Skyward (15 page)

If she closed her eyes, she could see Bobby’s pale face the last time she spoke with him.

In retrospect, she’d known right away that he was in trouble. All her instincts warned her that this time his illness had gone too far. But duty pushed back all her inner alarms and she’d worked on automatic pilot to do a preliminary evaluation, then sent him upstairs to the pediatric ward. If only she’d taken the time to hold his hand and talk to him. If only she’d stopped asking questions and giving orders long enough to look at his sweet face one more time and tell him that she would stay by his side.

But, of course, she couldn’t have done any of that. She was a nurse on duty. And it had been another busy night in the emergency room.

Diet.
Birds of prey are opportunistic. They never know where or when they’ll find their next meal. The crop is an enlarged space in their esophagus that can store large amounts of food, so a raptor with a full crop can survive five to seven days without eating. Raptors often swallow their prey whole. The fur and bones go through the system and are later coughed up as a pellet. Pellet analysis can provide a good look at a raptor’s diet and habitat.

9

IT HAD SNOWED THAT NIGHT. INSIDE THE RUTLAND General Hospital, Ella Elizabeth Majors stood at the window watching the flakes fall.

“Look! It’s snowing!” said an excited voice coming up be side her. “Can you believe it?”

“Can’t say I can,” Ella replied with a smile of greeting for Denise, a fellow pediatric nurse. “It’s already snowed four times and it’s only November.”

“I still think it’s magical each time,” Denise said, coming to stand beside Ella. She crossed her arms against her white uniform and watched the falling flakes with a wistful expression.

“That’s because you’re from Florida and don’t know any better. Snow can be beautiful when it’s fluffy and white like this, but it gets dirty and difficult pretty quick.”

“Nothing you say can change my mind,” Denise replied.

“I’ve never seen snow like this, or built snowmen. That all might seem boring to you because you’ve grown up with it, but for me, it’s pretty wild.”

Ella pulled a corner of her mouth into a wry smile. “Glad you like wild, ’cause with this icy snow, it’s going to be a wild night.”

As though on cue, the E.R. doors burst open, followed by the sound of pounding feet and calls for assistance as a team of medics raced through the hall pushing a gurney.

“Here we go,” Ella said as her training clicked into high gear. She turned and raced toward the gurney, voicing clipped orders to the medics and other nurses standing by. But her voice caught in her throat when she caught sight of the small child on the gurney.

“Oh, no,” slipped from her mouth. It was Bobby D’Angelo, a six-year-old boy with juvenile diabetes. She ran up to take hold of the gurney and ask the med assistant, “He’s a diabetic. What’s his status?”

“Low insulin levels—dangerously low. He went into convulsions.”

Her eyes expertly searched Bobby’s face for medical clues. She didn’t like the pastiness of his skin or his labored breathing.

“Bobby? Bobby, can you hear me?” When the boy dragged open his eyes, she smiled with relief and squeezed his hand. “So you came to see me again, huh, Bobby?”

His eyes blinked sleepily and a shaky smile of recognition spread across his small face. “Ella?”

“How’re you doing?” she asked him, stroking back a shaggy bit of black hair, then resting her palm on his fore head. His skin was clammy with sweat.

“Okay,” he replied in a foggy voice. He licked his dry lips.

“Yeah? Maybe not feeling so good? And thirsty?”

“Uh-huh.”

She walked alongside the gurney as they rolled him into the triage room. There, she quickly got to the business of checking his stats: listening to his heart, checking his eyes, his reflexes and blood pressure. Bobby was familiar with the routine and cooperated without complaining. He was what the nurses referred to as a “frequent flyer,” one of the kids who bounced in and out of the E.R. She’d seen hundreds of kids like him over the past ten years as a pediatric nurse, but there was something about Bobby that tugged at Ella’s heartstrings. He’d chipped away at her resistance until she began looking over her shoulder each time a little boy was brought into the E.R. He came in far too often, however, and after each episode it took him longer to recover.

“Do you remember when you last got your insulin?”

He shrugged noncommittally.

“A long time?”

“It’s not Mama’s fault. I just forgot.”

She heard Denise mutter with disgust behind her, “Six years old and he thinks it’s his fault.”

“Let’s double-check your levels, okay?” Ella said soothingly, careful not to let her anger against the mother sound in her voice. She patted his hand, gauging the temperature and texture of his skin.

