Disaster Status (20 page)

“Okay,” Debra continued breathlessly, “good. So you’d be doing this for Mom. You wouldn’t even have to talk to him. It will be the same old Easter dinner. Just show up, kiss your niece and nephew, pet the dogs, and eat your roast lamb. Simple.”

Erin pushed the Windex bottle aside and sat. “Eat
what
?”

“Lamb. Roasted or braised maybe. Um . . . with turnips and baby carrots. And snow peas, I think. Anyway, it’s a French recipe. I’m sure it’s good, and—”

“Hold it,” Erin interrupted, familiar wariness making her skin prickle. “Turnips?”

Debra moaned. “Yes. Oh, why are you doing this?”

Erin rose, her cheeks stinging. “Because our family’s only vegetable is Tater Tots. Because we always have a store-bought ham for Easter, and the only thing French in Mom’s kitchen is the label on that squeeze bottle of mustard.”
Same old dinner?
Yeah, right
. She knew the answer before she asked the question. “Why all this sudden interest in fancy cooking?”

“She’s taking classes.” Her sister’s voice dropped to a mumble. “With Dad. They joined Dinners for Eight at the church. And go shopping together at the natural food co-op down in Folsom. Dad’s the assistant produce manager there now. He bought her a special set of saucepans, and they’re digging up a space for an herb garden. I’ve never seen Mom this happy—”

“That’s enough.” Erin pressed her fingers to her forehead. “I do
not
need to hear this.”

The silence made Erin think she’d lost the connection.

But then Debra spoke, and the change in her tone hit like a sucker punch. “Maybe you do need to hear this. He’s her husband. Our father. You were born a Calloway.”

Aagh . . . stay strong
. “And you’ve forgotten everything he’s done to her? to us? Why Mom’s worked two jobs the last ten years?
He’s
the reason she never had time to learn to cook. I’m sorry, but he can’t change everything by just showing up.”

“No.
You
can’t change things by dumping our family name, deleting Dad’s e-mails, or even hijacking Nana to the beach.”

“Hijacking?” Erin whirled around, and her foot bumped the stained glass she’d leaned against the bench. She dropped to one knee, steadying it with her free hand before it could fall over and shatter. “How can you say that? I brought her here because of the tax situation; if Nana doesn’t occupy this house for two years, she loses money when she sells. She can’t afford the loss. You know that. I moved here for her—
for her.
It’s what she needs to do.”

“What she
needs
—” her sister’s voice gentled again, and Erin felt a rush of homesickness—“is her family. Together again. All of us.”

Erin’s fingers clenched, at odds with the tightening of her throat.

“Erin?”

“I’m here.”

“Hannah’s started smiling now. Not those gas bubble thingies—real smiles. It melts my heart. And her bald spot’s coming back in reddish, like her auntie Erin’s. I don’t want you to see all that on a video clip; I want you here. I want Nana here and all of us around Mom’s table after Easter service. Please. Please say you’ll come.”

“Oh, Deb, I . . .” She choked and shook her head.

“It’s
Easter
. And . . . he’s changed. I was skeptical too at first. But Dad’s really changed this time. He’s doing great at that job. He’s making Mom happy, and he wants to tell you he’s sorry.”

Her stomach twisted.

“All you have to do is listen.”

Erin glanced down at the stained-glass sword and shield. How could she make her sister understand she couldn’t bear any of this again? She couldn’t take seeing fragile hope in her mother’s eyes, hearing her father’s inevitable excuses, then remembering the promises he’d break in the wake of his leaving . . .

“Can’t you do that? just listen to him?” Debra prodded.

“No,” Erin said after swallowing softly. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

After a few seconds of polite, disconnected conversation, Erin ended the call, certain she’d heard tears in her sister’s voice. And not entirely convinced she’d be seeing her nephew and her baby niece on her next visit to Placerville. Debra was capable of hijacking too, it seemed.
“We’ll be eating lamb on Easter. You know where to find us.”

