WHISPERS IN THE WIND

--- Joan Emerson (AE215jfe@aol.com)

 

“We should do something special for Stacey’s birthday this year,” Kell mused thoughtfully.

 

Looking up from her sewing --- putting two buttons back on Kevin’s raincoat . . . . . . . . again --- Dixie asked, “What makes this year any different from the last two?”

 

“Well, it’s not,” Kell conceded, “but this is the first birthday she’s likely to really remember, so it ought to be extra-special.”

 

“Got anything in mind?”

 

Kelly Brackett sighed.  “No . . . . . . . . not particularly.  I just think we ought to try and make it something spectacular for her.”

 

Dixie pondered the idea as she finished reattaching the buttons.  Stacey was their “found” child, coming to them after her mother died in an automobile accident.  She’d had no other family, and Dixie had promised her mother that she would take care of the little girl.  They’d done all the proper legal stuff, adopted her, and welcomed her into their home and hearts.  She’d grown into a bright, inquisitive, happy youngster who seemed to have absolutely no difficulty keeping up with her older brother and sister.  Like the twins, she was captivated with baby Dillon and would happily spend her time just chattering away to him as he played in the baby swing.  She seemed particularly close to him, perhaps even more so than the twins, and Dixie supposed that that might be because the twins were seven-going-on-twenty and Stacey was just turning four.    

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Stacey’s birthday fell on a Saturday; ultimately, they decided to make her birthday a weekend-long affair [satisfying her father’s desire to make it a celebration she couldn’t help but remember].  On her birthday Saturday, Disneyland would be the order of the day.  Once they’d settled on that, they’d asked Joe and Julie to go along; after all, godparents ought to share in all these celebration kinds of things with their godchildren . . . . . . . . and for a day of rambling around the happy land of little mouse ears, one adult per child seemed like an exceptionally good idea indeed.  On Sunday afternoon they would all get together again and have a Chuck E. Cheese party . . . . . . . . the pizza restaurant catered to children and was one of Stacey’s most favorite places to go.  Afterward, they would have cake and quietly open family presents at home, just to make sure the day did not get too long for Dillon [or for the grown-ups]. 

 

Considering the plans, Dixie would have been willing to forego party streamers and decorations, but Kevin and Kelsie were adamant in that regard.  Birthday parties needed streamers and balloons, they insisted, so she’d gone down to the party store and gotten the requisite balloons and rolls of crepe paper.  The twins were as excited as if it were their own birthday, and Dixie idly wondered just what sort of party plans Kell would come up with for them.  Thankfully, she’d have some time to recuperate from the doings of Stacey’s big day before she had to concern herself with the twins' next birthday, and Dillon was still too young to care or even know about birthdays.   Her regular shift at Ram-part would be a piece of cake after all this, she idly reflected.   

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Dixie carefully climbed to the top of the stepladder and reached up to fasten the crepe paper streamers above the door.  Kelsie had picked the colors . . . . . . . . blue, currently Stacey’s favorite color-of-the-moment, yellow, and green . . . . . . . . and spent the better part of the afternoon twisting the streamers together; impatient to see how they would look hanging up, she’d pestered until Dixie had agreed to get the stepladder and fasten them up, even though the party wouldn’t be for another week.  She’d have insisted on waiting for Kell, only she knew that on this night he wasn’t likely to make it home from Rampart before the children went to bed.

 

Sticking the tack through the crepe paper, she reached above the door to push it into the wall.  At that moment, the door opened, knocking into the stepladder and causing her to lose her balance.  As the ladder wobbled, she reached out her hand to brace herself against the wall and keep from falling.  But the ladder had tipped too far to right itself, and she fell backwards against the wall, with the ladder crashing down on top of her.  Kelsie burst into tears as Dixie, feeling just a bit stunned by the sudden tumble, worked at getting herself out from underneath the stepladder. 

 

Instantly realizing what had happened as he came through the door, Kell dropped his jacket and rushed to her assistance.  “Dix!  Sweetheart!  Are you all right?”

 

“Yeah,” she muttered as he shoved the ladder aside and helped her to her feet.

 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, gently drawing her into a hug.  Even as he silently berated himself for his carelessness, the doctor in him took charge.  “Let me take a look at you.”

 

“Don’t be silly,” she rejoined, moving to set the ladder up again.  “I’m fine.”  Dismissing the tumble as she pointed to a spot above the door, she laughed, “You can make up to me by tacking the streamers up there!”

 

Kell looked at her dubiously as she turned away to comfort their oldest daughter; then, retrieving the streamers, she held them out to him.  With a sigh of apprehension, he climbed up and tacked them in place while a consoled and reassured Kelsie returned to dictating where the remaining streamers should be put.  Concerned, he kept a watchful eye on her as they both tucked the children into bed.  He sat in the kitchen while she fixed him something to eat and, as she really did seem to be just fine, he dismissed his worries, thankful that she’d escaped injury.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Kell found himself being jostled awake as Kevin and Kelsie bounced up onto the bed.  In truth, he could think of far worse ways to be awakened than by having his children bouncing up and down on the bed.  Grinning, he grabbed hold of the closest child and playfully growled at the serenely smiling doll whose hand was being tightly clutched by her little fingers.  Kelsie dissolved in laughter and fell onto the pillows as Kevin crawled over his father; Kell grabbed hold of him and laughingly pulled him down next to his sister.  “Ssshhhh!” he cautioned with a chuckle, hoping their playful squeals had not awakened Dillon.

 

“Where’s Mommie?” Stacey asked as she wandered in, dragging her ever-present blanket along behind her.

 

Kell glanced around, confirming that Dixie was not anywhere in the immediate vicinity.  “Don’t know, Bumblebee,” he replied.  “Did you look in the kitchen?”  Kevin and Kelsie, filled with the exuberance of childhood, bounced off the bed and the three children raced off in search of their mother.  Grinning, Kell pushed back the covers, pulled on a pair of jeans, and, in search of a hot cup of coffee, headed off in the direction of the kitchen himself.  He was pulling his shirt over his head as the children, coming back toward the bedroom, met up with him.

 

“Nope,” Kevin reported solemnly, “she’s not in the kitchen.”

 

“Try the living room, then,” he laughed.

 

They sped off once more, leaving Kell wishing, not for the first time, that he could bottle their energy.  Enamored of this new game, they had disappeared in a twinkling but were back in another instant, breathlessly announcing, “Nope; not there.”

 

Surprised, Kell suggested, “Maybe she’s in with Dillon.”  As the children started off, he cautioned, “Check quietly,” and they proceeded to tiptoe down the hallway, leaving him chuckling as he wandered into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee.  Lying on the counter next to the coffee maker was a note; she’d gone out to get milk and would be right back.

 

Kell poured the coffee and waited for the children to reappear.  When they came dashing into the kitchen, he told them their mother had gone out for milk and would be back soon.  Stacey darted off to the bay window in the living room and climbed up into the window seat to watch for her while the twins amused themselves with making cinnamon sugar toast for everyone.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Feeling tired and rather out of sorts, Dixie had gotten up early with the beginnings of a nagging headache.  Discovering they were out of milk . . . . . . . . again . . . . . . . . she’d downed some aspirin and headed for the market.  Aggravated at the prospect of having to deal with a sick headache in the midst of all they had planned for the day, she sighed as she wearily headed toward the dairy case at the back of the store.  Sometimes she thought it would be just grand if they owned stock in a dairy, considering the amount of milk they managed to go through in a week.  No matter; the closeness of the little market really made spur-of-the-moment, between-grocery-days excursions like this much easier for her.  Fervently wishing that the medicine would hurry up and kick in, Dixie checked the dates on the milk cartons, picked up a couple of gallons, and headed back toward the checkout counter at the front of the store.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

“Is it time to go yet?” Kelsie asked as she shoved the last bit of her first slice of cinnamon toast into her mouth.  As far as she was concerned, cinnamon toast was the perfect meal; her mother, however, had other ideas on what made a perfect breakfast.

 

“Well, we can’t go until Mommie gets back from the store,” Kell smiled as he sipped at his coffee.  “I think we probably have enough time for you to eat that other piece of cinnamon toast.”

 

Kelsie grinned at her father as she happily bit into the toast.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

The line at the checkout counter looked rather interminable, dashing Dixie’s hopes for a quick exit.  Disheartened, she briefly considered leaving the milk and just going home, but she was already here, and so she waited her turn, hoping her quick little excursion to the market wasn’t going to end up making them all late.  She was already doubly on edge, unable to banish her feeling of dread over the twins’ upcoming trip to camp and annoyed at herself for the fretting.   When she finally reached the counter, she paid for the milk and hurried out to the parking lot.  After quickly manhandling the grocery bags into the back of the car, she slipped behind the wheel and headed for home.  Breakfast would have to be a hurry-up affair now if they were to keep to their schedule and deliver the twins to camp on time.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

“We should be going soon,” Kell suggested quietly.

 

Sounding none too thrilled, Dixie worked at ignoring the fading remnants of her headache as she sighed, “I suppose.” 

 

“Oh, come on now, Sweetheart,” teased Kell gently, “it’s just for five days and the twins are all excited about going up to the camp!”

