Greg and Cynthia rushed into the Emergency Room waiting area.
Angie peeked through the Emergency Room doors and spotted them. “Greg?” She stepped through the door and walked toward them.
“Hey, Angie,” said Greg. “How’s Edsel doing?”
“It’s not as bad it first looked. I thought he’d gone into a coma.”
“What happened?”
“He was working under a car and the jack gave way. The paramedics figured the oil pan must have hit him right in the chest when the car fell.”
“So, what’s his condition?”
“He’s got several fractured ribs.”
“Ouch. Those are painful.”
“Yeah. The doctor says he probably passed out from the pain. And he couldn’t move. He was pinned under the car.”
“Did he ever wake up?” said Cynthia.
“Yes, he did. But he was in such pain that they immediately gave him a shot of Morphine. They’re going to set up the automatic intravenous injections for him.”
“What do they do for fractures ribs?” said Greg. “Surgery?”
“No,” said Angie. “They just let them heal on their own. But it can take up to two months. And in the meantime all they do is treat the pain. The doctor doesn’t think there are any internal injuries, but he wants to keep Edsel in the hospital for a couple of days so they can watch him—just in case.”
“Did you get to talk to him?” said Greg.
“No. But he did see me, I think.”
“How does the doctor know his ribs are fractured?” said Cynthia.
“He pushed down on Edsel’s chest in several spots. Even I could tell when he found one. I’ve never heard Edsel scream like that before. It gave me the creeps.”
“Any chance we could see him?” said Greg.
“I’m sure you can—once they get him moved to a room.”
“I’m sorry—I’m being rude,” said Greg. “Angie, this is my wife, Cynthia.”
The two exchanged greetings.
“Why don’t we go and grab a cup of coffee while we’re waiting,” said Greg.
On their way to the cafeteria, Greg called Norma to give her a status report on Edsel. Ralph had not wanted to cancel his party since Norma had already paid for the meeting room, and would not be eligible for a refund.
*
E. Z. Bender took the elevator to the fourth floor, and walked up to the nurses’ station. “Could you please give me the room number for Edsel Torkman? They told me he was being moved to this floor.”
The nurse checked her computer. “They haven’t brought him up yet, but he’ll be going into Room 419.”
“Okay. Thank you.” She walked down the hallway, searching for his room. Then she saw two orderlies pushing a bed through a doorway. When she got closer she saw the 419 numbering on the wall, next to the door. She watched as they transferred him into the room bed. He appeared to be out cold.
The orderlies finished, and walked out of the room. E. Z. walked in and stood beside his bed. She studied the bag hanging at the head of his bed, wondering what the clear fluid was. Probably just saline, she thought.
There was also an electronic box on a stand with a tube coming out of it that led to Edsel’s IV. The box made a noise, and she guessed it was pumping pain medicine into his body. But what if he got too much of the stuff? Was there any way to override the device and force an overdose?
A nurse walked into the room. “How’s he doing?”
“Okay, I guess. I don’t know.”
The nurse began to check out her new patient. “So, is this your dad?”
There was no response.
The nurse turned around. E. Z. was gone.
Greg held the elevator door open while Angie and Cynthia walked out onto the fourth floor. Then he continued to hold it until the young woman walked in.
When they reached Room 419, the nurse was coming out. “You just missed your daughter.”
“What?” said Angie, confused.
“She just left. I’m surprised you didn’t pass her in the hallway.”
“What made you think she was my daughter?”
“Are you kidding?” The nurse smiled. “She looks just like you.”
Angie was stunned.
“Except for her long black hair,” said the nurse, walking away.
Angie seemed to be in another world.
Cynthia turned to Greg and whispered, “I didn’t know she had any kids.”
“She doesn’t.”
Finally Angie spoke. “I’m just trying to think who it could have been. I don’t have any friends or employees with long black hair.”
“Why don’t we go in and sit down,” said Cynthia. She led them to the couch and chair.
“I hate to ask the question,” said Greg, “but, is it possible that what happened to Uncle Ed was not an accident?”
“What do you mean?” said Angie.
“The jack that was holding up the car—it was one of those quick-release jacks, right?”
“You don’t honestly think somebody deliberately tried to hurt Edsel, do you?” said Angie.
“Maybe,” said Greg.
“Does he have any enemies?” said Cynthia.
“No. Everybody loves Edsel. Well, I guess that’s not true. But I can’t think of anyone who would want to hurt him.” Just as the last word left her lips, she remembered the argument with her father earlier in the day, and how he had stormed out of the restaurant after discovering Angie was going to the birthday party with Edsel. That had happened only a short time before she found Edsel. Her dad hated him—there was no question about that. But surely he wouldn’t try to kill him.
Then she remembered the confrontation between Edsel and the two band members. One of them had long black hair! “I think I know who the woman was.”
“The one the nurse was talking about?” said Cynthia.
“Yes. She and another woman came to the restaurant Saturday trying to force me to hire their group. They’re in that all-girl band that plays at Billy-Eye’s new place out on Highway 87. But why would she come here to Edsel’s room?”
“To finish off the job?” said Greg.
Angie panicked. She jumped up to check on Edsel. “Do you think she did anything to him?”
“No,” said Cynthia, glaring at her husband. “The nurse was here. She wouldn’t have had a chance to do anything. Besides, he looks fine.”
“Do you know if that band is playing tonight?” said Greg.
“I think so. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights I believe.”
Cynthia knew what Greg was thinking. She would be there with him to make sure he didn’t get himself into trouble. She turned to Greg. “Well, since he’s doing okay, maybe we should try to catch the end of your dad’s birthday party.”
“But I don’t want to go off and leave Angie here alone.”
“It’s okay. I’m fine. Y’all go on.”
“Well, okay,” said Greg. He walked over to Edsel’s bed. “Fly the rain, Uncle Ed.”
“Do you know what it means?” said Angie.
“No. Do you?”
She picked up her purse and took out her wallet. “He gave me this—years ago. It’s a poem he wrote during his senior year. They had to read them in front of the class. He told me his classmates were laughing out loud by the time he got to the end of it. But I think it’s beautiful.” She handed the small laminated card to Greg.
He and Cynthia read it silently.
I dreamed I was a speck of dust
In a beautiful puffy cloud;
A warm and comfy home forever,
High above the ground.
But then the darkness swallowed the light;
The sky began to groan.
And my mother ship spit me out
On a raindrop of my own.
But I was not alone in flight;
I saw others on their rain.
One hit a bird, died instantly;
One collided with a plane.
Right then and there I made up my mind,
I wouldn’t let life just happen to me.
I took control, I fought the good fight.
Nobody can take that away from me.
So, you can sit back and ride your raindrop
To wherever it may fall.
Or saddle up like me and Fly the Rain,
Have no regrets at all.
*
“He’s gonna be okay,” said E. Z.
Sondra closed her car door and locked it. “Who?”
“Edsel. The mechanic.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I passed you on the road today, and decided to turn around and follow you.”
Sondra got in her face. “Why would you do that?”
“Just curious.”
“Well, just remember the old saying, Honey: curiosity killed the cat.”
E. Z. just stared at her.
“So, stay out of my business.” Sondra walked off, toward the entrance of Billy-Eye’s.