Chapter 19

 

Jared

 

 

He balanced her on one knee while he reclined the passenger seat, and laid her on it, wrapped in the blanket, with the corner over her face to keep her eyes shaded from the passing streetlights and the headlights of the traffic they were bound to meet. "Luckily," he remarked, "you don't have a lot of close neighbors. It would look a little odd, a stranger coming out of your house carrying you wrapped in a blanket."

She smiled, a lovely smile, considering the circumstances. "I don't even know the people down the hill. They just moved in this spring. The Drs. Wood, up the hill, I've known them forever, but they aren't here right now."

No, they were in Tuania, very excited about the new projections of the arches on Or2 as he had described them on the phone just yesterday; it was a reminder of who he had here, lying in his car with blood and bruises and possible broken bones. He would have to talk with her about that, he thought, but it seemed unimportant right now. He closed the door and went around to the driver's side. Thanks to Terry, everyone in the neighborhood had Dr. Frank's office in their nav units, just as they had his office number on their phones, so he punched it in and adjusted the speed as high as he dared in the city and put it on automatic. He wanted to pick her up, hold her safely as they went, but she was better off lying undisturbed on the car seat; he settled for a hand on the folded towel under the blanket. He thought the bleeding might be slowing down, which was good.

She had her eyes closed, but she opened them, a little warily. "Thank you," she said. "I know it sounds stupid about the hospital, but I just – " She brushed it off . "Who's Terry?" she asked, clearly looking for a different topic.

"He and his brother and sister board with neighbors of mine," he said. "Retired secondary school teachers; they board kids from off-planet attending schools here. Terry and Gina and Willis come from Linden's World, that's an agricultural planet. Willis is not actually in Bridgeton right now; he's at the Defense Academy."

"Oh, that's good," she said. "He must be very smart."

"Yes, he is." Jared couldn't help the pride in his voice; these were his kids. "A remarkable young man. Gina's thirteen, going into lower secondary this fall. Every bit as smart as Willis. Terry's ten. Very talented; at least I think so. He's the neighbor I mentioned learning music from the Duri group. But he's very active, too, and very accident-prone. Any time any of us call, Dr. Frank assumes it's going to be about Terry; it usually is."

"And you have Bahtan sisters, you said, and a Zamuaon couple?"

"Next door. School teachers. And on the other side I have a retired spacer couple." She seemed interested, distracted from the pain, so he went on talking, filling the space with words, keeping her attention on him and not her injuries. "Mimi and Clyde; they were explorers and traders for most of their lives. Al Crane lives across the street from them, by the Bahtan sisters. He was in Defense; he was a navigator on a survey ship. He's told Willis a thousand stories of his experiences. So he's a big influence; we tell him it's his fault Willis went away to the Academy instead of staying home with us and attending the Institute."

"You sound like it's family," she said; a streetlight flashed over her face and she closed her eyes tightly against it.

"Yes. In a way, we are. If you screamed there, the neighbors would break down the door in about two minutes. If a stranger tried to carry you off wrapped in a blanket, they'd be right on top of him. With questions. It could get pretty difficult if he didn't have the right answers. After all," he continued, glancing out the window; they were on Central and there was a lot of traffic, not to mention the bright streetlights, and he leaned over her, getting his shoulder between them and her face. "After all, we have some very tough people in the neighborhood. Mimi and Clyde fought against pirates. Al is trained in combat. Phyllis and Lillian, the ones the kids board with, taught for years at secondary, which is not, you know, for the delicate and faint of heart." She giggled and winced. "And Issio and Sofi teach at Multicultural Secondary, and Sofi practices ma/hifez. Green level." A blast of light came from a small convoy of highway freighters in the opposite lanes; he put his hand over her eyes until they passed, and she put her hand on top of his.

"This is horrible," she said. "This isn't what you planned to do tonight."

"Not at all. Or you either, so we need to get this taken care of and get back to what we were doing. Which I thought was going very well."

