Christmas Miracle: A Family (11 page)

“What?” she asked James, who was trying to assess Walt’s pupils without the proper equipment.

“Diabetic coma, I’m guessing. I can smell it on his breath, that fruitiness.”

“I’ve sent someone for your medical bag. It’ll be here in a minute. And I’ve arranged to have him transported to the hospital.”

“Already?”

She shrugged. “It’s what I do.”

“So, you know this guy? Do you know anything about his medical history?”

“He’s a part-time doctor at the hospital. Retired, mostly. But he’ll come back when we need him, if we can find him. And as far as I know, he’s very healthy. At least, that’s
what I’m assuming as he’s spent the better part of the last half-year hiking around in the mountains.”

“This is Walter Graham?” James asked, unbuttoning Walt’s shirt. “I’ve heard about him.”

“He’s Santa Claus.”

“What?”

“On the Christmas train. He’s Santa Claus. That’s probably why he’s back in town. The train starts running in few days, and it has to have Santa Claus on it. Walt’s been Santa for twenty-five years now.”

“Your bag,” a winded man said, running up behind them. He looked down at Walt. “He delivered all three of my children. Is he going to be OK?”

“We’re trying,” Fallon said, more for Walt than the man. “We’re really trying.” But trying wasn’t good enough, and if this did turn out to be a diabetic problem he needed to be in an intensive care unit, with drugs they wouldn’t have out in the field. Question was, would they be quick enough to save his life?

While James listened to Walt’s chest, Fallon took a blood-pressure reading. Choked in surprise. Took it again. “Walt,” she gasped, even though the man clearly could not hear her. “Did you know you’re hypertensive?”

“What is it?” James asked.

“Two-twenty over one-sixty.”

James let out a small whistle. “I don’t suppose you’d know if he was being treated for it?”

“Knowing Walt, he wasn’t. He’s as stubborn as they come. Good at demanding things from his patients and nagging at them until they do it, but apparently not so good when it comes to taking care of himself.”

“Well, it goes with his condition. Not unusual in diabetes, especially if he’s not been treated.”

“Look, James, you stay here. I’m going out to the park
ing lot and see if I can see anybody coming…an ambulance, a helicopter.” It was much too soon, she knew, but she couldn’t just kneel here doing nothing. “I’ll be right back.” She stood, and practically ran over a wall of a man standing behind her. Handsome man, sun-bronzed complexion, dark brown hair. A real breath-taker for some lucky woman. “Sorry,” she said, stepping around him.

“I’m a doctor,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “If you need some help here.”

She pointed to James. “Dr. Galbraith there might need you. Check with him, and I’ll be right back.” She wondered who the doctor was. Didn’t think he was on staff at the hospital. Pretty sure he didn’t live in White Elk. Probably one of the many here on holiday, and she was glad he was there to assist James, if necessary. Because she needed to be in the parking lot, ready to direct the rescue crew the minute they arrived. Ready to expedite that end of the emergency.

On her way out the door, her phone rang. Dinah Ramsey, according to caller ID. “Eric said his ETA is less than five minutes,” she said breathlessly. “Neil’s gone to Emergency to get things set up. Is it true, that it might be a diabetic coma?”

“James thinks so. And hypertensive as a collateral condition. His wife took good care of him all those years, then when she died he went to pieces in more ways than one.” The loss of true love was something she understood.

Lights in the sky, followed by the whir of the engine caught her attention. Caused her heart to pound harder, her breaths to strangle in her throat. No matter how hard she tried to keep herself calm, it didn’t always happen. “I think…” Deep breath. “I think I see him. Is Eric flying?” She made herself focus on how she
was not
going up
in that helicopter, willed her heart to stop its galloping, demanded her breathing go back to normal.

“That’s his helicopter. He finally took the plunge and he’s trying it out before the hospital makes the purchase. Look, Fallon, tell James that Tyler is fine with me and the girls. We’ve had pizza, and I’ve got them all settled in, watching a movie. As I have an idea this is going to be a late one, why don’t you let him stay here tonight? That way you and James won’t have to worry about him.”

