WE WERE GATHERING STARS
--- Joan Emerson
Kelly Brackett threw up his hands in absolute disgust. “Enough!” he shouted. “I . . . . . . . . have . . . . . . . . had . . . . . . . . enough!”
Dixie rolled her eyes. Lord knew she felt like screaming herself. She’d known he was bound to discover it sooner or later, but there was simply nothing she could do about it. Smiling absently as she watched Stacey contentedly bouncing in the baby swing, she opted for silence while the irate doctor continued his rant.
He stormed out of the kitchen, nearly knocking over the baby swing as he made his way into the living room. Startled, Stacey burst into tears, bringing him up short, and he bent down to pick her up. “I’m sorry, Sweetie,” he soothed as he hugged her. Bouncing the baby gently in his arms as he patted her back, he turned around to look at Dixie. “THE . . . . . . . . WATER . . . . . . . . IS . . . . . . . . TURNED . . . . . . . .OFF.” With a sigh of exasperation, he queried, “How can we make dinner with the water turned off?”
Dixie idly wondered if she dared. Deciding the situation couldn’t possibly get any worse, she offered him her sweetest smile, complete with wide-eyed gaze. “And while the house is all torn up,” she intoned, “and the builders are making a mess everywhere, you’ll just have to remember how great it will be when it’s done!”
Kell shot her a withering look of total disgust, plopped the still-crying baby onto her lap, and stormed out of the room. He was back in a moment, twins in tow and jacket in hand. “Let’s go.”
Dixie shifted around to look at him. “Where are we going?”
“Someplace sane --- with water --- to get a decent meal.”
It was going to be a v – e – r – y l – o – n – g twelve weeks. God help them all if the builders weren’t finished by then.
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“Come in,” he called out.
Joe stuck his head in the door. “Is it safe?” he teased.
Turning away from the x-ray he was studying just long enough to glare in the direction of the door, Kell grumbled, “When’d you decide to become a comedian, Joe?”
Laughing, Joe Early came to stand beside his friend. Switching out the x-ray, Kell pointed. “What do you think?”
Joe examined the x-ray. “What else have you got?”
Kell switched out the x-rays once again, and, as Joe bent closer to examine the second picture, he quietly remarked, “Guess I’ll go scrub.”
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It was already hot and muggy. Caught in the grip of the thermal inversion layer, the entire Los Angeles basin was feeling the effects of the smog . . . . . . . . not to mention the heat . . . . . . . . as the city sweltered for the sixth straight day. Already the temperature was in the mid-nineties, and they’d only just finished breakfast. Hank Stanley looked up from his cup of coffee. The increased fire danger was staggering and the department was making a proactive prevention stand. Already uncomfortable in the heat, Hank knew that none of them were likely to be too thrilled with the task at hand, but it was all part of the “being a firefighter” territory. “We’re helping Station One Twenty-seven with brush clearance for the rest of the week,” he quietly announced. “We’ll be working out in Sepulveda Pass . . . . . . . . some of that brush is . . . . . . . .”
“We settin’ up a controlled burn, Cap?” interrupted Johnny.
Captain Stanley glared at the young paramedic. “If you’d let me finish . . . . . . . .”
“Sorry,” he mumbled as he worked at appearing apologetic.
“We’ll be clearing brush in the area, but,” he pointedly added, “there’ll be no controlled burns at this time. Not with the Santa Ana winds kicking up --- the last thing we need is for our con-trolled burn to get out of hand and set fire to Sepulveda Pass.”
Good-naturedly grumbling among themselves, the men shoved their chairs away from the table. Already heat-soaked, the day only promised them a whole lot more of the same. But they understood the importance of the task, and fervently hoped their efforts would stave off a bad fire in the canyon.
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“Have you seen Joe?” queried Mike Morton as he came up to the counter at the nurses’ station. Dixie McCall looked up from the chart she was annotating. “I think he’s still up in surgery, Mike,” she replied.
“Christopher Madison?”
Dixie nodded as she glanced at her watch. She hadn’t realized it was so late. “They’ve been up there for about three hours now, she told the young doctor. “They’ll probably be finished pretty soon.”
“Thanks,” Mike offered. Looking around at the empty hallway and the quiet waiting area, he added, “Adam’s finishing up in two. Guess I’ll get some coffee while I’ve got the chance.”
Dixie chuckled. “Don’t say that too loud, Mike, or every person in town will come rushing through that door, begging for help!”
Mike laughed as he headed for the break room while Dixie returned the patient’s chart to the rack and set about getting things finished up and ready for the upcoming shift change.
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Startled, the driver swerved to avoid a collision. But there was no place to go and as the truck raced past from the other direction and disappeared around the curve, the car teetered on the edge of the roadway, then slowly tumbled over into the canyon.
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Mike moved the pot of spaghetti from the stove to the table as Marco finished setting plates and silverware around. The station was quiet, and, thankfully, there had been no calls since they had returned from their first day of brush-clearing in the pass.
“Smells good,” complimented the captain wearily, his men nodding in agreement. They settled around the table, almost too drained from their hot, backbreaking day to eat. Conversation was dispensed with as they ate; afterward, they tiredly headed for bed. More of the same awaited them tomorrow.
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“Guess the market was busier than Dixie expected,” apologized Kell as he handed Joe a cup of coffee. “I thought she’d be here by now.” Joe and Julie were staying for dinner, their first visit since the house remodeling had finally gotten finished. The twins were happily spread out in their new playroom, Kevin building a super roadway for his cars and Kelsie engrossed in her book.
Wandering in from the kitchen, Julie appreciatively commented, “It’s just lovely, Kell. Everything turned out so great, especially the kitchen! And Dixie’s decorating is absolutely fantastic!”
“Yeah, she’s good at that,” Kell smiled. “I had them install the wall cabinets lower than usual so it would be more convenient for Dixie, and the dishwasher’s so I won’t worry about her wanting to stand there washing dishes in the sink.” He chuckled. “Of course, there were times I didn’t think any of us would survive the builders to actually see it get done, but . . . . . . . .”
Joe laughed as he interrupted. “That might be why you moved everybody into the local Holiday Inn for six weeks?”
“At least they had water,” Kell retorted. “Getting through it was tough,” he admitted, “but we’re really pleased with the results.” He grinned as he added, “Sure am glad it’s done, though!”
“I’ll bet . . . . . . . .”
A scream pierced the air, startling them into silence.
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Catherine Reese sighed as she bit into her sandwich. The pert physician, head of pediatrics, was worried. She thought about going home, but dismissed the idea almost at once. She had a bad feeling about Christopher Madison and she knew it was pointless for her to even consider leaving at the moment.
A much-needed change of scenery, coupled with the totally unexpected opportunity to head the department, brought her to Rampart General from New York’s Columbia Presbyterian. It was like coming to another world, and sometimes she despaired of ever feeling really settled in. Not that her colleagues weren’t gracious and friendly; they were. It was just that Los Angeles was so different from New York City it was like being on a different planet . . . . . . . . and she was still working at being acclimated.
“Doctor Reese to Pediatrics,” came the page over the intercom. “Doctor Reese to Pediatrics.” Dropping the sandwich onto the plate with a sigh, she crumpled her napkin, and headed upstairs.
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“What the . . . . . . . .?” Kell fairly blasted off the sofa and hit the stairs at a full run, Joe and Julie right behind him. Taking the stairs two at a time, panic flooding through him as he scrambled toward the children’s playroom, he reached his destination in a matter of seconds.