As she administered the insulin stick, she cast a quick glance over her shoulder to the admissions desk. She recognized the thin woman with flame colored hair in a short, tight black skirt, a white, puffy jacket, her hair piled high on her head with sparkly pins. Ella knew that on closer inspection she’d find tracks on her arm.

The attending physician walked in and Ella quickly gave him the intake report. After the exam, Ella returned to Bobby’s side.

“Okay, big guy, we’re all done here,” she said, smiling into his eyes again as she affixed a bandage. “Your room is waiting for you!”

His face scrunched up with worry—unusual for him. “Will you come with me?”

Ella wondered about his fear but forced a wide smile on her face. “I’ll be up just as soon as I can.”

He smiled weakly.

“Are you hungry?”

He nodded, embarrassed to be so.

“I’ll get something yummy sent right up.” She patted his hand and he gripped hers tightly. Her heart clutched as she looked into his eyes and squeezed back.

“Ella?”

She brought her face close to his. “Yes, sweetie?”

“Don’t blame my mama. It’s my fault. I just forgot.”

She smoothed back the lock of damp hair from his forehead and swallowed back the emotion rising up her throat. She couldn’t comprehend that kind of selfless devotion. It broke her heart. There was a special place in heaven for young children who had to take care of their parents. And a special place in hell for those parents.

“I won’t blame anyone, sweetie. Especially not you. And do you know why?”

He shook his head.

“Because you’re so very good.”

His heavy lids drooped with relief and fatigue. In a rare impulsive gesture, she bent over to place a kiss on his clammy cheek. Her heart pumped with affection for the boy and she vowed then and there that she wouldn’t let him go through this again. She swore that, even if she had to adopt him herself, she’d not let this child’s life be threatened by negligence again.

As another nurse began rolling the gurney off to the pediatric ward, she felt his small hand tighten in panic on hers. “Don’t worry, you know the routine,” she told him with a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll be up to see you later. I promise.”

As she’d predicted, it had been an unusually busy night. Hours later, Ella made her way to the elevator and up to the pediatrics ward on the third floor, relieved no one stopped to ask her about the teddy bear she carried in her arms. She openly discouraged sentimental attachments between nurses and patients. Such bonds only proved difficult to handle when the patient was dismissed for home or, sadly, died. Again and again she’d seen nurses get overly attached, then crash and burn when the child didn’t make it.

As the elevator rose, she plucked at the stuffed bear’s ears and smiled, allowing herself to wonder what it would be like to care for one child instead of so many? To allow herself to love one child, without reserve. She had so much love to share.

The elevator door swooshed open to the pastel-colored walls of the pediatric ward. Ella knew this floor as well as she knew her own home; she actually spent more waking hours here.

“Hi there,” she said cheerfully to the nurse sitting at the station “Which room is Bobby D’Angelo in?”

“Room 317. But Ella, wait! You’d better not go in there right now. There’s a code.”

The words jolted Ella and she took off at a run for his room. From the hall she could hear the terse, staccato orders of the medical team. Drawing near, she saw the crash cart with the defibrillator. She stood out of the way of the team as they frantically worked over the limp child. Her gaze sought out the slim, erratic line of the heart monitor.

“Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die,” she prayed with each beat.

Time became a blur of motion and shouts. The team wasn’t giving up on this young child, calling again and again for shock. Ella clutched the stuffed teddy bear against her chest each time the child’s frail body jerked with the force of the electricity. And after each convulsive jolt, Bobby’s arm lay slack on the sheet. The skin was ghostly pale and so painfully thin she could see his blue veins travel from wrist to elbow like rivers.

Ella’s gaze fixed on his slender hands. They lay flat on the white sheets, palms up. His small fingers curled ever so slightly. Ella recalled that he’d been afraid and she wanted to reach out and hold on to his hand. To hold on to his life.

A high humming sound pierced the silence of the room. Her own hands loosened and the teddy bear fell to the floor.

That had been the last night she’d worked as a nurs`e in a hospital. The next day she’d left, turning a deaf ear to all her friends, counselors and the administration. “It’s tough, I know,” they told Ella. “You’re a veteran. You’ve been through this before. Children die. It’s part of our job.”

But that was just it. She’d been through it too many times. She’d seen one child too many die.