 

“I know.”  Her tone made it absolutely clear that even though she did know, she was not at all overjoyed with the prospect.

 

Kell shrugged; “Suffering a touch of Mother hen-itis?”

 

Dixie glared at him balefully.   “I just think they might be a little young for five whole days of sleep-away camp.”

 

Kell crossed the room to put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her into a hug.  “They made out fine when they spent the summer with Dad,” he reminded her softly.  “And when you were in Camarillo before Dillon was born, they were fine with Dad then, too.”

 

“That’s different,” she protested, feeling rather as if she had been backed into a corner.  “And you know it!”

 

“How is it different?  They’re away from home . . . . . . . .”

 

“Your father is family!” she retorted, interrupting his comment.

 

Kell laughed.  “Yeah, but so’s Julie . . . . . . . . and she’ll be right there at camp with them the whole time.”

 

Dropping her head onto his shoulder, Dixie blinked fast to keep her tears under control.  She knew he was right, but no matter how much the twins were looking forward to going, she was far more apprehensive about it than she cared to admit to anyone.    

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

“We’ll need to move the car seat if we take your car,” Dixie reminded him, her tone just a bit more brusque than necessary. 

 

Knowing full well she was still fretting over the prospect of the twins spending a week away at camp, Kell refrained from commenting and dismissed the tone.  “I know, Sweetheart,” he responded evenly as he headed toward the garage.  “That’s where I’m going now.”  Kell would much rather have taken her car, but with his busy schedule at Rampart he simply hadn’t had the opportunity to get it into the shop.  The last time he’d ridden with Dixie, he’d heard a strange sort of knocking sound, perhaps from the engine, and he was worried about taking her car too far before it was checked out.  What he knew about cars [at least the under-the-hood part of them] was somewhere between nil and none; much better to simply move Dillon’s car seat.  Since they generally worked the same shift, they were able to drive to Rampart together most days, providing him with a car-fixing reprieve of sorts.  He hadn’t said anything to her about it, but as long as he drove them everywhere in his car, he supposed it really didn’t make all that much difference.  Nevertheless, he made a mental note to get it taken care of soon.

 

“All set?” Dixie asked the twins as they settled into the back seat with Dillon’s car seat now firmly anchored between them.  The brightness in her voice rang false in his ears, but he refrained from making any sort of remark.  In truth, he was beginning to feel a twinge or two of separation anxiety himself, although he was loathe to admit it to her just yet.

 

Dixie buckled Stacey in between Kell and herself and they were off.  Julie Early, always in search of something new and challenging for the twins, had found this science exploration camp and had made arrangements for Kevin and Kelsie to attend a session.  Dixie had agreed . . . . . . . . the program sounded exciting and was exactly the sort of thing that would interest the twins . . . . . . . . and Julie would be there with them.  As they drove along, she worked at convincing her heart that this was a good thing for the twins and that the five days would pass by before she knew it.

 

“How long a drive . . . . . . . .?”

 

“An hour-and-a-half, maybe two hours unless there’s a pile-up or some roadwork somewhere along the way,” Kell answered, anticipating the question.  “But if the traffic stays like this, maybe a little less.”  Tossing her a smile, he returned his attention to the road.  The light traffic was a pleasant surprise and he was enjoying the drive.

 

Turning her attention to the radio, Dixie hunted for a station, finally settling on one that was broadcasting a program of show tunes.  “Do you want me to drive some?” she offered after a few minutes of quietly humming along with the music.

 

Dixie was not fond of driving in the first place, and, although her offer was sincere, he knew she would really prefer never to have to drive at all.  Appreciative of her willingness to share the task, Kell nonetheless shook his head in reply.

 

Quiet and pensive, Dixie focused on gazing out the window, watching the passing scenery for a bit.  After a while, she murmured, “Where in the world are we, anyway?”

 

Kell laughed lightly.  “With your sense of direction, you wouldn’t know even if I told you!” 

 

The unintentional challenge did not escape her notice.  Dixie playfully swatted at his shoulder as she retorted, “So don’t tell me . . . . . . . . see if I care!”  Glancing into the back seat, she teased, “You’ve managed to put all the kids to sleep, Doctor.  “Was that part of your master plan, or were you merely intent on making sure I was totally lost?”          

 

Pleased to discover that her mood had gotten substantially brighter, Kell laughed as he willingly joined in her little game of verbal one-upmanship.  “No one ever has to work hard to make sure you’re lost, Love; just driving around the block twice is more than enough to get you all turned around!” 

 

“Is not!” she countered indignantly.  “I can so get around by myself!”  Grinning, she offered him a smug, self-satisfied nod of her head. 

 

“Sure,” he agreed with a chuckle, “as long as you go the exact same way every single time!”

 

“Well,” she defended, “I guess I’m just a creature of habit!”

 

Kell laughed; there was no way he was going to top that.  Besides, he knew it bothered her a bit that she had so much trouble with directions, and he tended not to tease her too much about it.  She hated having to go somewhere she’d never been before . . . . . . . . more than once she’d begged him to take her over the route ahead of time so that she could see how to go before she actually had to be there.  She’d carefully write down all the directions as he drove along to show her the way; then, if she was lucky, she would be able to find the place on her own.  Most of the time when they were going somewhere together, he just drove himself --- it was so much easier, and he didn’t mind the driving a bit.  

 

As he let the verbal repartee drop, Dixie settled back to enjoy the music, humming along and singing a few bars here and there as they played some song she particularly enjoyed.  Kell enjoyed her enjoyment for the rest of the uneventful drive.  Finally reaching the camp, he pulled in and drove up to the parking area.  As the car came to a stop in front of the office, the children stirred.  Two seconds later, they’d spotted Julie and were out of the car, excited and ready to explore.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

“Kell?”

 

“Hhhmmmm?”  Absorbed in his medical journal, he continued reading.

 

“Kell?” she queried again, just a bit more forcefully.

 

“Hhhmmmm?”  He looked up at her.

 

“Stacey and Dillon are both still asleep,” she said.  “I thought I’d run over and pick up the dry cleaning before they got up.  Would you mind if I left them with you?”

 

“No, of course not,” he replied; putting the journal aside, he added, “Would you rather have me go?”

 

“Nope,” she said as she procured the car keys and gave him a quick kiss, “finish with your journal.”  Breezing out the door, she added, “I’ll get the cleaning, stop at the post office, and be back before you know it.”   

 

Absently nodding as she left, Kell returned to his reading.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Dixie certainly didn’t mind taking the children with her when she ran errands, but she had to admit that everything got done a whole lot quicker when she went alone.  With no waiting at the dry cleaners, she’d been able to get to the post office ahead of the usual after-lunch crowd and she was happily anticipating quickly completing her errands.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

The ringing of the telephone interrupted his reading.  Tossing the journal onto the coffee table, he managed to grab up the receiver before the answering machine kicked in. 

 

“Doctor Brackett.”

 

He listened a moment, then replied, “I’ll be right there.”

 

“Dix?” he called out as he replaced the receiver.  Realizing he had not heard her come back, he checked the garage.  No car.  That didn’t leave him many options; hastily scribbling a note for her, he propped it up on the kitchen counter and headed up the stairs to get Stacey. 

 

The toddler was still wiping sleep from her eyes as she came down the staircase; Kell had gone ahead and gotten Dillon.  As he settled the children in the car, he was grateful he’d not yet gotten around to putting the baby’s car seat back in Dixie’s car.  He’d have to be sure and remember to have someone help her do it when she got to the hospital to pick up the children.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

The phone was ringing as she came through the door.  Dropping the dry cleaning onto the back of the chair, she grabbed up the receiver.  “Brackett residence; this is Dixie.”

 

“Mommie?”

 

“Kelsie?”  The tears in her daughter’s voice kicked her into worried mother mode.  “What’s wrong, Sweets?”

 

“I forgot Stanley,” she sniffled.

 

Stanley?  Stanley.  The soft little doll Kell had had made for her.  Sighing in relief that it was nothing more serious, Dixie soothed, “I’m sorry.”  Noticing the note, she absently glanced over it as she listened to her oldest daughter.

 

“Could Daddy bring him to me?” she pleaded.

 

“Daddy’s at the hospital, Sweets,” she said as she read the note.  “But I’ll get Stanley up there to you.”

 

“Thank you!”  The smile she could hear in her child’s voice warmed her heart, pushing aside, for the moment, her mounting panic over the prospect of finding her way up there on her own.

 

Hanging up the phone, she scrounged up the doll, then picked up her purse and headed out to the car once more.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Kell came up to the nurses’ station counter, Dillon in his arms and Stacey in tow.  Betty looked up in surprise.

 

“Dixie wasn’t home,” he explained.  “Could I ask you to please take the children up to the Center and I’ll . . . . . . .”

 

“No problem,” Betty interrupted as she came around the counter and reached out to take Dillon from him; she hadn’t considered the possibility that he might actually be at home alone with the children.  Taking hold of Stacey’s hand, she said, “I’ll take care of the kids; they need you in Treatment Five.”