Kelsie was collapsed in a heap on the floor. Kevin sat beside her, holding her hand, whispering to her in their private singsong. Kell moved across the room to kneel down beside his daughter.
“Mommie . . . . . . . . dark,” she moaned.
“Ssshhhh, Cupcake,” soothed Kell as he brushed her hair back from her face. Joe scrunched down next to Kevin and, with a worried look, checked her vital signs. Kelsie continued to mutter as Kevin held tightly to her hand, the singsong continuing.
“Call an ambulance,” Joe said quietly as he looked up at Julie.
She turned and ran.
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“She’s resting now, Kell.”
“What’s wrong with her? What happened?” Kell demanded as he jumped up from his chair in the waiting room. He had spent the last twenty or so minutes alternately pacing the floor and bouncing in and out of the chair. Experience had taught Joe when it was time to back off and he knew better than to try to dissuade Kell from his frenetic pacing. Kevin was perched on Julie’s lap, fright evident in his dark eyes. Joe sat at their side, working to keep his own fearful fretting under control.
Catherine had just come from Kelsie’s room. She shook her head. “I don’t know yet,” she replied calmly, a counterpoint to his agitation. “You can see her for a few minutes, but I want her to sleep. We’ll run some tests in the morning . . . . . . . .”
“Thanks,” Kell nodded as he charged off down the corridor.
Julie looked at Joe. “Guess I’ll try calling Dixie again,” she proffered. She moved Kevin into her chair as she stood up and hesitantly moved toward the phone, none too thrilled at the prospect of being the one to break the news to Kelsie’s mother.
“Aunt Julie will be right back,” Joe told the frightened child as he stood up and moved a step or two away to talk to Catherine. They spoke in low voices as Joe kept watch over his godson.
“What kind of tests, Catherine?”
She drew a deep breath. “I have no idea what’s wrong with her, Joe,” she despaired. “She has a fever, but I can’t find a reason for it. I’ll draw blood, but . . . . . . . .” She shrugged helplessly.
Joe sighed. This whole thing was a mystery. He’d shared Dixie’s earlier concerns over Kelsie, but lately she’d been much less withdrawn than she had been in the first few years of her life. Julie had been good for her, Joe acknowledged with a slight smile; she’d even become semi-conversational in the past few months as if talking to them had somehow become easier for her all of a sudden. And now, this. But what in the world was this?
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Julie returned, a troubled look on her face.
Moving to her side, he put his arm around her shoulders. “Julie?”
She shook her head in puzzlement. “Still no answer.”
He stepped over to the information desk, picked up the phone, and dialed the nurses’ station in Emergency. “Hi, Betty,” he said when he heard her voice; “can you tell me when Dixie left?” He listened a moment, thanked her, then slowly hung up the phone. What in the world was going on with the Brackett family?
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“He needs to go home,” Julie declared fervidly. “You can stay here --- even though I doubt that Kell will know one way or the other --- but I’m going to take Kevin home.”
Joe smiled at her. “You’re right,” he acknowledged with a nod. “But I think I’ll stay, anyway.”
Julie gave him a quick kiss. “Just take care of yourself,” she said with a soft smile. “And call me if there’s any news at all.”
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“Kell, I think Dixie needs to be here,” Catherine offered quietly. In truth, she was more than a little surprised that she’d not yet come in. Seemed rather out of character, Catherine thought.
Kell looked up from his solitary vigil at his daughter’s bedside. Hour by hour, she’d gotten steadily worse since they’d admitted her; the fever hung on and she seemed to be in pain. As her temperature continued to climb, he became more and more frightened --- for some reason he simply could not fathom, he was losing his precious child. And he could do nothing about it.
He sighed heavily. “Don’t you think she’d be here if I knew where she was?”
“Mommie . . . . . . . . dark,” she moaned yet again.
His answer had surprised her, but she pushed that concern aside. “Do you have any idea what that means, Kell?” Catherine queried softly. “She’s said it over and over and over . . . . . . . .”
Kell shook his head. “Not a clue.” He stroked her cheek, feeling very much abandoned and alone, even in the midst of his friends and colleagues. Helpless, he watched his daughter slowly slipping away from him. He swiped at his cheeks with the back of his hand, but continued to gently hold her small hand in his.
No one seemed to be able to find Dixie, a fact that Kell absorbed with a certain amount of disdain. Experience had taught him one or two things when it came to his Dixie, chief among them that her children were right at the top of her list of important things in her life. He’d learned the hard way not to make suppositions about the woman he cherished, and while a part of him felt a compelling need to be out looking for her, he feared Kelsie would slip away completely in his absence. And so he remained caught in a quagmire of unknown fears . . . . . . . . fear for whatever had happened to Dixie, and fear that they would lose their child before he found the answer to the first.
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“Phew!” muttered Johnny as he swiped at his forehead. Back in the canyon for the second day, he wished they’d managed to accomplish more yesterday. Already he felt like he was melting, and they hadn’t even begun to clear away in this new area.
“Yeah,” agreed Roy. “Want to start here or over by . . . . . . . .”
“Ssshhhh!” Interrupting his partner, Johnny held up his hand for silence. After a moment, he asked, “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“Ssshhhh. Listen!” He remained motionless, his head tilted, listening intently. Suddenly, he cried, “It’s down there!” and slid down the hillside, moving further into the deep, tangled brush.
“Johnny off chasing butterflies?” teased Chet. “Anything to get out of work . . . . . . . .”
“Roy! Over here!” Johnny’s shout interrupted Chet’s taunt. He worked at pulling branches away as he cried, “There’s a car down here!”
The two men dropped their shovels and ran.
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“Cap!” Chet hollered as he approached at a run.
“Cap! There’s a car down there!” He pointed as he gasped for breath. “People in it!”
Intent on his mission, Chet continued on toward the squad, while the others scrabbled down the steep side of the canyon to help.
The car, upright and tangled deep in the thick brush, appeared, by some miracle, to have avoided rolling on its way down into the canyon. Faint cries could be heard coming from inside.
“Sounds like a pretty small baby,” huffed Roy as he yanked at a stubborn branch. Johnny gave it a whack with his axe and sheer determination gave the two men the victory. “As hot as it’s been, it’s gotta be an oven in there!” The two men redoubled their efforts and had, in reasonably short order, hacked away enough of the thick brush to enable them to get to the door.
“Jammed,” cursed Roy just as the others reached them. Chet returned with the bio-phone and drug box as Mike turned away and began working his way back up the canyon for the Jaws of Life; Chet dropped the stuff near the car and followed Mike as he, too, headed back up. He knew for sure they would need both the trauma box and the Stokes before this rescue was over.
“Cap,” suggested Roy, “maybe we ought to have Hector bring the tractor over; we’re gonna need help gettin’em back up.”
“Tractor Two,” Captain Stanley called into the handi-talkie. “This is Engine Fifty – One. We have injured people trapped in a car, down in the canyon. Can you bring the tractor to our location?”
“Ten – four, Fifty – One, on my way,” came Hector’s reply and they could hear the tractor in the distance, rumbling their way.
Working together, the firefighters soon had the door popped. Mike stepped back to let the paramedics in.
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“Mommie . . . . . . . .” moaned Kelsie as her temperature stubbornly continued to rise.
Kell, still at her side, still holding her hand, wiped her face with a cool cloth and tried to comfort her as he waited for her to add the “dark,” . . . . . . . . whatever it was that that meant.
