"Hello," Mike croaked his voice still hoarse with sleep. "Oh, no. You hang tight. We'll be right over." He returned the phone to its cradle and turned on the bedside light.
"Hey," Michelle protested.
"Sorry about the shock. We have to go. Charlie Wilson's been hurt. That was Sherry. I told her we'd drive her to the hospital." Mike was starting to dress as he spoke.
Michelle climbed from the blankets and grabbed a warm-up suit from the nearby chair. This was the one thing any of the wives feared, that dreaded call in the middle of the day or night telling them that their husbands had been injured or worse killed. It could be just as unnerving when it was a friend.
Mike and Michelle walked Sherry into Rampart emergency. Michelle went to the base station where Dixie McCall sat looking intently at a chart. "Dixie, how's Charlie?"
Mike and Sherry approached as she answered. "He's in treatment one with Dr. Brackett." She rose and came from behind the desk. "There are some papers that need to be filled out," she said taking Sherry gently by the arm. Oh, how she always hated having to mention paper work at a time like this.
Sherry looked to Mike with questioning eyes.
"It's okay. I'll go in with him." He looked to Dixie who nodded that it would be alright. They walked down the hall together.
"I AM going to go in there," Mike said. Charlie was one of his best friends.
"Okay, I'll wait here for...."
"Michelle Stoker!"
Michelle knew that voice. It couldn't be. She turned slowly. Even Mike was surprised. Richard Long approached them. "I'd know that extremely long brown hair anywhere." He ran his hand over her waves.
Michelle blushed. "What are you doing here?"
"Just making a personal appearance...at treatment room three. My son had a slight incident let's say."
Mike interrupted to tell them he was going in the room with Charlie.
"I hope he's okay." She said to Richard Long.
"Oh, it's nothing compared to the incident he's going to have with me later." His tone held that slight sarcasm that she'd always admired. "What brings you out here?"
"A fireman was hurt, a friend of Mike's. We also brought his wife in."
"Well, I hope HE'S going to be okay."
Dr. Early emerged from treatment three with a teenage boy. "Here he is. No worse for the wear I might add."
"Thank-you, doctor." Dr. Early walked away. "Michelle, my son Greg. Greg, this is Michelle Stoker."
"Oh, that woman you've been talking about since the picnic."
Richard opened his mouth but Michelle stopped him. "Don't try to explain. It will be easier."
He dropped a hand on her shoulder. "Thank-you. Let me know how your friend is."
Michelle gave a puzzled look.
"Call me." he told her. "You still have the number."
Yes, she still had the number from the times she spoke to him before the picnic. It would have never entered her mind to call it again. She merely nodded to his request.
He draped an arm around his son. "Let's go." They headed toward the exit passing Dixie and Sherry who turned her head and gave a long disbelieving look before being lead into the treatment room.
Mike emerged from the room a few seconds later.
"How is he?"
Mike folded his arms. "Three broken ribs and smoke inhalation. They're moving him to a room shortly. Did your friend leave?" he asked teasingly.
"Yes." She paused a moment. "You know he didn't look too well."
"It IS the middle of the night," Mike reminded her. "His son is in the emergency room. He's not going to look his best."
"I suppose," she said quietly.
The door to the treatment room opened. Sherry stepped out followed by a gurney bearing her husband. Sherry went to Michelle and Mike. "You can go home if you'd like. He's going to be fine. I'm staying the rest of the night though. I'll call for a ride from someone tomorrow."
Michelle took her arm. "Are you sure?"
Sherry nodded and gave Michelle a hug. Then she hurried after the gurney.
Mike smiled. "Come on." He took Michelle by the hand. "I'll buy you a cup of tea before we leave."
"Sounds good."
Later that morning Mike and Michelle were trying to catch up on lost sleep. They were awakened again by the phone. "Just a minute," she heard her husband say. He rolled over and stuck the receiver under her nose.
"What?" she asked him half asleep.
Mike feigned irritation. "Someone who says you were suppose to call him."
THE END