 

Kell gave Stacey a quick kiss on the cheek and turned toward the treatment room as Betty ushered the two children up to the Child Care Center.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Pulling into the camp parking lot, Dixie was inordinately pleased with herself.  She’d checked the map before she left, filled the gas tank, and taken the Thomas Guide with her; somehow, despite her fears, she’d managed to find her way up to the camp without making a single wrong turn.  Smiling victoriously as she mentally patted herself on the back, she pushed open the office door and carried Stanley inside.

 

“Hi!” said the counselor standing beside the desk.  “Help you?”

 

“I’m Dixie Brackett,” she said with a smile.  “And this,” she added, holding up the doll, “is Stanley.  Kelsie forgot him.”

 

The counselor laughed.  “The children are all out on the nature trail right now, but if you think you can trust me with Stanley, I’ll make sure he gets delivered to your daughter when they get back!”

 

Dixie chuckled as she handed the doll to the counselor.  “Thank you,” she smiled.  She was humming as she returned to the car and headed for home.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

“Buy you a cup of coffee,” Joe offered tiredly.

 

Rubbing at his eyes, Kell nodded.  As they passed the nurses’ station counter, headed for the break room, Kell paused. 

 

“How’d it go?” she asked as she looked up from her paperwork.

 

“I think he’s gonna make it,” Kell replied wearily.  “Dixie pick up the kids?”

 

“I didn’t see her,” Betty replied, “but we’ve been pretty busy out here ourselves.  I can call upstairs and check.”

 

“Thanks,” he smiled gratefully.  “I’ll be in the break room.” 

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Tears burned in the back of her eyes.  Nothing looked familiar, but then she had to admit it all looked pretty much the same to her anyway.  This road, however, was deserted, winding its way through a rocky, wooded area.  Now certain she’d made a wrong turn back at the intersection, Dixie decided to turn around and head back toward the camp.  Maybe she could start out again, this time making certain she didn’t make the same wrong turn a second time.

 

She pulled to the side of the road in preparation for making a U-turn, but the car rolled to a stop as the engine stalled.  Sighing in frustration, she turned the key as she pushed down the gas pedal to start the car again.  Instead of starting up, however, there was only a funny grinding sort of noise.  She clicked the key off and, fighting down the fear she could feel rising within her, she waited a minute, then tried to start the car again.  This time nothing happened.  No grinding, no noise, no nothing.

 

Dixie angrily swiped at the tears, trying to focus on what to do now.  Deciding she’d flag down the first vehicle to pass by, she resolutely settled herself to watch the road for an approaching car or truck.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Slumping into the nearest chair, he grunted, “Thanks,” as Joe set a mug of steaming coffee on the table in front of him.  The two men sat in silence, sipping at the coffee.  They’d fought hard to save this one, but it looked promising; it was a good feeling, even through the weariness.

 

“Kell,” said Betty quietly as she came up to the table.

 

“What?” he said, looking up.  “Problem, Betty?”

 

Quickly shaking her head, she reassured, “No, everything’s fine.  He’s settled upstairs and holding his own.”  She paused a minute, then added, “I called the Child Care Center, though, to check, and Dixie hasn’t come in to get the kids.”  

 

“That’s strange,” he said as he pushed the chair away from the table and walked over to the telephone.  He dialed for an outside line, then punched in their home number.  As the answering machine picked up the call, he hung up the receiver.  “Maybe she had some other errands,” he speculated.  Turning to the nurse, he added, “Thanks, Betty,” and after taking one last swallow of coffee, the somewhat annoyed doctor headed upstairs to pick up the children himself.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Dixie reluctantly abandoned her plan and, stepping out of the car, put Plan B into motion.  She’d waited a couple of hours, watching the sun sink lower and lower, but not one single vehicle had come past.  Realizing the likelihood of someone coming along was rather negligible, she supposed she might actually find herself sitting there for days, waiting.  Being rather more proactive than that, she’d decided that she would simply walk back along the way she had come until someone came along who could help her.  

 

Dixie’s spirits rose as she walked along the side of the road; actively addressing the situation had helped alleviate both her frustrations and her fears.  She saw no problem with getting all the way back to the camp if that was what it took . . . . . . . . it might be a very long walk, but she didn’t foresee any particular difficulty in accomplishing it, even though it was quite a bit more walking than she was supposed to do these days.

 

Keeping over to the shoulder of the road, Dixie continued on as dusk settled around her.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

The going became quite a bit more difficult; there were no lights anywhere, and the clouds effectively blocked almost all of the moonlight.  In the couple of hours she’d been walking along the side of the road, not one vehicle had passed by.  A sudden mis-step caused her to trip as she lost her balance.  She fell side-ways, tumbling over the edge of the roadway and, along with several jarred-loose rocks, landed in the midst of a stand of trees.

 

Groaning, she pushed herself up.  A quick check revealed some minor abrasions and bruised [she hoped] ribs.  Of greater con-cern to her at the moment was her realization that her foot was caught in what felt like it could be a tree branch, but in the pitch black that surrounded her, she couldn’t begin to figure out how to free it.  Like it our not, she’d just have to wait for sunrise.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Dillon’s crying edged its way into his consciousness and woke him.  Instinctively, he glanced over to see if Dixie was getting up; slowly the memory asserted itself and he remembered that she was not there.  Suddenly finding the bed much too empty, he sighed as he slid from beneath the covers and went to check on his son.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Stirring with the arrival of the sunlight, Dixie was not at all surprised to discover how stiff and achy she felt.  Surveying her situation, it didn’t take more than a few seconds to realize that her foot was entangled within the limbs of a fallen tree . . . . . . . . and that pinned by boulders much too large and definitely be-yond her capability to move on her own.  Her foot throbbed; she supposed something was broken.  Dismayed, she acknowledged that getting herself free was going to be neither swift nor simple.

 

She shouted until her voice gave out; as time passed, she realized the possibility of anyone hearing her or coming to her assistance was remote indeed.  Determined, she returned her efforts to freeing her foot.  If help refused to come to her, she’d just have to manage on her own.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Rubbing at his temples in a futile effort to banish his pounding headache, he worked at concentrating on providing answers.  “About twelve-thirty, I guess,” he speculated.  “We got back just at lunch time . . . . . . . .”

 

“Back from where?”

 

“Taking the twins up to camp.”  He paused a moment to get the facts straight in his own mind, then went on.  “Dillon and Stacey were asleep; she went back out to pick up the dry cleaning.”  He looked up at the police captain.  “I got a call from Rampart, so I took the children with me . . . . . . . . left a note for her.  She did come back --- the dry cleaning’s right there . . . . . . . .” he pointed to the back of the chair where the dry cleaning still lay.

 

“And she didn’t leave a note to say where she was going?”

 

Kell shook his head.  “I thought she’d come get the kids when she got back from running her errands, but she didn’t . . . . . . . . and then when she didn’t come home again at all . . . . . . . .”

 

“Try not to worry,” Captain Crockett suggested, even though he knew that was a rather pointless thing to say to the doctor.  “We’ll find her.”

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

After hours of struggle, Dixie finally conceded that no matter what she did, she would not be able to move the heavy boulders enough to free her foot.  Determined, she hunted around, stirring through the blanket of leaves covering the ground to find a sturdy rock.  She doggedly set about pulling away leaves, branches, and even bark from the fallen tree, then proceeded to dig away at the rock-solid earth with the rock in hopes of chiseling away enough of the earth beneath the limbs.  As darkness once again settled around her like an inky cloak, she’d not yet managed to gouge out enough to free herself.  And now rain was pelting down on her, mixing with the tears brimming in her eyes and the blood oozing from her raw palms.  Fear that she would not be able to free herself at all assailed her and she gave in to the tears.  After a time, she fell into an exhausted sleep . . . . . . . .  rain pell mell, and we’ll not complain if it never stops  . . . . . . . . as the rain continued to fall.          

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

As the search for Dixie widened, Kell found some small degree of solace in the fact that so many people were now looking for her.  But he couldn’t imagine where she might have gone, and, as the hours passed, it was becoming more and more difficult for him to find any degree of hope to which he could cling.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

She woke with a start, shivering in the pre-dawn chill of the mountain air.  Her hands were stiff and caked with blood.  She tried shouting, but her voice was nothing more than a raspy croak.  Her chest hurt; breathing had become a difficult chore.  She’d managed to get a bit of water out of her rain-soaked clothes, but as the day wore on, the hot sun dried out her clothing and consumed any puddles of water that had been within her reach.  Her mouth and throat were dry; the nurse in her dispassionately diagnosed mild dehydration. 

 

Resolute, Dixie was not one to give up, even in the face of certain defeat.  She scrounged around until she found the rock she’d abandoned in frustration and cautiously hopeful that the hard-packed earth, now soaked from the rain, would be more cooperative, she once again set about trying to dig away enough of the dirt to free her foot.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

“We’re home!”  The twins shouted as they burst through the front door, their godparents bringing up the rear.  Kell looked up and nodded as Julie and Joe followed them in.  The twins ran across the room to bounce up onto the sofa beside him, babbling away as they excitedly recounted the events of their week. 