It never came.
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The greenhouse effect had obviously been at work, turning the interior of the car into a blast furnace. Coupled with the heat of the day, it was stifling hot inside the car. Dixie was drifting in and out of consciousness. Roy quickly checked her condition, noting the dehydration and symptoms of heat stroke. Concerned, he felt her forehead. Hot; dry skin. He knew they didn’t have much time. “We need a backboard,” he yelled. He reached over and, after determining that the child had not sustained any serious injuries, he undid the buckles and lifted her out of the car seat. Not in the least surprised, he noticed that Dixie had some-how managed to retrieve several bottles of juice or water from the diaper bag, helping to keep her little girl from becoming too dehydrated. He carefully handed her out to Johnny.
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Julie stood in the doorway with Doctor Reese. She didn’t have to be a doctor to know it was bad. Instinctively she knew that, whatever was going to happen, the twins needed to be together. “Kevin needs to see his sister,” she said softly as she let go of his hand. Instantly he ran across the room to Kelsie’s side, grabbed hold of her hand, and immediately began chattering to her in their private singsong.
Kelsie’s eyes fluttered open. “Mommie,” she whispered.
The room was silent; everyone knew her next word would be ‘dark.’
“Mommie . . . . . . . . Mommie . . . . . . . .”
“Where’s the ‘dark?’ asked Catherine in surprise.
“I dunno,” muttered Kell tonelessly. “She hasn’t said anything but ‘Mommie’ for a while now.”
Kevin looked across the bed at his father. “Kelsie’s throat still hurts, Daddy, but the dark went away,” he sanguinely advised. “Now she’s not so scared any more. But she wants Mommie.”
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“You’ve got to get her temperature down!”
“Ten – four, Rampart,” Johnny acknowledged. They had gotten her into the Stokes and, with the assistance of Hector and Tractor Two, managed to get both mother and child, as well as them-selves up out of the canyon. They’d set up in the shade of a huge tree on the edge of the roadway, thinking the slightly cooler shelter would be better for both Dixie and the baby. John looked over at his partner. “What do you think we ought to do?”
Roy looked at the rig. “Let’s pull a one and a half . . . . . . . .”
With Mike Stoker’s quick assistance, they literally hosed them down. While waiting for the ambulance, they kept spraying water over them; Stacey cried, which they figured was a good sign, and, much to their relief, Dixie’s temperature began to drop.
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Joe Early came to the doorway and stood behind Julie and Catherine. “I need Kell,” he said softly, “now.” Catherine and Julie both looked at him, startled by the urgency in his voice.
Joe remained preoccupied, only half-listening to Julie edgily relate Kevin’s strange comment about the dark going away as Catherine moved toward the bed and checked the monitors. “Temperature’s dropping,” she noted in surprised satisfaction. This was certainly a strange case. Time enough to puzzle it out later, though. “Kell?” She gently tapped him on the shoulder.
He startled at her touch. “Hhhmmmm? What?”
“Out,” she ordered. “I need a few minutes with my patient and Joe needs to talk to you. “Go.” She pushed lightly at his shoulder, encouraging him out of the chair.
Sighing, Kell got up. “I’ll be right back,” he promised as Joe hauled him out of the room.
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Over his protests that he had to get back upstairs to pediatrics to be with Kelsie, Joe ushered his friend into the office. This was most definitely not a conversation for the hospital hallway. “Dixie’s on her way.” Joe quietly offered the information as he firmly closed the door behind him and Kell sagged into the chair. Joe knew Kell would interpret his statement differently than the truth of the matter actually was, but somehow it seemed like a better way to back into the discussion.
His thoughts were preoccupied with Kelsie. “It’s about time she showed up,” he muttered, his voice a tired monotone yet filled with concern. “She say where she’s been?”
Joe set the coffee on the desk in front of his friend. “Drink,” he ordered gruffly. He figured he had about five more minutes before the ambulance arrived. Kell offered a disgruntled look, but sipped at the hot liquid. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Johnny and Roy found her car in Sepulveda Pass. They think she probably went off the road yesterday afternoon . . . . . . . .”
“What?!” Panic tore through his soul.
“She’s alive; so is Stacey. They’ve both been treated for heat exhaustion; Dixie has a broken arm and most likely a couple of cracked ribs.” Kell sagged against the desk, his head propped up in his hands. “They’re on the way in now,” Joe offered gently.
Kell looked across the desk at his friend. He couldn’t even form the words to ask the question.
Joe worked at providing reassurance. “They both seemed to respond well to treatment. . . . . . . . I’m pretty sure we got to them in time . . . . . . . .”
The wail of a siren interrupted the conversation and both men bolted for the door.
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The ambulance had not even come to a stop before Kell was yanking at the doors. Both Johnny and Roy had ridden in with them; Johnny was still holding the baby in his arms when Kell hauled open the door.
Joe stood back, assisting as needed as they somehow managed to get everyone out of the ambulance and through the door. By this time, Kell had maneuvered himself around to Dixie’s side and, despite the IV line, he now had a death grip on her hand.
Mike Morton set about caring for Stacey while Joe continued supervising Dixie’s care. A quick look had confirmed his suspicions that the baby had fared somewhat better than the mother, a situation Joe had no doubt was due to something or other Dixie had managed to do for the child. No surprise there.
“Take her on up to pediatrics and have Catherine look at her,” Joe ordered; Mike nodded and headed upstairs with the child.
“Temperature?” Joe requested, turning all his attention to Dixie.
“Ninety – nine point seven,” Betty replied. Joe tossed a smile toward the two paramedics. “Nice work!” he complimented.
Dixie, drenched and still wrapped in a wet sheet, stirred.
“Hey, Dix.” Joe smiled softly as her eyes fluttered open.
“Stacey,” she whispered. “How . . . . . . . .”
“She’ll be just fine,” interrupted Kell as he gently placed a hand over her mouth. Not quite able to keep the tears under control, he nonetheless offered her a smile as Joe nodded in agreement.
She sighed in relief; the medication kicked in and she drifted off to sleep while Kell remained steadfastly holding onto her hand.
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“This has certainly been a strange and confusing case, but I think I’ve finally sorted everything out and found the answers for you,” she said candidly.
Kell looked across the desk at her. “Well,” he sighed, “the most important thing is that she’s all right . . . . . . . .”
“Strange how it came on so suddenly, with no warning,” Joe ob-served, intent on the medical reference book he was consulting.
“I think Catherine just said that,” teased Kell lightly. It’d been four days since Dixie had been found; miraculously, she had no severe injuries and was well on the road to recovery. Stacey was bouncing around pediatrics, stealing hearts. Kelsie, the focus of the conversation currently taking place in her father’s office, seemed almost totally recovered.
“Kelsie’s symptoms,” Catherine continued, “sudden fever, vague pain, sore throat . . . . . . . . ”
“Herpangina?” suggested Joe dubiously; Catherine nodded her concurrence.
“Could be,” Kell agreed with an offhanded shrug. “It’s a sudden onset condition that generally clears up on its own, though her fever was much higher than might be expected.” Chuckling, he added, “But while you’re at it, Doctor, I don’t suppose you’d feel like clearing up the whole ‘Mommie, dark’ mystery, would you?”
“Actually, Kell,” she replied, much to his astonishment, “I believe I can explain that as well.”
Joe, certain he knew what was coming, closed the reference book and waited expectantly.
“I think Kelsie was trying to tell us that her vision was affected, that everything was dark,” Catherine replied.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Kell argued. “There’d be no reason for her vision to be affected.”
