Chapter Fifty-Three
Mimi stood outside the door of Kara’s hospital room. Inside, Kara lay in a toxin-induced coma from the antifreeze, her beautiful face marred with scratches and bruises, and six stitches arched just above her right eye.
“She’s lucky to be alive.”
Mimi turned toward Dr. McCall’s confident voice, feeling like a failure.
“If she’d gone twenty-four hours without ethanol after drinking the antifreeze, she would have most likely experienced renal failure, and, well, she wouldn’t be here right now.”
Mimi covered her quivering lips with her hand. It’s all my fault. The words echoed inside her head.
Dr. McCall continued, “The ethanol in the alcohol she ingested prevented the antifreeze from metabolizing into a deadly toxin.”
Mimi lifted her eyes.
He put a hand on her shoulder, and looked into her eyes. “You saved her life, Mimi.”
Tears streamed down Mimi’s cheeks. “What happens now?”
“Now.” He looked through the glass door at Kara, lying still on the hospital bed. “Now we treat her, and we hope for the best. We’ve started her on a Fomepizole drip, which has the same effect as the ethanol, with fewer side effects.”
Mimi’s next question stuck in her throat like sandpaper. She cleared her throat. “Will she be okay?”
Dr. McCall took a breath, then said, “We’ll monitor her closely, and if need be, we’ll start her on hemodialysis, which would clear the antifreeze and toxins from her body.”
“Why not do that now? Why wait?” Mimi looked at Kara, wishing she could make this all go away.
“We’re on top of it, Mimi. We’re monitoring her carefully. Let us do our job. Your job is to be with her and take care of yourself and your husband, who’s in the next room.”
Ted. They’d pulled bullet fragments from his oblique muscles, which the shot had blown right through. He’d lost a lot of blood and had several broken ribs, but he’d live.
“When will she wake up? Will she have any serious, long-term effects?” Mimi didn’t wait for his answer. “I…I read in Roland’s notes that antifreeze can cause heart failure,” she said.
Dr. McCall looked down the hall, watching a heavyset nurse approach. “We’re monitoring her carefully for congestive heart failure.”
Mimi’s hand flew to her chest. Her pulse sped up. “Congestive heart failure?” Oh, God, please no.
“Dr. McCall, here are those tests you asked for.” The nurse handed him a chart, and dropped her eyes as she walked by Mimi.
Dr. McCall flipped through the chart. He rubbed the back of his neck.
“How long will she be in a coma?” Mimi asked in a meek voice.
“I’m sorry.” He looked up from his chart and met her worried gaze. “We just don’t know.”
Grant worried about the neighborhood grapevine, and what tomorrow might bring.
When they’d driven away from the plant, the FBI had just arrived.
Curious residents were already huddled together in murmuring groups.
Gossip spread like cancer in their small town.
He’d been vague with his answers to the Herald Mail reporters, not wanting to expose Mimi and Kara to any more chaos than they’d already been through.
He knew that no matter what he said, they’d fall prey to inappropriate stories and weeks, maybe even months or years, of finger pointing and assumptions.
He stood in the corridor of the hospital by the coffee machine, watching Mimi talk with the doctor.
Her shoulders were rounded forward, her face a puffy, scathed mask.
The desire to hold her was so strong, he could feel his heart tugging him in her direction.
His legs moved as if they were separate entities from the rest of him.
The doctor walked away as Grant arrived by Mimi’s side. He thrust his hands in his pocket to avoid the impulse to pull her to him.
“It’s finally over,” he reassured her.
Mimi tilted her head up and smiled. Faint lines surrounded her eyes. Creases ran down from the ends of her lips. The shadow of worry had not lifted. If anything, it had become even more pronounced.
“It’s not over, Grant,” she said. “It’s only just begun. Kara will never trust me again, that is, if—” She looked into Kara’s room, and covered her mouth with a trembling hand. “If she’s okay.”
Grant took a step closer to her. “She’ll be okay.
It’ll be okay. One step at a time.” He turned toward Ted’s room, then back toward Mimi.
Ted had proven his love for Mimi and Kara.
He’d shown more courage than most men possessed.
Grant had no right to hope for anything to come between Ted and Mimi, not even him.
“Ted, he’s a good man, Mimi.” He nodded, as if reassuring himself of this fact. “He risked his life for you and Kara.”
A tear slipped down Mimi’s cheek.
Grant wiped his face, turning away from the tears that threatened to give away his heart. “Smitty took a hit to his shoulder, but…but he’s gonna be just fine, and Jackson—”
“Jackson.” Mimi shook her head. “This touched so many lives, Mitch. How can I ever make it up to them? Nancy, Smitty.” She thought of the helicopter airlifting Roland away, and the relief that had swept through her when the EMT said, “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about this guy again.
” Her eyes filled with tears. “Dean, Paul, and Keith.” Mimi covered her face, crying uncontrollably.
Mitch put his arm around her, guiltily drinking in the feel of her body against his.
Mimi pulled back. “That officer from Chambersburg?”
“He’ll be okay. A few broken bones. All part of the job.” In that moment he was thankful for Ted’s courage. He told himself to be happy for Mimi’s friendship, knowing—accepting—there would never be room for anything more. “Mimi, what happened, it’s horrible, but it’s not your fault.”
“Three young men died because of me, Mitch.” She turned away. “I never should have come back here.”
“Mimi.” He wouldn’t let her feel guilty.
Mimi turned toward him.
“Life happens, Mimi. People try to help, and sometimes they get hurt.” He thought of his own heart, restrained by strings no one knew existed. “That’s the risk we take for those we care about.”
Mimi held his gaze.
Mitch pulled his eyes away, looking in the direction of the nurse’s station. “Well, I’d better get back to Sergeant Agnew. I hear he’s giving the nurses hell.”
Mimi reached for his arm as he turned to walk away. Her touch sent a zing of heat through his chest.
“Mitch.” Something deep hung in her eyes. “Thank you,” she said.