Straight from Your Heart

STRAIGHT FROM YOUR HEART

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

* * * * * * * *

Dixie McCall stood at the window, staring out across the parking lot. Her eyes settled on the white-coated figure leaning against the back of the rescue squad.

“Dix?” Doctor Joe Early reached out to gently place his hand on her shoulder.

Startled, she jumped at the touch, causing Joe to pull his hand back.

“Sorry,” he offered apologetically. “Didn’t mean to . . . . . . . .”

“No, no,” she interrupted with a wave of her hand as she turned away from the window. “It’s okay . . . . . . . I was just . . . . . . . . thinking.” She turned her attention to the mug of coffee clutched in her hand and took a sip. Grimacing at the cold liquid, she headed across the room toward the coffee pot. “Pour you a cup?” she offered as she added hot coffee to her own mug.

“Thanks,” Joe nodded as he settled down in a chair at the table. They had the break room to themselves; Joe pondered the advisability of bringing up the subject she’d been so carefully avoiding for the past week.

Dixie set her mug on the table and placed a mug of coffee in front of the doctor. Settling down in the chair, she made a point of attempting to appear nonchalant. She figured Joe would see right through her, but somehow or other it almost seemed worthwhile to make the effort. Maybe he’d take the hint and leave well enough alone. Lord knew she certainly had no desire to talk about any of it.

“Dix?” Joe sipped at the hot liquid as he looked at her over the top of his coffee mug. He waited expectantly as she carefully placed the mug on the table in front of her, her eyes riveted to the tabletop. He set his own mug down and reached out to place his hand over hers.

She glanced up at the touch, her beautiful blue eyes filled with desperation. “I have to go,” she murmured as she pushed the chair back and stood up.

Sighing, Joe smiled ruefully at her. There was no sense in forcing the issue; Dixie was a master at digging in her heels and if she didn’t want to talk there was no force on the face of the planet that could change her mind.

Silent, she gently pulled her hand free and turned toward the door. The coffee forgotten, she walked away; the gentle clank of the door closing behind her filled the silence in the room.

* * * * * * * *

The squawk of the paramedics’ Handi-Talkie startled him from his reverie and he moved away from the squad as the two men hastened toward the vehicle while Rita and Ginger ushered the children through the hospital door.

“See you later, Doc!”

Kell nodded as they jumped into the squad and headed off to answer the call, siren screaming to clear their way. He supposed he ought to tackle the paperwork piling up on his desk, but as the emergency entrance doors swung open, he found himself heading toward the base station. Solitary paperwork offered far too much time for him to be alone with his own thoughts. Fortunately, they would be calling in shortly and the doctor most definitely welcomed the prospect of the distraction the call would offer.

* * * * * * * *

“Is there anything I can do?”

Kell shrugged listlessly. “I sure wish I knew, Joe,” he sighed. “If I knew what it was, maybe I’d know what to do about it . . . . . . . .” Kell leaned his elbows on the desk, propping his head up in his hands. “It just doesn’t make any sense. I keep hoping she’ll work it out . . . . . . . . or talk about it . . . . . . . . or something.”

“I still think it has something to do with the little girl that came in last week. She sure hasn’t said much at all about it, but . . . . . . . .”

Kell shrugged as he looked across the office at his friend. “Dixie was upset about it . . . . . . . . we all were. But there was nothing we could do, and she knew that.” He pondered a minute, then shook his head as he added, “No . . . . . . . . a day or two, perhaps; but she’s a nurse, Joe. She’s seen cases like that before . . . . . . . .”

“Maybe,” Joe agreed. Reluctant to concede just yet, he mused, “Still, she seemed fine before all that mess . . . . . . . .”

“Coincidence,” Kell suggested with a shrug. “It’s just not like her to get that worked up over a patient. Besides, it’s been more than a week now . . . . . . . .”

“Wonder if she’d talk to Julie about it?” Joe submitted. “Maybe she’d come down here for lunch . . . . . . . .”

“That’s a great idea!” Kell enthused as Joe stood up and reached for the telephone. As Joe punched in the numbers, Kell fervently hoped this would solve the problem . . . . . . . . whatever it was.

* * * * * * * *

“Call it,” he said at last. Agony dripped from his quiet words.

She looked at her watch. “Twelve nineteen,” she whispered, her voice husky with emotion. Leaving Carol to the task now at hand, she fled the treatment room. She never lost easily; it was far worse when the patient was a child. As the door closed behind her, she leaned against it, working to bring her emotions under control.