“Normally, no,” Catherine agreed. “But I think your daughter had a migraine attack as well.”
“Migraine? She’s six!”
“I know, Kell, but children as young as three have been known to have migraines; from what she said me this morning, that’s what I think it was.” She paused, then offered, “She was calling for her mother, trying to tell her that everything looked dark. When the migraine eased and her vision was no longer affected . . . . . . . .”
Kell sighed. “Six-year-olds aren’t supposed to have migraine headaches,” he grumbled morosely.
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“They’re beautiful, Johnny, thank you!” Dixie smelled the flowers once more before relinquishing them to Sharon’s hands to be put into water. Johnny thought she looked like her old self now, but he vividly remembered just how close it’d been when they’d first gotten her out of the broiling heat built up inside the car --- his training had told him just how life-threatening heat stroke could be. Her left arm, broken near the wrist, was encased in a plaster cast that, when you looked at her, somehow managed to almost seem to be an afterthought. Johnny thought he’d never before seen anyone who looked quite so good in a cast.
“You OK?” he queried, his lopsided smile just a bit wider than usual now that it was certain Dixie would recover completely. Johnny would always be a confirmed nurse-chaser, especially if she was young and pretty, but Dixie McCall Brackett was one nurse who most definitely held a very special place in his heart.
Dixie nodded. “I guess we’re really lucky that you decided to come clear out the brush in the canyon,” she observed with a faint smile. Her deep blue eyes sparkled. “Thanks.”
Johnny blushed, more than a little uncomfortable at suddenly being the focus of her appreciation. Somehow, her thanks gave acknowledgement to the heretofore unspoken gravity of the situation in which she had been caught, lending a tenseness to the atmosphere that did not sit too well with anyone in the room.
“Well, maybe we’d better get back, let Dixie get some rest,” offered Roy in an attempt to break the somber mood. Turning to Dixie, he added, “We’ll see you later, OK?”
“Make sure you do!” she ordered with mock sternness. As the two paramedics turned to leave, Kell came through the door. “Hi, guys. You aren’t leaving yet, are you?”
“Well,” offered Roy, “we thought we’d let Dixie get some rest.”
“Do you have a minute?” he asked.
“Sure,” nodded Johnny.
Kell sighed. “Saying ‘thanks’ to the two of you is getting to be a perpetual habit,” he observed quietly.
Johnny worked at pushing away the pensive mood. “Aw, gee, Doc, you know what they say . . . . . . . .”
“No.” Kell looked at him in puzzlement. “What do they say?”
Johnny barreled on, making his point in his own usual oblivious way. “They say bad things always happen in threes, right? So, now, look . . . . . . . . well, it works like this, you see; you and Dixie, you’ve had your three.” As he worked at making his point, he ticked them off on his fingers. “First, there was that accident, the other one, the one where the lady’s car rolled over. Right?”
Keeping his silence, Kell nodded.
“Dixie cut her hand all up getting the baby out of the car. That’s a bad thing right there.” He was engrossed in making his point. “Then two was the fire, and, well, we all know how bad that was. And this accident here is three.” Triumphant, he exclaimed, “So that’s it!” He grinned broadly. “You’ve used up your three!”
Kell shook his head in disbelief. He wasn’t at all sure that he believed in old wives’ tales and all that sort of stuff. Still, he appreciated the effort Johnny had put into the telling and he laughed as he said, “Boy, I sure do hope you’re right, Johnny!” He took hold of Dixie’s hand, suddenly turning somber once more. “Still, guys, thanks for finding them . . . . . . . . and for taking such good care of my family . . . . . . . . thank you.”
Roy made an effort to lighten the mood in the room. “Yeah, sure, Doc. Just doin’ our job.” Tapping Johnny on the shoulder, he said, “Let’s go, Junior. Time to get back to work.”
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“Hey, Doc,” Johnny greeted Joe Early as they walked out of the elevator on the first floor. “How’re ya doin’?”
“Been up to see Dixie?”
Johnny nodded. “Sure glad she’s OK.”
“We all are, Johnny,” he laughed lightly. “And it’s thanks to the two of you.”
“Aw, Doc, we were just doing our job!”
“Squad Fifty–One, are you available?” came the voice over the handi-talkie.
“Squad Fifty–One available,” responded Roy. Looking at Joe, he added, “Gotta go,” and, as Joe waited for the elevator to arrive, the two paramedics headed down the corridor toward the ambulance entrance.
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“Well,” Dixie mused as the door closed behind the two paramedics, “I hate to put holes in Johnny’s fancy theory, but I think maybe his calculations are just a tiny little bit off. I do believe he missed a few.” ::Don’t ever forget it, Dixie --- you let too much trouble come around and they’ll be gone for good!::
“And just what few might that be?” Kell asked with a grin as he leaned over to give her a kiss.
“Mmmmmmm.” She abandoned the thought and pushed away the nagging voice, concentrating instead on kissing him back.
“No doubt about it . . . . . . . . she’s feeling better!” he chuckled, sliding his arms around her and drawing her into a gentle hug.
Dissolving in laughter, Dixie dropped her head to his shoulder.
“Now, cut that out, you two!” Joe, standing in the doorway, ordered with a grin and an inward sigh of relief that all was well.
Kell, now laughing along with her, turned around. “Hi, Joe,” he managed at last.
“That much fun is definitely not authorized in this hospital,” Joe continued with a smirk as he remained standing in the doorway. “The patients will think we’re entirely too entertaining and no one will ever want to leave here and go home!”
“Goodness, we certainly can’t have that!” chuckled Kell as he turned back to Dixie. “Now stop that laughing!” he demanded. She just laughed harder.
Smiling, Joe shook his head and turned to leave. “Wish I’d heard that joke,” he murmured under his breath as he cheerfully made his way back to the elevator.
é é é é é é é é
“I sure do wish there was some way Johnny might have been right,” mused Dixie with a sigh as she settled back in the bed. ::Don’t ever forget it, Dixie . . . . . . . . don’t ever forget . . . . . . . .::
“Right about what, Dix?”
“That all the bad stuff happening was really over.” ::way too much bad stuff, Dixie:: “Wouldn’t it be nice if we could have plain, ordinary, uncomplicated, everyday lives for a while?”
He stroked her cheek. “It hasn’t been so bad, has it, Love?”
Dixie looked at him in exasperation. “I didn’t mean like that,” she reprimanded softly. She reached up to put her arm around his neck, pulled him down close to her, and gently kissed him. “That hasn’t ever been bad.”
He smiled softly; absently, she returned the smile, but it was just one of those turn-up-the-corners-of-your-mouth sort of smiles and Kell noticed that there was no smile in her eyes. Distracted, she sighed. ::They’ll be gone for good!:: “Who’d ever have thought that we could cram so much bad into such a short time?”
“Things happen, Love,” he offered gently as he brushed his hand through her long, soft hair. “We’ve had lots of good, lots and lots of it. And maybe if it seems like we’ve had more than our share of tough times, then we need to remember that we’ve made it through every single time . . . . . . . . and we’re still here. Together.”
“It would sure be nice, though, if we could really be past all that bad stuff, like Johnny said, but I suppose that’s probably way too much to ask for.”
Realizing she was emphatically serious, Kell refrained from laughing at her plaintive wishing. “What makes you think he’s not right?” he asked softly.
