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“I’m sorry, Mom. This will all be done in another few seconds.”
The flight nurse from Seattle is here, and he’s apologizing because he has to dig around with the needle before he can get my daughter’s veins to cooperate. Natalie doesn’t need any IV meds right now. They just want to have the port ready in case she needs treatment on the way to Seattle.
Everything’s gone smoothly so far. Natalie’s oxygen levels are hovering in the low nineties, with an occasional bounce to 88 or 89. Dr. Bell put her on one of those nebulizer machines earlier. Reminded me of that foster brother I used to tease so mercilessly for his asthma. I’m surprised I still remember Eliot Jamison. Wish I could look him up. Maybe it’d be good karma if I apologized to him.
Natalie looks ok to me, not blue or anything like that. And the flight nurse is taking his time. That’s got to be a good sign. No rushing around like she’ll die if we don’t get her to Seattle in the next half hour. I’m trying to tell myself everything’s going to be ok. They’ll take her to the Children’s Hospital, monitor her for a day or two, and send her home.
We could be back in Orchard Grove by Christmas.
Or not. I’ve already decided that if Jake doesn’t call me or at least text me to ask how everything’s going, I have no reason to return. Natalie and I can stay in Seattle. Find a place to live there. I’m so sick of medevacs already. Today’s the last time I’m going through something like this.
The flight nurse gets the IV port in place and tapes it to Natalie’s skin. “I’m sorry.”
I don’t know if he’s apologizing to me or my daughter.
Dr. Bell is at my side now, rubbing my shoulder. “Looks like they’re just about ready.”
I force myself to return her smile. “Thanks so much.” I hold her gaze for a moment. I hope she understands I’m grateful for so much more than her taking care of my daughter.
Small laugh lines soften around her eyes. She looks tired. I pray she doesn’t hate me for putting her through an ordeal like this. And right before Christmas, too.
“I hope everything goes well for you in Seattle,” she says.
I want to tell her merry Christmas, but I hate to admit I might be spending the holidays at the Ronald McDonald house like some kind of pathetic charity case, so I don’t say anything and end up looking like an idiot instead.
“I’m going to give you my cell number,” Dr. Bell tells me, grabbing a birth control pamphlet from the counter. “Let me know how she’s doing, ok?”
I bite my lip so I don’t make an even bigger fool of myself and start blubbering. She really cares about my daughter. How did we get to be so lucky?
I take the paper she’s holding out and nod my head. She understands I can’t talk right now. I’m sure she does. I know we’d be good friends if we’d met somewhere else, an exercise class or something. When you’re with her, you want to open up and be vulnerable, but it’s not like she demands anything from you. This whole ordeal she hasn’t even asked about Jake. Isn’t she the least bit curious where Natalie’s father is at a time like this?
I sure am.
A nurse enters the room, looking straight at me instead of any of the other workers. “Your husband’s here.”
He’s panting when he comes into the room, like he’s just run ten flights of stairs even though County’s small enough that everything’s on one level. “There you are.” There’s relief in his voice, so much so that I don’t rip into him right away for ditching us like that.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” he pants. “I left in such a rush I forgot my phone at home.”
It’s a reasonable excuse. Besides, I’m too sick with worry right now to stay angry at him. “Did you get the car?” I still can’t figure out why he’s so late or why he’s as winded as Eliot Jamison in the first stages of an asthma attack.
Jake shakes his head. “I went to the wrong hotel.”
“The wrong hotel?” It’s not like Orchard Grove has more than one to choose from.
He shrugs. “I got there, asked the guy at the front desk to let my mom know I was there, and he said she hadn’t checked in. Said he hadn’t had any new guests all evening.”
That’s so like Patricia. She gets my kid sick enough to land us another all-expense-paid flight to Seattle, and then she ditches town, leaving us stranded and carless.
Mother of the Year, right?
I don’t care that Jake’s late. Not anymore. But I do care about that witch stealing the Pontiac. Who does she think she is?
“What are you going to do?” I ask him.
“I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding. She probably went to one of the hotels off the highway or something.”
I call her a name I may regret tomorrow, but right now I’m not worried about etiquette. Jake bristles at my outburst but doesn’t get mad at me. “How’s Natalie?”
I don’t know if he’s asking because he’s anxious about her or because he wants to change the subject. “They’re getting ready to fly her back to Seattle.”
His eyes widen. “Seattle?”
I shrug. What was he expecting? County’s not the kind of place that can handle a sick kid like her. It was dumb to bring her back here in the first place. If she and I had stayed in Seattle, she’d already be getting all the x-rays and medicine she needs.
“We’re leaving in just a few minutes.”
“I’ll come with you,” he says.
“They only have room for one of us.” He already knows that. This is the exact same scenario we went through when Natalie was born.
“Then I’ll make the drive tonight and meet you there.”
It’s cute the way he wants to rush in and be involved, but he’s not thinking at all.
“What are you going to drive?”
Jake doesn’t have an answer for me.
A member of the flight crew enters the room. “We’re ready.”
I look at Jake, and he looks at me. This might be goodbye, but I’m not certain. Right now, I need to get Natalie to Seattle. All these questions about Jake and our relationship will have to wait until later.
“Call me as soon as you get there,” he tells me.
“Ok.”
We are as awkward as two strangers who just got set up on a blind date. I feel like we should hug or something, but everyone is watching. Waiting. Natalie’s got to get on that jet.
“Bye,” is all I say.
“Yeah. Bye.” Jake’s voice follows me out of the hospital room like a soulless echo.