 

Kell smiled at the children, listening patiently as their words tumbled over each other.  Suddenly they ran off, in search of their mother.

 

“Thanks for bringing them home,” Kell said softly. 

 

“Are you okay?” Joe asked quietly. 

 

Kell shrugged.  Desolation tinged his reply; “Sure.”

 

Somewhat hesitantly, Julie asked, “Any news?”

 

He shook his head.  “Maybe tomorrow,” he murmured.

 

“Call if you need anything at all.”

 

Offering a sad smile of agreement, Kell nodded as they left and he headed down the hall in search of the children.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

A slight breeze stirred through the trees around her, but Dixie couldn’t remember what it was she was supposed to be doing.  Her lips were cracked and dry; her mouth felt cottony, her throat parched.  For reasons she could not define, her hands were sore and bleeding, breathing was difficult; she slumped to the ground . . . . . . . . don’t you realize how hopelessly I’m lost . . . . . . . .

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

The twins’ homecoming had gone from gleeful exuberance to tears and whining, not at all like either of the children, but nothing less than Kell had expected.  If he couldn’t understand Dixie’s sudden disappearance how could he expect the children to understand it?  And what could he say to them that would allay their fears?  Fathers were supposed to fix things, weren’t they?  Angry, he slammed his hand against the banister; no one was telling him how in the world he was supposed to fix this.

 

Anxious, Kelsie looked up as Kell came into the room to tuck her into bed.  “Will Mommie be back soon?”

 

Kell sighed; this was not at all easy.  “I don’t know, Cupcake.”

 

Her eyes filled with tears and he sat on the edge of her bed to give her a hug.  He had absolutely no idea of what to say to her.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

“Where are my children?” her mind cried out.

 

Laughing shadows danced across her vision, taunting her.

 

. . . . . . . . I’m talking to the shadows  . . . . . . . .

 

Hot tears brimmed to overflowing in her eyes.  “Where are they?  My children . . . . . . . . my . . . . . . . . children . . . . . . . .”

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Kelly Brackett looked at his friend in unadulterated surprise. 

 

“I know it doesn’t seem to you like the right time to celebrate, but it’s Stacey’s birthday, and the twins expect you to have a party for her.”  He shifted in the chair.  “Children need things to be as normal as possible,” he reminded his friend.  “They need their father, Kell,” Joe added softly.  “They need you to be there for them.”  He paused, knowing full well just how difficult this was for him.  “Dixie would expect you to do this, Kell.  Do it for her.”

 

He was right . . . . . . . . and Kell knew it.  But before he could say anything, Joe had gotten up from the chair and come around the desk to put a hand on his shoulder.  “I can only guess how hard all this is for you,” he offered quietly, “You know I’d give anything . . . . . . . .”

 

“I know that, Joe . . . . . . . . thanks.”  He sighed.  Looking up at his friend, he cracked, “Feeling up to Chuck E. Cheese?”   

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Shadows swirled around . . . . . . . . life is awful again . . . . . . . . darkness settled . . . . . . . . and there I’ll be while I rot . . . . . . . .

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Seemingly oblivious to the somber mood of their father and godparents, the children celebrated Stacey’s birthday with youthful abandon, munching on pizza and running from the ball bounce to the “bop the gopher” game with shouts of glee.  Every time the stage show started up, Stacey would stop and stare at the characters, fascinated.  She clapped her hands and jumped up and down in time to the music as Mr. Munch “played” his guitar; irrespective of the morose mood that had invaded his soul, Kell chuckled at her antics.  As soon as the little stage show ended, Kevin and Kelsie each grabbed hold of one of her hands and dragged her off to the ball bounce again.  Kell turned back to the table.  “I guess they’re having a good time,” he sighed.

 

Julie smiled.  “They’re supposed to.”

 

“I know,” Kell nodded, his face suddenly an unreadable mask.  “And their mother should be here . . . . . . . .” he whispered.

 

Julie reached across the table to place her hand over his.  “She’ll be back soon, and when she comes home, you can come here and do this all over again!”

 

Nodding, Kell smiled in spite of himself and as he sat back to watch the children play, he worked at pushing away the fears that lingered to torture his heart and soul.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

A steady breeze stirred the leaves; they swirled around her, faster and faster, a cacophony of motion that left her dizzy and nauseous; breathless; chilled.  She closed her eyes to stop the spinning . . . . . . . .  I wonder why the gods above me . . . . . . . . who must be in the know . . . . . . . . think so little of me . . . . . . . .

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

“You’re mighty quiet, Cupcake . . . . . . . . something wrong?”  Kell looked across the table at his daughter, who had done noth-ing but push her spaghetti around on the plate.  He didn’t think he’d seen her eat one single bite of her supper.  In truth, he had not eaten more than a couple of bites himself, but both the doc-tor and the father in him knew that his children needed to eat.

 

Shaking her head, Kelsie remained silent, seemingly absorbed with twirling errant strands of pasta around her fork. 

 

Kevin took hold of her hand and said something to her in their private singsong, but she remained quiet.  Watching the twins, Kell realized he’d gotten used to having Kelsie talk to them, and he was more than a little concerned that Dixie’s unexpected absence was somehow pushing her back to the silence of her younger days.  Nevertheless, he said nothing more to her, and both twins went upstairs a few minutes later. 

 

Somewhat less than totally successful in pushing his worry aside, Kell concentrated on the task at hand as he settled Dillon in his crib and headed upstairs to tuck Stacey into bed.  That done, he went in search of the twins. 

 

The jangle of the telephone interrupted him.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

“Doctor Brackett.”  He’d long since given up hoping that the next time the telephone rang he would hear her voice from the other end of the line. 

 

This is Officer Matthew Lynch,” said the voice at the other end of the line.  “California Highway Patrol.”

 

Fear caused him to assume the call was to deliver the worst news possible; cautiously he responded, “Yes?”

 

“I’m calling about an abandoned automobile.  A blue Ford station wagon registered in your name . . . . . . . .”

 

“Abandoned?  Where?” he queried, suddenly alert.  That was Dixie’s car.

 

“Skyline Road,” the officer answered.  “Off Ridgecrest Highway.”

 

“Ridgecrest Highway?”  That was north, where they’d taken the twins up to camp.  He’d never even considered the possibility that she might have driven up in the direction of the camp.

 

“We’ve towed it to the impound lot, and you’ll need to come up here . . . . . .  .”

 

“What’s the address?” Kell interrupted as he reached for the notepad and pencil.  Jotting down the information, he said, “I’ll be up there as soon as I get someone to stay with the children.” 

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Kelsie, now in her nightgown, was sitting on her bed holding onto her Flat Stanley doll.  Tears flooded her dark eyes.  Kell had come to tuck her into bed; instead, he quietly moved the chair over beside the bed and sat down.  “Kelsie?”

 

Absently hugging Stanley, she looked at him after a moment.  “I wish I didn’t go on the nature trail at camp.”

 

“How come?”

 

“’Cause if I stayed at camp, I could have seen Mommie when she brought Stanley for me.”

 

Kell looked at her in surprise.  “Mommie brought Stanley for you?  To the camp?”

 

Kelsie nodded.  “I left him here.  Mommie said you were at the hospital; she said she’d get Stanley for me.  And when we got back, the counselor from the office gave him to me.”

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Kell was pacing the floor, waiting for them to arrive.  When the doorbell finally rang, he fairly pounced on the door.

 

“News?” Joe asked as Kell pulled open the door.

 

“Come on in,” he said, stepping back and ushering Julie and Joe into the living room.  “I know it’s late; thanks for coming.”

 

As they sat down, Kell filled them in on the latest news; “Dixie drove up to the camp; took Kelsie’s doll up there for her.”

 

Well acquainted with her distaste for driving, Joe looked at him in surprise.  “Dixie drove all the way up there by herself?  Dixie?!”

 

“Apparently so,” Kell replied.  “But the Highway Patrol called just before I called you; said they’d found her car abandoned.”

 

“Where?”

 

“Skyline Road.”

 

“That runs off Ridgecrest Highway,” Julie said in surprise.  “It’s an old logging road that winds its way around behind the camp.”

 

“That’s probably the only place we never thought to look for her,” Kell sighed.  “I’m going up there now; if they can show me where they found the car, maybe we can find her . . . . . . . .”

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

The puzzled highway patrol officer looked at him in amazement.

 

“Look, I don’t care about the car!”  Realizing he wasn’t making much sense, Kell took a deep breath and tried once again.  “My wife . . . . . . . Dixie . . . . . . . . is missing.  The car is hers; maybe we can find her if you’ll just show me where you found the car.”

 

“Your wife is missing?  Want to tell me about that?”

 

Kell nodded; “It’s been almost a week since anyone’s seen her.  The police haven’t found her . . . . . . . .”

 

“Come on,” the officer interrupted as he led the doctor toward the door.  “Let’s go see what we can find.”     

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

“The keys were in the ignition, but the car wouldn’t start, so they towed it to impound . . . . . . . . one of the mechanics will probably take a look at it sometime today, see what’s wrong.”