“I can count, Kell,” she reminded him with just a hint of sarcasm in her voice. “Besides Johnny’s list, there was the drunk driver and all that mess.” She paused, but the slightly vacant look in her eyes confirmed his suspicion that she was still dredging through the memories in her mind. “Are you sure,” she suddenly asked . . . . . . . . color it blue . . . . . . . . “that you want this list?”
She was most definitely on a roll, mired in this macabre musing. Kell was certain it would be best for both of them if he simply let her talk it out. He remained silent; from experience he knew that arguing with her once she got so caught up in something would be like trying to get in the last word with an echo.
She sighed as she counted her list off on her fingers. “There was getting trapped in the Child Care Center, the twins and the slide, all the time you were gone . . . . . . . .” She paused at that memory, pain echoing in her eyes. Kell drew her into a hug.
Completely captured by the task, she went on. “Then there was Kelsie’s hearing, General McKittridge, the gang stuff, the meningitis, the earthquake, and the fire at Children’s.” She stopped, looking down at her fingers. “That’s ten, counting all the stuff from the drunk driver together as one.” She looked into his eyes. “And we haven’t even mentioned the miscarriage or all the trouble we had just having the twins in the first place.” Tears threatened to spill over at that one. She rolled her eyes; “The carjacking . . . . . . . . an even dozen --- plus Johnny’s three --- that makes fifteen.” She sniffled in abject despair. “Sheesh, how can one family rate that much disaster in a single lifetime?”
Working to dispel her mood, Kell laughed lightly as he offered, “Well, I’m sure I don’t know . . . . . . . . but you can group them all up in threes, like Johnny said, and then there will be no bad things left over.” He pulled her back into his embrace, silently fretting over her continuing predilection to pursue the thought.
She shook her head sadly. “I sure hope you’re right,” she sighed, settling into the hug. ::Gone, Dixie:: “I sure hope you’re right.”
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“Couldn’t you bend the hospital rules just a little? Just once?”
Joe smiled at her. “Bend the rules, Nurse?” He chuckled softly. “Let’s talk about you first, then we’ll see about the rules.”
Dixie sighed. “I just want to see the twins. I’m fine.”
“Kell’s worried about you,” he offered gently.
“Why? There’s nothing to worry about.” Dixie looked at him in surprise. “Is there?”
Looking steadily at her, he carefully chose his words. “What’s all this stuff about bad things always happening?” he asked gently.
Dixie shrugged. “It’s true,” she offered after a moment. “Ever since I went up to San Francisco for that interview . . . . . . . . Sometimes I think the fates are conspiring against . . . . . . . .”
Joe chuckled at her seriousness.
Dixie sniffed. “It’s not funny,” she retorted. “Think about it. It’s true . . . . . . . . it’s like he’s being punished for marrying me.”
“Come on, now, Dix! Punished? For marrying you?” Joe queried in surprise. This was not at all what he’d anticipated when he’d promised Kell he’d talk with her. No wonder Kell was so worried.
Tears welled up in her eyes. “You’re not supposed let the people you love get hurt,” she whispered sadly. The despair in her voice startled him. “I tried so hard . . . . . . . .” She began to cry. The one and only one for me . . . . . . . . “I tried so hard . . . . . . . .”
“Dix!” He was flabbergasted and, as he sought to comfort her, panic tickled the edges of his mind and threatened to explode within him.
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“It’ll be the department’s annual benefit fund raiser,” he added as they sat around the table, finishing dinner. Chet’s masterpiece was definitely not a culinary creation destined to go down in history as a tour de force of kitchen magic by any stretch of the imagination, but it was at least edible --- sort of, anyway.
Roy put down his fork. “There’s no sense fussing about it if the department has already decided on doing it that way.”
“Yeah, but Roy . . . . . . . .”
Not in the mood for haggling, Roy threw him a withering glance. For once, Johnny took the hint and shut up. “What I want to know,” Roy went on, “is what it is they’re expecting us to do.”
Hank avoided looking at him, not at all an encouraging sign. After a pause, he quietly replied, “Each shift is to come up with an act.” As expected, the rest of the crew looked at each other and groaned. “Now, it’s not quite that bad,” he backpedaled. “We can do it ourselves, or get someone to do something for us. We just have to be ready to provide a performance. Either we do it or someone does it for us --- how tough can it be?”
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Kelly Brackett was pacing . . . . . . . . again. “What would ever make her think something like that?” he demanded.
Joe shook his head. “I’m sure I have no idea. But I’ll tell you this much . . . . . . . . that’s one very distressed lady --- and you are the one who’s going to have to handle it.”
He stopped pacing long enough to turn around and look at him. “And exactly how do you propose that I do that?” He spread his hands helplessly. “I don’t even know what it’s all about!”
“Then you’d better find out, my friend. You’d better find out.”
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Julie was busy putting the finishing touches on dinner. Kevin was in the living room, finagling another tune out of Joe. She smiled as Joe began the requested song. Now that Kelsie was getting better, he was a much happier, more relaxed child. Sometimes the closeness the twins shared absolutely floored her.
“Anyone interested in some dinner?” she asked with a smile as she stood in the living room doorway watching the two of them. “Hamburgers and French fries . . . . . . . .”
Kevin’s face lit up . . . . . . . . that was his favorite meal. He slid off the piano bench and headed for the dinner table.
Laughing, Joe gave Julie a quick kiss, then put his arm around her and the two of them followed him into the dining room.
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“I have no idea where it came from, and I have absolutely no idea of what to do about it!” They’d finished dinner a while ago and Julie had just come from tucking Kevin into bed. Now she and Joe were sharing news over a cup of coffee.
Concerned at his distress, Julie reached across the table and placed her hand over his. “Did you talk to Kell about it?”
Joe nodded. “He says he doesn’t understand any of it, either. Apparently, John Gage said something to them about trouble coming in threes, and that put Dixie into a sort of ‘counting up their past troubles’ mood. And it was all downhill from there.”
“How very strange,” Julie murmured, stirring a smidgeon of cream into the coffee. She shook her head. After a moment, she stood up. “Guess I’d better go check on Kevin.”
Joe watched her go. “Strange, indeed,” he muttered to himself. And what in the world would they do about it if Kell could not successfully ferret out an answer?
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“Dix,” he said softly as he took hold of her hand.
“Hhhmmmm?”
“Could we talk for a minute?”
That sounded serious; ominous bells rang in her head. ::Don’t ever forget it, Dixie . . . . . . . . they’ll be gone for good!:: “About what?” she whispered fearfully as she fought back her panic.
Kell reached over to gently stroke her cheek. “Joe told me that the two of you talked this afternoon,” he began. “He’s worried about you --- and so am I.”
She rushed to offer reassurance. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
He smiled softly. “Don’t you know that I always worry about you, Sweetheart?”
“You don’t have to worry. Not at all. Not ever,” she vehemently persisted. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Dix,” he appeased, still holding onto her hand and moving to brush his free hand through her hair, “I worry about you because I love you.”
She accepted this statement in silence, dreading to hear what would come next. ::Don’t ever forget it, Dixie . . . . . . . .::
Choosing his words carefully, Kell fervently hoped he’d picked the right approach. “Sweetheart, I don’t know why you’re so preoccupied with things that happened in the past . . . . . . . .”
Tears clouded her eyes. ::. . . . . . . . Uh-oh, you let far too much trouble come around, Dixie . . . . . . . . I warned you . . . . . . . .:: She could no longer contain them and they spilled over.
