Page 14 of Up In Flames

I look over and find Guy Falker. I don’t much like Guy, never did, but he seems pretty worried about Sampson.

“Sam’s banged up, but he’s built sturdy. No broken bones. Now, I’m going to ask you all to go home, even you gentlemen from the MFD. We’re going to keep Mr. Dean under light sedation for the pain, and force our hospitality upon him overnight to make certain there’s no internal bleeding, but he’ll probably be released tomorrow. You can send your casseroles and flowers to him soon enough. Now, let’s free up the front here, so sick people can get in to see us, okay? Thanks a bunch!” He waves his hand and turns away, before striding over to the front desk to have a conversation with Charmaine Tillis, the nurse who mans the reception desk.

“Come on, Nicholas. Might as well go home. Hey, maybe you can make Mr. Dean a card?” I say, messing up the boy’s tawny hair.

“I guess. You sure Mr. Dean’s okay?”

“That’s what Dr. Feinbaum said. No reason to doubt him, right?”

But I’m just pulling him away when Charmaine calls my name. “Nina? Nina Adams?”

“Here.” I hold up the hand that’s not attached to Nicholas’s like I’m in school.

She waves me over to the desk, and with everyone making a beeline out the door, we manage to arrive with minimal effort. “Doctor would like a word.” She gestures.

Dr. Feinbaum drops the folder he’s flipping through to give me a kindly smile before coming around the partition to ruffle Nicholas’s hair as well. I don’t blame him. Nicholas just has the ruffly kind of hair. “Hey, Nina. Could you come with me, please?”

“I’m babysitting, so I can’t leave Nicholas. Why? Is there a problem?”

“No, no problem. It’s just that Mr. Dean was mumbling your name as he came to, and he seemed kind of anxious. I thought I’d just bring you by him to ease his concerns.”

“Concerns? What possible concerns could he have where I’m… concerned?”

“Don’t know, and none of my business. I just thought that since he seemed so riled, talking to you might do him a bit of good. I didn’t want to say so in front of the crowd, but seeing as how you’re obviously close…” He winks before he leans in to speak more softly next to my ear. “The fact is, matters aren’t as simple as I made them out to be. Sampson fell a great distance. He’s lucky to be alive. The MFD guys say he was blazing like a Yule log, but his suit protected him from the worst of it, that part was true. The fall, though, did a number, and what he needs most in order to heal is peace, quiet, and calm. I’m assuming you can give that to him?”

And I only realize how worried I’ve been for Sampson by how my relief at first hearing he was okay now disappears. Anxiety so strong that it pits my stomach, races through me on acid-dipped feet.

What can I say? I’m slow sometimes to understand my own reactions.

Without any further argument, Nicholas and I follow Dr. Feinbaum past the entrance and into the main hallway. We walk the maze of corridors in silence until we stop before one of the open doors.

“I’ll give you a few moments alone, but not more than five, you hear? Whatever he needs to say to you is none of my business, so long as you keep our Sam calm. I won’t have my patient over-tired, so if this is some lovers’ tiff he’s worried about, put it on the back burner.”

“It’s not…” But I don’t finish because there’s no way to explain away a relationship that doesn’t exist. “We’ll just visit with him a few minutes.” Truth is, I have nothing to say, not to Sampson, not to the doctor, and not even to myself. My heart is pounding too hard to find words. I don’t know why. I’m not scared, not exactly, but this whole situation is just too… weird. Since when does a person’s enemy call out their name after they’ve fallen out of a tree and into a roaring fire?

Maybe Sampson wants to apologize. After all these years, it’s about time.

Once the doctor leaves, Nicholas and I walk through the blue tiled room to the far end. I think it’s an operating room, actually, that they’ve made into a patient room, because the floor has a drain in the middle, and it looks sterile, with machines and instruments everywhere. Two twin-size beds have been stacked longwise. Pillows have been added to make a soft ramp over the touching head and footrest. Sampson’s knees lie over the connection, bent slightly.

“I think he’s sleeping,” Nicholas whispers.

Judging by the resounding snores, I’d say so, but that’s not what worries me. There’s a gurgling sound every time he inhales, and a wheezing, as if he’s struggling for breath.

“Yeah. We should go.”

“But he wants to talk to you. You heard the doctor. Besides, he saved you yesterday. You owe him.”

Great. Now I have a child as my conscience.

“I’ll leave him a note.” But as I search the room, I can’t find anything with which to write, or anything to write on other than the chart hooked to the end of the second bed.

It doesn’t matter, because with a loud snort, Sampson opens his eyes. His breathing evens out, though there’s still a rasp that makes me… nervous. He blinks his large green eyes at me. “Nina?”

My name is barely a whisper, but an enormous wave of relief swamps me. He recognizes me. That must mean he’s going to be okay?

I push Nicholas before me until we stand next to the main bed. “And Nicholas. He insisted we come and make certain you’re okay. Are you, um, okay?”

He begins to nod before wincing. “Yeah. Just a little banged up, I guess. I think my neck’s burned.”