Come What May (Heartbeat) (7 page)

“Yeah, sure.” His gaze holds me a beat longer than necessary. C’mon, man. I’m not going to drown. I’ll be wearing a faded red flotation device around my neck. I’ll be fine.

“Well, climb aboard.” He gestures to the last remaining seat in the van next to a scrawny boy with classes talking excitedly to his friend in the back. Their voices are loud in the confines of the van. It’s going to be a long ten-minute ride to the launch point.

I’m positioned directly behind the driver as the fathers prattle on about how they’d love to take the boys on a kayak trip around the Statue of Liberty. I give my head the slightest of shakes. These young kids…on the Hudson River…in the middle of New York Harbor—are they crazy? It’s probably my paramedic instincts kicking in, but I don’t even want to picture it.

We’re driving parallel to the side of a mountain. The summit is several hundred feet off the ground, but there’s a row of graffiti right at the top. It lists different class years from those who graduated from the local high school going all the way back to the 1980s. It must be some kind of tradition to hang over the edge with a can of spray paint while being held by the ankles. I wonder if anyone has fallen while attempting it. It doesn’t look like it’s the safest prank in the world. Too bad all I want to do is forget the end of my high school career, not remember it.

As we turn onto a residential street, one of the fathers relates to the other how he relishes traveling overseas for his pharmaceutical job. It makes him feel like he’s a bachelor again, and his friend concurs. The boys are distracted, talking about who’s going to ride in which canoe. They don’t hear their fathers bemoaning their status as family men. It seems like no one’s truly satisfied. Good job? Healthy kids? Nice house? It’s never good enough. Nope, they feel trapped by their responsibilities. But so far they’re sticking around. My dad sure didn’t.

Pulling onto a rocky beach, I’m jostled in my seat and accidentally bump the driver’s headrest. He shoots me a perturbed glance in the rearview mirror. He’s reminding me more of Adam by the minute. I stifle a laugh as three of his coworkers approach the van. They’re running their mouths about some party they went to last night, barely paying attention to the customers they’re here to serve. Begrudgingly, they unload the boats and begin placing them in the water.

The boy with the glasses jumps into one of the floating canoes and slips on the wet surface, banging his head on one of the metal seats. He really wants to burst into tears, but everyone is watching him. Sniffling, he rubs the red bump forming on his forehead. I’m about to step forward and make sure he’s okay when one of the workers calls me over.

Sliding my arms through my lifejacket, I attempt to steady myself as I place one foot into the kayak. My balance is off and the worker steadies me by reaching out with his hand. I’m embarrassed that he’s touching me. Heat fills my face as I crouch into position. My shorts ride up, exposing more of my legs than I’d like. The other workers have already launched the two canoes and they wade over to me, their strides churning through the water. I’m alone as they start chortling amongst themselves. I need them to push me off the rocky bottom, but if they’re not going to help me then I’ll do it myself.

Using my double-sided paddle, I wedge it against the stones holding me in place. But I’m stuck. I hate being dependent on people, especially these clowns. What, do they expect me to sit here all day? Noticing my distress, the van driver breaks away from the pack and sloshes up to the rear of the boat. The others quickly join him as they make rude comments under their breath that I’m still able to hear. They’re not fooling anybody. Together, they shove my kayak into the current. Paddling with all my might, I don’t look back at the catcalls issued behind me. They can kiss my ass.

Once on the water, I quickly skirt by the two canoes. They’re super heavy. With one father rowing in each one, it’s going to take them hours to get down the river. Moving at a snail’s pace, the boys appear bored already. Good luck, fellas. You’re going to need it.

It’s not long before I put some distance between us, and I’m by myself gliding across the surface. It’s quiet enough for me to hear the chime of a text message hitting my phone. I really don’t want to check to see who it is, but my curiosity gets the better of me. Carefully, I settle the oar across the width of the kayak and slide my backpack onto my lap. Rummaging through the pocket, I turn on my phone. My heart does a little somersault when I see the text is from Adam.