The way Dinah talked, it was almost as if she and James were parents and Tyler was their child. It was a nice image, just not the real one. “I’ll let James know. And if he wants to do anything different, I’ll have him call you. Gotta go.” She ran to the edge of the parking lot and watched the helicopter land in a field at the end of it. Before she could run to greet its pilot, Eric had jumped out and was halfway across the grass, running as fast as he could, carrying an armload of supplies. “More in the chopper,” he yelled as he passed Fallon. “Grab the stretcher if you can.”

She grabbed the stretcher, a lightweight frame, and a bag full of miscellaneous supplies and ran right back to the lodge, where Eric was already hooking Walt up to a heart monitor, James was readying an oxygen set-up, and the unknown doctor was taking vital signs. As soon as she got there, she wiggled her way in next to James to begin the IV prep.

“He’s coming round,” James said, as Walt started fighting the oxygen mask, thrashing about, trying to strike out at his rescuers.

“Walt,” Fallon said in her sternest voice. “Listen to me. We’re trying to help you. Please don’t fight us.”

Walt opened his eyes, but they didn’t focus.

“Do you understand? We’re trying to help you.”

His eyes moved slowly until they locked on Fallon, and
whether or not he understood her words was anybody’s guess, but once he saw her, he settled right down.

“I’m afraid he’s going to start thrashing again once I stick him to get the IV in,” she whispered to James.

The other doctor responded. “How about I do that while you keep talking to him? He seems to calm down when he hears your voice, so hold his other hand, make sure he keeps his mask on.”

“As soon as you get the IV started, we’re going to take him down to the hospital,” Eric said. “Mark can ride with me, and you two can get back to doing whatever you were doing.” He smiled. “A date, wasn’t it?”

“Dinner,” Fallon corrected him. “That’s what we were doing. Just
dinner
. And wouldn’t you rather have someone you know with you on the transport…James.” She wouldn’t fly, wasn’t sure she ever could again, but James would. And after being in his arms, after that one dance, she was ready to get some space from him.

“Mark Anderson,” the other doctor said by way of introduction. “And Eric knows me. He and I…and Neil Ranard were colleagues back in California.” He held down Walt’s arm while James located the vein and sank the IV. Within seconds the bag was hooked up, and all three men were in the process of getting Walt strapped to the stretcher. Once that deed was done, James, Eric and Mark rushed him out the door, leaving Fallon standing in the middle of the dining room alone as all the diners still stood off to the side, watching.

“You OK?” Angela asked, rushing to Fallon’s side as she prepared to leave.

“Sure. Tired, but OK.”

“That was amazing, what you and James did. I admire all of you…my sister, Eric. I mean, I come here and cook every night, and you…you do something that counts.”

“Cooking counts,” Fallon said, suddenly realizing she was on the verge of total exhaustion. “Without the cooks of the world, those of us who burn water would starve.”

“Who was the other doctor?” Angela asked. “I haven’t seen him before.”

Fallon tried to remember his name. “Rick. Or, Mark. I think I heard him say he was from California, but I was talking to Walt at the time, trying to reassure him.”

“He’s going to be OK, isn’t he? I mean, I was thinking that if you and James hadn’t been here when he collapsed…”

As the helicopter lifted off, and she watched it makes its way skyward, Fallon’s head went light and she took a staggering step backwards. “I think I need to go home,” she said. “I’ll call you as soon as I hear anything about Walt.”

“Can I drive you?”

“I think James is waiting for me. At the truck. He was going to help get Walt loaded into the helicopter then come and get me. But thanks.” The two exchanged hugs, and as Fallon was about to pull away from Angela, James stepped up behind her. “James
is
waiting for you. And he’s taking you straight home and putting you to bed.” Angela took that as the hint to leave them alone as James slid his arm around Fallon’s waist to support her. Never had anything felt so good. At any other time she would have struggled to stand on her own, but this was the second time James had practically carried her home, and this was the second time she had been willing to let him do it.

“Tyler’s with Dinah and the twins. Spending the night, if that’s OK with you.”

As the two of them strolled across the parking lot to the truck, she leaned into him more and more, until he was
practically holding up her full weight. “Eric mentioned that. I told him it was fine with me. Look, Fallon, I think maybe I should carry you.”

“No, I’ll make it…” As long as he was there to help her. “I don’t have my full stamina back and I think my little adrenalin surge has worn off. But I can walk to the truck.”

