(2008) Down Where My Love Lives (48 page)

WHEN I CAME TO, AMOS WAS GONE. THE PARAMEDICS had my clothes off and were gingerly checking me for burns. Evidently I had escaped real damage. I'd been singed pretty badly, but I'd heal. They let me breathe some oxygen a few minutes to clear my lungs, but my tank had taken pretty good care of me. My throat was scratchy, my skin felt as if all the moisture had been sucked out of it, and in general I felt like a piece of smoked barbecue.

I walked up the bank in my boxer shorts and accepted a blanket from a paramedic who was handing them out. The ambulance carrying Amos disappeared down the road, and I knew I needed to collect Maggie and Amanda and then get to the hospital. I knew Amos had been breathing when we started out of the church, but after that, I wasn't so sure. And as for Pastor John, I wasn't so sure either.

I took one last look at the church, but there wasn't much to see. Nothing standing but some charred remains and a black residue that in the nighttime spotlight of the fire trucks looked like tombstones in a cemetery. I jumped into the van, pegged the accelerator, and wished for some Gatorade.

Amos's house was quiet and dark. I pulled into our drive and around the back of the house and parked the van. I ran up the back steps calling for Maggie, then came to a sudden halt. The screen door had been ripped off the hinges.

I stepped into the kitchen, which looked as though it had been hit by a tornado. The table sat upside down, two chairs were missing, and the other two lay on their sides in the hallway leading to our room. Pots and pans littered the floor, drawers had been pulled from the cabinets and dumped, and every utensil we had lay scattered like leaves around the room. What glasses we used to own now lay in ten million shards across the floor.

"Maggie!"

I tiptoed my way through the kitchen and stood in the den. My drum that had been sitting atop the mantel now lay on the floor with a kitchen knife sticking through the middle. The coffee table lay upside down, and the couch was turned on its side.

"Maggs!"

I ran down the hallway, dodging furniture, shoes, and lamps. Whatever had happened here, Maggie had put up one hell of a fight. I reached the door to our room and heard Blue growling. I turned the corner, and there in the corner sat Blue, crouched over the figure of Maggie, who lay crumpled on the floor in a bloody mess.

"Maggs!"

She was breathing, but her face was puffy and purple. Her lips were cut, her eyes almost swollen shut, and her shirt had been ripped off. Blue whined and nuzzled me, and he, too, was bloody.

I gently picked her up, bringing gurgled coughs and moans of pain from her bleeding mouth. She put one arm around me while the other hung limp. I carried her gently to the van and laid her down in the back. Blue hopped in and lay down next to her, careful not to nudge her. I climbed into the driver's seat, cranked the engine, and pulled out of the drive.

And then I saw the smoke trailing out of the soffit above Amos's kitchen. Shining through the window, a single flame rose up toward the ceiling. I looked down at Maggie's swollen and bloody face and shoved the stick into drive. I didn't let off the accelerator until we reached town.

I drove into the emergency room entrance and found one of Amos's newest deputies directing traffic. He tried to route me into the parking lot, and I almost ran him over. I pulled up in front of the double glass doors and opened the side door to lift Maggie out. The deputy ran up alongside me and shone a light in my face. When he saw it, and Maggie, he got out of the way and told others to do the same.

I put my hand on his shoulder and said, "Fire at Amos's house."

I lifted Maggs from the car and walked through the doors, Blue close on my heels. The receptionist took one look at me and immediately got on the phone. Two seconds later she punched a button and pointed, and the door marked Medical Personnel Only opened. I walked through and followed her to a brightly lit room that was filling up with nurses and techs. One nurse pointed at the bed, and I laid Maggie down gently.

I brushed the sticky hair out of her face, and she tried to smile. She said something, but I couldn't understand. I leaned over, and she tried to speak again, but she coughed, spitting blood. Finally she pulled me closer and whispered, "What took you so long?"

That's when the tears came.

God, please take care of my wife.

A nurse was cutting off Magpie's jeans, and another put her hand on my shoulder and led me away from the table. Amanda walked in then, dressed in flowery scrubs.