 

Car trouble?  Kell fought to keep a tight rein on his emotions.  If he’d gotten her car fixed when he’d first noticed something amiss, perhaps none of this would have happened.  This was his fault . . . . . . . . suppose she wasn’t all right?  Suppose . . . . . . . . 

 

“Doctor?”

 

Angrily pushing the thought away, he looked up.  “Sorry; what?”

 

Matthew pulled the patrol car over to the side of the road.  “We found the car right along here . . . . . . . .”  The two men got out of the car and, in the grey dawn of morning, looked around.

 

“Dixie!” Kell yelled; only the echo of his call returned to his ears.  He walked to the edge of the roadway to look over the side, but saw nothing except brush and trees covering the rocky ground.

 

The officer came up beside him; Kell queried, “Is there much traffic along this road?  Could someone have picked her up?”

 

Matt Lynch shook his head.  “It’s an old logging road; seldom has any traffic at all.”  The two men were silent, contemplative.  “This whole area’s pretty deserted.  Any idea what brought her up here in the first place?

 

Still looking around, hoping for some sort of clue, Kell responded absently.  “She came up to the camp to bring Kelsie her doll.”

 

“The camp?  Maybe she walked back toward the camp; why don’t we drive along that way and see what we can find?”

 

Nothing had been found here; Kell grasped at the hope offered in the suggestion and they headed toward the patrol car.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

In the still of the night . . . . . . . . but it was light, she thought.  A funny thing to say when it was daylight . . . . . . . . or maybe it was night . . . . . . . . it did seem rather dark, after all . . . . . . . . 

 

With a start, she remembered she was supposed to be getting her foot free.  She pushed herself up from the ground, but she couldn’t seem to make her hands work very well.  Breathing raggedly, she pounded at the ground with her rock, causing her hands to bleed once again and, as she looked at them in bewilderment, she made no effort to stop her tears.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

They’d stopped and looked around half a dozen times; Kell had called out her name, but they’d found nothing.  Hopelessness and despair ate at him as Matt pulled over once again.

 

Reluctant to voice his expectation that there was little if any hope of finding her, the officer sighed as he pushed open the door.  This was turning out to be a particularly bad one; he could wish for there to be just one miracle left in his in basket . . . . . . . . 

 

Pushing himself out of the car, Kell fought to quell the anguish.  “Oh, God, couldn’t this be the time . . . . . . . . please?”

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

She slumped to the ground once again . . . . . . . . I could cry salty tears . . . . . . . .

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

“Dixie!  DIXIE!”

 

The echo of his call faded in the breeze, replaced by the faint whisper of her tears.

 

He looked around.  A movement caught his eye and he spun around; suddenly he took off, right over the edge of the road.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

“Dix!  Sweetheart!” he exclaimed as he fell to his knees beside her, brushing tangled locks of hair back from her tear-stained cheeks.  She was drifting in and out of consciousness . . . . . . . . Kell was not even certain she realized they were there.  He swiftly turned his attention to evaluating her condition.  Thank God she was still alive!

 

A shovel from the trunk of the patrol car served as a lever and made relatively short work of moving the heavy rocks; carefully releasing her injured foot from the tangle of tree branches took only a matter of minutes once that had been done.   Kell’s heart ached with the knowledge of just how hard she had fought to accomplish that on her own.

 

“I have some juice,” Matt offered, holding out the can as he re-turned from the car with a blanket.  Once before they’d found a lost hiker after nine days of searching.  He’d wished for anything then, but they’d had nothing, and the hiker had perished before they could deliver him to the hospital.  Despite a bit of ribbing from his partners, he’d made it a point to always carry crackers and cans of juice from then on.  Once burned . . . . . . . .    

 

Kell looked up; water would have been preferable, but it was certainly better than nothing.  “Pour a little,” he said, holding out his hand.  He gently placed his fingers over her lips, letting the droplets trickle into her mouth.  They repeated this process a couple of times, but Kell knew getting her into a hospital was their only hope.  “How far to a hospital?” he asked as he worked swiftly and surely at splinting her lower leg and injured foot, just in case it was indeed broken.  Her breathing was far too ragged to suit him; time was of the essence.  After gently wrapping the blanket around her, the two men carefully carried her toward the car.

 

“Five or six minutes if we floor it.”

 

“Make it four.”

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Joe Early fairly burst through the emergency entrance, pausing only long enough to glance around the sparsely populated room.  Loud voices drew him across the wide reception area into a smaller waiting room.

 

“I want to see her!”

 

“Perhaps in the morning . . . . . . . .”

 

“No!  Not in the morning!  Now!”

 

The doctor shook his head as Joe came up to put his hand on Kell’s shoulder.  “Kell?”

 

“You must’ve broken every speed limit in the state,” Kell sput-tered as he turned to face him, gratitude spilling from his eyes.   

 

“How is she?”

 

“Ronald Creighton,” he said, offering his hand. 

 

“Joe Early,” he responded, shaking the hand.  “How’s Dixie?”

 

“They won’t let me see her!” Kell interrupted, panic building be-hind his words.  Definitely frantic, his self-control was waning fast.

 

“She’s being taken care of,” Creighton responded ushering the two men toward chairs lining the far wall of the room.  “And you’re not seeing her,” he firmly told Kell, “until you’ve gotten some rest.”  Seeking to make his position absolutely clear, he added, “Even if I have to post security outside the door.”

 

Kell sighed.  The hospital’s chief of staff was immovable; “Fine,” he muttered in acquiescence.  If that was what it was going to take to get him in to see her, then, like it or not, he was determined that that was what he would do.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

. . . . . . . . tell me, why should it be . . . . . . . . she drifted  . . . . . . . . comfortable . . . . . . . . content . . . . . . . . safe.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Joe set a Styrofoam cup of coffee on the table.  “Creighton was here a while ago,” he said quietly as Kell slowly sat up on the sofa where he had been fitfully sleeping.  “Dixie’s stable.”

 

“She awake?”  Despair lingered in Kell’s tone, perplexing him.

 

Joe shook his head; “Given what she’s been through, that’s not unexpected.”  Sipping at his own coffee, he waited patiently for Kell to tell him what was troubling him, aside from the obvious.

 

“This is all my fault,” Kell quietly mourned.

 

“What?!  How in the world can you possibly think that?”

 

Kell stared at the coffee, silent.  After a time, he replied, “I knew something was wrong with her car; if I’d gotten it fixed . . . . . . . .” 

 

“Oh, come on, Kell!” Joe worked at teasing him out of his despondency.  “You can’t know that; whatever you think was wrong with the car may not be the reason it broke down at all.  This was just an unfortunate accident.”  Sympathetic to his friend’s feelings, he added, “And she will be all right.”

 

“I can’t believe I hurt her,” he keened.

 

“You did no such thing!  This is not your fault!” Joe admonished.

 

“No?” he retorted.  “And just who would you say is at fault?”  He looked askance at the doctor sitting across the table from him.  “I’m the one who knew there was a problem, who let it slide.”

 

“Accident, Kell, pure and simple,” Joe rebuked lightly.  “Come on now . . . . . . . . there’s no reason to blame yourself for this.”

 

Pushing the half-finished cup of coffee aside, Kell refrained from any further comment as he dismissed the conversation.  Caught up in his distress, he silently berated himself for the days of fear and agony his carelessness had surely caused her to suffer. 

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

. . . . . . . . taunt me . . . . . . . . deceive me, desert me . . . . . . . .  Was this Wonderland?  Had she fallen through the rabbit hole?  She seemed to recall, vaguely, somewhere in the far distant past, a fall . . . . . . . . what was this place into which she had fallen?  It was not a place she recognized, although it seemed to suggest itself as being a hospital.  She knew that couldn’t be, however; she was somewhat familiar with all the hospitals in the area and she knew she’d never seen this place before.  A riddle within a riddle . . . . . . . . tantalizing snippets refusing to yield their secrets . . . . . . . . confusion . . . . . . . . darkness drifting back.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

“Morning, Matt.  What brings you over this way?

 

“Mornin’, Ron,” he replied.  “How’s she doing?”

 

“Fair.”

 

“Gonna be all right?”

 

“I think so; she’s responding well to treatment.  It’ll take a little time, though.”

 

“Any chance of talking to her?”

 

“Report, Matt?” he chuckled.

 

“The world runs on paperwork any more,” he offered soberly.

 

The doctor shook his head.  “Not for a few days, anyway, I’m afraid,” he said. 

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

. . . . . . . . use your mentality. . . . . . . .wake up to reality . . . . . . . . And why was she here [wherever “here” was]?  She’d . . . . . . . . dreamt . . . . . . . . yes, that was it, dreamt about being trapped somewhere, but that made absolutely no sense to her.  How could she be trapped?  She was here, in a bed in this unknown place, but surely not trapped.  Somehow, she seemed to remember a struggle, an effort to escape [but from what she was not at all certain], yet she couldn’t recall any of the details and she finally dismissed it as a delusion brought on by . . . . . . . . what?  Since answers eluded her grasp . . . . . . . . she drifted on. 