“Can you do that?” the police officer asked. Deep in conversation, they were heading into the break room, their backs to her. They’d not yet been informed and Dixie knew they were talking about the child in the treatment room behind her.

“We certainly can!” she vehemently replied as she nodded her head. “It’s not easy to get an adoption set aside, but when the mother hurts the child . . . . . . . .” The rest of her comment was lost as she walked through the door into the break room, the police officer right behind her.

Dixie fought desperately to catch her breath.

* * * * * * * *

The memory kept her moving despite her weariness. There was still so much to do. Maybe if everything was perfect . . . . . . . .

“Dix,” Kell said softly as he came up behind her, “enough. Come sit down.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, reaching over to take the dishtowel from her hand.

“Kell,” she protested. “Let me finish!”

“You’ve done too much already,” he firmly replied as he turned her toward the living room doorway. “The rest can wait.”

Dixie sighed in frustration. She knew it was useless to argue with him about it, so she allowed herself to be led across the room to the sofa. She settled down beside him, silently planning to finish as soon as he went to bed.

* * * * * * * *

Kell gently lifted the sleepy child from her arms. Dillon was always the lone hold-out, the child who wanted just one more lullaby and some more rocking. As Kell cuddled his son in his arms, he headed for the stairs. Stacey and the twins were already sleeping; he’d tuck Dillon into bed and then call it a night himself.

* * * * * * * *

Dixie tossed restlessly. Whenever she closed her eyes, she could see it all, just as if it were happening again at that very moment. Of course, she’d thought of almost nothing else for the past week, so it wasn’t too surprising that it haunted her dreams as well. She’d relived it all a thousand times since that night . . . . . . . .

Dixie stood at the top of the stairs. She’d come up to check on the children and tuck them into bed. Climbing the stairs was an effort for her; usually Kell tucked them in each night. But he’d been called back to the hospital . . . . . . . . and she was not about to let some stairs keep her from settling her children in bed for the night. So she’d come up herself. Now paused here for a moment, just to catch her breath, she didn’t hear Stacey come into the hall.

It all happened in just an instant. As Dixie turned toward the bed-room doorway, she bumped into Stacey, who toppled backwards, stepping on her ever-present blanket in the process. Her feet got tangled up in the blanket; she lost her balance and tumbled to the floor. Teetering at the edge of the staircase, Stacey scrabbled around to regain her footing. As Dixie reached out to grab her, the child tumbled away, falling down the stairs to the first landing.

The scene played itself out over and over again, like a slow-motion nightmare, a tortuous memory that haunted Dixie’s thoughts. Kell had come through the door just in time to see Stacey fall and had immediately taken charge of things. Although she had broken her arm in the fall, she was not seriously injured and she certainly seemed none the worse for her misadventure. They’d taken her to the hospital; now she was sporting a cast on her left arm . . . . . . . . and Dixie knew she was to blame.

* * * * * * * *

“Everything certainly seems to be in order,” she remarked as she settled back in the chair. Glancing through a folder of papers she looked over at Dixie and Kell as she added, “Any concerns?”

“No,” they responded with one voice, causing her to smile.

“How did Stacey break her arm?”

“She fell down the stairs,” Kell answered as Dixie quietly added, “It was my fault.”

Kell looked at her. “No, Dix, it wasn’t,” he said resolutely.

“I knocked her over,” Dixie explained to the social worker, “and she fell down the stairs. I tried to catch her . . . . . . . .” There. She’d said it. She sighed and blinked fast to keep her tears at bay. The world stood still around her as she waited for her to say the words Dixie dreaded . . . . . . . . that she knew she would hear now.

The social worker offered no response as she continued thumbing through the papers in her folder.

“Mommie!” Stacey cried from upstairs. Kell started to get up.

“No,” Dixie said determinedly, “I’ll go.”

Something in her voice made him stop; he nodded and sat back down. Both he and the social worker watched her slowly climb the stairs.

“Is it always that difficult for Dixie to go up stairs?”

Kell nodded somberly as thoughts of the accident momentarily filled his mind. He pushed them away. “She never lets it stop her, though.” Offering an explanation, Kell continued, “When we added on to the house, the builder and I designed the staircase so it would be a little easier for her to navigate. That’s why there’s a handrail along the wall and only four stairs before there’s a landing.” He looked across the coffee table at the social worker. “Of course, that’s also what kept Stacey from being hurt worse when she fell. She only tumbled down four stairs.” He was quiet for a minute. Dixie had reached the top of the stairs and disappeared into the bedroom. Kell turned back to look at the social worker. Although he didn’t wish to appear critical of his wife, he didn’t understand Dixie’s predilection to blaming herself for the accident and he was determined to set the record straight on that particular point. “And even though Dixie blames herself for the accident, that really is all it was . . . . . . . . just an unfortunate accident.”

