Where There's Smoke

At the sound of Key’s voice close behind her, Lara turned. He was watching the Leonards as they moved down the corridor.

“It’ll be touch and go.”

“You almost lost her, didn’t you?” His gaze shifted to her. “And you fought like hell to get her back.”

“That’s my job.”

After a moment he asked, “What about her arm?”

“I don’t know. She may lose it.”

“Shit.” He slipped his sunglasses into the breast pocket of his shirt, which he’d taken time to button before following them into the hospital. “I need some coffee. Want some?”

“No, thank you.”

“Whenever you’re ready to go back to Eden Pass—”

Lara was shaking her head. “I’ll wait here with them. At least until she’s out of surgery. Feel free to leave whenever you like. I’ll find a way back.”

He gave her a hard look, then said curtly, “I’m going for coffee.”

Lara watched him as he moved down the sterile corridor, his gait straight and steady except for a slight limp that favored his right ankle. In spite of his dishevelment, one would never guess she had roused him from a drunken stupor a short while ago.

He’d set the chopper down between a multilevel parking garage and the hospital building. It was tricky piloting. His boast of being able to fly anywhere at any time wasn’t an empty one.

The Leonards returned from making their telephone calls and began their long vigil. When Key returned, he brought with him several cups of coffee and vending machine snacks. Lara introduced him to the anxious couple.

“We can never thank you enough,” Marion told him tearfully. “No matter how it turns out, if you hadn’t gotten us here, Letty… she…”

He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, rather than diminish the gravity of the situation with empty platitudes. “I’ll be back in a while.” With no further explanation, he left.

Reports from the operating room were agonizingly slow in coming. Each time the OR nurse approached the waiting area, the three of them tensed. But her message on these brief and periodic visits was that the surgeons were doing all they could to stabilize Letty and save her arm from amputation.

It was busy in the ER that morning. Several people had sustained serious injuries in the wreck on the interstate. It had involved three vehicles, including a van filled with senior citizens on a field trip. The staff was harried, but from what Lara could see they were competent.

Key returned about an hour later, bringing with him a large shopping bag from Walmart. He extended it to Lara and Marion. “I thought y’all’d be more comfortable if you got out of those clothes.”

Inside the sack they found slacks and T-shirts. Their clothes had grown stiff with Letty’s blood. They used the nearest restroom to wash up and change. When Jack tried to reimburse Key, he wouldn’t hear of it.

“You’re Barney Leonard’s son, aren’t you? You run the laundry and dry cleaners for your daddy now, don’t you?”

“That’s right, Mr. Tackett. I didn’t figure you knew me.”

“You’re doing a hell of a job on my shirts. Just the right amount of starch,” Key told him. “That’s repayment enough.”

Jack solemnly shook his hand.

Their kinfolk arrived about an hour later, along with the Leonards’ pastor. The subdued group huddled together and prayed for Letty’s life. During her medical career Lara had witnessed many such scenes and no longer felt uncomfortable in the face of personal tragedy.

But Key obviously felt out of place. He paced the hallway and frequently disappeared. Each time he left, Lara figured he had flown the borrowed helicopter back to Eden Pass, but he always returned and asked if there had been any news on Letty’s condition. During one of these unspecified absences, he had shaved and tucked in his shirttail. The improvements made him look marginally respectable.

Almost seven hours after Letty was wheeled into surgery, a paunchy, middle-aged man in blue scrubs entered the waiting room and called their name. The Leonards stood and grasped each other’s hands, bracing themselves for what they were about to hear.

“I’m Dr. Rupert.” He introduced himself as the vascular surgeon. “Your little girl is going to be fine. Unless there are unexpected complications, she should pull through.”

Marion would have collapsed if her husband hadn’t been there to support her. She began weeping in hard, dry sobs. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“What about her arm?” Jack asked.