TRI-COUNTY’S SWAMPED. THEY NEED US TONIGHT. CAN YOU MAKE IT IN?

It’s a holiday weekend. They’re understaffed and trying to deal with a high volume of calls. It makes sense that Adam’s sick leave is coming to an abrupt end. I can’t leave him hanging.

I CAN MAKE IT BACK BY 5.

His response is immediate. WHERE R U?

I take a picture showing the bow of the kayak with the river streaming in front of me and send it to him.

THEY WANT US FOR 3-11 BUT I CAN HOLD THEM OFF UNTIL YOU MAKE IT IN. SORRY TO INTERRUPT YOUR DAY WITH YOUR BF.

I only mentioned Jason in passing a couple of times without getting into any detail. But it strikes me that Adam made note of the fact that I have a boyfriend. Half the time, I don’t think he’s paying attention to half the stuff I’m saying, but he picked up on that. Hmm…that’s interesting.

I’M NOT WITH MY BF. I’M BY MYSELF. For some reason, I feel compelled to tell him this. I just do.

YOU SHOULD’VE LET ME KNOW. I WOULD’VE GONE WITH YOU.

And that line makes me melt. I thought we were pretty much not speaking to each other, but it seems like he’s trying to make amends. And I’ve missed him over the course of these last two weeks. I’m not going to lie. He’s gotten under my skin. But I still need to play it cool. He’s a heartbreaker. I can’t allow myself to fall for him. He could have a girl with him right now for all I know.

STOP TEXTING ME. I HAVE SOME SERIOUS PADDLING TO DO.

A grin sweeps across my face when a text arrives seconds later.

I’LL STOP IF YOU STOP.

Resisting temptation, I toss my phone back into my bag and wrap my fingers around the oar. I have quite a distance to cover. And I won’t make it back in time playing these stupid games. But I have to admit, I feel a lot more cheerful than when I started. It always helps to have someone waiting on the other end. I guess my wallowing is over. It’s time to get back to work.

Chapter Thirteen
Adam

Huh, I didn’t realize Jada is a nature lover. Maybe we have more in common than I thought. She’s pinning her hair back while examining her reflection in the mirror on the visor flap. It’s a little weird being around her after not seeing her for days. The copper highlights have finally deepened, blending more with the natural color of her hair. She catches me staring at her out of the corner of my eye. Her dimples appear, but she reprimands me nonetheless.

“Keep your attention on the road, O’Malley.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t ma’am me. Or I’ll bitch slap you like one of these hysterical groupies we’re going to patch up.”

We’re headed to a call at the concert pavilion. There’s an all-day rock festival going on. And it appears two women got in altercation while trying to win backstage passes that a radio station was giving away. Things got out of hand when one of them smashed a beer bottle over the other’s head. The tent housing the live broadcast is situated near the main gate, and fans are tailgating outside until the bigger acts hit the stage. It seems some of them started drinking around noon. Combined with the heat and the cramped quarters, it’s a pressure cooker of a situation these two ladies stirred up. I’m surprised more people didn’t get involved and we’re not dealing with an all-out brawl.

Driving slowly onto the scene, I give off intermittent bursts of the siren in order to clear a path through the throng. Jada’s eyes are wide as she surveys our surroundings. If things go awry, we’re seriously outnumbered. Everyone seems to be in an inebriated state, huddled around open trunks crammed with cases of booze. The ambulance tires crunch over the discarded beer cans littering the lot.

The giant speakers surrounding the radio station’s tent are pulsating. And we haven’t even rolled our windows down yet. I’m going to have to use sign language in order for Jada to hear me. A woman in her forties is slouched against one of the stakes, holding a bloody cloth against her face. Her breasts are oozing out of her top, leaving little to the imagination. The heel of one of her shoes is missing and the scratches crisscrossing her arms indicate it was one hell of a catfight.

