Roz Fox - Married in Haste

Abby did her best to follow Dr. Galloway’s clipped speech. She found her mind wandering. Elliot and Blair’s van, with its seat belts for seven and Sam’s car seat, had obviously sustained considerable damage. Given the state law stipulating that kids had to be five years old or weigh fifty pounds to use regular seat belts—how would she manage to transport the lot of them in her midsize compact?

She sighed and rubbed her forehead.

“Am I going too fast for you, Ms. Drummond?” Dr. Galloway folded the chart, presumably Sam’s, clicked his slim sliver pen closed, and fixed a smile on Abby.

“I’m sorry. I just feel overwhelmed by everything I’m facing in the days and weeks to come. None of which I need to burden you with. But…did I miss hearing you say whether or not I can visit Sam?”

“I’ll authorize a brief visit. Say five minutes? I can’t promise he won’t be too woozy to recognize you. Which is just as well. You won’t want to get into explaining about his mom and dad yet.”

“No. Not today. First I’ll tackle telling the other four. Before I forget my manners altogether, thank you, Doctor. Frankly, if Ben hadn’t recommended you, and if you hadn’t been available…” She let the sentence trail off. But that was okay as he cut her off with a wagging finger.

“Save your thanks until after you’ve seen my bill. I’ll give you a courtesy discount, of course. I hear the quake played havoc with a ski trip you and my son had planned. Quite honestly, Ms. Drummond—Abby—you’re not what I’d expect Ben to… Oh, never mind. I’m pleased to see the boy taking an interest in something other than that clinic of his. Of course, if he’d followed my advice, his career would’ve allowed him more freedom, prestige and needless to say…more money.” Still smiling with his lips alone, Kirk Galloway, M.D. extraordinaire, left Abby in the hands of a passing nurse. One he stopped to bark orders at.

“From Dr. God’s mouth to my ears,” the young nurse muttered too low for the doctor to hear as he went on his way.

“But he is tops in his field?” Abby said.

“Yes. The best. Sorry, I shouldn’t have made that remark in front of you. My only excuse is that I hit the ground running at 6:00 a.m. and haven’t slowed since. Which isn’t your problem,” she added with a deprecating shrug.

“I sympathize,” Abby said. “I hope your day hasn’t been as bad as mine. After I see Sam I wonder…could you direct me to the department in the hospital that can tell me where—” she cleared her throat “—where, ah, a person or persons who died here might be sent?” Her throat clogged and her eyes filled with tears. “Funeral homes, I mean.”

The nurse broke her stride, and gave Abby a brief, spontaneous hug. “I’m on break, but I’ll wait until you visit Sammy, then I’ll get you a list of the area funeral homes. The front office gave each nursing center copies of the list after we began to get figures on fatalities. Last I heard it was ninety and rising.”

“Oh, so many? I’m from West Seattle. My brother and his wife were apparently almost across the bridge when it—” Abby swallowed hard, and ended by simply shaking her head. “I thought Taylor’s. They handled my parents’ funeral—a long time ago. Maybe them if they’re still in business.”

“They are. I’ll get them on the line while you look in on Sam.” Abby already had her nose pressed to a window of the glassed-in room. “Sam’s in the third bed. Someone’s monitoring his vital signs. Go on in. I’m sure Dr. Galloway gave an order to let you see him.”

“You’ve been very kind.”

“I wish that I could change your circumstances.” Gravely, the nurse, who was near Abby’s age, turned and went behind the counter at the nursing station. That left Abby wretchedly alone to enter a room that was silent except for the hum of monitors.

She glanced hesitantly at a nurse working with her nephew. Sam looked pitifully tiny, swathed as he was in padded white bandages. Abby’s chest constricted.

“Sam, honey, it’s Aunt Abby. Can you hear me?” Although his eyelids fluttered, they remained closed.

“He’s responding subconsciously to your voice,” the nurse whispered. “Try to speak normally.”

Abby blinked back stingingly hot tears. Try to speak normally? Sam’s life had changed dramatically today. Hers, too. From now on, their roles would be totally different. Never again would she be Aunt Abby, a person to whom Sam and his brothers could look to get them off the hook with their folks. She, who never raised her voice to the boys and rarely meted out discipline except occasionally on the school playground, would be a parent. Starting tomorrow. Large tears leaked from her eyes and dripped on Sam’s pristine sheets.

“Get better, guy,” she muttered. She did her utmost to keep her voice from sounding panicky. “I’ll be back in the morning, and I’ll bring Raggedy Andy,” she promised softly. Each of the children slept with a favorite toy. Sam’s was a rag doll Blair had made for his first birthday. Andy had undergone several surgical procedures himself. Maybe Sam would be comforted by that. Because the older of the two nurses kept eyeing her watch and then Abby, she took it as a hint to leave. Smoothing Sam’s mop of carrot-red curls, she dropped a kiss on the tip of his freckled nose. Abby had always been partial to this child. She understood firsthand the teasing he’d one day endure at the hands of schoolmates. Of her brother’s five children, only Sam had inherited Grandfather Drummond’s fiery Scots hair. The others all had strawberry-blond shades, and few freckles. Sam and Abby—kindred spirits.

With a last look at her broken nephew, Abby scrubbed at her cheeks and escaped from the room.

The nurse who’d promised to help Abby contact the funeral home appeared in her peripheral vision. “I have a representative from Taylor’s on the line in the conference room. Come. I’ll wait outside until you’ve finished making arrangements.”

“Thank you—what’s your name? I feel I should call you something.”

The woman frowned at the left side of her uniform. “Drat. I lost another name tag. I lose one a month. It should say Olivia Warren here.” Abby’s helpful companion tapped a torn flap near her left shoulder.

“Olivia? Oh, you’re the one who phoned me. I remember the name.”

“I made a lot of calls. Too many.” Pursing her lips, the nurse continued to stroke the spot where she was missing her name badge.

“Hmm. Perhaps you should take your uniforms to one of those firms that embroider names on kids’ ball shirts.” Part of Abby couldn’t conceive how she could carry on such a mundane conversation in the midst of tragedy. On the other hand, discussing inconsequential things gave her an excuse not to face the task she needed to face.

“I never thought of having my name stitched on. That’s a great idea.”

“Sports King in West Seattle does it on site. Our elementary school gives them a lot of business,” Abby said. “I teach second grade, and I coach sixth-grade girls’ soccer.” It dawned on Abby, as she entered the conference room and saw the phone lying on the table, that, too, would probably change in the coming months. She knew how much time Blair spent shuffling the boys to soccer, baseball, karate and what-have-you. She deliberately blanked from her mind the fact that Blair’s full-time job had been taking care of the house, the menagerie, the boys and…Elliot.

Picking up the phone with a damp hand, she said in a shaky voice, “This is Abigail Drummond.” She gave her address and mentioned that Taylor’s had handled her parents’ funeral. “I need to arrange for a double, ah, burial. No. I…don’t know if they had lots at Shady Glen. I understand you have to ask, but this is very…difficult for me. I’m calling to arrange for my brother and his wife. Apart from their asking if I’d serve as guardian to their sons, I’m afraid we never discussed the details of their…uh…wishes. I thought…we all thought we were planning for a remote possibility.” Abby’s voice faded.