10 - Brie
Proving My Credentials
~
Brie
What started as a cool fall breeze turned into angry gusts of icy wind that rattled the roof and made the windows sing. I was prepared for winter, but I had clearly underestimated the one I’d get here in the Idaho mountains.
I searched through my closet for all the layers I could find, and after I was as wrapped up as I could be (while still being able to move my arms), the biting cold still found its way through.
The cold made Lexi more restless than usual. She ran to the window every five minutes, unable to focus on spelling at all.
“Do you think it’s going to snow?” she asked, excited by the thought.
“Maybe later into the winter, Lexi. Let’s do three more words, then we can watch the trees sway for a bit,” I offered.
Lexi was reading far beyond her age, but she was still just a six-year-old girl and would use any excuse to escape her lessons.
“Does it snow in the city?” she asked.
I was onto her. Even though I would rather be curled up in bed hitting ‘next episode’ on Netflix for the rest of the day, there were words to be learned. I was determined to get through at least ten.
“It does snow in the city, but I’m excited to see what winter is like over here. I already feel like it’s going to be much colder than I’m used to,” I said. “Come on now, Lexi, let’s not get distracted. The sooner we get through these, the sooner we can do something else.”
Lexi walked back over to the dining room table with her shoulders hunched in disappointment.
Between words, I found myself gazing out of the window too. The wind was growing wilder. The trees swayed faster, branches tossing about, and the wooden walls of the cabin creaked.
“What does ambidextrous mean?” Lexi asked.
“Let’s break the word up and try to figure it out,” I started to explain, then the door burst open.
“The wind is picking up. It isn’t worth the risk,” Gunner said, trudging into the cabin with Gideon and Tobias following behind him.
Their lumberjack uniforms had a new layer. Gunner wore a wool-lined denim jacket, while Gideon wore a leather one, and Tobias a puffer jacket. They didn’t take them off when they came in, rubbing their hands together.
“Is it going to snow, Daddy?” Lexi asked, running up to Tobias.
The lesson might as well have been over. Lexi had a stream of questions about what was happening outside, where the deer went to get shelter, and if she could see it. She also wanted to know when the river would freeze over and if she could learn to skate on it.
“It’s really cold in here,” Gideon said, already stacking the fireplace. “Next time, I’ll start the fire for you before I leave in the morning.”
He flashed me a quick smile, but it was warm enough to reach his eyes. He was awkwardly navigating feelings neither of us understood, while I tried to navigate this sudden awakening I was going through. How I had somehow dragged both Gideon and Tobias into it.
There was tension, and I wasn’t the only one who felt it. Tobias stole glances at me; I could also feel his eyes on me when he moved out of sight. We were in a tinderbox, and the howling wind outside told me there was no escaping, not anytime soon, anyway.
“One more word, Lexi,” I tried to coax her.
“But Brie, even schools close when the weather is bad,” she said sweetly.
She sat on her father’s lap with a book already in hand. Pulling her back to the table would have been cruel, and watching her meant watching Tobias. Everytime I looked in their direction, he shifted in his armchair uncomfortably.
I sat at the table, sorting through Lexi’s lessons. I shuffled and stacked the papers on the dining room table over and over, trying to keep myself busy and distracted.
“You know, Brie, we could save firewood and keep warm the way nature intended,” Gunner winked at me on his way to the kitchen.
“In warm clothes and under blankets?” I laughed, swatting at him.
“Body heat,” he whispered, walking past again. “Under some blankets works too.”
I looked across to the living room where Gideon was still busy kindling the fire and Tobias was listening to Lexi read. They hadn’t heard anything Gunner had said, and if they had, they were choosing to ignore it and doing it well.
“I’m going to make some hot cocoa. It’s just the thing to warm us all up,” I said, finally finding something to do with myself now that Lexi definitely wasn’t coming back to do any schoolwork.
“It’s on the top shelf,” Gideon said, getting up from the fire he had started, kindled and secured behind an iron grate. “I’ll help you get it.”
I was about to say I could get it myself when Gideon was suddenly behind me, reaching up into the cupboard to bring the tin down.
The smell of sweat and camphor wafted to my nose, triggering a rapid-fire montage of the last time he stood so close to me. It was all in my head, but my warm cheeks in the cold of the kitchen betrayed me.
I imagined he could read my mind, saw what I was thinking and blushed too. He dug his hands deep into his pockets and leaned against the cupboard.
“Sorry we disrupted your spelling lesson. The wind is crazy outside,” he explained.
There was no need. I wouldn’t have wanted to be outside in this weather either. Besides, this was their home. And in an odd way, I missed having Gideon lurking around as Lexi and I went through our day. The way he’d stop what he was doing now and then to listen in on our lesson.
“Yeah, is it always this rough going into winter? Kind of makes me scared to think what it’ll be like later,” I said with a shiver.
“It does get pretty dicey, but you have a fireplace in your room, right? I can help you get a fire started after dinner,” he offered.
I smiled mischievously, bringing the powdered milk and water to a boil before sneaking in a cinnamon stick. Gideon watched me intently. He watched my face when I spoke, my hands when I stirred and seemed to be inspecting the fit of my sweatpants when I walked back and forth from the cupboard.
“I’m sure you won’t miss a single stick of cinnamon and a few other ingredients I refuse to share,” I said conspiratorially.