“Well . . . . . . . .” the social worker began, only to be interrupted as Dixie and a still-sniffling Stacey came down the stairs.

Dixie returned to sit beside Kell on the sofa; Stacey climbed up in her lap and Dixie gathered her into her arms. As Dixie spoke softly to her daughter, soothing her, Stacey settled her head on Dixie’s shoulder. Her eyelids fluttered and closed as her tears lessened and she settled down. Dixie continued comforting her as she looked over at Kell; “She got herself all tangled up in the bedspread,” she smiled as she turned her attention to humming a lullaby. “She’s just tired.” As if to prove her mother’s point, Stacey drifted off to sleep.

“I think we’re through here.” The social worker gathered up her papers. “I wish all my cases were this easy.”

Dixie looked over at the woman, her dark blue eyes filled with concern, but she continued humming the little tune for Stacey. Kell slid his arm around her shoulders.

“This is the last of our required visits,” she went on as she stuffed the paperwork into her briefcase. “I’ll report to Judge Logan and that will be the end of it.” She looked up. “I wish all the parents I saw cared about their children the way you do . . . . . . . . there would certainly be a lot less heartache in my job.” She rose to go.

Kell stood up. “Thank you,” he said sincerely as he walked with her to the door.

“It’s been a pleasure,” she replied as they reached the door. She turned back to face the doctor. “Usually I remind parents to take good care of their children,” she remarked. “It seems rather pointless to say that to the two of you. Judge Logan was right --- this is a perfect placement for Stacey.” She smiled as she left.

Kell closed the door behind her and turned back toward Dixie. To his astonishment, tears were streaming down her cheeks as she clutched the sleeping child in her arms. “Dix?” he anxiously queried as her hurried to her side.

As he sank down onto the sofa beside her and slid his arm around her shoulders, Dixie looked up at him. Her blue eyes swam in pools of tears. “I was so sure she would take Stacey away,” she sobbed.

Puzzled, Kell shook his head. “There’s absolutely no reason for them to take Stacey away, Love,” he soothed. “Why in the world would you even think such a thing?”

Dixie sniffled as she worked to bring her tears under control. “Last week . . . . . . . . when we had that little girl in Emergency . . . . . . . . you know, Penny . . . . . . . . the one the mother . . . . . . . .”

He knew . . . . . . . . . and it seemed that Joe had been right, after all. “What about her?” Kell broke in. The case still troubled him and he could only guess how much it must have troubled her if she’d been fretting about it all this time.

“I heard the social worker talking to the police officer,” Dixie quietly told him. “She told him that they could . . . . . . . . rescind an adoption order if the mother . . . . . . . .”

“Dix,” Kell interrupted once again. The mystery he’d worked so hard at understanding had suddenly unraveled itself and become crystal clear. But he was still at a loss to understand how she could equate that with Stacey’s accident. “Sweetheart, she slammed that little girl into a wall and threw her down a flight of stairs. That’s why they arrested her. If Penny had lived, that . . . . . . . . woman . . . . . . . . wouldn’t have been allowed anywhere near her ever again!”

“But . . . . . . . .”

“Dixie, you did not hurt Stacey. She fell down the stairs.” Careful of the child now sleeping in her arms, Kell gently pulled his wife into a hug. “Accidents happen, Love, and it’s not your fault.”

Safe in the comfort of his hug, she whispered, “I couldn’t stand to lose her . . . . . . . . not any of the children.”

“Dixie, you’re not going to lose her. No one is going to take the children away from us. Not ever,” Kell promised her softly as he held her in his arms.

Dixie allowed herself to believe his words.

* * * * * * * *

Kelly Brackett leaned back against the squad, a faint smile cautiously teasing the corners of his mouth. The abnormally slow morning in Emergency was making him antsy and he’d wandered out to see how the two firefighters were managing with their impromptu rescue squad tour for the children spending their day in the Child Care Center. Absently observing the two paramedics, once again engrossed in showing the children the equipment, he found his attention wandering. An idea was forming in the back of his mind; after a few moments of thought, he pushed himself away from the squad and headed for the door. The hospital could certainly manage without him for the rest of this day. Dixie, tension dissolved and fears relieved . . . . . . . . and back to her usual on-top-of-things self . . . . . . . . had decided to stay home just so she could take the children to the playground . . . . . . . . and joining his family for a picnic lunch in the park had suddenly become the most important thing in the entire world.