Kell debated with himself, ultimately deciding to give her a chance to cry it out. That lasted for about half a second, until the tear-stained cheeks swayed his resolve, and he gathered her into his arms. “Ssshhhh, it’s all right, Love,” he quietly soothed.
“I’ll . . . . . . . . try . . . . . . . . harder,” she whimpered softly. “I’ll do better.” She looked away. “Please,” she begged, “let me have another chance . . . . . . . .”
“You don’t need another chance and you don’t have to ‘try harder’,” he admonished gently as he kissed her cheek. “You’re not to blame for anything.” He looked at the fear in her face. Brushing stray strands of long blonde hair back from her face, he asked, “What is there to ‘do better’ about, Sweetheart?”
“My mom always told us,” she whispered, her voice so soft he had to strain to catch her words, “that if you let too much trouble come around . . . . . . . .”
“People don’t let trouble come around, Dix. Life just happens.” He pulled her into his arms.
“. . . . . . . . then . . . . . . . .”
“Then what?” he pushed gently.
“The people . . . . . . . . you . . . . . . . . love . . . . . . . . go away.” ::Don’t ever forget it, Dixie --- you let too much trouble come around and they’ll be gone for good!::
Kell sighed heavily. Why did people do these things to their kids? [Please, God . . . . . . . . don’t let me ever do that to my kids.] “Exactly what did she tell you, Dixie? Can you tell me about it?”
Her face remained buried in his shoulder, and he strained to hear her as she whispered, “Jody was just a baby and she was forever struggling to take care of us. She always said I had to be strong, and depend on myself, and that I should never forget.”
“Never forget what?”
“That if you let too much trouble come around, they would be gone for good.”
“The people you love? What did your dad say about that?”
“He . . . . . . . . he went away when Jody was just a baby.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sure that was tough for you.”
From where does inspiration come? Who knows? Kelly Brackett surely didn’t, but that did not make him any less grateful for the sudden thought. Softly, he queried, “Was all of it bad, Dix?”
She pulled back from his arms; “Was all of what bad?”
Kell took a breath and plunged in. “All the things you counted up earlier, that you said were bad . . . . . . . . there’s another side, Sweetheart. There’s good that came from all of them.”
She gave him a quizzical look, not quite sure what to make of the statement and certainly not willing to simply take his word for it. “How can that be?”
“Well, take the carjacking . . . . . . . . we did meet Ted,” he chuckled. “And the guy didn’t shoot me!”
She laughed lightly, granting the point. “OK, but . . . . . . . .”
Kelly Brackett was no fool. He wasn’t about to abandon the point when it looked as if he actually had a chance to turn the situation around. Taking a page from John Gage’s book, he interrupted, barreling headlong into the discussion. “And all the fuss after the twins fell off the slide, and getting trapped in the Center, that put you in the position to find out about Adam, to understand his problem --- and gave us a chance to help him.”
She nodded, albeit reluctantly, still not too sure she was buying into his point of view, but intrigued enough to listen a bit longer.
He’d hit the easy ones; the going got tougher in a hurry. “I saw you signing to that scared little boy in Treatment Three last week; if we hadn’t taken Kelsie over to the John Tracy Clinic, we never would have ended up with a reason to learn to sign. But you did, and you made a difference for that frightened child.”
She conceded the point, but still wasn’t sold. She looked at him expectantly, waiting. After a moment, she responded, “OK, but how can you find anything good in the fire at Children’s or in Janet McCallister’s death, or,” she paused, her eyes filling with tears, “in losing the baby, or all the trouble we had even having the twins?”
Frustration overwhelmed him. Sometimes stubborn didn’t even come close to describing his lady! “It may seem like some things couldn’t possibly have any good in them, but all things do, Love. Like when I was . . . . . . . . in Carpenteria . . . . . . . . that had to be a terrible time for you and the twins, and I’m sorry it happened. But because I was there, a child’s life was saved.” He could see she was wavering, but she was much too sharp to let him get away with not addressing her specific list. “As for Janet, well --- if she was going to die in that accident, it was good that someone cared enough to stay there, to be with her . . . . . . . . . and she recognized good in you --- so much so that she entrusted the care of her daughter to you. I’m sorry she died, but . . . . . . . . Death is part of life, Dix. We see it way too often, we mourn far too many patients . . . . . . . . but because we care, we give all we have, we fight to the bitter end, and we never let go easily.” He chided gently, “You certainly didn’t let go of Cynthia too easily, now did you?”
Teary-eyed, she nodded, but the telling was going to be in her final point.
He put his hands on her shoulders and spoke softly, gently. “I still wonder what our child would have been like. It still hurts, having lost our baby before we ever even had a chance to be a family. And, God only knows how difficult it was to see you, day after day, struggling so hard to hang on long enough to give the twins a chance to live.” He ignored the tears now drifting down his cheeks. “Nobody ever promised us it would be easy . . . . . . . . or fair . . . . . . . . or black-and-white-simple, all good or all bad.” He drew a deep breath and pulled her into a hug. “But there’s good in making it through tough times, through things that hurt.”
She was silent, pensive.
“I think your mother must have been very sad, lonely and hurt,” Kell offered softly. “But she was wrong.” If he hadn’t said it yet, he knew he’d never find the right words. He pulled her back from his shoulder and put his hand under her chin, tipping her face up until she was looking at him. She dropped her gaze.
“Look at me!” he demanded sternly; she looked at him, but the pain spilling out of her eyes tortured his heart and soul. “When people love each other, they’re there for each other; they don’t go away because things are difficult.” He wrapped her tightly in his arms, gently rocking her. “I love you, Dixie,” he whispered, “and no matter what happens, we will always be together.” Brushing the tears from her cheeks, he sealed the vow with a kiss.
é é é é é é é é
Kevin was sitting on her bed, holding her hand, and chattering away in their private singsong. Kelsie smiled at him, but, as was her custom, remained silent.
“And they both understand what he’s saying?” Catherine asked.
“They certainly seem to,” replied Joe quietly. Watching the twins, he added, “It’s not all that strange --- many twins invent their own language.” After a moment, he mused, “But they’re certainly a whole lot closer than any other twins I’ve ever seen.”
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“Hi, Dix!” he greeted her with a smile as he came into the room pushing a wheelchair. “Feel up to going for a little ride?”
Dixie looked at him in surprise. “Sure,” she answered with a smile. “Actually, I feel up to going home,” she pointedly offered.
Kell laughed. “As soon as Joe says so,” he promised.
“I thought you were on duty now,” she commented as he helped her into her robe, settled her in the wheelchair, and headed for the elevator.
“I am, but it’s pretty quiet downstairs, so it seemed like a good time to take my favorite lady for a spin!” he chuckled.
She rolled her eyes, but said no more. After all, his company was most welcome and it was nice to be out of the room . . . . . . . .
They stopped at the first floor and he headed toward his office.
“What’s up, Kell? What’s going on?” she asked, surprised at the unexpected turn of events.
Kell opened the door and ushered her inside. Catherine Reese and Joe Early were already there. They all greeted each other as Kell “parked” her next to the chair where Joe was sitting.
Looking at her, Kell leaned against the edge of his desk, arms folded across his chest, and said, “Dixie, we need to talk about Kelsie.”
“Kelsie?” She looked at him in surprise. “Why? What about Kelsie?” She glanced around the room. “What’s this all about?”
“Dix,” Joe began plaintively, “Honey, Kelsie . . . . . . . . well, when she first got sick, she collapsed . . . . . . . .”
