Chapter Twenty-Four
D eirdre tapped her fingers on the wood veneer of the diner table and sighed. Six thirty and no sign of Calvin.
At first, her nervousness had come from preparing to talk with Calvin about the decision she had made about their relationship. It was time to reach for happiness. Time to push back against doubt. Time to face her fears and see if Calvin was on the same page.
If they weren’t on the same page?
At least she could feel proud to have put her heart on the line and taken a risk, which was more than she had been able to do the past four years.
However, to have the conversation required both parties’ attendance. She sipped water and tried not to meet the waitress’s sympathetic gaze. She ignored the murmurs of other customers. Deirdre checked her phone once more.
No answer to her latest text from five minutes ago. Or ten minutes ago.
Irritation and embarrassment prickled her skin. Her face heated up. Damn it, she had made an effort to look nice this evening. Even pulled out a wine-colored silk blouse and gray slacks combo she rarely wore. She checked the phone again. Nothing.
Was this a subtle hint? She could handle that.
Only, Calvin had always replied, even when he was frustrated with her. This was damned unusual.
Now she knew his usual patterns? He probably had a good reason to be gone. An emergency must have come up at the hospital.
Deirdre called and spoke with Amberlyn who was the nurse on shift right now in the ED. No sign of Calvin. No patients in the department.
Another quick call to Mav. No EMS calls in the past hour.
She bit her lip and glanced at the door for the thousandth time. Where was he? Maybe she was a worrywart, but something was wrong.
Standing, she tugged on her light jacket. The sun was still above the horizon. It was cool outside, but not frigid cold. After leaving a few dollars for the water and the waitress’s time, she left.
Ten minutes later, Deirdre pulled up in front of Bruce and Aggie’s place, heart rattling in time with the Subaru’s wheels on the dirt road. No lights shone in the windows of the house.
She stepped out.
Silence, except for a slight breeze through the spruce trees. No barking dog. Calvin’s car was parked off to the side, but there no sign of the Garretts’s vehicle.
She looked around. Where was Calvin?
Her heart hammered in her chest. Hundreds of scenarios flew by her: an accident, a bear, a heart attack.
“Calvin?” she called as she crept toward the house.
Nothing.
She tried the front door. Unlocked. Knocking loudly as she entered, she called out again and quickly checked all of the rooms. Empty. Everything seemed in order.
In the shadow cast by the angle of the setting sun, she peeked through a window and spied a figure on the side of the house across from the woodpile, sprawled on the ground. Her heart thumped hard, stealing her breath.
No!
Deirdre dashed out and around the house, skidding to a stop. Calvin lay prone, arms extended above him and legs straight. There were drag marks from his feet around to the front of the house. He wasn’t moving. Was he breathing? She checked his pulse above the neckline of his dark flannel shirt and noted his torso rise.
Her breath rasped in her throat. She couldn’t draw in enough air. “Calvin?” She patted his back and shoulder. “Calvin?”
Not even a moan returned. The back of his head was matted with sticky blood. She grunted as she rolled him in one movement, keeping his head and neck in line, unhappy that he had to lay in slush and mud. The side of his face that had been pressed against the wet gravel was clammy and red. His lips were blue.
But he breathed.
His shirt was wet and muddy on the front. She grimaced at the damp ground beneath him. Now the shirt was wet and muddy on the back as well. His hair-dusted forearms and strong hands rested on the ground, completely lax. He didn’t move.
Yanking out her phone, she prayed that her phone still remembered the Garretts’s Wi-Fi password so she could call out with the satellite internet. She dialed 911 and nearly cried in relief when the trooper picked up. Quickly, she gave the information to dispatch.
She carefully opened Calvin’s eyelids. No pupillary response. Icy terror rushed through her from head to toe. Her ears buzzed.
Oh God, not again. She couldn’t lose someone she cared for. Not like this. Not Calvin.
Stay , she mentally begged him. Like Elijah had asked her, five years ago.
Stay.
She needed Calvin to survive this.
She could help him right now. Deirdre needed to work the problem. Assess the situation.
He was breathing. He had a pulse.
He was also cold and wet. His last text was over an hour ago, so she could calculate the maximum length of time he had laid here. Too long. He was too cold. Hypothermic.
She peeled off her jacket and tucked it over him. Then she spied his jacket near the woodpile and dashed over to grab it and place it around his hips and thighs, providing reasonable cover from neck to knees.
“Calvin?” she tried again.