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Kell reached out to gently brush his hand across her cheek.  Not that she would know he had done it; nevertheless, he found some small measure of comfort in the act.  She looked so peaceful, as if she were quietly sleeping.  Under other circumstances, Kell would have been pleased with that; this, however, was the way she had been for three interminably long days now and he was finding it hard to continue to summon any sort of optimism that her condition would change any time soon. 

 

No reaction, no response; he’d given up expecting one.  Exhausted, he dropped his head to rest in the crook of his arm, now lying on the edge of the bed.  It was almost more than he could bear.  At this point, he’d have given everything he owned . . . . . . . . anything . . . . . . . . simply to have her open her eyes.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Exhausted, Kell propped his head up in his hands.  He’d tried sleeping, but his dreams were filled with images of Dixie and broken cars and all the worst things imaginable that his mind could conjure up.  All so easily avoided, if only . . . . . . . .

 

“Trouble sleeping?”

 

Kell looked up.  The last thing he needed was a midnight discussion with Ronald Creighton.  “Yeah,” he sighed.

 

“Try not to worry; I’m sure she’ll come out of this just fine.”

 

Kell looked at him in surprise.  Up until this point, offering reassurance had not necessarily been part of his game plan; in truth, the man almost seemed to delight in being stubborn, in causing as much frustration in Kell’s life as he possibly could.  “God knows, I hope so,” he said at last.

 

“Get some sleep,” the doctor gruffly advised as he turned away, leaving Kell to silently wonder just what had brought that about.

   

 

* * * * * * * *

 

. . . . . . . . understand why I cry . . . . . . . . it’s ’cause I’m such a lonely, lonely girl . . . . . . . . And why was she all alone?  Forsaken?  Where was everyone?  She looked at her bandaged hands in disbelief; what was that all about?  Puzzled, she searched the room for some clue.  Maybe she wasn’t awake at all, she finally surmised.  Maybe all of this was part of some dream . . . . . . . . nightmare . . . . . . . . dream . . . . . . . . nightmare . . . . . . . . dream . . . . . . . . what?  Drifting off, she sought answers only to be assailed by more riddles of indefinable origin . . . . . . . . refusing to yield to understanding.  Fear rose up to overpower her . . . . . . . . pushing her back . . . . . . . . into the dark.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

“Julie sends her love,” Joe offered as he came back into the waiting room. 

 

Ronald Creighton had a propensity to being just as stubborn as Kelly Brackett, a situation that Joe found to be rather amusing, despite Kell’s frustrations.  Unfortunately, his stubbornness went so far as to regularly tossing the man out of Dixie’s room, insisting that he get some sleep --- a state of affairs Kell just barely man-aged to tolerate.  Under other circumstances, Joe might have laughed at the match-up; in deference to Kell’s continuing touchiness in regard to the situation, he’d found restraint to be the better choice by far.

 

Kell looked up from studying the now-cold dregs of coffee.  Days of living on little more than cold coffee in Styrofoam cups had definitely set his frayed nerves on edge.  His immediate reaction was to do something that would make him feel better . . . . . . . . like putting his fist through the nearest wall . . . . . . . . although he did have some small doubt as to whether or not that would actually accomplish the purpose.  Instead, he briefly considered the prospect of one well-placed punch bringing Creighton to a better understanding of his desire to stay with Dixie, but ultimately decided that might be more self-defeating in the end.  The man simply had no heart . . . . . . . . Sighing, he made a resolute effort to be conversational; “Thanks.  How are the kids?”

 

“They’re doing just fine,” Joe replied.  “They . . . . . . . .”

 

“Good morning,” greeted Ron Creighton cheerfully, interrupting the pseudo-casual chitchat as he came into the waiting room.

 

Kell pounced on the doctor; “How’s Dixie?”

 

“Haven’t seen her yet today,” he said.  “I’m on my way down there right now . . . . . . . . thought you might like to go along.”

 

Kelly Brackett certainly did not need an engraved invitation.  Abandoning the coffee, he jumped up and the three doctors headed down the hall.   

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

. . . . . . . . all I did was wonder . . . . . . . . Confusion seemed to be the endpoint no matter which one of the many riddles she tried to decipher.  Frustrated by the lack of answers for her questions, she dismissed them all, turning her attention to her arm, wondering if she ought to remove the . . . . . . . .

 

The door opened and at the sound she turned her head to look. 

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

His heart felt as if it would burst from his chest and he was unable to keep a grin from spreading across his face . . . . . . . . “Good morning, Love,” he said softly as he crossed the room to stand beside the bed.  Taking hold of her hand, he continued, “Welcome back.”

 

. . . . . . . . I’ve been so lonely for you only . . . . . . . . Puzzled, she looked at him, then at the others, then back to him again.  Who?  . . . . . . . . . for happy endings I’ll return, Dear, to you . . . . . . . .  She felt as if she should know; finally, her mind offered, “Kell?”

 

Confused, she allowed him to draw her into a hug; her heart knew this was her one safe haven in all the world even if her mind was filled with unanswered questions, clouded with uncertainty.  It occurred to her, then, that he might actually be able to solve the riddles; she pulled back from his embrace.

 

He settled her on the pillows; sitting in the chair beside her bed, he continued holding onto her hand.

 

“I don’t . . . . . . . .  Where is . . . . . . . .?  How did . . . . . . . .?  What . . . . . . . .? I can’t . . . . . . . .”  She looked at him helplessly as tears pooled in her eyes.

 

“Ssshhhh,” he whispered softly as he reached over to brush a hand across her cheek.  “We don’t have to talk about it now.  You just rest and get well.”

 

“But . . . . . . . . I . . . . . . . . I . . . . . . . . how?”

 

“Ssshhhhh,” he said again, reaching to gently touch her lips with his finger.  “Later.” 

 

At least she felt some peace, some relief from the turmoil, at having him here.  Had he been here before?  She couldn’t remember and she sighed in frustration.  More riddles, more questions . . . . . . . . her eyes felt heavy . . . . . . . . maybe if she slept . . . . . . . . she couldn’t fight it anyway. . . . . . . . they closed.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

“I’m not convinced that we should even consider that as a possibility.” Doctor Creighton replied evenly.

 

“What are you considering then?” Joe asked quietly.

 

“At this point, nothing.”

 

“But . . . . . . . .” Kell began, his temper rising.

 

“Believe me, this is not even close to being the worst case we’ve ever seen,” Creighton interrupted.  “Just give her some time.”

 

Kell took a deep breath as he worked to keep his temper under control.  He’d developed a grudging admiration for the man’s medical skill, but found dealing with him to be particularly frustrating.  He fought to speak calmly . . . . . . . . “What about her state of mind?  The confusion . . . . . . . .?  She’s  . . . . . . . .”

 

“For the moment,” the doctor interrupted once again, “I’m assuming it’s a side effect from the medication.  Gentamicin is a good antiinfective, but it does have its peculiar quirks . . . . . . . . some patients are more susceptible to those adverse reactions.”

 

This was getting him nowhere; sighing, he trudged down the hall.  Why couldn’t he find something to do to help her?

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

. . . . . . . . we stand, hand in hand, waiting  for anything . . . . . . . . She was not at all sure exactly where it was that they were standing, for the enigma of where she had ended up when she fell through the rabbit hole had not yet been deciphered, but she knew that he was still holding her hand.  There was, at least, that much for her to cling to as she drifted among the riddles.  She was not yet confident that he could answer them, but beyond the uncertainty that filled her was a rather undefined feeling of safety as long as he held onto her hand.  And she was quite unwilling to abandon the comfort that it brought her.   

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

“He is a good doctor,” Joe offered quietly.  “He’s just . . . . . . . .”

 

“It’s not a problem,” Ron interjected with a chuckle.  “I’d be more worried if he weren’t so frantic about her recovery.”

 

Feeling rather as if he ought to defend his friend, Joe conceded with a friendly laugh.  “Well, Kell’s never been accused of having a great bedside manner . . . . . . . . or much tact!” 

 

“Sometimes those can be highly overrated traits in a doctor,” Creighton reflected thoughtfully. 

 

“He lays it all on the line for his patients, though.”

 

“That doesn’t surprise me in the least.”

 

“Generally, he has no patience and he’s never figured out how to be dependent on others . . . . . . . . except, of course, he’s pretty much lost without Dixie . . . . . . . . In truth, though, when it comes to his family, he’s almost like a different person.”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“Patient . . . . . . . . gentle . . . . . . . . vulnerable,” Joe mused.   “Passionate . . . . . . . . not at all detached.  As for Dixie . . . . . . . .”

 

“He loves her,” the doctor observed simply.

 

“Yes, he does,” Joe nodded; “they . . . . . . . . belong . . . . . . . . to each other.”

 

As he pushed back from the table, the doctor prepared to depart.  “Sometimes that kind of love makes all the difference.”  At the doorway, he paused for a moment; “I’ve got rounds, but if anything should come up, have the nurse page me.”

 

Silent, Joe watched him leave; there was nothing more to say.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

“We could do it.  And that would solve the problem once and for all.”

 

“I suppose.”

 

“When are you off next?”

 

“Day after tomorrow.”

 

“Want to go up then?”