She peeked out around his fingers, with caution. "You were right," she said.

"Of course I was. What about?"

"I guess it wasn't what I was doing; it was the people I was trying to do it with," she said, with the ghost of a sparkle in her eyes. "I guess I might like it after all."

"We have to try it," he said, "to find out for sure. But I thought it was promising."

"Do you mean it?" she asked, getting to the point. "To keep trying? After all this – "

"Oh, I absolutely mean it. And I hope you're willing."

"Oh, yes," she said, with such conviction that he couldn't resist a quick kiss on her lips, only to remind both of them that better things were ahead.

They pulled into the alley behind Dr. Frank's place and Jared had barely got the car turned off when the back door opened and Dr. Frank looked out and waved. There was no one else in sight except for a long slender blond fellow lounging against the corner of the building at the end of the alley, watching them idly. Dr. Frank shoved a gurney in their direction; it sailed across the small space, antigrav humming, and bumped into the side of the car. "Keep her as still as you can," said Dr. Frank, wedging the office door open, and Jared carefully lifted his passenger out of the car and laid her on the gurney and took her hand; she held on very tightly. He nudged the gurney back toward Dr. Frank and shaded her eyes with his free hand as they went under the light above the door. "Lights bother you?" said Dr. Frank, closing the door.

"Yes, they make my headache worse," she said.

"Sounds like a migraine. You say you fell?" He diverted the gurney into an examining room, the only lighted one. "I'm Dr. Frank Curtis, by the way, and you're –

"Cara Lindstrom." She held her breath as Jared and Dr. Frank, working together, lifted her from the gurney to the table, and Dr. Frank angled the light away from her eyes and sent the gurney into the hall, where it hovered, bumping gently against the far wall. She gripped Jared's hand tightly, as if afraid he would leave her now that he had gotten her this far, a ridiculous notion. He smiled at her and took up a position beside the table, where she could see him.

"Yes, she fell in her house," he said, "hit against the corner of a big saegan wood desk."

Dr. Frank, unwrapping the blanket, nodded. "Oh, yes," he said looking at the towel, which showed a small bloodstain through its folds. "You do need to have that sealed properly." He lifted the towel, frowned at the bruises that had developed around the wound, and went to wash his hands and get out gloves and the infuser and the big sealer and shift the scanner to the table.

She had only cracked her ribs. Bruises would take longer to heal; breaks and cracks could be sealed, so that was good news. And the gash in her side, still oozing blood, was clean and would be simple to seal too. Her head was a little more complicated; Dr. Frank couldn't find any sign of an injury, although she was undeniably in pain. He tried the standard dose of pain killer in the infuser, and it had no effect either he or Jared could see.

"I might as well have used water," he said, peering into Cara's eyes; she tried hard to keep them open in spite of the light in the room. Jared moved his hand to shade her face again.

"I think I may be resistant," she said on an apologetic note, having caused Dr. Frank extra trouble. "They gave me trauma pills at Alliance General after Mother – they just made me sick."

"You and Jared here," said Dr. Frank, shaking his head. "His whole damned neighborhood, as far as that goes; they're all drug resistant. Maybe it's something in the water."

"Although," she said primly, with a peek at Jared, "I shouldn't make assumptions based on just one or two experiences."

"Insufficient information," he agreed, holding her hand, enjoying how her eyes sparkled with humor in spite of the pain.

"Insufficient medication," said Dr. Frank. "Let's try another dose. It should take hold while I'm sealing your side, here. I want you relaxed before I work on your ribs."

She was a little dizzy, she admitted, by the time he had the wound in her side closed and wiped off the trickles of blood. But her head was no better at all. ''Have you had headaches like this before?" Dr. Frank asked. "History of migraines?"

"I never have migraines," Cara said. "And I've never had a headache this bad."

"She hit her head. It has to be that," said Jared.