He made an incoherent mumble, then went silent, puffing air between his blue lips with quick, shallow breaths.
Hurry, EMS. Hurry. Tears flowed as she shook in her boots.
The memory of Elijah’s withered and comatose body, failing in its last hours, superimposed itself on Calvin’s injured form. She couldn’t watch this. Couldn’t be here. This was too much. Her chest ached. It hurt to breathe. She curled her fingers around her car keys and glanced toward the front of the house where she had parked. The need to escape this pain overwhelmed her.
No.
She would stay.
Her face went numb. Blood-chilling panic drove her.
Dashing into the house, she yanked a throw blanket and cushion off the couch and ran back out, tucking the blanket over and around him and easing the cushion under his head. That was about all she could do at this point. Basic care and support until he could get proper evaluation.
She rechecked his weak, fast pulse and increased breathing rate.
Hurry.
What felt like hours later, a vehicle pulled up. She ran to the front of the house and directed the EMS crew. An Alaska state trooper vehicle pulled up next to the ambulance.
Mav and Louise jumped out, bags in hand.
Mav frowned at Deirdre. “What happened?”
They hurried to Calvin. “No idea. Found him down. I don’t know how long he’s been out. Guessing he’s hypothermic.” Last text was 5:25. She checked her phone. It was now a few minutes before seven.
Ninety minutes he could have been laying here.
Mav removed the blanket and jackets to do a quick primary assessment, then he and Louise applied EKG leads and obtained vitals. Sats were low, but then again Calvin’s fingers were freezing, so there wasn’t enough tissue perfusion to get a good signal. Deirdre chafed his cold hands between hers, willing him to warm up.
To wake up.
After putting on a cervical collar and applying oxygen, Mav and Louise got him onto the backboard and loaded onto the gurney. Calvin groaned slightly.
“Well, that adds a point on the GCS,” Mav quipped with a grim press of his mouth.
Glasgow Coma Scale. Damn it. Deirdre’s past and present collided, and her knees nearly buckled if not for Lieutenant Kate Lucas’s grip on her upper arm.
“Let’s go,” Louise said, pulling the gurney across the uneven ground, Mav pushing.
“Are you going to the hospital, too?” Mav asked.
Deirdre shrugged. “Technically, I’m not family, but his parents aren’t here. What do you think?”
“We’re all family here. Besides, a friendly face wouldn’t be the worst thing for him to see when he wakes up. You can update Bruce and Aggie, as well.”
“Fair enough.” She didn’t want to pull too much rank, but she did want to be there for him. They were dating. Kind of. Fake dating. Sort of real. Who cared? She would be with him. With that decision, she would risk their relationship being real. Damn it.
Before following the ambulance to the hospital, Deirdre called Aggie and explained the situation. Aggie and Bruce would stay in Fairbanks overnight. If they left now, they’d be driving back four hours in the dark. For safety, Deirdre encouraged them to stay there tonight and return early tomorrow. Deirdre promised to remain with Calvin and provide updates.
“We know you care about him, and he cares about you,’ Aggie said.
She hated the pretense. The wasted time. Hated how her heart ached at Calvin’s too-still form. The last peg fell into place in her heart. She did care for him. She could admit it and not feel guilt or pain.
The freedom that realization brought gave her a little light within this dark situation. “You’re right.”
Before leaving, Deirdre gave her account to the state trooper. Well, what little she knew about the situation. Nothing seemed amiss with the house other than Calvin lying injured and unconscious next to the building. It didn’t appear anything had been broken into by man or animal. Vehicle and footprints weren’t easily visible due to the slushy, wet gravel. What had happened?
With a tight, professional nod, Lieutenant Kate stowed her pad and pencil in a pocket. “I’ll find out if anything else seems out of place in town. Then I’ll check back with him in the hospital. Hopefully he’ll be awake and can give a statement.”
A quick hug, and Kate followed her from the Garrett homestead down to town.
Gripping the wheel with shaking hands, Deirdre somehow managed to safely steer her car down the road toward the highway. Turning up the heat in her car, she shivered without her jacket while the air slowly increased in temperature. The heat didn’t take away the bone-deep chills racing through her.
Once at the hospital, Mav and Louise, the nurses, and Dr. Tipton all efficiently tended to Calvin in the trauma bay. Deirdre fought against the gut need to be at the bedside helping. Instead, she planted her butt in a work area chair and tried not to overhear what was being said.
A few minutes later, Mav came over to give her a quick hug before saying, “Sorry I can’t stick around, sis. We’ve got another call.” He and Louise rushed out of the ED.
