Linda Warren - Forgotten Son

“Give it time.” But he felt the same way. For years he’d held on to Ginny’s love, her memory. That was enough.

Until now. Now…

He closed his eyes, forcing the feeling away, striving, struggling to see Ginny’s face. No matter how hard he tried it wasn’t there. Caroline’s was. That frightened him more than the damage to his arm. Caroline was seeping into his system and he didn’t like that. He didn’t want it. He barely knew her, but he was powerless to change whatever was happening.

He didn’t like that, either.

WHEN THEY REACHED the hospital, things happened fast. Reporters and TV crews were everywhere, with the police trying to push them back. Attendants whisked Caroline away, and above the noise Eli heard her call out to him.

He didn’t respond. She needed her family now—not him. Stepping out of the ambulance, he saw an orderly with a wheelchair. His first response was to object. Then he glanced at all the people clamoring to get a statement from him. He sank into the chair without protest, wanting to get away from the crowd as quickly as possible. Reporters were shouting questions at him and flashbulbs were going off, but he ignored them.

The orderly quickly took him to a bed in the emergency room. Eli stood and lay down there, feeling totally spent.

“The doctor will be in here shortly,” the attendant said.

“Thanks,” Eli replied, and stared up at the fluorescent ceiling lights. Had the arrest been made? He hoped this wouldn’t take long because he had to get out of here and give the FBI a full report. They had to know everything he’d learned as soon as possible. Where in the hell was the doctor?

A doctor who barely looked old enough to be playing in Little League came into the room. Eli knew he had to be much older, or at least hoped he was.

“I’m Dr. Fisher, Mr. Coltrane. I’m going to look at your arm.”

“Sure. Stitch it up or whatever you have to do because I have to go. I have an investigation to finish.”

“Yes. I heard,” the doctor said, unwrapping his arm.

“It’s been in the news all week and the hospital is inundated with reporters. Everyone is very relieved Ms. Whitten was found alive.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” Eli watched as he examined his arm.

“How long is this going to take?”

The doctor made a grunting sound. “I’m not sure. I have to get a surgeon down here.”

“A surgeon! What the hell for?”

“Your arm needs special attention, Mr. Coltrane.”

“That’s why I’m here. Stitch the damn thing up so I can go.”

“It’s not just the skin that’s been damaged—muscles and nerves have been ripped apart and it will take a specialist to put it back together.”

That still didn’t deter Eli. “It can’t be that bad. See? I can move my hand.” He raised his arm—it was beginning to feel heavy—and moved his fingers.

“Look closely at your fingers,” the young doctor said patiently. “They’re starting to swell and so is your arm. With this type of injury, surgery needs to be done as soon as possible so you can maintain full mobility.”

“Are you saying if I don’t have the surgery, I’ll lose the function of my right hand?”

“Yes. That’s what I’m saying.”

There was silence as Eli battled with what he had to do and what he wanted to do.

“Surely you’re not thinking about not having the surgery?” The doctor was clearly shocked.

“How long will the operation take?” he asked instead of answering.

“The surgeon will be able to tell you that.”

“Well, get him in here. I don’t have a lot of time.”

Dr. Fisher gave a long sigh. “Mr. Coltrane, you’re not going anywhere for a while. It would be best for you if you started thinking in those terms.”

“And it would be best for you if you got the damn surgeon in here.”

The doctor was scribbling in a chart and he didn’t look up. “I’m attributing your bad attitude to the pain you’re in. I’ll have the nurse give you something.”

Eli took a deep breath. “I don’t want a damn thing for the pain. I just want to get this over with.”

“Yes. I think we’ve established that.” He closed the chart. “The surgeon will be in soon, Mr. Coltrane, so please try to relax.”

Dr. Fisher walked out and Eli knew he was being an ass, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d never been badly injured before and he wasn’t handling it well. Closing his eyes, he tried to relax as the doctor had suggested. This would be over in no time and he could finish the job he’d started. They had to have arrested Buford by now, and he wished someone would come and tell him how it went. He had to know Buford was in jail.

“Mr. Coltrane.”

Eli opened his eyes to see an older, bald-headed man reading his chart. “I’m Dr. Jim Stiles. I hear you’ve had an encounter with a mean dog.”

“Yes. You could say that.”

“Let me take a look.” He laid the chart down and moved to the right side of the bed, where he picked up Eli’s arm and examined it. “Mmm. Mmm. Mmm. A lot of damage has been done. We need to get you to surgery now before the swelling gets any worse. Has your wife been called?”

“I’m not married.”

“Family?”

“My brother’s working the same case that I was and he’ll be here as soon as he can.”

“We have papers that need to be signed. Do you think you can sign them with your left hand?”

“I can sign them with my right,” Eli said.

The doctor stared directly at him. “Ranger Coltrane, I hear you’ve been giving the intern a hard time. But you and I are of the same caliber—tough, determined men—and if you want me to save that arm then you’ll have to cooperate. That’s the bottom line for me—cooperation. My time is too valuable to waste on a man who is too stubborn to realize he needs help.”

Eli didn’t waver under that intense gaze. “Dr. Stiles, I’ve always been a survivor and a fighter, and I learned discipline, respect and honor from a man I worshiped. He taught me how to take a punch like a man, how to give in without giving up, but he never taught me how to handle anything like this. So you’ll pardon me if I’m not on my best behavior.”

Dr. Stiles picked up the chart. “It’s all over the news that the Whitten woman was found alive by a Texas Ranger. Something the FBI hadn’t been able to do.”

“I was working with the FBI.”

“Don’t know how to take praise, either, do you?” The doctor scribbled something in the chart.

“Guess not.”

“Let’s go fix that arm so you can pin on that medal they’re going to give you.”

“Just do it as fast as you can.”

“I’ll do the best job I can in the amount of time it takes,” Dr. Stiles retorted.

“You don’t cooperate very well, do you, Doc?”

The doctor smiled. “I said I demand cooperation. I didn’t say I gave it. I’ll see you in surgery.”

After that Eli relaxed. He didn’t have much of a choice. They removed the rest of his clothes and gave him a hospital gown to wear. A nurse started an IV and he signed papers with his left hand, and another doctor came in to explain what was going to be done to his arm. Soon he was rolled to the operating room, where the anesthesiologist explained how he was going to put Eli to sleep.

Eli stared up at the bright lights, realizing he’d never felt so alone in his life. He had no family, what with Ma and Pa gone. It was just him and Tuck.

A man should have a family. He shouldn’t be alone. Where had that thought come from? He’d always been a loner. Maybe it was the drugs starting to flow through his system. Maybe it was his age. Maybe life had just caught up with him.