“What do you mean, she collapsed?” she interrupted. Looking across the office at Kell, she added, “You said she had a slight fever . . . . . . . . the flu, maybe.”
“I know,” admitted Kell. “I didn’t want you to worry, and we really didn’t know much of anything to tell you about it then.”
“But we think we have an explanation now,” offered Catherine.
“What happened to my baby?” Dixie demanded.
Kell sighed. “Joe and Julie were at the house; we were talking in the living room, Kelsie was upstairs in the playroom with Kevin. All of a sudden we heard a scream . . . . . . . . we found her collapsed on the floor.” He tried to ignore the terror in her eyes. “We called an ambulance, brought her here . . . . . . . .”
“Catherine took care of her,” Joe offered. “She had a fever, but we had some trouble pinning down the cause.”
Dixie glanced over at Catherine, her eyes filled with concern. Joe went on, “Dix, she kept saying, ‘Mommie, dark,’ but we had no idea what that meant.”
“Mommie, dark?” she repeated in confusion.
Kell nodded. “Only after a while, she switched to just “Mommie.’ Catherine thinks she was trying to tell us she was having trouble with her vision, that things were dark. And when it cleared up, she stopped saying ‘dark’.”
“That doesn’t make any sense!”
“Kelsie had a throat infection, and ran a high fever for a while,” Catherine interjected. “It cleared up on its own, and probably isn’t significant. But I think Kelsie also had a migraine attack.”
Dixie shook her head in disbelief. “Is this some sort of joke?”
The three of them shook their heads. Catherine spoke up. “Children as young as three have been known to have migraine attacks. Her symptoms . . . . . . . . the headache with visual impairment . . . . . . . . are consistent with migraine.”
“Is she all right?”
“As far as we can tell, she’s just fine. The infection has cleared up nicely and, should it reoccur, we’ll know exactly what’s happening. But we really don’t know if this migraine attack was a one-time thing, brought on by the stress of the illness, or if she might be prone to migraine attacks.”
Dixie fought to maintain her composure as Joe slid his arm around her shoulder. What else could possibly go wrong --- and how in the world was she ever going to protect her daughter?
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“Hey, Cap,” hollered Johnny as he headed toward the office. “OK if we head on over to Rampart to pick up some supplies?”
“Sure,” replied Captain Stanley as he looked up from the paperwork currently occupying his attention. “Just make sure you keep yourselves available.”
“Right,” nodded Johnny as headed off toward the squad.
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“Dix?”
She rolled over onto her side to face him. “Hhhmmmm?”
“It’s so nice to have you home again,” Kell smiled as he reached out to put his arm around her and pulled her into a hug.
“You don’t know how good it is to be home!” she whispered. “I hate hospitals!”
Kell laughed. ‘I’ll assume that’s Dixie-the-patient who hates hospitals, not Dixie-the-nurse.”
Giving him a nasty look, she sniffed, “Working’s different, Kell.”
He gently brushed his hand across her cheek; after a moment, he quietly proffered, “Sweetheart, I’m really sorry.”
Her eyes filled with concern, she looked at him. “Sorry? About what?” . . . . . . . . come, hold me in your arms . . . . . . . .
“For not telling you all the truth about Kelsie right away.”
“’S OK; it was rough for you, too.” She gently brushed her hand through his hair. . . . . . . . . now, come a little bit closer . . . . . . . .
“No, it’s not OK, and I hated not telling you about it. But I knew how much you’d worry and I thought that, since she seemed to be fine, it would be best to wait until you’d had a chance to recover fr- . . . . . . . .”
She kissed him. “Kell, shut up!” she whispered, and, just to make sure he did, she kissed him again. Watch it undo me . . . . . . . .
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“And what can we do for you today?” Dixie asked brightly as Johnny and Roy sauntered up to the nurses’ station.
“Hey! Great to see you back! We’ve missed you around here!” Roy greeted her as Johnny added, “D5W,” answering her query.
Dixie laughed lightly. She’d actually been on duty for all of about twenty minutes on this, her first day back since the accident. After a week at “The Rampart Inn,” she’d spent another week at home resting --- and restless. “Thanks, guys,” she replied, grinning. “It’s really good to be back.”
Preoccupied, Roy set the handi-talkie down on the counter.
“So, what’s new?” she queried brightly.
Johnny sighed. “Nothing good.”
“Oh-h-h-h-h, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing much,” Roy interjected. “It’s just a bit of a problem we’re having at the station.”
“Well, what is it? Anything I can do to help?”
“Nah,” Johnny responded with a shake of his head. “It’s just that the department has decided to do the annual benefit fund-raiser differently . . . . . . . .”
Giving them the D5W, she asked, “Really? What’re they doing?”
“They’ve planned a sort of a variety show,” moaned Roy, “and each shift has to participate --- some sort of entertainment.”
“Oh. Well, you guys are pretty terrific. Can’t you get something together? Doesn’t someone play the piano, or sing, or something like that?”
They sighed in unison; Dixie rolled her eyes in amusement.
“’Fraid not,” Roy answered wearily. “I think we should just go hire some band or something like that as our contribution to the whole thing.”
The handi-talkie squawked to life, interrupting their conversation and sending the two paramedics rushing toward the squad. Dixie watched them go, then turned back to her paperwork. After a while, an idea that had been percolating in the back of her mind suddenly demanded her attention and she reached for the telephone.
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“I think we should just go ahead and pool our money so we can hire a band, or a pianist, or someone like that, to represent our shift.”
Marco and Mike both nodded in agreement.
“Well, I don’t think we should decide to do that until we know what the other shifts are doing,” Chet interjected. Turning to the captain, he enquired, “Cap, do you know what everyone else is doing?”
Hank Stanley sighed heavily. “Well, we did talk about it at this morning’s meeting,” he admitted. “Most of the stations, all shifts, are putting together some sort of an act of their own.”
“So, see?” Chet replied. “How can we just go hire somebody then? We’ll be the laughing stock of the department!”
“Well, then, you be in charge of it!” Roy snapped.
“Oh, no! It’s got to be all of us,” Chet retorted.
Hank Stanley sighed. It looked like it was going to be a long shift.
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“And so I called and offered to go . . . . . . . .”
“You’re kidding, right?”
She looked at him, her face clouded with consternation. “Kidding? No. Of course not.” Suddenly fear gripped her. “You think it was a bad idea?” She frowned. “Maybe I shouldn’t have done it.”
He laughed. “Now, now. I didn’t say that; not at all. I think it’s a great idea!” He looked over at her, his eyes twinkling. “I’m just surprised . . . . . . . . I mean, all those people . . . . . . . .”
She threw a pillow at him.
“You’re sure you don’t mind?” she asked as he gently pulled her to her feet and drew her into a hug.
“Mind?” he laughed. “Are you kidding?” “I think it’ll be terrific!” He grinned, then turned serious. “You’re sure you really want to do it?”
She nodded emphatically. “I’m absolutely sure. After a moment she added, “It’s the least I can do.” She looked up at him. “And, besides, just think how much fun it’ll be,” she laughed.
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“Hey, Cap, don’t you think we ought to talk about what we’re gonna do for the benefit?”
Marco looked around. He was busy stirring the stew he was preparing for lunch, but he’d been thinking about the benefit, too, and was anxious to join in the discussion. “Yeah, Cap,” he offered from his place in front of the stove, “what are we going to do about it?”