Murmurs and beeps filtered back to her from Calvin’s room.
A few minutes later as he was wheeled out for a CT scan, he turned his head and squinted at her. “Deirdre.” He slurred the word, eyes half open.
She shot up from her seat and stood next to him. “Hey, you’re awake. I’m right here.” Taking care with the IVs in place, she grasped his hand. “Your folks know what’s going on.”
“Dinner?”
She glanced at Amberlyn and Clyde, who both immediately studied some patterns on the floor.
“Typical, huh?” she said. “I keep saying how our crazy schedules don’t line up well these days.”
“Deirdre.” A faint smile shifted his expression. “Stay.” His voice was a few decibels above a whisper.
Tears burned behind her eyelids, but somehow Deirdre held herself together. “Oh, sure,” she said too lightly. “I’ll be right here when you get back from CT.”
“Talk later. Scan now,” Dr. Tipton scolded gently.
Her concerned, tight expression belied the soft tone of voice. She was worried.
Calvin winced. “I make a terrible patient.”
“You’re not wrong.” The doctor tapped her foot. “Let’s get this taken care of. Then if you’re nice, I’ll let you read your own radiology images.” After the nurses wheeled him away to the scanner, she turned to Deirdre and studied her for several seconds. With a sigh, she said, “Technically, I can’t tell you anything as you’re not family.”
“I won’t ask. Don’t worry.”
“He talked to you, which is good. Also, he said he wants you in the room. So later, when you’re in the room with him per his request, if you happened to overhear me discussing his condition and my findings, then so be it.”
“Thanks, Dr. Tipton.”
She gave Deirdre a quick hug. “You can call me Lee, you know.”
“Yes, but not in a professional setting.”
She patted Deirdre on the upper arm. “You know, you don’t always have to be on the clock or setting a good example. Sometimes it’s okay for people to know you’re human.”
Deirdre rocked back on her heels. All of the work she did day in and day out to make this hospital chug along, to train and employ excellent nurses and other staff, to maintain safety and professionalism—it really had dug into her entire psyche.
Dedication to the job had become another form of armor. Protective, yes, but it also insulated Deirdre from everyone around her. Professionalism had kept her from dealing with the more painful parts of her life. There wasn’t much else to say but, “Point taken. Thank you.” Deirdre wandered to the back of the ED work area. She sat down hard and thought even harder about so many parts of her life.
Twenty minutes later, the automatic doors to radiology opened, and staff wheeled Calvin back to his room. He beckoned for Deirdre to join them, and she eased in after them and pulled up a chair at the bedside. He reached out and she laced her fingers with his.
After the leads had been reattached and another set of vitals reassured everyone, Deirdre asked him, “What happened?”
It seemed like his eyes took a few seconds to focus on her. He squinted, like the dim light was still too bright. “I don’t completely remember,” he mumbled, speech and mouth movements sluggish. “Last thing I remember was Randy pulling up. He wanted to talk about access to the property.” His eyes popped open. “Two other people got out of that car. Then blammo , lights out. This”—he waved his hand weakly—“could have happened to one of my parents.”
Deirdre’s blood iced. Randy did this? He was more determined than she had expected. Now, he brought friends and had hurt Calvin. Who else would he harm to get what he wanted?
She sent Mav a text to keep his eyes open and check the lodge and the dog team. Then she sent a vague and HIPAA-compliant text to Steve Wright so he could have the people in the Koyukon village stay extra vigilant. He promised to give the other property owners and the mayor a heads-up as well.
“I know this is not how you planned to spend the evening,” Calvin said.
Despite the situation, her face warmed. “There are worse ways to spend it.”
“Thank you for being here.”
“Your parents will arrive tomorrow midday. They’re worried about you. Hope you don’t mind but I’ve been sending them updates.”
“Of course.” He turned his head and groaned.
“You okay?”
“Dizzy every time I move my head. It takes a few seconds for my brain to process what I’m seeing or hearing. It’s like walking through mud, mentally.” His half-pained chuckle made her heart flop. “Now I have more sympathy for patients with head injuries.”
“Not that you needed any. You’re pretty compassionate.”
“Says who?”
“Says your initial Press-Ganey patient satisfaction scores.”
His face, still half ruddy from the cold exposure, creased in an uneven smile. “Are you ever not on the clock as an administrator?”