It didn’t help that she mentally kicked herself for falling into the trap she’d helped others avoid, but she could keep it from happening again. She vowed she would not allow another child to creep into her heart the way Bobby had. When she’d taken this position as nanny, she told herself she would be a better caretaker if she were kind and loving, yet kept personal emotions out of the equation.

Now, standing on the porch under a late winter sky, Ella could only wrap her arms tighter around herself and laugh at her foolishness. Did she really believe such a ridiculous vow was even possible? No matter how far away she traveled from Vermont, she couldn’t distance herself from the memories she carried with her like excess baggage in her mind. She had to gather her courage and move forward with her life. She had come to South Carolina for warmth. It was time to loosen the ice from around her heart and let the warmth in.

Across the yard, a faint light glowed from behind the heavy navy curtains on the cabin’s windows. Ella smiled, imagining Lijah lying in his warm bed covered with all those blankets, maybe smoking his pipe. She could catch the slightest scent of cherry tobacco in the night air. Lijah had told her, as many times as she would listen, how much he appreciated her fixing up the cabin and letting him “put his feet to his own fire.”

Her head was pounding from too many memories and the emotions they stirred. Often fresh air helped and she breathed in slowly, exhaling through pursed lips. She brought her hands to her head and undid the clasp that restrained her hair. Immediately, her head felt a little better, and she brought her fingers to her scalp to massage the tension away. Before long she heard a steady footfall approaching the house. Her stomach tightened and she quickly began winding her long hair into a braid.

The porch light illuminated Harris’s face as he looked up from the bottom of the steps. “Are you all done for the night?” she asked him.

“For today, anyway,” he replied, climbing the stairs with a heavy tread. “Tomorrow it starts all over again, bright and early.”

“When you’ve got sick patients, there’s always something that needs doing.”

He reached the top of the stairs and stood facing her. His face was pale with fatigue and his arms hung loose at his sides. She had to fight the urge to reach out and brush the way ward lock that fell onto his forehead.

“Sherry called,” he said. “Her mother will be in the hospital for a few more days, then moved to a rehabilitation facility. She’ll have to leave right away.”

“That doesn’t give you time to find a substitute.”

“No, but I don’t plan on finding one, anyway.”

“How long does Sherry expect to be gone?”

“Who knows? Her mother had a massive stroke. Everything’s up in the air right now. She’ll know more once she talks to the doctors.”

Ella sighed and leaned her back against the porch pillar. The silence dragged on between them.

“Did Marion get to bed okay?” he asked.

“Finally. She was wound up from the excitement of the holiday.” She glanced over at him. “We talked about her mother.”

His brows rose, then settled in a face rigid with expectation.

“Harris, tell me about Fannie. I’m not prying. I need to know in order to help Marion.”

“There’s nothing you need to know.”

“Why won’t you let her have a picture of her mother?”

“She does better when she doesn’t think of her.”

“But she misses her.”

“No, she misses the idea of a mother. Not her mother.”

“Are you sure?”

In the moonlight, his face appeared as smooth and inflexible as granite. “Look, Ella. You don’t know anything about this. It’s complicated.”

“Nor do I need to. All I know is that Marion needs some contact with her mother. A picture, the ability to talk about her,
something.
”

“I said no. It would be too painful.”

“For her or for you?”

His eyes flashed and a muscle twitched in his cheek. “This is my house,” he said in a voice grown harsh. “And Marion is my child. There’ll be no discussion of her mother.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he raised his hand in a halting gesture.

“This is one decision I expect you to abide by. Without any argument.”

She tightened her lips and jerked her head up to look at the stars, holding her tongue with great effort.

“Ella, it’s not that I don’t trust you,” he said. Then, with more feeling, “I do.”

She swung her head back to look at him. He had the uncanny ability to fluster her.

“In fact, I was thinking that earlier tonight, while I was working at the clinic. I didn’t have to worry about Marion, about her medicine, about her getting to bed all right, about the million things that run through a parent’s mind. For the first time since I can remember, I could relax and do my work, knowing that you were here.”

“That’s a great compliment and I thank you for it.” She paused and clasped her hands before her. “Seems we were both doing a lot of thinking tonight.” When he half smiled in response, she felt bold enough to continue. “Harris, I’m very fond of Marion. In fact…I’ve come to love her. But I don’t want to replace you in her life. I don’t think I
could,
really, at least not while she’s young. But as she gets older, there is always the danger of you becoming less important in her life. Diminished, somehow, by disappointment or perhaps just the passing of time without you in it.”