“Let’s worry about that later,” suggested Captain Stanley with a shrug. “Right now, I have some important work to do.” He turned and walked into his office.
“OK,” Chet acknowledged, looking unhappy. “Don’t say I didn’t try,” he mumbled as he walked out of the kitchen and headed into the locker room. Ten minutes later, they were off to a warehouse fire, and his concerns about the benefit program were forgotten.
From then on, much to Captain Stanley’s immense relief, they were entirely too busy to even give the upcoming benefit program another thought.
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“What do you mean it’s the seventeenth? It can’t be the seventeenth!”
“OK, OK, take it easy! Geez!” Johnny answered in amazement. “It’s just another day.” He pulled on his blue uniform shirt; as he began buttoning up the buttons, he leaned around the locker door. “What’s so special about the seventeenth, anyway?”
“The benefit fund raiser is the seventeenth!”
“Oh, yeah,” Johnny remarked as he turned back to his locker. Suddenly he peered around the door once more. “Hey, Roy? What’re we doing for the benefit anyway?”
“Darned if I know,” muttered Roy. “We never decided!”
“Oh, man . . . . . . . . CAP!” Johnny yelled as he brushed past Roy and headed out of the locker room.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Captain Stanley jumped up from his chair at the kitchen table. He and the rest of the crew had been having coffee; now they pushed their cups aside as they puzzled over what might be the problem. The two men nearly ran into each other in the doorway.
“What’re we doing about the benefit tonight, Cap?” Johnny anxiously queried, his voice filled with concern.
“Relax, Pal, it’s all taken care of,” Hank told him with a sigh as he turned away, heading back to the table to finish his coffee.
“Oh, yeah? Well, what’re we doing?”
“Not to worry, Pal. It’s handled.”
And despite their best efforts, no one could get another word out of him about it.
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“Phew!” he sighed in relief. “You’re all set, then?”
She nodded. “I’m sorry . . . . . . . . I guess I really made it difficult for you. I didn’t mean to do that.”
“No, not at all. It’s just been a busy day and I wasn’t sure I would make it tonight.” He grinned. “You look great!”
“Glad you think so,” she smiled. “And I’m glad you made it!”
He smiled diffidently. “Nervous?”
Still smiling, she shook her head. “Nah, this is old hat stuff! Now, you’d better go before they come looking for you . . . . . . . .”
Nodding in agreement, he started off. He turned back long enough to offer, “Good luck!” and then he was gone.
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“Cap! Over here!” Chet waved his arm, and Hank headed over in that direction. “Thought you weren’t going to get here in time, Cap . . . . . . . . they’re about to start!”
Hank settled down in the seat next to his wife. He was definitely looking forward to this.
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It was an amazing plethora of vignettes, offered by groups from each of the stations. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the show, and, as the evening progressed, the crew from Fifty–One forgot to worry as they were drawn into the gaiety of the evening.
“This has been a great show, hasn’t it, ladies and gentlemen?” The audience responded with a round of applause. “Let’s hear it for everyone who helped make tonight possible.” As the audience applauded once more, he glanced in their direction, assuring himself that all was ready.
While the mayor, serving as the host for the evening and as the announcer for the program, was talking, he sat back, watching her. This was going to be good. Really good.
As the applause died away, the mayor announced, “And now, we conclude this evening’s program, compliments of A Shift, Station Fifty–One.”
He caught the cue, and began to play. A spotlight found her, and she began to sing:
Why does the sun keep on shining
Why does the sea rush to shore
Don’t they know it’s the end of the world
‘Cause you don’t love me any more
Why do the birds go on singing
Why do the stars glow above
Don’t they know it’s the end of the world
It ended when I lost your love
I wake up in the morning and I wonder
Why everything’s the same as it was
I can’t understand, no I can’t understand
How life goes on the way it does
Why does my heart keep on beating
Why do these eyes of mine cry
Don’t they know it’s the end of the world
It ended when you said good-bye
Why does my heart keep on beating
Why do these eyes of mine cry
Don’t they know it’s the end of the world
It ended when you said good-bye
“That’s . . . . . . . . that’s . . . . . . . . Dixie?” muttered Johnny in astonishment to no one in particular.
He hadn’t realized she was such a talented vocalist. “Ssshhhh!” hissed Captain Stanley as the applause thundered.
Dean, not at all sure she could even hear the music, had nevertheless segued into a new piece of music, and right on cue, she sang on.
In case you fancy coloring books, and lots of people do
I’ve a new one for you
A most unusual coloring book, the kind you never see
Crayons ready; very well
Begin to color me
These are the eyes
That watched him
As he walked away
Color them grey
This is the heart
That thought he
Would always be true
Color it blue
These are the arms
That held him, and touched him
Then lost him somehow
Color them empty now
These are the beads
I wore until
She came between
Color them green
This is the room I sleep in
And walk in, and weep in, and hide in
That nobody sees
Color it lonely, please
This is the man
The one I
Depended upon
Color him gone
She seemed genuinely surprised at the warm reception her singing received. This never failed to amaze Dean, since she was certainly good enough to sing professionally if she had wanted to. Nevertheless, he was extremely pleased she had asked him to accompany her for this evening’s program. He wasn’t quite sure why, but somehow this bit of signing tonight was quite different for her than their casual duos at the restaurant. He was enjoying the experience and wouldn’t have wanted to have missed this little performance for anything.
Hank Stanley reveled in the comments of those sitting near him. He’d certainly been surprised that afternoon when Dixie had called and asked if she could represent the station in the benefit show . . . . . . . . payback, she laughingly told him . . . . . . . . Caught off guard and frustrated over the whole thing anyway, he’d readily agreed. All she’d asked was that he not tell anyone about it ahead of time --- she wanted it to be a surprise. He’d managed to keep the secret, and he was definitely enjoying their surprise!
The applause showed no sign of letting up, and Dean added a dozen extra measures to his usual introduction; on cue she began . . . . . . . .
Everything I have is yours
You’re part of me
Everything I have is yours
My destiny
I would gladly give the sun to you
If the sun were only mine
I would gladly give the earth to you
And the stars that shine
Everything that I possess
I offer you
Let my dream of happiness come true
I’d be happy just to spend my life
Waiting at your beck and call
Everything I have is yours
My life, my all
Everything I have is yours
My life, my all
The lights on the stage blinded her, but she didn’t need to see the audience . . . . . . . . Dixie’s heart knew they were all there in the audience . . . . . . . . friends . . . . . . . . family . . . . . . . . fire-fighters and paramedics to whom she owed so much . . . . . . . . and this was their time.
Hey
Look what you have done
Showing me the sun
And now it’s shining through
It’s nice to be with you
Hey
I like the things you say
And I like the way
You do the things you do
It’s nice to be with you
Each time
That I give my heart
To someone new
They just turn it blue
But this time is my time
And my time
Is all the time I have
To be with you
Please
Never go away
Say you’re gonna stay
And make my dreams come true
It’s nice to be with you
Please
Never go away
Say you’re gonna stay
And make my dreams come true
It’s so nice to be with you
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Song Notes for this Dixie McCall story:
My Coloring Book
Ebb / Konder
The More I See You
Sunday Mornin’
Margo Guryan
Come To Me Slowly
Margo Guryan
Come To Me Slowly
Margo Guryan
The End Of The World
Sylvia Dee / Arthur Kent
My Coloring Book
Ebb / Konder
Everything I Have Is Yours
Adamson / Lane
It’s Nice To Be With You
Jerry Goldstein
