“Look what you did!” Billy screamed at Pudge.
“Me? I told ya them grapes was a menace.”
Face contorted in pain, Nick rubbed his ankle, gasping for breath. “Some help here…please.”
She dropped to her knees next to him. “Nick? Are you okay?”
“Do I look okay?” he moaned. He squinted through half-closed eyes. “Make the room stop spinning.”
“He got in the middle of our family discussion,” Pudge attempted to explain.
Not to be outdone downplaying the accident, Billy added, “He shoulda left us alone. We didn’t need no interference.”
“Mediator,” Pudge corrected. “That’s the term they—”
“Quiet!” she yelled. “Stop quarreling and help him up.”
Pudge scowled, Billy dropped his head, but both leaned over to help Nick to his feet.
As they started to pull him up, Nick let out another yelp. “Stop! My ankle. I can’t put any weight on it.”
Exchanging perplexed looks, the brothers set him down more carefully.
“Clear away from him,” she directed, lifting his head onto her lap. To one of the hovering staff, she said, “We need an EMT. Now!”
Chapter Ten
“You don’t appear to have a concussion,” the emergency room doctor told Nick once he’d performed an examination. “But from the swelling and discoloration around your ankle, I’d say you’ve got a pretty severe sprain going there.”
Nick heard the doctor’s words, but they weren’t making sense. He felt like he was floating outside his body. He was no wuss, but the pain was tremendous. He’d almost passed out from it in the ambulance on the way to the ER. Now, as he sat here in the examining room with his pant leg slit to his knee (his new pair of Armani khakis, no less) and his leg propped up on the examining table, all he wanted was for the doc to give him something to make the throbbing stop.
“Just a sprain? It isn’t broken?” Reese asked.
“Can’t say for sure until the swelling goes down. But I didn’t feel any dislocation.”
To Nick, Reese asked, “Why are you doing that?”
“Doing what?”
“Rubbing your wrist. Did you hurt it too?”
He glanced down. She was right. He was massaging his left hand. And, yeah, it did hurt. “Must’ve used it to break my fall.”
“Let me see that.” The doctor reached in to take Nick’s hand. “Turn it to the right as far as you can go before the pain is too much.”
Nick did as ordered, raising his hand no more than an inch before he had to stop. “Geez, that hurts.”
“Okay, now pivot your hand to the left using your thumb.”
This time, he was able to lift his hand half an inch higher than the other direction before a cutting pain shot through the right side just above the wrist.
“How about the rest of your body? Sometimes the shoulder gets jerked when your palm goes out to catch the fall. Or maybe your knee?”
“My whole body feels like someone ran a cement grader over it, but I don’t think anything else is broken or torn.”
“Can’t you give him something to ease the pain, doctor?” Reese intervened. “He’s so pale.”
“Not yet, Mrs. Coltrane. Not until—”
“Oh, I’m not—”
“You’re
not
a nurse, are you,
hon
. So let the doc finish.” Even in his semi-conscious state, he knew a non-relative was likely to be sent back to the waiting room. Since he could barely focus on what the doc was telling him, he wanted someone else with him who would take it all in. He saw the look of surprise come over Reese’s face when he called her “hon.” He just hoped she played along.
The doctor either didn’t notice the exchange or chose to ignore it. “Uh, I was saying, until I’ve made a full assessment of your husband’s injury, I don’t want to block any of his body’s natural reactions to the injury. Those are some of the best clues we have to determining the actual state of his ankle.”
Nick avoided Reese’s eyes. She was sure to give things away, if given the chance. She probably couldn’t handle even white lies, like pretending she was his wife—just for now, of course—even if that meant he could have someone with him he trusted.
“I, uh, okay,” Reese stammered. “Could he at least lie back on that table?”
“Not just yet. I’m going to order a few x-rays. Don’t always do that right away due to the swelling, which tends to complicate the picture. But I want to make sure my evaluation is accurate. If either the ankle or wrist should be broken, I want to immobilize those parts as soon as possible.”
“Immobilize? Like with splints?” she asked.
“With pins.”
“Then you mean surgery.”
The physician looked away from him momentarily to respond to her question. “Yes. But I can’t make that call until I’ve got more information.”