Erin sat on her grandmother’s bench, tore a paper towel off the roll, and picked up the Windex. She’d shine the window hanging until it was as beautiful as Annie Popp’s sea glass. Then she’d hit the punching bag for thirty minutes straight. She’d sweat, get her heart pumping, her muscles strong, and her guard firmly back in place. Later she’d meet Scott at the marina near his house for a late lunch. She’d taken a vacation day and planned to meet him for a picnic when he got back from his errands. Then they’d drive together to the hospital; today was Cody’s MRI.

Scott would be there because he was the kind of man a family could count on. Unlike Frank Calloway, Scott was solid and stable. Her pulse quickened, remembering how he’d kissed her on the beach this morning. How it had felt like the beginning of something real, lasting.
Finally, Lord, finally.
Amazingly, she’d started to count on him too. Step by step and slowly, because it was the first time she’d allowed herself to do that in a long time.
But
it feels so good.

+++

Scott checked the truck’s clock—2:30—then revved his engine as he idled in traffic at the stoplight.
C’mon, c’mon. Hurry up.
When he’d called the hospital, they’d already taken Cody down for his MRI, and the way this commute was going, it looked like he was going to miss being there with him after all. But they’d said his grandfather was there, so that was good. The meeting in San Jose had taken longer than expected. It was obvious they were interested in hiring him. But even that didn’t matter now, because . . .

His grin spread as he stepped on the accelerator and moved forward again. He still couldn’t believe what he’d heard when he checked his phone messages at home. They were offering him the job, chief of emergency medical services for Portland Fire.
Chief.
It was the opportunity of a lifetime, a dream he’d thought was far beyond his grasp. A chance to prove himself. Colleen had understood how much he wanted that; she’d have been so happy for him.
Ah.
Scott’s stomach plunged, sadness twisting like a snarl of barbed wire. She was gone, the one person he wanted most to share this news with.

No, not the only person. Erin would understand. She was as ambitious about her own career, and . . . she cared. She really cared about him. The familiar warmth flooded back as he imagined telling her the news.

+++

Scott’s not coming
. Erin checked her cell phone one last time, then dropped it onto the picnic table she’d set with a tablecloth, bright Mexican napkins, and a last-minute addition: a few daisies tucked into the shell-embossed vase she’d given her grandmother years ago. She wasn’t sure which felt worse, the fact that Scott had stood her up without bothering to call, or that it all felt so very, very familiar
.

She took a slow breath of sea air that did nothing to stop the intruding memory. She’d been ten, gangly, freckled, and so awkwardly in between childhood and puberty. But the night of the Girl Scout Troop 687 father-daughter dance she felt like a princess for the first time in her life. She didn’t even mind that she’d had to ride to the church hall with the other girls and their fathers. Everyone knew that Frank Calloway, movie-star handsome, was flying in after very important business. On the phone the night before, he’d told Erin that he’d soon be crowned king of West Coast Insurance. He joked that next week she’d be riding in a Mercedes convertible; they’d buy a house in Granite Bay with a pool and join the country club.

She didn’t care about any of that. She only cared that this time he’d be there. Finally be there. Time would be tight because of the plane schedule, but he’d come. He promised. He’d teach her the fox-trot and twirl her in front of all the other girls. This time it would be true. He’d ordered the corsage of gardenias, hadn’t he?

When the hours passed, she’d told herself planes could be late, that traffic was fierce that time of the evening . . . and so what if the gardenias had started to turn a little brown around the edges? And then Pastor Ted began looking at her with the same woeful expression he wore with the bereaved, and the other girls put their heads close together, watching her and whispering, “He’s not coming.”

Erin stood, took a deep breath, then began stuffing everything back into the picnic basket—sandwiches, fruit, Mexican napkins, tablecloth. No, wait. She picked up her grandmother’s vase and dumped the daisies onto the ground. They’d already begun to remind her of gardenias. But mostly they told her she’d been a fool again.

+++

Scott stepped out of the elevator and strode down the pediatrics corridor, his thoughts tumbling. There were details to work out, of course. He’d be flying back and forth to Pacific Point. Or he could drive sometimes. Twelve hours, wasn’t it? But that was okay. He’d figure it out. Cody would be discharged soon, his stepfather was out of the woods, his grandfather would fill in the way he always did, and it would all be good. So good. Erin could even come to Portland for visits. There was the Mount Hood Jazz Festival, great hiking trails, museums, and . . .

