In Your Embrace (10 page)

What if she is gone? What if she died alone and scared?
 What if I could have saved her if only I’d tried a little harder?

A cry rises from behind him and Timothy turns, grimacing at the pull of the muscles in his back.
 Flashing red lights can be seen down the road.  “Is that Charley?”

Daniel lifts his gaze and nods.
 “I think so.  Looks like they can’t make it down here.”

Timothy rises from his knees and spies a great tree that has fallen over the road two blocks away, lit by the ambulance's headlights.
 Charley could probably go around, but there’s no reason to think another street would be less damaged.

“We need to get a stretcher down here.
 Take Matthew and a few others and see if you can help.”

Daniel glances back at the dent they have made in the debris removal.
 They are only five or six feet in.  Hannah is at least five feet beyond that.  “I’ve got this, Daniel.”

His friend nods and shouts out to the men.
 They converge on him as he shouts directions and then spread out, clearing people’s memories and pieces of homes out of the road while Daniel and Matthew rush toward the ambulance.
Hang on, Hannah.  I’m coming for you,
he silently vows.

He grabs a splintered beam and yanks.
 It comes free but the pile behind him shifts, settling. A scream of pain from beneath the rubble pierces right through him.  “Hannah!”

Timothy no longer feels pain.
 No longer feels exhaustion or the strain in his muscles.  He works as fast and as hard as he can.  Brick and wood fly out behind him as he wildly chucks things aside.  
She’s alive!

“Just hold on!”
 He grunts, digging his boots into the waterlogged ground, shoves a large beam aside, and falls still.  There, not two feet in front of him is one of her hands.

“Hannah!”
 He dives forward and scrambles over the pile.  His hands tremble as he cups her hand in his.  “Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”

Although it is only a faint movement, he feels one of her fingers twitch in his hand.
 Spurred by hope, he doubles his efforts.  “Jonas!  Get over here!”

The man ducks under a plank of wood that Timothy sends flying then rushes toward him.
 “Take that side.  We need to figure out where the rest of her body is,” Timothy orders, working toward her from the left.  When they last saw her she was forced into a small space, but she appears to be closer than he’d thought.  Is it possible that she found a small hole to fit into as she tried to claw her way out to keep from drowning?

The thought of her enduring hours in the elements during the storm makes him feel lightheaded.
 He can’t even begin to imagine how terrifying that must have been for her.

Less than five minutes later he cries out and Jonas rushes to his side.
 “I see her.  Help me lift this beam and I think I can pull her out.”

Jonas grunts, using his legs and back to help support the weight as Timothy dives under.
 Her eyes are closed and her face is a mass of bruising.  Dried blood clings to her nose and split lips.  The lower half of her body remains trapped under a webbing of wood.

“I’m here,” he whispers, pressing his hand to her cheek.
 She feels cold to the touch and this terrifies him.  “I’m going to get you out of here.”

She doesn’t stir.
 Doesn’t speak or even blink.

Timothy wiggles back out and shouts for help.
 At his call, men race toward him and he feels weak with relief as he sees Charley and his partner among them.  “Charley, over here!”

The older man rushes forward, his medic bag in hand.
 Deep bags rest under the paramedic’s eyes but his gaze is alert.  “She’s trapped,” Timothy says as he ducks back down.  Daniel and Matthew assist Jonas in lifting the beam again to give Charley room to see.

His face is grim as he backs out.
 “It doesn’t look good, Tim.  I’ll do what I can for her but we need to get her out of there right now.  She may have internal bleeding that I can’t see.”

Timothy swallows hard and nods, throwing himself back into his work.
 With more men arriving to aid them, Hannah is fully uncovered within half an hour.  She looks frail and broken as he is finally able to lift her into his arms.  He tries not to think of how limp she feels as he begins to run toward the ambulance.

“Hannah?
 Can you hear me?”  Desperation pinches his voice as he calls to her.  Charley rushes beside him as they work their way toward the road.  The ambulance is nearer than before but still feels as if it is miles away.

Her eyes flutter at the sound of his voice and a low moan rises from her throat.
 Timothy forces himself to move faster, weaving through the street like a skilled slalom skier.

“Put her over here,” Charley calls from his right.

