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“Keep an eye out and guide them in?” she asked.
“Of course.”
I felt so helpless. I paced the deck back and forth, praying harder than I ever had before, begging God to save her, to keep her here. An agonizing, seven minutes later, the helicopter made its appearance in the sky. I jumped on the balls of my feet in anticipation. It felt like they took forever to set down in the bit of driveway in front of the main house. Two EMTs emerged, and I led them into the house while the pilot sat ready to leave as soon as possible. They rushed past me and into the house. I followed them, panicked, on the verge of falling to my knees and yanking out my hair. I had no idea what was going on. Just an hour before she was normal, happy, in my arms. I was kissing her. Falling more and more in love with her.
In a whirlwind, they had her on a gurney, and had flown off with the love of my life. I was left standing alone on the deck wondering what in the hell I was supposed to do.
“Come on, son,” Ellie said, wrapping her arm around me. “The hospital,” she explained.
I bounded down the deck stairs and opened Ellie’s door for her. Emmett promised to follow within minutes after he informed Jonah, Bridge and the rest of the hands.
The thirty minutes it took to drive to Kalispell were the longest of my life. We drove in absolute silence, both praying, both hoping when we got to the hospital that she’d be fine. That it’d be a false alarm. That she would be walking, talking, being her normal, happy, funny self.
My hands gripped the steering wheel, the whites of my knuckles shining through. I periodically would run a hand down the length of my face in disbelief. I was so pissed at myself for not seeing the signs. Her multi-weekly trips to Kalispell with Ethan. Her refusing the alcohol. She told me on more than one occasion that the ranch, the people of her town, did not define her correctly. At Bridge’s doctor’s office, that receptionist asking how she was doing. Ethan and her “fight.” Ellie crying at the bottom of the stairs. Cricket’s profound thoughts of death. Her mother. Ethan and the list.
“Oh my God, Ellie,” I said, my body starting to shake.
“Yes,” she spoke quietly.
“Was Ethan Cricket’s kidney donor?”
She looked at me. “Yes.”
“Oh my God,” I said, feeling the need to wretch. “Oh my God,” I said again, my hands shaking so badly I could barely clutch the wheel.
That day, in the trailer, before their fight. You’re only in your relationship with Ethan because he’s giving you something you think you can’t live without, and you’re too scared to give up.
I pulled over, opened the door and vomited everything I had, which wasn’t much since my stomach was empty. When I came back up, Ellie had found an old t-shirt on the ground and handed it to me.
I wiped my mouth. “Thank you,” I could barely say.
She nodded and I pulled back out on the road.
I was selfish. A selfish asshole who, no matter where he went, what his intentions were, wreaked havoc on everyone he got near. I was toxic, making good people around me pay for my past sins.
Chapter Thirty-Three
I parked quickly and Ellie, still in her bathrobe and slippers, and I headed directly for the E.R. We approached the check-in nurse.
“My granddaughter is here, love,” Ellie spoke sweetly. “Name’s Caroline Hunt?”
“Yes,” she said, “she’s with a doctor now.”
“May we see her?” she asked.
“Just a moment,” the nurse answered, standing up and heading through double doors.
I saw a row of seats near the desk and helped Ellie sit. She was so calm, so sweet, but she was leaning on me so heavily. I knew she was emotionally wrecked. My heart bled for her. I sat next to her and set her hands in my own.
We sat quietly, waiting for the nurse. It was taking forever. It always infuriated me when hospital staff took their time. I understood that this was the day-to-day of their jobs, but to us, to the family of the sick, it was a place where every minute, every second, felt like torment. I hated the casual “wait” attitude they possessed. It made me want to shake them. There was no sense of urgency when it came to their patients’ families, and I thought that cruel. At a time where compassion should be priority, it fell so quickly to the wayside with the humdrum of their work.
The nurse finally strolled in with a “They’re working on her now. I’ll let you know something when I do.”
“Is she conscious? Still breathing?” I demanded. “Can you give us anything?”
“I’m not sure,” she explained and walked away.
Ellie and I prayed together and waited...and waited and waited and waited.