 

“Sure.  Meantime, I’ll talk t’ . . . . . . . . ah, duty calls.  Talk to you later.”

 

“Right.  Be careful.”

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Kell fussed at the sandwich, knowing he should eat, but not feeling particularly in the mood for any sort of food.  He’d foolishly entertained the notion that lunch might divert his thoughts for a few minutes . . . . . . . . only it wasn’t working at all.

 

“How’s she doing?”

 

Kell looked up; Matt Lynch stood there.  Shrugging rather helplessly, he sighed, “She’s awake now, but she doesn’t seem to remember much of anything at all . . . . . . . .”  Suppose she never remembered?

 

“Ron Creighton’s the best around here,” Matt told him.  “I’m sure he’ll pull her through this.”  His radio crackled to life; on his way out, he said, “By the way, the problem with the car was a short in the electrical system . . . . . . . . Ron seemed to think you’d be particularly interested in knowing about that.”

 

Stunned and silent, Kell looked after him in amazement.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

“You really should try to eat a little.”

 

Dixie looked skeptically between him and the lunch tray; appetizing was definitely not the word she would use to describe the fare it held.  “You’ve got to be kidding,” she offered at last as she pushed the tray aside.

 

Kell laughed lightly at her obvious disapproval of the meal.  “I know it’s not all that appealing,” he admitted, “but a soft diet is really better for you right now.  And you do need to eat if you’re going to get your strength back.”

 

She favored him with what could only be called a Nurse McCall look of total disdain . . . . . . . . complete with a roll of her beautiful blue eyes.  Kell recognized the look; generally reserved for really big goof-ups, it signified woe to the poor person who was on the receiving end of that glance!

 

Still chuckling, Kell picked up the dish of pudding. “Try some of this,” he suggested, holding the dish out toward her.  “It ought to be to your liking.”

 

Her hands were still a bit stiff; as he held the bowl, she gingerly scooped up a spoonful and gamely took a taste.  After a moment, she looked at him, her eyes widening in pleasure.  “I do like chocolate . . . . . . . . a lot,” she offered as she scooped up another spoonful.  Unbidden, a flash of memory . . . . . . . . sitting with him . . . . . . . . somewhere else . . . . . . . . eating chocolate mousse . . . . . . . . startled her, and she dropped her gaze, focusing her concentration on finishing the dish of pudding. 

 

“I know,” he grinned in satisfaction.  He might have said more if he’d only known about the memory the pudding had triggered. Instead, he moved the tray and settled her back on the pillows.    Leaning over to brush her forehead with a kiss, he murmured, “Get some sleep, Sweetheart.”  

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

Besieged by snippets of memories assailing her dreams . . . . . . . . Winding roads . . . . . . . . falling . . . . . . . . rocks . . . . . . . . tumbling around her . . . . . . . . “Mommie” . . . . . . . cold . . . . . . . . faster and faster . . . . . . . . shouting . . . . . . . . pain . . . . . . . .  swirling together . . . . . . . . branches . . . . . . . . cars . . . . . . . . fear . . . . . . . . clouds of confusion from which she could not escape;  haven’t got the heart to stand those memories . . . . . . . .

 

Her soft whimper vaulted him from the chair to gently brush his hand across her cheek, soothing, “Ssshhhh.  It’s all right,” he whispered as he continued holding her hand, “Hush . . . . . . . . you’re safe . . . . . . . . ssshhhh.”

 

. . . . . . . . try to think . . . . . . . . she was afraid to open her eyes, afraid the swirling clouds of confusion would engulf her completely . . . . . . . . I gotta run . . . . . . . . she lay still, working at sorting out all the confusion . . . . . . . . the fact’s uncommonly clear . . . . . . . . clutching the hand that gently held hers within his grasp . . . . . . . . just as he had been . . . . . . . . had always been . . . . . . . . would always be . . . . . . . . because he . . . . . . . .

 

. . . . . . . . just the thought of you makes me stop . . . . . . . . Resolute, Dixie pondered . . . . . . . . . it was like putting together the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle . . . . . . . . and suddenly it all seemed to slide into place.  Her eyes popped open.

 

“Ssshhhh, Angel Eyes,” he whispered with a soft smile as he brushed a hand through her hair; “everything’s going to be just fine.”

 

Angel Eyes . . . . . . . . she knew that . . . . . . . . Kell called her that . . . . . . . .  she was Angel Eyes . . . . . . . . his Angel Eyes . . . . . . . .  Dixie reached her arms around him; happily obliging, he perched on the edge of the bed, gently pulling her into a hug.   She snuggled in his embrace, comfortable, safe; she was home.    

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

“Are you angry with me?” she whispered.

 

He pulled her back from the hug to look into her eyes, but she dropped her head.  Cupping her chin in his hand, he gently lifted her head.  “Angry with you?  Of course not, Sweetheart.”  Seeking to comfort her, he brushed his hand through her hair; “Why in the world would I be angry?”

 

Her voice was faint, whispery; “I caused everyone so much trouble . . . . . . . . so much fuss.”

 

“Sweetheart . . . . . . . . .”

 

“I don’t know,” she sighed, “I thought I was doing the right thing.  No one came along and I was sure I could walk back to the camp to call for help.  I didn’t think there would be any problem.  Only . . . . . . . .”

 

“Only what?” he prompted softly, giving her his undivided attention.  Neither of them heard Joe and Ron Creighton come into the room with the highway patrol officer. 

 

“I got all the way up there, without one wrong turn,” she tendered quietly, not quite able to keep the satisfaction of that accomplishment out of her voice.  “. . . . . . . . But I got mixed up somehow coming back and I got on the wrong road . . . . . . . .”

 

He chuckled softly at that, wondering if she realized how very “Perils of Pauline” her misadventure with the driving sounded.  He’d occasionally accused her of pulling “Perils of Pauline” stunts . . . . . . . . generally getting hurt in the process . . . . . . . . 

 

“. . . . . . . . and then something happened to the car . . . . . . . .”

 

He sighed, instantly somber, fighting to keep his emotions in check, not yet ready to let himself off the hook for not finding the time to get her car into the repair shop . . . . . . . .

 

“I was walking along,” she replied hesitantly.  “It was dark and I was annoyed with myself for not thinking to get the flashlight out of the back of the car before I started out.  But I certainly wasn’t going to turn around and go all the way back.”  She gave him a forlorn look; “I’d have gotten to the camp eventually . . . . . . . . only I tripped . . . . . . . . stepped in a hole . . . . . . . . something.”  She shrugged helplessly.  

 

He squeezed her hand firmly as he worked at pushing down his own agony over what he knew would come next.

 

“And then . . . . . . . . then . . . . . . . .”  She blinked fiercely at the tears, determined not to cry.  “I tried so hard . . . . . . . .”

 

Kell reached out to comfort her; she was caught up in the telling, though, and he let her go on.

 

“I shouted, but there was no one to hear, no one to help me.”  The sadness echoing in her voice tore at his heart, but he remained quiet, determined to allow her to finish her recounting in her own way. 

 

“I was there . . . . . . . . and my foot was caught . . . . . . . . and I couldn’t get it out . . . . . . . . and then . . . . . . . . then I was here.”  She paused, her eyes seeking his.  “And everything was so mixed up, so confused.  I could hardly think who I was, and I didn’t know where . . . . . . . . and I wasn’t too sure I even remembered you at all.”  She looked askance at him, waifish, despondent.

 

Kell pulled her into the protection of his arms, holding her tightly.  “It was the medication, Dix, that’s what was making you so confused.  That’s all it was.”  He held her, comforting and being comforted by her very presence.  After a time, he reluctantly settled her against the pillows.  “You’re going to be just fine,” he smiled at her.

 

She was quiet, pensive.

 

“Dix?”

 

Tears gathered in the back of her eyes and, although she made a valiant effort, she was not altogether successful in banishing them.  “Kelsie wanted her doll,” she lamented,  “and I thought I could do that . . . . . . . . she was crying; I couldn’t just leave her up there like that, all sad and upset.”  She sighed softly; “I’m so sorry; I made such a mess of everything.” . . . . . . . .  sad as I can be . . . . . . . . weep for me . . . . . . . .   

 

Sitting on the edge of her bed, he leaned over to brush his hand across her cheek.  “No,” he murmured softly, “you did not do any such thing at all . . . . . . . .” 

 

Her face held an expression of such woebegone anguish he thought his heart would break.  Gently pulling her close, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.  He meant for it to be a quick kiss, a sort of reassurance to be followed by a hug.  He meant for it to be . . . . . . . .

 

She leaned into the kiss as she slipped her arms around his shoulders . . . . . . . . you know you made me love you . . . . . . . . and supplied some yearning of her own . . . . . . . .

 

Chuckling to himself, Matt Lynch headed out the door.  Plainly satisfied with the improvement in Dixie’s condition, Joe and Ron Creighton exchanged amused looks as the latter nodded in approval.  After a bit, with no sign of an end to the kiss in sight, Joe laughed softly.  “You two might want to come up for air!” he teased with a smile.

