Finding Home (Montana Born Homecoming Book 2) (12 page)

“No, no, no, no!” cried a voice that seemed to be coming from her but didn’t sound at all like her.

I’m sorry
, the clerk said.

Nothing good ever came after those words.

She couldn’t breathe. She had to find Jade!

The clerk’s face paled. “I don’t mean that! We haven’t admitted a child by that name tonight. That’s all. I didn’t mean…”

Behind her, Samara saw the young nurse calling, his lips moving as if in slow motion, his voice muffled, like it was under water.

An automatic door whooshed open and the young nurse came sprinting through, pushing a wheelchair, still calling out something.

Don’t worry.

This
is why she worried! Catastrophe was always just around the corner. She had to be on high-alert at all times because it struck when you least expected it and who else was going to take care of Jade but her, that was her job, her responsibility because there was no one else now!

The nurse, Dave, according to his tag, caught Samara by the elbow and eased her into the chair.

“Breathe, Ms. Davis.”

Dave. Davis. Davis and Dave.

“Your daughter’s fine,” he repeated, wheeling her quickly through the doors into a quiet exam room. He pulled a chair up so they were knee to knee and clipped something to her index finger.

“Jade’s here, and she’s fine. She came in with Eliza and Mabel Bramble. Eliza left a note with triage that you’d be coming, but the admitting clerks just changed shift and someone missed the memo.”

He slipped a blood pressure cuff on her arm while he talked but she barely noticed.

Jade’s here. She’s fine. Don’t worry.

“Why is she here if she’s fine? What aren’t you telling me?” She tried to stand up but Dave held her firmly in the chair.

“Ms. Davis, if you stand up now, you’ll probably faint. You don’t want that, right? It’ll scare Jade if her mama gets all banged up.”

He was right. She had to keep her head. She forced herself to speak more slowly.

“Where is she?”

She couldn’t catch her breath. She felt as if she was spinning under a spotlight, going faster and faster, until soon, she’d spin off into the darkness.

The clerk popped her head in, handed Dave a sheet of paper and gestured to the triage desk.

“Buzz him in,” Dave told her, before turning his attention back to Samara.

“Jade is in the family room with Eliza.” Dave spoke deliberately, as if she was a child. “Mabel Bramble had a fall; Eliza was worried so she brought her in. Jade came along for the ride.”

Never ride with strangers.

But strangers were everywhere. She’d only known Mabel and Eliza for what, six days? Not even a week!

Don’t take candy from strangers. Don’t talk to strangers on the street.

Everyone was a stranger.

“Take me to her!” She was gasping and crying, clutching at Dave, trying to make him understand. “She’ll be so frightened!”

Dave slipped something over her face and put prongs into her nostrils. Immediately delicious cool air flowed into her airway. She closed her eyes.

From somewhere far away, a buzzing noise sounded.

“Ms. Davis. Samara. Listen to me. Your heart rate’s too high and your BP’s too low. As soon as your vitals are stable, your friend will take you to the family room, okay?”

Her friend?

She had no friends. She barely knew anyone here. Then a hand touched her shoulder. She jumped, then wilted with gratitude.

Logan.

He stroked her cheek and she leaned into it, feeling the dampness under his fingers.

Of course it was Logan.

The spinning slowed, just enough for her to catch a breath.

“Hey, babe, how are you doing?”

“Fine.” She swallowed, hard. “I thought we weren’t friends.”

He kissed her forehead. “It’s a grey area.”

“She’s pretty shook up,” said Dave, as if she wasn’t there. “More than I’d expect, under the circumstances. Samara, do you have a history of panic attacks?”

She thought of that young widow, screaming, with coffee-splattered pants and a hysterical toddler on her hip.

The disco ball sped up again, spangly and bright.

“Panic attacks, no, I don’t know. I get anxious, but you would too if your daughter was in the hospital with strangers and you couldn’t get to her.”

Tears flooded in. She pressed her hands over her face. The spangly lights were blinding. She was dizzy and her stomach didn’t feel well.

“You’re exhibiting all the signs-,” began Dave, but Sam couldn’t stop talking.

“People say don’t worry, don’t worry, and hospitals are the worst. You want to believe them, so badly, and why not? Why wouldn’t you trust them?”

She heard the words running together but she couldn’t stop.

“They keep saying everything’s fine, like you’re a paranoid idiot or a kid who just doesn’t get it. But then they change their minds and say things like
subdural hematoma
and
we did everything we could
and
would you like some water,
because that’ll help when you’ve just lost your husband and you don’t know what to do and your baby’s crying and you’ve got no one and you shouldn’t be hearing this because they told you and told you that everything was fine, that you shouldn’t worry!”

Sometime during her rant, she’d yanked off the nasal cannula. She started to get out of the wheelchair but the spangly lights swirled above her.

“Sam!” Logan grabbed her and pushed her back into the chair. He held her while Dave replaced the devices.

“Look at me,” he commanded. “Breathe in. And out. Sam, focus! Watch me. Breathe when I breathe. In. Out. Again.”

Gradually the terror slipped away. In its place came fatigue, embarrassment and still that fear that wouldn’t ease until she had Jade in her arms.

Dave checked the monitors and finally satisfied, took them off. He left for a moment, then returned with a slip of paper. “I’m guessing you don’t have a family physician yet. Here’s Dr. Gallagher’s card. He’s a great guy, very understanding. I think you’d like him. You should get set up with him, okay? Other than that, you’re good to go.”