Timothy places her on the stretcher as gently as he can and helps lift her inside the ambulance.  He steps back as Charley rushes in, checking her vitals and calling to her.  Her clothes are stained with mud, making her face appear white in the cabin’s lights.  “Hannah?  Can you tell me where it hurts?”

Her eyes flutter and begin to part. Timothy breathes a sigh of relief.
 He reaches out and brushes back the strands of hair that are matted in the blood that smears across her forehead and cheek.

“Hannah?
 Can you answer me?” Charley prods.

She groans and opens her eyes.
 Timothy can see fear, potent and consuming.  “It’s ok,” he soothes, leaning in close enough for her to see him.  “You’re safe now.”

Her voice cracks as she tries to speak. Wetting her lips, she tries again.
 “The pastor?”

A tender smile crosses his lips.
 “He made it.”

Her lips twitch as her eyes falls closed again.
 Charley steps in, gently pushing Timothy aside.  “Hannah, I need to know where you’re hurting.”

She opens her eyes again. Her gaze is less focused this time.
 “My head.”

Timothy glances at the deep gash over her left eye.
 “Anywhere else?”

“No,” she weakly shakes her head.
 “I’m fine.”

Charley exchanges a loaded glance with Timothy, then together they glance down at Hannah’s legs.
 Both are badly broken.  Her hip is twisted, though Timothy can’t tell if is out of joint or something far worse.

“How do your legs feel?” Timothy asks, trying to keep the panic out of his voice.

Hannah offers him a weak smile.  “They are good.”

Timothy’s shoulders slump as Charley closes his eyes and hangs his head.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” she asks, glancing between the two men.

Timothy fights for words to say something that will reassure her, but none come to him.
 Instead, he settles for the truth.  “Your legs are broken.  There’s no way you wouldn’t be able to feel the pain unless…” he doesn’t have the heart to finish the sentence.

Hannah’s confusion melts into pained understanding.
 Her breath catches as she closes her eyes, pursing her lips.  He can see the tremble in her hands as she presses her palm to her heart.  “I’m paralyzed.”

TEN

Checking In

Timothy paces the hall, the sound of his boots echoing around him.
 This wing of the hospital is eerily quiet in the early morning hours.  Only the sound of breathing machines and the steady drone of heart monitors keep him company as he waits.

She’s been gone far too long
.  He turns to make another lap and sees Claire emerge from the stairwell.

When Claire sees him, she rushes up to his side.
 Her face looks drawn, her eyes reddened and puffy from crying.  “Anything yet?”

He shakes his head and forces himself to sink into one of the waiting room chairs.
 She quickly follows suit.  “Nothing.”

Her hopeful expression wanes as she slumps in her chair.
 The memory of telling Hannah that he didn’t want to be the one to bring grave news to Claire plays on repeat in his mind as he watches her aunt’s shoulders curl inward with grief.  “I knew something like this would happen someday.”

“Ma’am?”

She offers him a weak smile.  “Hannah. She’s always been the first to leap in and help people.  Drives her parents nuts, but it’s one of the things I love most about her. Problem is, people with big hearts get stomped on every once in a while.”

Timothy nods, fighting hard not to think of how much his Abby was like that.
 Wasn’t that why she went out late that night, so close to Christmas?  When she received a call in the wee hours of the morning from an elderly woman in their church who had fallen and needed help, Abby hadn’t thought twice about going out, despite the foul weather.  Timothy had to be on a job site early the next morning.  He should have gone with her.  Driven her to make sure she arrived safely. Instead, Abby made the decision to let him sleep.  He’d awakened to the pounding on his door by a policeman and a handwritten note left beside him in bed...the last communication he would ever again have from his wife.

“Thank you,” Claire whispers and reaches out for his hand, drawing him away from his morose thoughts.
 He’s startled when she clings to him but places his hand over hers.  “I heard how hard you worked to save her.”

A lump begins to form in his throat as he nods, knowing that words have escaped him.
 Claire squeezes her hand and then withdraws.

“Andrew is in recovery.
 Doctors feel hopeful that they mended all of the bleeding.  He’ll be here for a while but I’m praying he’s going to make it.”

“He will,” Timothy says with no hint of the doubt that he feels in his voice.
 “Nothing can keep him down.”

Claire smiles.
 “I sure hope so.”

They fall into a silence, not exactly awkward but not comforting either.
 Each one of them is lost to their thoughts and prayers until a set of double doors halfway down the hall swing open and a doctor emerges.  Timothy helps Claire rise.