She saunters toward us as we make our approach. Her gait is unsteady since one foot is five inches higher than the other. She latches onto me for support, and my ribs groan in protest. They’re not yet fully healed and having a rather large woman use me as a human crutch isn’t helping. Jada moves in, taking her by the arm. She leads her to the back of the ambulance, but the woman’s skirt is too tight for her climb aboard. If she needs to go to the hospital for stitches, it’ll be up to me to hoist her sorry ass into the rig.

The cloth that the woman is using to apply pressure to her wound is a balled-up t-shirt that she undoubtedly paid a pretty penny for at the souvenir stand. It’s ruined now. Jada carefully removes it to get a look at the damage. There’s a slice running the entire length of her cheek. Yep, my aching ribs are in for their first official workout.

“Do you have a preference for which hospital we go to?” Jada remains all business, but the woman is about to have a meltdown.

“I’m not going anywhere. Brandt doesn’t come on until nine o’clock. Can’t you just bandage me up for now?” She issues a plaintive cry like a toddler about to pitch a fit.

“I recommend that you come with us. You don’t want infection to set in…” But Jada doesn’t even get a chance to finish.

“I waited six months for this freaking concert. The tickets were over a hundred dollars. No way am I leaving without seeing my baby.” She totters on the slope of the pavement, bracing herself against the ambulance bumper.

There doesn’t appear to be anyone here with her. Someone who may be able to talk some sense into her at least.

“That bitch isn’t going to take this away from me. She already stole that backstage pass by cheating. Why the hell did that DJ let her use her phone to answer the trivia questions?” Enraged, she takes off what remains of her shoes, flinging them across the parking lot.

“Just because that woman…” I start but she interrupts yet again.

“She’s not some woman. She’s my sister!” As if for emphasis, she riddles me with saliva that issues from her exaggerated annunciation. This is getting more bizarre by the minute, but then again, it usually does. It’s all part of the job—the blood, the broken bones, the wackos.

“Are you sitting by her in the venue?” Jada can’t help herself. She’s invested in the melodrama playing out before her.

“Of course I am!” The woman shouts back as if it’s the stupidest question she ever heard.

“If you just had a physical altercation with her, my suggestion would be to keep your distance. You both need to settle down a little.” Jada continues to treat the woman’s laceration while dispensing advice to her unwilling listener.

“But you don’t understand, honey. We love Brandt so much. It wouldn’t be the same if we weren’t side by side and mouthing the lyrics…”

Okay, I’ve had about enough of her theatrics. Cutting her off, I motion to Jada. “If you’re almost done, let’s wrap it up and be on our way.”

“Aren’t you Mr. Cranky Pants all of a sudden?” After patting her newly applied bandage, the woman stalks off to collect her discarded shoes. Someone in a nearby car whistles suggestively as she bends down to retrieve them. Not missing a beat, she raises her middle finger high in the air. In a huff, she stomps back to the main gate.

“Brandt doesn’t know what he’s missing.” Jada smirks as we watch her depart.

“Something tells me the sister’s worse.”

“Why’s that?”

“She didn’t require medical attention.”

Our laughter is drowned out when a roar goes up from the crowd as a band takes the stage.

“Brandt forever!” Jada screams, giving me the rock and roll horns with both hands.

And in that moment, I’m happy to be back at work.

Chapter Fourteen
Jada

The weekend craziness continues. Adam and I are called in all three days. While most people are barbecuing and hanging by the pool, we’re attending to one disaster after another. But I’ve learned so much in this short span of time. Adam’s not one hundred percent, so he’s letting me do more. He’s giving instructions over my shoulder, but I’m the one doing all the hands-on stuff. I’m clumsy at times. I’m not used to diving into the fray instead of observing from the sidelines, but he’s being extremely patient with me. I think he only reprimanded me half a dozen times. So that’s good.

Simone applied a relaxer to my hair when I got home after midnight. It’s super straight. In this humidity, it’s hanging limply against my face. There’s no body to it whatsoever. It’s as flat as a pancake. I’m going to kill her.