He gave Logan a meaningful look.

“I’ll make sure it happens,” said Logan. “Thanks, Dave.”

“He thinks I’m crazy,” said Sam, unable to care.

“No he doesn’t, honey,” said Logan. “Can you walk?”

She got to her feet. “Of course I can walk.”

He put an arm around her waist, supporting her, and she leaned on him, appreciating his comforting solidness, the strong, hard body beneath the soft cotton of his shirt.

She was still sniffling, feeling foolish but unable to stop and unable to explain. Logan didn’t ask questions, or say anything at all. He just aimed her in the right direction, held her up and kept her going, his steady heartbeat next to hers, lending her the courage she didn’t even know she needed.

*

Logan put one
foot in front of the other, holding tightly to the bundle of bones and nerves and sheer panic that was Samara. She trembled in his arms like a wild bird, captured, terrified, exhausted.

He’d known, the second she opened her phone and the color bled from her face, that it was about Jade. Nothing but maternal instinct could possibly have triggered such a primal, gut-level reaction.

But he had no idea of the trauma she’d experienced when her husband passed away.

Logan’s heart slipped sideways.

A critical error, Staff.

“Where is she?” asked Sam. Her voice wasn’t hitching any more but it was still tight and higher than normal.

Logan pointed to a sign at the end of the hallway. “Right there.”

Samara broke out of his grasp and began running toward the room, and he let her, hurrying behind her, feeling a sinking sense of deja vu.

He still wasn’t sure of the details, but the clerk had assured him – once Dave had vouched for him at least – that Jade was uninjured. Aunt Mabel was the one who’d been hurt, a minor hand or wrist fracture, something like that. When Eliza couldn’t find Samara, she’d simply taken Jade along with them to the hospital.

When he entered the room, Samara was on her knees in front of Jade, hugging her and stroking her hair.

Eliza watched, clearly taken aback at Sam’s reaction. Jade wasn’t impressed, either.

“Mama,” she complained, pushing out of her mother’s grasp. “My pictures!”

“I think Mama was a little worried,” said Eliza. “I told you she was fine, Samara.”

Logan watched as Sam composed herself, straightening her shoulders, easing herself onto the couch beside Jade, holding her fluttery hands together tightly in her lap.

“Thank you for watching my daughter,” said Sam, her words clipped. “I appreciate it, I do. But you should have found me. You knew where I was. You shouldn’t have taken Jade in your car. You don’t have a car seat. And you didn’t bring Bob.”

Eliza’s mouth fell open.

“Sam,” murmured Logan.

“No.” She lifted her chin. “She’s my daughter and I make the rules. Me.”

Eliza glanced between him and Sam, bewildered and horrified. “I tried to call you, Samara. Several times. But you didn’t answer and we couldn’t wait.”

Samara stood up and paced to the far side of the room, to the window overlooking a small courtyard. After a moment, she said, “I don’t blame you. It’s my fault. I didn’t get your message until too late. I should have left you with my vehicle. Or I shouldn’t have left her with you at all.”

Silence descended on the room. Samara was clearly distraught but this was entirely unfair. She was simply taking it out on whoever happened to be within striking distance.

He moved closer to Sam. If anyone should be taking her anger, it was him.

Sam stopped and he could feel electricity flowing off her. She was practically vibrating, all her defences on high alert, all her weapons at the ready.

Then Jade pushed a pile of pictures toward Eliza. “Do yours.”

Eliza blinked, then swallowed. “Of course, sweetie.”

She turned her attention back to Jade’s game, but Logan could see her lips trembling.

An orderly appeared at the door. “I’ve got a lovely lady here who needs a ride home. Any volunteers?”

Behind him sat Aunt Mabel, regal in her wheelchair, her left arm plastered from fingertip to elbow.

Eliza leaped to her feet. “Yes! I’m right here.”

She paused awkwardly at the door. “We’ll finish your pictures at home, okay, Jade?”

“Uh-huh.” Jade, engrossed in her project, didn’t look up.

Samara remained at the window, her hands twisted tightly together. The tension in the room was palpable. As Logan watched, she made a concerted effort to compose herself.

“I’m sorry you were hurt, Aunt Mabel. Are you all right?”

“I broke my wrist!” snapped Mabel. “Of course I’m not all right. But Eliza and the tadpole took care of me.”

She shot Sam a pointed glare and Sam turned away, her shoulders tight, her hands gripping her elbows.

“I’m sorry, Logan,” whispered Eliza as she passed him. She was near tears. “I never meant to scare her. I don’t quite know what happened here.”

He squeezed her arm. “You look after your great-aunt, okay? I’ll take care of Sam and the chipmunk. Everything will be fine.”

But from the tempest on Samara’s face, he had a feeling that he might be wrong about that.

*

There was no
longer any need for it, but the adrenaline powering Samara continued to race through her system. And now, it was joined by guilt.

As soon as Eliza and Mabel left, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket with shaking hands and checked her text messages again.

Don’t worry. Minor fracture only. In casting room.

But before that:

Taking forever. See you here or at home.

Then:

Aunt M getting x-rays. J fine. Waiting in family room.

A missed call, then:

Sorry, must leave now, bringing J. Call when you get these msgs!

Another missed call, followed by:

Samara? Wrist swelling badly, must go now. Happy to bring J but no car seat!