“How is she, Dr. Martin?” Claire asks, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist.

Timothy holds his breath as the doctor pulls the paper covering from his head.  “She pulled through better than we’d hoped.  We were able to repair much of the damage.  If she’d arrived here any later her prognosis might not have turned out the same.”

Claire grabs Timothy’s hand and squeezes hard.
 “Will she have a full recovery?”

The doctor’s gaze lowers slightly and Timothy knows that his worst fears have been confirmed.
 “Her internal wounds will heal and her bones will mend, but I’m afraid we just can’t say about her legs.  We’ve reset her pelvis and put casts on her legs, but there’s a lot of swelling in that area.  Only time will tell, I’m afraid.”

“And if she does improve?” Timothy asks.

“Well,” Dr. Martin dips his head, crossing his arms over his chest.  “If she does recover she will have to undergo some major therapy to get her up and walking again. I don’t want to get your hopes up though,” he warns.  “She’s a broken girl and that’s not going to change any time soon.”

Claire juts out her chin.
 “She’s tougher than you think.”

The doctor smiles.
 “I hope so.  She’s going to need that strength before all of this is over.”

“When can we see her?” Timothy asks.

Dr. Martin hesitates and looks over at Claire.  “She will be in recovery for a bit longer until we can be sure that she is adequately stable.  Visiting hours aren’t for a few hours, but considering the extent of her injuries, I’m going to recommend only family see her. I’m sorry, Tim.”

He hangs his head but nods in understanding.
 “Sure.”

“Come on, Nathan,” Claire says to the doctor.
 “You know Tim is the only reason my niece made it at all.  Surely you can bend the rule for him.”

A weary smile tugs at the doctor’s lips as he shrugs.
 “I’ll leave it up to you. Just make sure you let the nurses know ahead of time.”

He turns and leaves them in silence, his shoes squeaking on the polished floor.
 “You don’t have to do that,” Timothy says, hating the defeated tone is his voice.  He’s being shut out.  Maybe that’s for the best.  Being around Hannah only brought this misery on her.

“Nonsense. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Tim attempts at a smile but it falls flat.  “I should go check on Iris.  I’ll be back a bit later.”

As he starts to walk away, Claire reaches out and pulls him back.
 “You need to get some rest.  You look like you’re barely standing.”

“I’ll be fine.”
 He pats her hand and heads for the stairwell.  The doors close heavily behind him.  He lumbers down the first flight before sinking down onto a step. He rests his head against the wall and closes his eyes as the tears come.  
Hannah is alive, just as I asked, but why did you have to strip away her life? How is she supposed to go on without the use of her legs?  How can this plan possibly be for the greater good?

It takes several minutes before he is able to gather himself together.
 Finally, Timothy rises and finishes his descent. He sneaks down the darkened third floor hall and slips past the old man’s bedside and around the curtain to find Iris sleeping peacefully in her bed.  Although she still looks frail, she also boasts more color in her cheeks.

He smiles and gently pulls the covers over her.
 
At least I was able to help one.

Wearily, Timothy retreats from the room and heads for the first floor.
 The ER is still a manic rat race of people flooding in with injuries.  The flashing lights of ambulances line the curved drive of the hospital.  Timothy walks past all of them.  He doesn’t speak to anyone. Doesn’t stop to offer any help, for there is none left in him to offer.

“Hey, Tim!”
 He turns at the call and sees Charley rushing toward him.  His shirt is splattered with droplets of blood left over from his most recent patient.  “You need a ride home?”

“Nah.”
 He shakes his head.  “I’m just going to walk.”

Charley looks beyond him to the sea of darkness.
 “I can’t let you do that.  It’s too dangerous.”

“I’ll be fine.”

His friend clasps him on the arm and steers him toward his waiting vehicle.  “I insist.  It’s the least I can do after the day you’ve had.”

Timothy finally agrees and climbs into the back of the ambulance.
 He sinks down onto the bench seat, careful not to let his filthy clothes brush up against the wheeled stretcher.  As Charley and his partner climb into the driver’s seat for another run, Timothy leans his head back against the wall.  He knows that the memories of this day will haunt him for months to come. How could they not?  But as the first fleck of light begin to appear on the horizon, Timothy lets his eyes fall closed and slips into a blissful void.