He halted, confused for a moment as he caught sight of a man standing outside his nephew’s room. Why was he familiar? Tall, with broad shoulders, tan scrubs, hair pulled into a ponytail . . . Yes, that housekeeper from down in the ER. Sarge
.
Leaning on a broom with his back to Scott, his head cocked as if he were listening to something.

Scott’s chest squeezed as he heard the sound too. Cody.
Crying?
His grandfather would be there, but . . .

He crossed the last stretch of carpet at a jog, saw the housekeeper scuttle away, then hurried through the doorway, his heart in his throat. “Cody?”

His grandfather wasn’t there. Erin was. Sitting on the bed and holding Cody as he sobbed against her shoulder.

“Erin, what . . . ?”

She raised her gaze to his, her disappointment in Scott palpable. “He’s been waiting for you for more than an hour. There’s been some tough news.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Erin watched as Scott talked with Cody, her stomach in knots.
Why wasn’t he here? What could be so important that he’d break his promise to Cody?
Her heart ached as she saw the boy struggle to put on a brave face for his uncle. His chin quivered.

“Great-grandpa went to make a call,” he said after wiping his nose on the sleeve of his hospital gown. “They want to take me to that hyperbaric chamber. Tomorrow, I guess.”

Scott turned to look at Erin, his eyes clearly troubled. “Tomorrow?”

“He’ll have his IV restarted tonight, a first dose of new medication. Then he’ll get a cool ambulance ride to Rohnert Park. They want to start the first treatment tomorrow afternoon. There was some evidence of early osteomyelitis,” she added, praying she didn’t sound as worried as she felt. “With the infection spreading to the bone, they don’t want to delay. At least that’s what your grandfather understood.”

“My parents know?” Scott asked.

“That’s the call he’s making now. He was hoping you’d be here to explain it to them, but . . .” She shrugged, her stomach churning again.
You promised to be here and you weren’t.

Scott squeezed Cody’s hand. “I’m sorry I’m late, pal.”

Hugh appeared in the doorway, Jonah asleep in the pack strapped to his chest. “Scotty, my boy. Good.” He smiled though concern was evident in his age-lined eyes. “I told Cody he could count on you.”

“I’m going to leave now.” Erin nodded at Cody. “Hang in there, okay?”

“I will.”

She grabbed her purse and headed down the corridor.

Scott caught up with her. “Wait. Please.”

Erin wished she could stop the old familiar doubts from flooding back, wished he could say something that would change how she was feeling. “How could you do that? How could you promise that little boy you’d be there for him and not show up? Blowing me off for our lunch date is one thing, but—”

Scott’s mouth dropped open. “Lunch—I completely forgot. Things got crazy, and time slipped away. I haven’t even checked my messages. Did you call?”

“It doesn’t matter now. But things ‘got crazy’ enough that you couldn’t even make it in time for Cody’s MRI?”

Scott took hold of her hand. “That’s what I want to explain. Something did come up suddenly. I didn’t expect it would go anywhere, so I haven’t said anything to you. Or my folks yet.” He smiled, his thumb brushing her palm. “They’re offering me a position. Chief of emergency medical services at Portland Fire. I’m flying up Sunday afternoon. And I’ll meet with them first thing Monday morning.”

Portland . . . Oregon?
Her breath caught. “Wh-what?”

“Chief of EMS,” he repeated, taking her other hand as his eyes lit. “I still can’t believe it myself. You’re the first person I’ve told.”

Erin pulled her hands from his. “You’re moving away?”

“It’s not that far. A couple hours by air. Drivable, even. It’s only like—”

“I know where it is. I own maps.” She knew how stupid she sounded, but somehow her brain and tongue had disconnected . . . and her heart flopped uselessly in her chest.
He’s leaving them. Leaving me
. “I need to go home,” she finally whispered. “Right now.”

“I can tell you’re taking this wrong. I’ve got a plan. I’ll tell you all about it. Can you please listen?”

Listen?
Erin crossed her arms, remembering her sister’s voice on the phone. Pleading on her father’s behalf:
“All you have to do is listen.”
No. She’d already heard all the excuses for leaving your family, for breaking promises . . . for not caring enough to stay
.
She began to tremble, suddenly as cold as she’d been that Christmas Eve she’d waited on the porch for her father to come home. But now she was so much stronger.

