Chapter Forty-Eight
An antiseptic smell coaxed Chelsea awake, but it was a slice of bright light that finally pulled her eyes open. Then pain throbbed.
She fought against the hurt and found her bearings. The light was coming from the space between the hospital curtains.
Chelsea closed her eyes and rolled over. Once her equilibrium settled again, she opened her eyes. The overhead lights were turned off, and the busy sound of a hospital emergency room came into focus, and she touched the thick bandages on her neck. The day came rushing back.
Oh, she ached. Her wound pulsed, and if she turned the wrong way, tape pulled at her skin. Can’t I get a pain killer?
Then the overwhelming recollection of Zee Zee Mars zapped the last of her strength, churning her stomach. But the threat of another bombing hadn’t made her nauseous. Zee Zee believed that they were related.
That they were sisters…
Every bombing had been nothing but a plea for attention from a mother who had given up a child.
How would her mother feel? Chelsea wondered if that was the first time she’d thought of that question. The selfishness made her sick, then an unfamiliar need to speak with her mother made her sit up.
The phone in her emergency room bay wasn’t easy to reach, but she grasped it and eased back onto the bed. After a failed attempt to reach an outside line, she connected with the operator and convinced the woman to patch her through to the same phone number Chelsea had had as a child.
After three long rings, her mother answered with prim perfection that had haunted her for decades. “Kilpatrick residence. Hello?”
“Mom?” she croaked through a mixture of emotion and a dry throat.
After a long pause, her mother said, “Chelsea?”
Tears pooled in her eyes and slipped free. Years of resentment and frustration fizzled away with her new understanding, and she didn’t know where to start. “I’m so sorry.”
“Chelsea?” Worry poured through the phone. “Is that you?”
Her eyes squeezed shut, and she nodded. “I didn’t know.”
“Know what? Are you okay?” her mother asked, then muttered, “I always knew that job would get you hurt one day.”
There was no other way to ask what she needed to know, and she blurted out, “Did you have a baby before me?”
Her mother gasped then scolded her, “Young lady—”
Chelsea sniffled. “I met her today.”
The silence on the phone line was a powerful answer, then her mother whispered, “You can’t understand. You—” Another painfully long pause. “I couldn’t bring a baby into the hell I lived in.”
Chelsea didn’t know what to say.
“She went to a good place. A good home.” The only emotion that Chelsea had ever heard from her mother cracked. “I was—I—”
“You were just a child,” Chelsea offered.
“Is she…”
Her mother didn’t finish the question, and Chelsea wasn’t sure where her thoughts were going. All right? Alive? A victim? A criminal? Dead?
Finally, Chelsea promised, “She’s going to be all right.”
Zee Zee would likely go to prison or maybe a psych facility, but she’d get her mother’s attention.
No one could erase the past, but maybe this was the start of a healing process. “Mom?”
After a painfully long wait, her mother whispered, “Yes?”
Chelsea wanted to gather her mom into a hug, even if she couldn’t even remember them embracing before. “I want you to know that I—” Understand? Appreciate? Forgive? Her heart trembled. “I—”
“I love you, Chelsea. Even if I didn’t tell you.”
She sobbed, unable to have needed those words any more. “I love you too.”
Chelsea wrapped up the phone call with a promise to explain more later. She mustered enough strength to hang up the phone when the curtain pulled back and a woman’s concern reached her ears.
“Careful.” She extended her hand. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Dr. Nguyen.”
Chelsea scooted back onto her hospital bed, and they shook. “Nice to meet you.”
The doctor’s pleasant demeanor showed through as she did a quick once over. “I was told you’d spring back up.”
Chelsea racked her brain to recall meeting other doctors and nurses earlier, but her memory was hazy. “You weren’t here before?”
“No.” Dr. Nguyen took a tablet from her white medical coat pocket. “Dr. Due initially assessed you, and Dr. Little from plastic surgery stitched you up. Now you have me.”
She raised her eyebrows at her list of doctors. “Oh. Wow.”
Dr. Nguyen nodded. “You came in at shift change. Always a bit of a shuffle.” She took out her light and had Chelsea follow her finger then ran through a battery of quick tests.
“There is a raised concern about infection with human bite marks, but given the day you’ve had, I’d say that you did well. The news says you’re quite the hero.”
She blushed. “Oh, I, uh…”
“Forget I mentioned it.” Dr. Nguyen returned her tablet to her pocket. “Do you have any questions?”
About a thousand, but until that point, none had to do with the pain that dully throbbed in her neck and at the back of her skull. She shifted on the uncomfortable hospital bed. “Are you discharging me?”
“There’s no reason to keep you.” Dr. Nguyen nodded. “The nurse will come by with your paperwork. How to clean the wound, how often to change the bandage. Other than that, we did a workup, and you are completely healthy. Just make a follow up appointment with your regular doctor immediately. Okay?”
Chelsea could recall learning once how a dog bite was cleaner than a human bite. “I don’t need antibiotics?”
“In situations like yours, we prefer to wait out the healing process. If there’s a sign of infection, then there are some antibiotics that would be appropriate. But your doctor would know what works best for you.”
Who knew neck wounds had their own set of rules?
She also wanted to address her pain. But Chelsea hesitated to ask for pills. Maybe they had read a report from Dr. Casper that said she might have an addiction. Dr. Nguyen might not want to give her a prescription.
Still, the wound was literally a pain in the neck. She pointed at her bandage. “What’s the best way to dull this?”
Her doctor smiled. “Great question. You can alternate cold compresses for swelling with a heating pad set to low. The warmth helps improve blood flow.”
“That’s it?”
“Unless you’re fairly high on the pain scale, we don’t suggestion pregnant women take pain relievers. But like I said, check in with your regular doctor, and—”
“What?”
Dr. Nguyen paused. Her head angled slightly, and she quickly assessed Chelsea’s reaction. “You weren’t aware that you’re pregnant?”
Chelsea grabbed the rails on the side of her bed. “No.”