The nurse sat me down in a chair nearby and then returned to Maggie's bedside. When they finished cutting off her clothes, Amanda brought them to me and laid them next to my chair. She touched me gently on the shoulder and returned to Maggie.

I wondered about Amos and her dad, but her being here told me enough of what I needed. I picked up the clothes and studied them. The seat of Maggie's jeans was sticky, stained dark red, and under the light, I noticed that the tops of my arms were too.

THE STAFF GOT MAGGS COMFORTABLE, WASHED HER CUTS and nicks, gave her something to take the edge off, and put several pads beneath her. Then they rolled her down the hall for X-rays and a CT scan. Everywhere she went, Amanda went too. I sat in the room staring at the terrazzo.

A few minutes later they wheeled her back in, and I stepped up to the side of her table. Maggs had been crying, but she was doped up pretty well. Amanda, holding a fresh pad, nodded at me. I gently lifted Maggie's bottom off the bed and held her there while Amanda pulled off the old and put down the new. Amanda's face was pain-stricken.

I tried to speak. "When I left, your house was ..."

She nodded but didn't take her eyes off Maggie. "I know."

Dr. Frank walked in soon after, spoke with the attending physician, and walked to the other side of the bed. A nurse followed, rolling what looked like an ultrasound machine.

They squirted a bunch of jelly across Maggie's tummy and then began waving the wand around her belly button. Maggs was having a hard time keeping her eyes open.

Amanda walked around the bed, tears rolling off her cheeks, and locked her arm inside mine. She stood next to me while Dr. Frank watched the screen.

The other nurses talked in hushed tones, and not even Dr. Frank said much. I heard a shuffling at the door and turned to see Amos standing in the doorway, wearing a hospital gown and leaning on a crutch. An oxygen mask loosely covered his mouth, while a nurse held an ice pack to his head. He looked as bad as I'd ever seen him. Some red-colored goo covered both his ankles and calves, and his head looked as though it had been hit with a bowling ball.

He shuffled over, sat next to me, held the oxygen mask close to his face, and breathed deeply. He coughed, breathed deeply again, and said nothing.

Amanda took the ice pack from the other nurse and held it gently on the back of his bald and blood-smeared head. He grabbed her hand, she squeezed his, and still neither one said a thing. Amos sniffled, bit his lip, and pulled the mask away from his face. His eyes were beyond red, and I noticed that his eyebrows and eyelashes were singed and had been mostly burned off. He breathed again. "I came as soon as I heard."

I thought for a minute. The room was mostly quiet. Whenever someone spoke, they did so in a reverent whisper. People seemed to tiptoe around. I looked from Amos to Maggs and back to Amos. "Heard what?"

A tear fell off Amos's face. He pointed with the oxygen mask. "That ... that Maggs was ... was ... is ... losing the baby."

I KNELT NEXT TO THE BED AND BRUSHED HER HAIR behind her ear. Maggie's eyes were closed because they had given her something to relax her and help her sleep. They'd found at least three broken ribs and thought she'd do better if she could sleep eight hours or so. Her face was pale and bruised and still needed cleaning. I turned to Amanda and opened my mouth, but I didn't even need to ask.

Amanda brought some gauze pads and solution, and I gently cleaned Maggs's face and shoulders while Amanda washed her arms and legs. Amanda looked tired and worried.

I spoke softly. "How's your dad?"

She nodded and reached for my hand. "He'll make it. They'll keep him tonight, but it's just routine. Momma's with him now."

When we finished, I patted Maggie dry, covered her with a new gown and several blankets, and then lifted her again while Amanda changed the pad beneath her. It was spotted dark red and dotted with blackish clots.

Amanda rolled the pad inside itself, placed it in a bag, and looked at me with tears pouring off her face. Her bottom lip was quivering. Amos stood looking out the window, blinking a lot and crying.