 

With just a hint of embarrassment in her soft smile, she pulled back from the kiss, but did not let him go.  Still caught up in the passion, she relinquished her hold only enough to bring her fingers to her mouth; she kissed them, then softly brushed her fingers across his lips before turning her attention to Joe.  With a gentle roll of her eyes in his direction, she queried, “So, when do I get to go home?”

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

“It’s not broken?” she queried in surprise.

 

He shook his head.  “Badly sprained, bruised, but not broken.”  Smiling, he added, “Afraid I can’t say the same for those cracked ribs of yours, though.”  Turning serious, he continued, “You’re very fortunate it wasn’t worse . . . . . . . . if you’d punctured a lung . . . . . . . .” 

 

“So, when do I get to go home?” she interrupted as she brushed over the comment.  She knew full well exactly how lucky she was just to be sitting here having this conversation with the doctor.

 

“We’ll see,” Doctor Creighton replied offhandedly; “maybe in two or three days . . . . . . . .”  He broke off, taken aback by her expression.

 

“Two or three days?”  Devastation sounded beneath her question, as if he had just sounded a death-knell. 

 

“Come on, now,” he playfully teased, “we may be just a little community hospital, but we’re not all that bad!”

 

“I hate hospitals!” she responded morosely, making no effort to hide her dismay.

 

“Be that as it may,” he said dispassionately as he turned to go, “it’ll be at least two or three days before we consider sending you home.”

 

“I want to be home with my children,” she whispered as she fought to keep her tears in check. 

 

Surprised by her comment, he turned back to look at her.  But she turned her head away and after a moment he walked out the door, leaving her to her longing . . . . . . . . and to her tears.   

 

 

* * * * * * * *

Kell chuckled as he maneuvered around four sets of little feet to settle her on the sofa in the living room.  He’d no sooner managed that than they were all trying to climb up into her lap, clinging to her as they offered their hugs and kisses. 

 

Dixie wasn’t having any problem with it at all.

 

The ringing of the doorbell interrupted his efforts to bring some sort of order to the chaos; still laughing, he left them babbling away about going on another Chuck E. Cheese excursion [though Disneyland would just have to wait for another time] and went to answer the door.

 

“Hi!  Dixie up to having visitors?”

 

Kell looked at them in surprise; clearly pleased, a wide grin spread across his face.  “Hey, guys, it’s great to see you!  Come on in!”  He ushered them into the living room;  “Dix?”

 

Her arms were full of children; she looked up, eyes sparkling, happy.  “Well, hi!” she greeted them, “It’s so good to see you!”

 

Greetings and amenities were quickly dispensed with and as the children snuggled up with their mother, the cheerful bedlam subsided.

 

“You look great!” Johnny offered cheerfully as he perched on the arm of the chair.

 

“Don’t you know,” interjected Roy, playfully stern, “that you’re not supposed to get yourself into these kinds of jams when we aren’t around to rescue you?”

 

“Well, I definitely could have used your help!” Dixie laughed.

 

“This is getting to be a habit with you, Dix,” chided Johnny seriously, “and that’s not good at all.  This is the second time that you’ve gotten yourself into a fix like this . . . . . . . .”

 

Suddenly Kell was none too sure as to where this conversation was going, and even though the two firemen were good friends, he was not at all certain he was going to allow it to continue.  Friends or not, no one was coming into their house and chas-tising Dixie as long as he had anything to say about it . . . . . . . .

 

“You know,” Roy cut in, “with us not riding the squad any more, we’re beginning to get pretty concerned about you . . . . . . . .”

 

“. . . . . . . . but we’ve got a plan!” Johnny jumped in.

 

Genuinely delighted to see the pair, Dixie laughed.  Fretting over their comments, she turned to Johnny to ask, “You’re so worried about me that I rate one of your famous plans?”

 

“We don’t want you going off and getting hurt any more,” Johnny replied, nonplussed.  “So we . . . . . . . . well . . . . . . . . we just figured out a way to take care of it.”

 

“I can hardly wait to hear it,” she replied skeptically.

 

“No!” said Johnny, falling back into his earlier excitement.  “You’ve got to see it!”  He turned to Kell.  “She can go outside, right?”

 

“Well . . . . . . . . sure,” he replied hesitantly as he suddenly found himself caught up in their mysterious plan.

 

“So, let’s go!”

 

Shaking his head, he gathered her up in his arms [a task he most definitely did not mind in the least] and with the two firemen riding herd on the youngest children, they all trouped out the front door and over to the driveway.

 

“My car!” Dixie exclaimed in amazement.

 

“As good as new,” Johnny told her proudly.  “We got it back from the Highway Patrol and Charlie . . . . . . . . he’s the fire department mechanic, you know . . . . . . . . well, he fixed it all up --- fixed all that electrical short whatever-it-was stuff.”

 

“Wow!  Thank you!”

 

“Yeah, thanks, guys,” Kell offered rather dubiously.  “But I have to tell you I’m not at all sure I’m going to let her go anywhere in it all by herself any more!”

 

Laughing, Dixie playfully swatted at his shoulder.  “Kell!”

 

“No!  No!” exclaimed Johnny, now much too excited to keep still.  “We took care of that, too!”  He pulled open the door.  “C’mon over here, Dix . . . . . . . .”

 

Kell carried her around to the driver’s side of the car where Johnny had the door standing open and, at his urging, sat her down on the seat as Roy opened the door on the passenger side of the car and leaned in.

 

“See this, Dix?  It’s a telephone,” he said as he picked up the receiver and held it out to her.  “So if you ever get into any sort of . . . . . . . . if you need any help, you just pick up this phone here . . . . . . . .”

 

Johnny cut in.  “An’ there’s always an operator on the other end . . . . . . . . you just tell her what you need, and help will come right on out to wherever you are.”  The two firemen, pleased as punch with themselves, beamed.  Dixie was speechless.

 

“Look, Dix,” Roy said quietly, “we don’t want anything to happen to you, and if we can’t always be there, we had to find a way to make sure . . . . . . . .”

 

“You guys are too . . . . . . . .” she blinked back the tears.  “You’re so special.  Thank you.”

 

“Hey, we love you, Dix!” Johnny put in brightly.  “So, how about it?  Think you’ll be okay now?”

 

“I know I will be, Johnny,” she sniffled.

 

“Promise?”

 

“Promise.”

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

“I really miss them,” Dixie mused aloud as she lay cuddled in Kell’s arms.  Home was a great place to be; in his arms was simply heaven.

 

“Yeah, me, too,” he agreed.

 

“The best of our paramedics and now they’re not even working the squad,” she sighed morosely.

 

“You can’t blame them for wanting a promotion, Dix . . . . . . . . they’re good at what they do.  They deserve it . . . . . . . . and it’s not their fault the department won’t let them have a promotion and continue to work as paramedics.”

 

“Captains,” she marveled.  After a moment, she added, “It’s such a stupid rule, anyway.”

 

Kell laughed lightly.  “That may be, Sweetheart, but for right now that’s the way it is.”

 

They were quiet for a time, snuggled together, comfortable, content.  “Those were special times,” she said suddenly.

 

“Yeah,” he agreed as he tightened his arm around her shoulders.  “They were the first . . . . . . . .”

 

“. . . . . . . . and the best . . . . . . . .”

 

He chuckled.  “And the best . . . . . . . . . and we’ll always miss them the most.”  After a moment, he reminded, “But we still see them; they’re still our friends.” 

 

Dixie sighed in agreement.  “It’s not exactly the same, though,” she offered quietly.  “Sometimes, when a run comes in, I just expect to see Roy walking down the hall . . . . . . . . or to hear Johnny’s voice when we get a call . . . . . . . .”

 

Shifting around to look into her eyes, Kell smiled at her.  “You just make sure I keep on hearing your voice . . . . . . . .”

 

She returned the smile as she reached up to put her arms around his neck and pulled him close enough to kiss.

 

This time, there was no one there to interrupt at all . . . . . . . .   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

 

Song Notes for this story:

 

 

 

 

 

Soon It’s Gonna Rain

T. Jones / H. Schmidt

 

Misty

 Johnny Burke / Erroll Garner

 

Black Coffee

Paul Francis Webster and Sonny Burke

 

Ev’ry Time We Say Goodbye

Cole Porter 

 

Lush Life

Billy Strayhorn

 

In The Still Of The Night

Cole Porter

 

How Long Has This Been Going On

George Gershwin / Ira Gershwin

 

You Do Something To Me

  Cole Porter

 

So In Love

  Cole Porter

 

I’ve Got You Under My Skin

  Cole Porter

 

Lonely Girl

  Bobby Troup

 

It Could Happen To You

 Johnny Burke / Jimmy Van Heusen

 

Adios

  Woods / Madriguera

 

Adios

Woods / Madriguera

 

Melancholy March

Herman Saunders / Dory Langdon

 

’Round Midnight

Thelonious Monk / Bernie Hanighen / Cootie Williams

 

Angel Eyes

Earl Brent / Matt Dennis

 

Angel Eyes

Earl Brent / Matt Dennis

 

Angel Eyes

Earl Brent / Matt Dennis

 

I’ve Got You Under My Skin

  Cole Porter

 

Willow Weep For Me

  Ronell