Which she did. And she even walked into the cabin on her own. But made it only as far as the couch, where she collapsed, promising herself she’d rest a minute or two before she climbed the stairs to her bedroom. She had to get up those stairs because she was feeling too vulnerable, too cozy. She wanted to shut a door between them. Wanted to put up a physical barrier that would block out everything she was fighting to give in to. She and James together, upstairs. Weak thoughts attributed to a tired body. Something she had to remember. “Thanks for dinner,” she said, as she pushed herself up off the couch. “I’m sorry it didn’t turn out better.”

“Well, except for the first half-hour when you were so nervous, and the last half hour when Walt collapsed, it wasn’t all that bad.”

Fallon laughed. “Always the optimist, aren’t you? Seeing the glass half-f, not half-empty.”

“But it is half-f. Although I’ll admit, when I asked you to dance, I was pretty sure it was going to be empty.”

“But I danced.”

“That, you did. And I’m wondering why.”

She looked up at him, sighed. Attempted a smile. “Because you wanted to. I’m not an ogre, James. I do want to be your friend, if we can find a way to work that out.”

“Friend? That’s all?” He shook his head, sucked in a frustrated breath and let it out slowly. “I can’t keep doing
this, Fallon. Can’t keep hoping. It’s getting more and more exhausting for me. And right now the only thing on my mind is how much I want to carry you up those stairs, which is why I’m going to leave. I’ve decided to buy Emoline Putters’s house sight unseen. Maybe move in as soon as the day after Christmas. Because I need to get out of here. Need to get Tyler out of here and leave you to whatever it is you want to be left to.”

The words she’d been wanting to hear. But hearing them didn’t make her feel any better. If anything, she felt worse. Afraid. Alone. She couldn’t let him see that, though, or he wouldn’t leave. So she braved up, squared her shoulders, forced a smile. “You’re right. That’s what you need to do. It’ll be best for everyone.”

“And that’s it?”

“What else should there be, James? This was never a permanent arrangement. You were always going to leave, and now it’s official.” Her brave front was slipping, but she didn’t want him to see that. “So, in the meantime, if you hear anything about Walt, let me know. Yell it from the bottom of the stairs, though. I don’t want you coming up.”

“Be honest with me, Fallon. Is that because if I did get to the top, you wouldn’t send me back down?”

She couldn’t lie to him. Dear God, she wished she could. That would make it easier. But she couldn’t. “If you climbed those stairs, I wouldn’t send you back down.” She turned away and started walking upstairs, wondering, for a moment, if they could have just one night…one more night. Make it simple, be clear about it. Wake up in each other’s arms for one last time. Say the final goodbye to the part of their lives that desperately needed closure, and start a new chapter, separately. Her list of reasons sounded good to a weary mind. So why not? James would understand
what it was about and maybe it would help him move on. Help her move on.

She could do this. And it didn’t mean she was giving in. It meant that she was finally putting it to rest. Closure. Yes, that was it. She was seeking closure. Of course, there was the real possibility that in the morning, when her head was clear, she’d regret her decision, and see her list for what it was…a pathetic attempt to live in the past, to hang onto a part of that past she couldn’t have now. She turned to invite him up, but he was already gone. And she didn’t go after him.

“He’s doing well. Grumpy, but otherwise in remarkably good condition for what he suffered last night.”

“Huh?” Fallon looked up at James through a hazy stupor. She hadn’t slept at all last night. She’d tossed and turned, paced, fixed herself hot milk, read a magazine, gone over files for the new hospital, and admonished herself for what she’d almost done every second her head hadn’t been full of something else. She would have slept with him. Made love, and quite possibly would have been making love again right this very minute. So this morning she wasn’t up to facing him. More than that, she wasn’t up to facing herself.

“Walt Graham. He’s grumpy…”

“He was always grumpy,” she said, twisting away from James. He was standing over her, she was sitting at the breakfast bar, pretending to eat a carton of yogurt. There was no way she could twist far enough away from him to forget what she’d wanted to do. “Gentle soul inside, grumpy on the outside.”

“He wants to be Santa. Says he’ll check himself out of the hospital and do what he wants to do.”