An aide entered the exam room pushing a wheelchair. “Mr. Coltrane?”
“I’m your boy,” Nick answered. He attempted to be the model patient despite what felt like a clamp squeezing his ankle.
“You can stay here, if you want. Or go out to the waiting room,” the aide told Reese.
“This won’t take long,” the doctor told them, accompanying them out of the room.
And it didn’t take long. Within minutes, Nick was back. At least that’s what it seemed like. He could’ve passed out briefly and not known it.
As soon as the aide left and before the doctor returned, Reese said, “I debated whether to call your aunt.”
His insides went queasy. “You didn’t, I hope.”
“No. Not yet. If I’m supposed to be
Mrs.
Coltrane, you probably don’t want your aunt taking center stage.”
Thank God for that. “You catch on fast. Thanks.”
“How are you doing? Can you hold on until that doctor reads the x-rays?”
“You gonna catch me, if I start to fall over?” He couldn’t help himself. Even in this semi-conscious state, he had to make light of his condition.
“You don’t have to joke and play brave with me, Nick. My brothers have all suffered some sort of foot injury over the years, what with all the sports they’ve been involved in. And each one of them, despite their bravado, had his moments of misery.”
Was she bringing this up to keep him talking, so he’d forget about the pain? “Brothers. That’s right. You’ve mentioned them once or twice. Three. Right?”
“That’s right. Stepbrothers. All younger.”
“That’s what you’re attempting to do for me now? Play big sister?”
“I think you have a few years on me chronologically. But I feel responsible for all this. I should have known better than to take you into the lair of those two psychos.”
He held up a hand. “I’m a big boy, Reese. I should’ve kept my distance instead of rushing in there thinking I was the great arbiter.”
“Why did you?”
“Certainly not a hero complex. Even though the outing was my idea, I was getting frustrated following you around. Playing peacekeeper gave me something to do.”
She stared at him a moment. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. And…thank you for trying to help.”
Not expecting that. “Uh, you’re welcome.”
The ER doc returned to the room and wasted no time with preliminaries. “No fractures. At least that we can tell today. I may have you come back in a week or two for more x-rays, but for now we’re just going to put you in an ankle boot and wrap the wrist. With the wrist out of commission, you won’t be able to handle crutches, so I’m going to send you home with a wheelchair for a few days.”
“A wheelchair?” He heard his voice rise, using more energy than he’d been feeling otherwise in the last hour.
“That’s right. Once your wrist feels better, don’t put any weight on that foot for a few days, even with crutches. Until the swelling subsides.”
“Darling! Why didn’t you call me?”
The words, so plaintive, so concerned, cut off the doctor’s instructions as Leonie breezed into the room, Jasper in her wake.
Nick’s pain level immediately spiked. How did she know he was here?
“Are you the one in charge here?” Leonie asked the doc.
“I’m the attending ER physician, if that’s what you mean, ma’am. Who are you?”
Leonie bristled. “I’m his aunt. His next of kin.”
“Whoever you are, I’m afraid you’ll need to go to the waiting room now that you’ve located your nephew. It’s getting a bit crowded in here. And since his wife’s—”
“His wife?”
Oh, boy. Like he needed one more complication.
Better ’fess up before Hurricane Leonie wreaked her typical havoc. “I, uh, sorta…misled you earlier, Doc, when I told you this was Mrs. Coltrane.”
The doctor raised his eyebrows.
“Ms. Dunbar was the only one here with me, so I asked her to take notes since I was having trouble tracking.”
“I see,” the doctor said, although he obviously didn’t.
Reese grabbed for her purse. “But since your aunt’s here now, I’ll be on my way.” She swiveled toward Jasper. “I’m assuming rehearsal is off?”
“I, we, put it on indefinite hold when we learned Nick had been taken to the hospital.”
“Then I’ll grab a cab and head home.”
“No, wait.” He hadn’t realized he was going to call her back until the words emerged. “Maybe all three of you could go to the waiting room while they fix me up. My driver can drop you off at your apartment on the way to my place, Reese.”
Leonie offered Reese a tight smile and, in her trademark mellifluous tones said, “That’s not necessary, Nick. Now that I’m here, I’ll stick around. My driver can take Ms. Dunbar and Jasper back to their respective homes and your man, James, can take us both back to your place.”