“Erin? Will you listen to me?”

“No,” she said, anger mercifully replacing the cold. Bolstering her defenses.
Stay strong.
“It doesn’t matter to me whether you go or not. It’s not about me. But it’s not about
you
, either.” She pointed down the hallway toward Cody’s room. “They’re the ones who count on you. That wonderful old man in there, your parents who’ve been sick with grief and stress, and—” she was helpless to stop the tears that came despite the anger—“that sweet, sweet little boy who needs you to be there for him. Who pretends to be brave and cool, while he’s really feeling small and alone. He’s scared. And he has a right to be. There’s no guarantee that the hyperbaric treatments will stop the infection. He could lose his leg!”

Scott’s face paled.

“That’s right,” Erin continued, dismissing a stab of guilt. She caught sight of someone at the water fountain across from them.
Sarge?
She lowered her voice. “Cody could be facing surgery, and you’re making plans to move away. I don’t understand. I can’t understand. Ever.” She saw the pain on his face, but anger made her continue. “Cody wasn’t crying because of his leg. He was crying because he’s afraid of losing
you
.”

She stared at him for a moment, then hoisted her purse over her shoulder and strode toward the elevator.

+++

Leigh held the Kleenex box on her lap and gazed up at the altar. It was more of a raised podium, since the hospital’s chapel was nondenominational, and even more a multipurpose room these days. The morning of the pesticide disaster they’d tucked a family of nine in here, all clutching emesis basins. Chapel turned sickroom. But then, she had a hunch God would be okay with that.
Even if he’s not okay with me.

She glanced to where the afternoon sunlight shone through a modest panel of stained glass near the ceiling—pale, translucent amber, with a simple white dove. It was the one element that made the room seem like a church, and she was grateful for it today, because—

“Leigh?”

“Don’t get your hopes up; I wasn’t signing your fellowship roster. I’ve been sitting with a patient’s family.” She sighed. “Charlene Bailey was taken off life support and died about an hour ago. No brain activity. It ripped their hearts out to let her go.”

Erin’s faced pinched with empathy as she walked to where Leigh sat. “I saw them outside the ICU and thought that might be happening. Her brain hemorrhage was so sudden. I can’t imagine losing someone that way. This is turning out to be one miserable day all around.”

Leigh raised her brows, noticing as Erin sat down beside her that her eyes were red-rimmed. “I can see that. Why are you here on your day off? Last time I saw you, you were taking off early for a date with Scott, and—” She stopped, alarmed as tears sprang to her friend’s eyes. Erin hardly ever cried. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” Erin pressed her fingers to her forehead, then groaned. “Yes, I do. It’s me. I’m a fool. Why did I think things could be any different this time?” She pulled a tissue from the box on Leigh’s lap. “Scott’s taking a job in Portland. He’s flying off Sunday to seal the deal. Then he’ll move there.”

Leigh grimaced.

“I’d actually convinced myself that he was special,” Erin said, dabbing at her eyes. “After all this time, I thought I’d finally found one of the good guys.”

Leigh tried not to think of Nick.

Erin folded the tissue, her gaze faraway. “All I ever wanted was to have what my grandparents had.” She faced Leigh. “I know that sounds completely corny and Old World. But what they had was real. They were there for each other no matter what. They didn’t put anything ahead of their relationship. Except God. And Nana always says that faith was the glue that held them together. You know?”

Leigh nodded, even though she didn’t know. She only knew what tore couples apart. “So because Scott’s going to be living in Oregon, you don’t think there’s a chance for . . . ?” She let her words trail off when she saw the look on Erin’s face. It was clear that this was about much more than geography.

“If you’re going to say that it’s only a short flight away, don’t bother. I already heard that one. Even under the best circumstances, most long-distance relationships are doomed.” She caught Leigh’s flinch. “I didn’t mean you.”

“I know. But you’re right. I’m seeing a lawyer on Monday.”

Erin gasped. “Oh, Leigh . . . I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “You were telling me about Scott.”

