before he puts on Gunsmoke, the two of us are silent as we watch the magic of technicolor on a small, flat screen.
The silence lingers for a while as he sits there, feverishly texting someone on his phone. I’m not sure if he’s afraid to talk to me, or if he’s unsure of what to say or what not to say. So, I decided to poke at him and see what he knows. The doctor summarized what happened to me, but it isn’t making sense in my head. I mean, why would a horse kick me?
“Zack,” I say.
“Yeah, what’s up, Dad?” Zack replies. “Do you need me to get you something? Want me to see if you can eat?”
“Maybe in a bit, but right now I need to ask you something,” I say.
“Sure,” he replies.
“Do you know what happened to me?” I ask.
“Not exactly,” Zack says with a sigh. “You and Mitch were helping wrangle the herd that somehow escaped, we still aren’t sure how. And then Tango reared up, knocked you off his back, and kicked you.”
“Tango. . . yes I remember,” I say. “He’s young but he’s a fine horse, not a mean or temperamental bone in that horse’s body. That doesn’t make sense.”
“What do you mean by young?” Zack asks.
“Well, he’s only a few years old,” I reply, but I can immediately tell by the look on his face that I’m wrong.
“Dad, he’s thirteen,” Zack replies, looking a bit sad. “If he was a baby, I would be a tiny kid, right?” It takes me a second, but I realize Zack is right. He’s a grown man, which means Tango would be an adult horse by now.
“Jesus. . .” I breathe, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the jumble in my brain.
“And what about Robert? Is he coming? You didn’t mention him,” I ask.
“No, he’s still in California,” Zack says, and though I don’t remember it, I am sure he’s right. Unlike the other boys, Robert was the wild one, and for him to head off to California makes sense to me. “Listen, the doctor said not to get you riled up,” Zack replies. “I think we should talk about this later,” he says as Jeffrey and Noah filter into the room.
“Boys!” I called out, trying to force a smile, but it stung. I put my finger to it, only to find a dab of blood there when I pulled it back to look. It’s either chapped or cut, but I’m not sure which.
“Hey, Dad!” Noah replies cheerfully, but I can see Jeffrey hanging back, giving a little wave. He’s always been sensitive, just like his mama was, and when he’s upset you just know.
“Hey, can I talk to y’all in the hallway please?” Zack says, and the other two nod.
“We will be right back, I promise,” Noah says as they go out into the hall, pulling up the door behind them. But not enough, because I can hear them talking fairly clearly. Save for a little hiccups here and there.
“Listen, I already talked to the doctor before about this, but we need to not force any memories and get him stressed out,” Zack says.
“Well, what about Darla?” Noah asks in a lowered tone, and the name gives me pause.
Who’s Darla? And why are they suddenly whispering?I ask myself. When I try to remember, all I get in return is a headache.
“Well, she works here on the ward, I imagine she’ll understand what he’s going through,” Zack replies. “I’ll text her about this later so it’s not a surprise. We have to be careful with him right now, Doc says he’s fragile. He’s got partial amnesia.”
“Better he doesn’t know,” another voice I don’t recognize says, and a man in a black shirt and jeans follows after it, wearing a cowboy hat and looking at me glumly.
I wonder what he meant by that. . .
“Hey there, boss man,” he says.
“Bossman?” I ask, confused by the nickname.
“Oh no,” Zack says as he rushes in after the man.
“It’s alright,” I insist, holding my hand up to hush him. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”
The man makes a face and then smiles. “I’m Mitch, your ranch hand and good friend. I live at your house with Zack and Noah.”
Thinking about it for a moment, I say, “Your face looks sort of familiar. . . you moved here from Amarillo, right?”
“Yes sir,” Mitch says with a nod.
“I don’t remember moving you in, but I remember you coming in for your interview,” I think out loud. “I dressed nice; the boys picked on me for it.”
“Yes! I’ve been working for you nearly two months now,” he says. “Don’t worry, I have been making sure all the animals are fed and taken care of while you have been gone, with the boys’ help.”
“I appreciate that,” I reply.
“Look Mitch I’m glad ya came but they want us to keep it low-key for now,” Zack says, and Mitch makes another face.
“Alright, well, try to take ‘er easy,” Mitch says, his smile growing into a grin. “I got to check on the animals anyhow. That one cow’s fixin’ to give birth any day now.”
“Thank you, Mitch,” I say, and he tips his hat to me before he walks out and the rest of my boys come back in.
They stay with me for quite a while, even though it’s the middle of the night, and though I’m supposed to be sleeping, I find that I can’t. Why is everyone being so weird about everything? And why can’t I know about Darla? And why does Mitch not seem to like her?
So many questions, but no answers.
I guess it’ll have to wait.
***
Darla
My eyes feel like I’ve been socked in both eyelids as I drive myself to work. Doreen had given me two days off, and she even said that if I needed more time to let her know. But I don’t have any choice but to go in. The bills aren’t going to pay themselves with me sitting at home, crying myself stupid.
“You alright?” LuAnne asks, who apparently had come in to work in case I didn’t show.
“Never been better,” I fib as I sit down in one of the chairs at the long desk and begin to look over the charts.
Well, I see Elijah is still kicking, I think to myself, and my eyes flicker from the page and up toward his room. Suddenly, I’m hit with a wave of shock as I see someone familiar standing in Elijah’s room.
Noah.
What is he doing in there?I wonder, feeling this mixture of confusion and concern. My gosh, is this old man the kids’ grandfather or something? Eli never said what his parents’ names were.
I can’t deal with this right now,I think to myself, seeing that my name is still listed on Elijah’s chart as his nurse. They haven’t even texted me to let me know, those poor boys. I don’t think I can handle facing them right now. I don’t want to cause another scene either, especially at work. I can’t lose this job.
“LuAnne?”
“Yeah?”
“You mind switching with me? For this patient?” I ask, showing her the clipboard.
“Um, sure, I guess,” LuAnne replies meekly as I erase my name and put hers at the top. I go to the board and do the same with one of hers, taking responsibility for one of her patients.
I spend most of the time fluttering around, taking care of as many patient’s problems as possible just so I can avoid Elijah, the boys, and his room. All the while, my brain was whirring and wondering what exactly happened with them and if they were okay.
By the time I finally got the nerve to go to Elijah’s room, it was near the end of my shift, and no one but Elijah was in the dark room, most likely asleep. So instead, I clocked out, hopped in my car, grabbed dinner on the way home, and took it to my room.
As soon as I walk through the door, I’m hit by the fragrance of lilies. And when I saw that huge vase that he’d had delivered to the hospital, I began crying all over again.
I feel so angry and sad all at once as I curl up in bed and eat my food. How could I have been so close to happiness only to have it ripped away from me all over again? The world. . . this life. . . it’s too cruel.