The Christmas Crush

Chapter 31

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

“Where is she?” Lawrence shouted, charging into New Hope Hospital’s undersized emergency department. His truck idled at the curb outside the automatic doors, exhaust puffing into the surrounding air. He’d need to move it, but not until he saw Nana with his own eyes. His focus jumped from minor details to terror about Nana and back again in circles.

“Over here, Lawrence.” Carm’s daughter, Dr. Isabel Garcia-Peters, beckoned him from an alcove.

“She’s going to be okay, son,” his dad said, joining Lawrence as he followed Isabel through a maze of nursing stations and patient rooms. Dad had claimed the same thing when he called Lawrence seven minutes ago to tell him Nana had fallen. That she’d been transported to the hospital by ambulance. How could Nana be okay if she needed an ambulance and an ER?

A nurse in pink scrubs swiped back the geometric-patterned curtain around Nana’s bed. Tears sprang up when he saw her lying there, an oxygen mask over her face. Frail and small under a sheet. Lawrence’s mom stood by the bed, holding Nana’s hand.

“Nana,” he said, rushing over. Nana didn’t move or open her eyes.

“She’s not really with it right now, honey,” Mom said. “They had to give her something for the pain.”

“Did she hit her head?” Sweat formed above his lip; he licked it away. If she’d hit her head, then when would she wake up? He needed answers. Now.

“No. It’s her arm,” Dad said.

“We’re going to take her to x-ray,” Isabel said in a soothing tone, idly gripping the ends of the stethoscope around her neck as if the world weren’t ending. She nodded to the nurse, who began to ready the bed to be wheeled away.

Lawrence made an automatic move for the door.

“You’ll wait here,” Isabel said. “Don’t worry. I’ll go with her.”

With a click, the nurse pushed down the brakes. A soft groan came from Nana when the bed rolled forward.

“Be careful,” Lawrence exclaimed. He felt his dad’s hand on his shoulder, pulling him out of the way to let Nana and the medical team pass. “She’s on blood pressure medication.”

“They know all that, honey. Sit down, okay?” His mom took one green plastic chair, patted another beside her. Lawrence dropped onto it, put his head in his hands. His shoulders shook.

“What happened?” he asked. “Who called the ambulance?”

“Pamela saw Nana fall from across the street,” Mom explained, rubbing his back as she spoke. “She rushed right over and stayed with her until the paramedics arrived. She wasn’t lying there in the cold. Don’t worry.”

Everyone kept saying not to worry. If this wasn’t a reason to worry, then what was?

“She was outside?” he asked. She could’ve gotten hypothermia.

“Yes,” Dad said. “She went out to scatter some birdseed, and it seems one of the boards on the stoop was bad. It cracked, and she took a big tumble.”

Lawrence’s head flew up, his eyes flashed at his father. “I told you to fix that, Dad!”

His dad’s brows knit. “No, you didn’t.”

“I noticed it the other day. I told you to-” He stopped midsentence. Had he told his father about the faulty step? He remembered he’d meant to. So much had been going on. Dad stared at him with blue eyes the same shade as his own. “This is all my fault, Dad. Nana’s going to die.”

“She is not going to die, Lawrence,” Dad said firmly. Dad shared Lawrence’s imposing stature; in fact, he stood one inch taller. His authority made itself known.

Machines chirped from other rooms; the whole place smelled like chemicals. Lawrence’s stomach flipped. “It’s all my fault,” he said again, this time louder.

“It’s not your fault,” Mom insisted.

“I forgot to tell Dad about the board. And I didn’t take the time to fix it myself.”

“She’s going to be okay, son.”

She’s going to be okay. Was that all Dad could say? He could be wrong, after all. Didn’t he know falls were the worst thing for old people, even if they didn’t hit their heads? She could need surgery. Die under anesthesia. She could develop pneumonia. Die from that. And what about her blood pressure? Tears slid down Lawrence’s cheeks, dripped from his chin, landing on his jeans in dark drops.

“I have to try to get a hold of Lonnie and my brother again,” Dad said, stepping to the door. He nodded at Lawrence, then told Mom, “Keep an eye on that one.”

“Lawrence, try to calm down. We don’t have much information yet.” Mom pulled tissues from a box by the sink, handed them to him. Cheap and scratchy, they barely dried his face. “I don’t want you getting all carried away how you do. You’re going to make yourself sick. Here, I have water in my bag.”

Mom cracked open a plastic bottle. He took it but gazed at the floor, forgetting to drink. “I got so wrapped up in all the stuff at the bakery. And my … my …”

How to describe Elena? He hadn’t called Elena his girlfriend before, didn’t know if she’d agree with the label. Now that it had occurred to him, he hoped she would. Thinking of her made him feel a touch better. She would stay composed, know the right things to say and the right questions to ask.