Dr. Frank ran the scanner one more time and sighed and triggered the infuser into her arm again. This time she blinked, hard, and her eyes became vague and unfocused; she clutched at Jared's hand with both of hers and he bent over her and kissed her lips lightly. "I'm right here," he said. "I'm staying right here. Just let go and trust me to take care of everything, sweetheart. Can you do that?"

She gave him one blurry look and a truly beautiful smile and closed her eyes. Her grip on his hand relaxed slightly, not entirely, and the rest of her body relaxed, too. "Three doses," muttered Dr. Frank. "I wonder how many it would take to put Terry out?"

"He has a smaller body mass," said Jared.

"But he's young, and he has a high activity level."

As far as that went, Jared was by no means sure that Cara was out of it either. She was certainly relaxed, but he could feel the pressure on his hand, tightening and loosening. She wasn't bothered by the sealing of her ribs, which was something, and she didn't seem to mind the lights any more, so perhaps her head hurt less. He hoped so; he found that headache disturbing.

So had Dr. Frank. "I should," he remarked, checking the ribs with his scanner, "put her in the hospital at least overnight. Observation. She shouldn't be alone."

"She won't be alone." said Jared, having already come to that decision, and felt her hand tightening around his; he squeezed her fingers as a silent reply. "Just tell me what I should watch for, and what I should do for her."

"You should take her to the hospital," said Dr. Frank, and looked at him, and sighed again. "Okay. She needs rest. Let her ribs and that wound in her side start to heal. We want to be aware of possible infection; watch for fever, swelling. I'll send antibiotics with you. Strong," he said, looking at the infuser. "As for her head – you want to watch for confusion, disorientation. Nausea. Dizziness. More than what you'd expect from someone who just had three doses of painkillers. I'll send some pills with you; be sensible, but I think it would be safe to double the dose; that's what I did with Willis, with his ankle." He eyed Jared. "I know you don't like drugs, but really, she was in a lot of pain – "

He'd do his best to avoid even a small dose himself, but Jared had no objection to anything that would ease Cara's pain. "No, that's fine," he said. "But I don't think we need trauma pills."

"I actually have patients ask for them," said Dr. Frank. "This kid fell out of a tree, and his mother was convinced he would have some sort of permanent phobia about trees if he didn't take the pills."

"Oh, hell," said Jared, grinning.

"Yeah, that's what I said," said Dr. Frank.

Jared put the antibiotics and the pain pills into his pocket, wondered if he should try to get Cara into a shirt, at least, if she would expect this or want it, but he had left her shirt and bra in the car, although he had managed to get his own shirt on, hanging open. And she was far enough out, he thought, not to care about a little nudity. He wrapped the blanket around her and shook his head at the gurney. "It's simpler this way," he said, lifting Cara in his arms.

Dr. Frank went with them to open the back door, and waited until Jared had eased her into the car, on the reclined front seat, and straightened the blanket and closed the car door. "Thanks," Jared said to him. "Seriously. Thanks. Tell Rose to send me the bill."

"No problem. Except now I have to go back to those damned records."

Looking down the alley, Jared was a little surprised to see the long slim figure of the blond man still there, leaning, crossed arms, against the building on the corner. He was oddly dressed in a sleeveless shirt and what looked like a winter-weight muffler around his neck, and he wore his hair long, tucked back behind his ears. He was watching Jared with no expression, but some attention; Jared thought it was a little odd, but he had important things to attend to, getting Cara home, for instance, and into bed, alone, regrettably, and unless this peculiar man turned up again, Jared didn't think he'd worry about it.

He got into the driver's side and looked at the lovely young woman lying beside him. She had her eyes closed and she seemed comfortable, which was good to see; he hoped it would last. He turned on the nav unit, punched "Return", and took her hand again; it closed around his at once.

"It's all right," he told her. "It's all over now. You can let go and sleep. When you wake up, you'll be in your own bed, and I'll be with you; you don't need to worry about anything. Cara. Sweetheart," he said, holding her hand, and she gave a deep sigh and smiled and, he thought, finally went to sleep.