“It’s complicated,” Erin continued, concern for Leigh still visible in her eyes, “but I think the real problem is that we’re too different in too many important ways. I guess I needed to see that. I was crazy to let my guard down. I won’t do it anymore.”

Leigh had been in medicine long enough to tell when someone was being stoic in the face of pain. Erin was hurting far more than she let on. But what could Leigh offer? Some placebo cliché about darkness before dawn, being grateful for unanswered prayers? The fact was she’d pulled the plug on her own belief in happily ever after. And she was the last one who should offer advice. “Are you okay?”

“Of course. You?”

“Absolutely.” Leigh gazed at the peaceful dove soaring in sunlit amber glass, wondering if God could hear little white lies drifting upward from a multipurpose chapel.

+++

Scott sank into the lumpy vinyl chair, relieved Cody had finally dozed off. The night nurse had a difficult time restarting his IV; his veins were fragile after the antibiotics. Scott’s gaze moved to the series of bruises on his nephew’s arm, some fresh, some the yellowish brown of overripe fruit. He winced. Cody had squeezed his hand, trying hard to be a man and not cry. Scott was glad he’d been here for him. His jaw tensed as Erin’s angry words flooded back.
“How could you promise that little boy you’d be there for him and not show up? . . . He’s afraid of losing you.”

She was wrong, and he wasn’t going to let her words eat at him. He’d tried to get back here for the MRI. And he was here now. That’s what mattered. Cody wasn’t losing him. Scott was as much a part of his nephew’s life as he’d always been. He could easily do that from Portland. His family had always counted on him as the backup, the pinch hitter in an emergency. And he’d done that for his parents, his grandfather, Cody . . . Colleen
.
His stomach sank.

He shook his head, remembering the look on Erin’s face. Anger and disappointment. And worse. It was the same look she’d had that night on the beach in Santa Cruz when she’d talked about her father. About how he’d abandoned his family. She’d never believe Scott wasn’t doing the same thing. She’d refused to listen, or . . .

Scott leaned forward as Cody lifted his head. “I’m here, pal.”

“Oh.” He blinked, his eyes heavy lidded and sleepy. “I thought you left.”

“No. I’m staying.”

“All night?”

Guilt washed over Scott at the surprise in Cody’s voice. “Of course.”

Cody yawned. “You don’t have to. The nurses watch me at night, remember?”

“I remember. But I’m still staying. I’m family,” he added, then felt immediately foolish. Why had he suddenly needed to say that?

“Is Erin coming back too?”

Scott swallowed. “I don’t think so.”

“Will I see her before the ambulance picks me up tomorrow?”

Ambulance
. Erin’s words rushed back.
“He could lose his leg.”

“Uncle Scotty?” Cody’s voice prodded his silence. “Will we see her?”

“I don’t know. But I’m glad she sat with you during your MRI. That was nice of her.”

Cody bit his lip. “She wasn’t sure you’d be back.”

“Well, she was wrong.”
She’s wrong about me.

“I told her you’d come. You always do, if Grandma and Grandpa can’t or if Great-grandpa can’t or . . . you know.”

His nephew had just confirmed his credibility. Uncle Scotty could be counted on as backup. It had always worked that way. So what was suddenly making him feel strangely defensive about that setup? He glanced toward the hallway, where he’d stood just hours ago, sharing the news about his new job with a woman he thought would understand.

Erin was the reason he was feeling edgy. He’d never met someone so sure of her opinions. But she was wrong about Scott. About his move to Portland and about his family. His stepfather would be fine—stress wasn’t the problem. Grandpa Hugh was a rock, and Cody’s leg would heal and he’d go home. Scott wasn’t abandoning anybody. He was doing what he had to for his career. He had it all worked out. If only Erin would listen.

+++

Erin pulled her fleece jacket closer, goose bumps rising as the damp ocean breeze swept over her perspiring skin. The molten sun sank toward the sea, so much like a match dunking into a bucket of water that she half expected to hear a hiss. She thought of the first time she’d stood on this beach with Scott, when she’d teased him about playing Smokey the Bear with the beach campfire. It seemed so long ago and, sadly, so full circle. Because now they were at odds again. Maybe for the last time. Her chest cramped. Was what she’d said to Leigh true? Were she and Scott just too different about too many important things?