“And my … Elena.”

“Nana told me your Elena is really sweet. When do I get to meet her?”

“Soon, I hope.” He looked at his mom, who gave him a weak smile. She brushed his hair, damp with nervous sweat, off his forehead. She had to stretch her arm to reach, since he got his height from his dad. The fragrance from the rose soap she always used offered solace, a momentary belief that everything might turn out all right, as Dad insisted.

“Do you want to take a minute to call her?” Mom asked.

“She’ll be at work. Her job is pretty important—she’s a VP of marketing for a big company.”

Mom didn’t let on whether she knew which company Elena worked for, although she must be aware. Even though his parents hadn’t been at the notorious town hall, their friends had, and Lawrence knew gossip that juicy would’ve reached their ears in no time. Yet Mom never took advantage of town chatter to push Lawrence into talking about anything he wasn’t read to share.

“Leave her a message, then, if she doesn’t pick up.” Without waiting for him to protest, Mom left the room. Outside the door, he heard her speaking in murmurs to a nurse. More than anything, he wanted to hear Elena’s voice. He hadn’t ever interrupted her during the workday, and it felt like a big step somehow. Like acknowledging that things were serious enough to justify calling her with a midday emergency.

He held the phone to his ear, willed her to answer as the dial tone sounded once, twice, three times.

If she answered, it signaled a willingness to be there for him, even when it wasn’t convenient.

Four, five, six rings.

I’m overstepping.

He should hang up. Send a text later.

“Lawrence? Are you there? I had to run to the stairwell so Derick wouldn’t catch me on my phone.”

“Hi there, baby,” he said, sounding strangled, hoarse. His throat prickled. Finally remembering the water, he took a sip.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, and he felt her alarm, her compassion, close. Her response exactly what he’d wished for, needed.

“My grandma fell; she’s in the hospital. I’m here waiting for some real information.”

“No, not Nana! You’re not alone, are you?” The apprehension in her words echoed in the stairwell. Was she sitting on a step? Leaning against a railing? He ached to see her, to take hold of her hip, pull her to him.

“My parents are here.”

“Good. Good. I can’t stand to think of you facing this by yourself. You must be terrified. Your poor, sweet grandma. Do you want me to come? Tomorrow is the end-of-quarter meeting and Derick is on a rampage, but I’ll take a half day. I could be there in about two hours?”

She’d risked her boss’s displeasure already by answering his call, and he didn’t want to get her in trouble. A selfish desire to have her near needled him regardless.

Mom and Dr. Garcia-Peters stepped into the room.

“Hold on a sec, can you, baby?” He put his hand over the phone’s speaker.

“Nana’s going upstairs to a room,” Mom said.

Lawrence’s face dropped; the anxiety spiked.

“I’m being cautious, Lawrence. I want to get her blood pressure regulated, see if we can get her more alert by backing off on the pain medication. Hang tight here for a few more minutes. Give me a chance to see which room they’re sending her to,” Isabel said. “And Lawrence, I called my mom. She’ll be happy to stay late today. Don’t worry about closing up.”

Mom turned to him. “I’m going to find Dad. I think he went to park your truck.”

The truck! He’d completely forgotten about the truck. “Elena, are you still there? Sorry. They had a quick update. They’re going to admit her, but the doctor, Carm’s daughter, she says it’s just to be careful.”

“Of course I’m still here.”

Of course she was. He leaned his head against the door frame, visualized her hand on his face. “I ran out of the bakery without even telling Carm what was going on when my mom called. I’ve never been so afraid.”

It felt awkward to admit his weakness, vulnerable to expose his fear, impossible not to be real with her.

“I hate that I’m not there to help.” When she said it, he knew he’d made the right choice disclosing his fear, knew she wanted to comfort him as much as he wanted to be comforted.

“You don’t have to leave work early. She’s stable; we’ll know more in a while. I …” He stopped himself, swallowed hard. “I needed to tell you.”

“I’m glad you did. You can tell me anything. Let me come over tonight.”

“But don’t you have a big meeting tomorrow?”

“I can handle it.” She paused. “What I can’t handle is not being there with you.”

He croaked out an agreement to see her in a few hours. The paranoia of what she would think or how she would react washed away. They said goodbye, and then he stood, phone in hand, hardly comprehending the force of emotion that flooded into its place. The sudden faith that Nana would recover; that Elena, true to her word, would be there for him. That together they could find their way past any impediment.