On the flip side, Adam’s hair is all over the place. It’s absolutely wild today. I usually don’t go for long hair on a guy, but it fits his whole vibe. I can’t picture him sporting a buzzed head. His hair is too much of who he is. I’d love to run my fingers through it, but I don’t think he’d go for it. But maybe it’s time to be a little daring.

We’re parked in front of a hoagie shop after just finishing lunch. The air conditioner is acting up, so we have the windows all the way down. We’re both wearing our short sleeve uniforms, but we’re sweating through the black polyester. Adam’s face is flushed as he chugs down a bottle of water.

When he’s done, I tap him on the arm. “Turn around.”

He gives me a quizzical glance before complying. Grabbing the ponytail holder from around my wrist, I take a deep breath and allow my hands to dive into his hair. He’s momentarily startled and I feel him tense up beneath my fingers. But he starts to relax as I smooth his hair back. Twisting the tie around his thick head of hair, I pull it taut. I’m reluctant to stop touching him, but I don’t want to freak him out.

“You should wear your hair back more often.” It’s essential that I keep my voice light. I’m not making a move on him or anything. “It’s too hot to wear it down.”

His shoulders rise and fall, and he’s still facing away from me. Slowly shifting in his seat, he checks out my handiwork in the rearview mirror. “Not bad, Jada. I used to wear it like this when I was a lifeguard.”

He doesn’t discuss his past that much. I sense there’s a lot buried there that he doesn’t want to delve into. Trust me, I get it. Who doesn’t have skeletons that are best kept locked away?

“My ex always liked to play with my hair. She’d braid it, blow-dry it, you name it. It’s probably why I developed a phobia about doing anything with it.” He gets lost for a minute as he taps his thumbs against the bottom of the steering wheel. Great, I just did the last thing he wants any girl to do—touch his hair. What’s wrong with me? He’s not my boyfriend. He’s my partner. And that was clearly a violation of his personal space. Why can’t I just keep my hands to myself?

“Sorry, I don’t know what came over me. It won’t happen again.” Mentally chastising myself, I scoot down in my seat. Talk about coming on too strong. I like him. I really do. But I don’t want to send him mixed signals. He knows I have a boyfriend. Plus, he’s certainly not looking for anything serious, and I’m not into casual hook-ups, so whatever this is between us is going nowhere. He is who he is, but it’s not enough for me. I want more. I don’t want him for just a night. I want him beside me every night.

“Jada…” He starts, but the comm cuts him off. Issuing a sigh, he picks it up. “Unit 365. Go ahead.” His eyes never leave mine and it’s like he’s trying to communicate something to me that he’s unable to say out loud.

“There’s a juvenile needing attention for a possible animal bite. Proceed to the north entrance of the state park off mile marker eighteen. Over.”

“10-4.” Adam turns the key and the engine comes to life.

Yet another opportunity wasted. He drives me crazy, but I can’t deny how much I’m attracted to him. Maybe it’s better to let things go on as they are. If he’s not into me, I don’t think I could handle being around him every day. It would eat me up inside, and I’d end up hating him in the end.

Desperate to change the subject, I plow full steam ahead. “How come we never listen to the radio?”

He exhales. Is he relieved that he was interrupted before he said something he’d regret? He’s so hard to read sometimes. “Don’t you get sick of that top forty crap? They play the same songs over and over.”

“Well when you put it like that.” He has a point, but I need him to keep talking.

“Here, plug this in. The cord is in the glove compartment.” He slides his phone out of his shirt pocket, handing it to me.

After connecting it to the cigarette lighter, I open his iTunes app. “What do you want to listen to?” He has over one thousand songs. Shit.

“It’s time to provide you with a little musical education. Hit shuffle.” With his hair pulled back, his eyes really stand out against the strong line of his jaw. He’s clean-shaven today with not a trace of stubble on his face. His mouth would glide across my body, no chafing required. I hate that the last time Jason and I made out on the couch he hadn’t shaved for three days. It felt like I was rubbing up against a porcupine. But Adam’s a ladies’ man. He knows what women want.