“ Hmph. ” She let go of his hand and held up a finger. “Hang on while I answer this text from your mother.” She paused, typed, and said out loud, “They’re all settled in for the evening at the hotel in Fairbanks.”
“Good.” He blinked and winced. “Say, can you dim the lights some more? It’s really bright.”
She frowned at the low lights but lowered them even further. “Sure.”
Dr. Tipton stepped into the room. “Knock, knock. How are you feeling?” Her thoughtful expression encompassed both Deirdre and Calvin and the dim light.
“Frankly? Confused and fuzzy. Head hurts like a beast. Chunks of my memory seem to be missing.” Once again, he reached for Deirdre’s hand. “What’s the prognosis?”
“So, radiologist says this is a subdural hematoma.”
“Well, that’s better than epidural hematoma.”
“True. You want to see the scan?” Dr. Tipton turned toward the computer screen.
“No. The light bothers me, and I don’t think that I can focus. Or that I should try to,” he said.
“That’s reasonable.” She paused, concern drawing her light brows together. “So. You probably know the drill. I spoke with the neurologist in Fairbanks.”
“Is it big enough that they need to do a burr hole?” he said. “Like I need a hole in my head, huh?” How could he joke at a time like this?
Deirdre squeezed his hand.
Dr. Tipton gave a brief chuckle. “If you needed to have pressure relieved emergently, the chopper would already be en route to fly you out.” She wiggled her fingers at him. “And before you ask, no, I won’t do it myself. Unlike you fancy ED doctor-types, this family doc doesn’t want to do major surgery at the bedside.”
“Admit it. For a second, you thought about it.”
The secret smile she gave sent a shiver down Deirdre’s spine.
“Fairbanks was prepared to walk me through it.” Oh God, she was serious.
Deirdre spoke up. “Okay, you cowboys. No more discussion of brain surgery in Yukon Valley. Please. You two are a little scary in how much you seem to like this stuff.”
“Inappropriate humor makes hard things better,” he said.
“The fact that you can make jokes is reassuring,” Dr. Tipton said. “We need to watch you overnight. Neuro checks every hour.”
He nodded and glanced at Deirdre, explaining. “This could be my lucid interval. With epidurals the window of clarity is generally four hours. With subdural hematomas, there’s no upper limit to the time when the subdural could suddenly expand.” He explained it like he was teaching a medical student. Clinical. Objective.
Deirdre processed the information. She couldn’t breathe.
He was saying that he could quickly get worse and lose brain function or die. That was no joke. “Shouldn’t you be in Fairbanks, then? Closer to the specialist?”
“Neuro didn’t think so, though I’m happy to push for transfer if you want,” Dr. Tipton said. “They felt that the subdural was small. The chance of progression is low, and weather looks good if you have to fly in the next few days. We have good options available right now. In the meantime, we’ll rescan in twelve hours. If the neuro exam changes or the subdural grows, then you’ll get that complimentary trip to Fairbanks.”
Calvin nodded, with a wince. “Good.”
Deirdre unwrapped her fingers tightly clutched around his.
Dr. Tipton continued, “As for the hypothermia, you seem to be doing much better with the warmed fluids and the heated-air blanket. We’ll continue with telemetry monitoring overnight, but the chance of an arrythmia is low at this point.”
Calvin smiled. “Much appreciation for your choice of monitoring my temperature, by the way.”
The doctor actually giggled. “True. If you hadn’t regained consciousness or telemetry showed abnormal rhythms, you know which core temperature probe I’d be using.”
“Yowch.” Calvin’s eyebrows shot up, then he gave an exaggerated wince.
Dr. Tipton glanced back behind her at low voices coming from the work area. “Law enforcement wants to talk with you at some point. I’ll need to provide them my medical findings.”
“Share any information they need. I can give my statement now.” His gray eyes met Deirdre’s for a second. “That way, if my condition changes, they have the necessary information.”
Despite the warmth in the room, a chill walked bony fingers down Deirdre’s spine.
If his condition changes.
If his subdural expands and he dies.
Calvin wasn’t in the clear yet.
“Right. Let’s get you tucked in for the evening. As luck would have it, I’m also your attending doctor for admission.” She did a jazz hands move. “Ta-da, rural medicine.” Then she turned and exited.
He locked eyes with Deirdre again. “I am a lucky guy in more ways than one.”
Air lodged in her lungs and wouldn’t budge. Deirdre had witnessed luck fail in the face of relentlessly progressing medical conditions.
She knew, better than most, that luck might not be enough.
But by God, she was going to remain by his side.