“We’ll add it to our growing list of secrets,” Gideon smiled, looking down at his boots.
The kitchen was heating up. I hardly felt the cold until something crashed loudly outside. It was unexpected, loud, and metallic.
I didn’t think twice before jumping into Gideon’s arms.
“Sounds like a roof sheet. I’ll go check it out,” Gunner announced, jumping up from the couch where he had been reading the newspaper. “Save me some hot chocolate.”
I saw Gunner disappear into the shed and thought nothing more of it.
Lexi and Tobias continued with their reading, and Gideon was trying not to look like he was doing a perimeter check on the cabin.
It was one of the many things I realized I should have known about cabin living before I came here.
The house creaked in the night. There was no traffic noise coming from outside, and when it became as windy as it was today, the windows screeched.
But there were also so many things I had not even considered I’d enjoy. The stars seemed closer and brighter; the air was clean and crisp, and I hadn’t had the smell of antiseptic in my hair since I’d arrived.
I took the cocoa off the stove just when Gunner fell back into the house, clutching his thigh. I smelled the blood before I saw it. It wasn’t a strong smell, but anyone who had worked in a hospital knew the metallic scent as soon as they smelled it. I could almost taste it.
“What happened?” I asked, rushing toward Gunner.
Gideon had already gone to the door, eyes alert, face stony, ready for anything that might happen.
“It’s nothing, just a cut. It was just as I thought, the roof sheet we hadn’t gotten around to securing fell off the shed and sliced into my leg,” Gunner groaned.
He played it off as something small, as if he wasn’t in pain, but his face screwed up in a grimace and blood seeped through his jeans.
“Lexi, baby, go upstairs. We need to help Gunner. We’re too far from the hospital,” Tobias said, laying a throw down on the carpet for Gunner to sit on.
I jumped into action, acting purely on instinct. I found the first-aid kit in the cupboard and went to see what damage had been done to Gunner’s leg. He pulled down his pants, exposing a deep, angry gash across his thigh.
“I need a towel and some disinfectant, maybe alcohol,” I said to no one in particular.
It was a blur. I poured disinfectant into Gunner's wound, clearing the blood so I could properly assess him. The wound was deep and oozed blood.
He twisted his face in pain, but lay stoically while I worked, rinsing and dabbing while Tobias moved mechanically to make Gunner more comfortable.
“You’re going to need stitches,” I announced.
“Aye, aye, captain,” Gunner smiled, forcing his face into what he thought was a neutral expression.
I threaded the needle and looked down at Gunner. His eyes glazed over, his eyes blinking slowly and his breathing slow and loud while I threaded the stitching needle.
When I agreed to take this job, I never imagined I would be stitching up the leg of a grown man who was fighting to keep the pain out of his face and failing.
I had imagined I’d be tending to Lexi’s scraped knees, the occasional headache and stomach bug.
The reality just then wasn’t something I had prepared for, nor was the pressure.
We were miles away from the hospital and in the dark, the route was treacherous at the very least. I was his only hope. I had been a little girl’s only hope weeks ago, and that hadn’t ended well. It scared me.
I was hyperventilating, terrified that I would fail again, when failing meant someone could die.
“I can’t do this,” I said softly between heavy breaths. “I just— I can’t. Call an ambulance.”
Tobias shook his head and handed me another towel to tie around Gunner’s leg.
“You can do it,” Gunner said breathlessly. “I trust you.”
I tried to steady my breath and held onto Gunner’s leg, but my hands were shaking. I was breaking into a sweat, my lips were dry, and I became hyper aware of how hard my heart was pounding. I knew this feeling. It had come over me on my last day at the hospital, too. A panic attack.
Tobias and Gideon stood by and watched quietly, ready for any commands or instructions.
“Honey,” Gunner whispered, putting his hand over mine, “I’ve seen your resume. I know you can do it and I kinda need you to just do it, don’t overthink it, just breathe.”
I nodded and took a deep breath, then waited a few seconds before breathing out again.
“Perfect, breathe with me, okay? You’ve got this.”
I pushed the needle into Gunner’s flesh and winced with him. He didn’t have so much as a painkiller, and it terrified me.
I threaded the needle through his skin, pretending it was just a game, like how we practiced stitches on silicone dolls at college. The only difference was that Gunner was awake, talking me through his own stitches with the voice of a calm and supportive coach.
I winced when he winced, sucked air between my teeth and did one of the best stitch jobs I had ever done in all my years of nursing sports injuries, home accidents and the long list of boo-boos my little patients came to the hospital with.
“You did it,” Gunner whispered when I cut the end of the suture. “You’ve passed the test.”
A test? I touched the back of my hand to his forehead. A fever made sense after something like this, so did hallucinating and speaking gibberish. He had just gotten 8 stitches without any real anesthetic.
“Going to college is one thing, but handling a real emergency like you did? You were amazing.”
Gunner reached up and touched my face, and I smiled, as grateful to him for helping me through this as he was to me for doing it. I couldn’t have done it without him validating me every shaking step of the way.
“Sorry. I—” The rest of my sentence had nowhere to go.
Because he pulled me down and pressed his lips to mine, holding our faces together while Gideon and Tobias stood by, still ready to jump in and help. His lips were warm and soft, so much softer than I had imagined they would be.