Dr. Frank came in and pulled me aside. He was wearing jeans, running shoes, a team shirt for what looked like his kid's T-ball team, a white coat, and his stethoscope. He said, "Her injuries are many, but physically she'll recover. Whoever did this was pretty strong, but Maggie's tough." He tried to smile. "She's proven that." His forehead wrinkled with concern. "As for the pregnancy. . ."

He pointed at Amanda, straightening the pads beneath Maggie. "This will continue for another hour, maybe longer. Women's bodies do this at different paces." He looked as if what he was saying pressed down on his shoulders and made it difficult to breathe deeply. "We just have to wait it out." He sat me down, placed the clipboard on his lap, and said, "There's one other thing."

I tried to listen, but it sounded to me as if he were talking out of a barrel. The echo in my ears slurred the words, and all I wanted to do was cradle Maggie's head in my hands and tell her everything would be okay. We'd be okay. As long as she woke up, we'd make it.

Dr. Frank turned a pen over in his hand. "Has she been running a fever?"

I shook my head. "No." I looked at Maggie. Her temples were sweating, and yet her face looked pale. "Well, I don't think so."

"She has one now. Low grade. 'Bout a hundred. But based on her blood work, I think she might have had it awhile."

"What do you mean?"

He shook his head. "I don't think whoever did this"-he waved his hand across Maggie's bed-"did that." He pointed to the pad. "I don't think they're connected. The one might have brought on the other a bit faster, but I think the clock has been ticking and this would have happened, or was in the process of happening, anyway. I need to run some more tests."

He put his hand on my shoulder. "Let's get through tonight. We've got her on some antibiotics now, so let's worry about tomorrow, tomorrow."

Amanda dipped herself under Amos's shoulder and helped him limp out of the room.

When they got halfway to the door, I whispered, "Hey, Ebony?"

Amos turned.

"Your house was .. .

Amos nodded, and they walked out, leaving me alone with Maggie.

The machines that I had come to hate were now monitoring her every movement, breath, and heartbeat. I sat next to her wanting to unplug every single one, scoop her into my arms, and disappear out the front door. I'd put in my time here, in these halls, these rooms. I had no desire to do it again. I whispered in her ear and laid my hand beneath hers.

After an hour or so, I checked her feet, then searched the room for some socks. I changed her pad and cleaned the backs of her legs and bottom. Then I straightened her gown, pulled up the covers, laid a second blanket across her feet and shins, and pushed the nurse's call button.

In a moment a woman's voice said, "Yes?"

"Hi, um, do you know if there are any socks around here for the patients?"

The voice hesitated, then crackled back over the speaker, "Honey, give me a few minutes. I'll find you some."

Ten minutes later I heard heavy footsteps and then a slight knock on the door. A familiar face looked in. "May I?"

It had been almost eighteen months since I'd seen her, working the nurses' station on Maggie's hall. She had cut her hair, lost a few pounds, and was wearing makeup. She grabbed the tip of her name tag and held it under the light so I could read it: ALICE MAY NEWSOME, SERVING 40 YEARS.

I stood, realized that it hurt to do so, and braced myself against the wall. "Hi, Allie. You look good. It's good to see you."

She hugged me and handed me a pair of socks. "Hey, honey, how's your girl?"

I shrugged. "She's tough, but ..." I accepted the socks and gently tugged them onto Maggie's feet.

Allie had disappeared. In a few minutes she was back with a really hot cup of coffee, another blanket, and a pair of scrub pants.

"For you." She pointed at my clothes. "Thought you might be cold."

I looked down for the first time since being in the hospital and noticed that I was still dressed only in my boxer shorts and the socks I'd been wearing beneath my rubber boots.

JUST BEFORE DAYLIGHT, AMOS RETURNED. HE WAS LIMPING; his right calf and shin were wrapped in gauze and looked goopy with some sort of greasy brown medicine. All of it was held in place via some fishnet-looking thing.

His flip-flops, shorts, and aftershave told me he'd showered, and the small black duffel bag tucked under his arm told me he'd been by my house. He handed me the duffel, and it smelled like smoke.