Checkmate. The old girl wasn’t about to relinquish her status as next of kin to anyone, especially Reese. He just wished she wouldn’t act so smug about seizing control.
Reese seemed to assess the exchange between nephew and aunt before replying, “Uh, thanks. Ready, Jasper? Take care, Nick.” She handed him a notepad. “I started to take notes. Perhaps your aunt would like to pick up where I left off?”
Like that was going to happen. God, he wished Leonie hadn’t shown up. Reese had been so supportive and comforting throughout this ordeal. Now that Leonie had taken over, he felt like he did whenever his aunt had been called to his principal’s office when he was back in school and had gotten into some kind of trouble. As she left, he called out to Reese, “Thanks for sticking with me.”
She nodded and quickly made her getaway with Jasper.
“Uh, okay. To continue with what I was telling you before,” the doctor said, “once you feel up to putting some weight on that foot, you can use the crutches.
Leonie gasped. “Crutches?”
The doctor’s eyes knit together above the bridge of his nose. “Yes? How else did you expect him to get around? Although I’d advise against much mobility, period, for a day or two. Stay in bed with your foot elevated and ice it every so often.”
He took in the doc’s orders with dread, knowing what was to come.
“That’s simply not possible,” Leonie said. “Nick hosts a television cooking show. He has to stand behind a kitchen counter and move from there to a refrigerator, sink and oven. He can’t very well do that from bed.”
The physician didn’t reply. Instead, he continued to input data into his notebook computer. When he finished, he said to Nick, “Stop by the ER admissions desk on your way out. There’ll be a treatment plan and scrips for your wheelchair, crutches and medications. I’ll have the nurse give you some painkillers now.”
“You apparently chose not to hear me, doctor. Nick has obligations to the show and the rest of our crew. If he’s not able to be there, we’ll have to shut down production until he’s better.”
The doctor finally eyed Leonie. “I heard you, ma’am, but I can’t do anything about that. I’m advising your nephew to stay completely off his feet for a few days, getting up only to use his bathroom facilities. If he chooses to do otherwise, I can’t be responsible for the consequences.”
“What kind of consequences?” Nick asked.
“You could re-injure yourself, only worse this time, if you lose your balance and fall again. That might prolong the healing process. And even if you were lucky enough to avoid either of those contingencies, it could take a heavy toll on you physically.”
“Gotcha,” Nick said, hoping that Leonie understood as well.
He had to remind his aunt to stop at the admissions desk to pick up his paperwork as they exited. His driver brought the car around and then helped Nick get settled.
“Thank you for calling me, James,” Leonie told the driver once they were on their way. “Why that Dunbar woman failed to get in touch with me, I don’t know.”
So that’s how she knew. “I tol’ her not to,” Nick said through the slight buzz provided by the painkillers. “Dint…want…wor…ry…you.”
Nick came to as James was guiding him into bed from the wheelchair.
“You gonna be okay like this, Mr. Coltrane?”
The driver’s voice sounded muffled, like Nick was wearing earplugs. “Guess…so. Where’s…Leo—?”
“Your aunt had to get back to the studio to arrange things for the rest of the week. I’m off to fetch your crutches and the rest of your meds. Be back a little later. I’ll check on you then.”
Crutches. Meds. He vaguely remembered the doc saying something about those. But all he wanted to do, could do, right now was close his eyes and drift away. And for what could have been mere minutes or several hours, he parted company with this world and found relief from the still-present pain.
****
He came to in phases, starting with tiny slits of light filtering through his eyes. Then his auditory sense picked up extraneous room sounds—the ebb and flow of the building’s HVAC system, the shifting of walls, even the sound of silence.
A table lamp across the room provided low-level illumination. As consciousness returned, his stomach growled. He twisted to check the digital clock on the nightstand. Ouch! Ah. Forgot the ankle and wrist. Geez, he’d hoped it would be gone by now. Stupid. The doc had warned that the pain wouldn’t go away immediately.
After nine. No wonder the hunger pangs.
Next to the clock he saw two bottles of water, two vials of pills of some sort, a piece of fruit and a small loaf of bread inside plastic wrap. He wouldn’t starve.