Scrolling through the options, I press my thumb against the screen as a folk rock tune pours through the speakers. He certainly has an eclectic taste. There’s not one song in any of my playlists that employs a banjo. But I’m open-minded. I’ll give it a chance. Drumming his fingers against the dash, he hums along. This must be one of his favorites. And by the second chorus, I’m starting to get into it.

“No one will ever believe I’m listening to something like this. I’ll have to update my Facebook status and let the world know.” I’m thankful for the shade as we turn down a tree-lined lane. A caravan of trailers and campers drive by in the opposite direction, leaving the park as Memorial Day draws to a close.

“I can’t stand Facebook. I’m not even on it any more.” Adam’s brow creases as if I struck a nerve.

“Yeah, I noticed. I went to friend you, but you were nowhere to be found. You’re like the only person on the planet who’s not on there.” Great, now he thinks I’m stalking him online. Why can’t I think before I speak? Really, it’s not that hard. And then I go and insult him on top of it.

“I just got tired of running into my past every time I went on. So I decided to make a clean break. I make an effort to stay in touch with the people who matter to me either by text or email. But as for the rest of that garbage, I could care less.” He wants to sound like he’s above it all, but something’s needling him.

“What, did someone burn you on there or something?” I close my eyes when he guns the engine, increasing our speed. I should really keep my big mouth shut.

“You could say that.” His glare is intense.

“The ex who liked to braid your hair?” Putting two and two together, I hazard a guess.

He nods but doesn’t say any more. I’m on dangerous ground. It’s best to retreat. I’ve seen him overreact before, and it’s not fun.

“I don’t see anyone waving us over, do you?” Adam slows the ambulance to a crawl as we search the rows of picnic tables. No one looks like they’re expecting us.

“Dispatch said the north entrance, and that’s where we are. Maybe try the campground?” Kids fresh out of the swimming pool are draped in beach towels. Many of the adults shoot the breeze while sitting under folding umbrellas. Everyone is kicking back, indulging in the last hours of the holiday weekend.

Adam guides the ambulance over a set of speed bumps as we reach the ranger’s station. Leaning out the window, Adam attempts to locate our patient. “We got a call about a child with an animal bite. Do you know anything about that?”

The park ranger whistles, shaking his head. “No. I can’t say that I do. But you’re welcome to have a look around.”

He raises the gate and Adam sails through. Following the wide path leading to a section of cabins, we pass one after the other. I’m starting to think this was a prank call when we get to the bottom of the hill. Reclining in front of the last cabin on the property is a ragtag assortment of barking dogs, muddy kids, and barefoot adults. All of the children appear to be running around just fine, unless the patient is inside the cabin. They hurry over to the ambulance as soon as Adam comes to a stop.

“Back up, okay?” Adam commands as he tries to open the door they’re already hanging off of. Why aren’t the adults yelling at them to get down? Don’t they care that their children are getting in the way?

Clearly perturbed, he rolls up the windows and hits the automatic locks as soon as our feet hit the ground. All we need are these kids climbing through the ambulance while we’re inside the cabin attending to the victim. Adam takes the lead and I follow in his wake. Many of the adults don’t look too happy to see me. And I have a pretty good idea why.

“We’re here for the child who was bitten. Can you direct us to where he or she is?” I’ve never seen Adam so professional before. He’s not fooling around. He’s here to do a job, nothing more, nothing less.

“Well, she’s not treating him, that’s for damn sure.” A woman with a cigarette dangling from her mouth points in my direction. Here we go.

“Yeah, that’s right. We insist on having someone who’s qualified take a look at him.” A guy with a shaggy beard moves forward, his manner threatening.

I take a step back, but Adam grabs a hold of my sleeve, urging me forward. He wants me to stand strong against this blatant show of racism, but there’s no point in arguing with people like this. They’ll never stand for a black woman touching one of their own. There’s no reasoning with them.

Since Adam’s so insistent that I accompany him, I can’t head back to the ambulance even if I have my own set of keys. But we shouldn’t antagonize this crowd. We’re clearly outnumbered and at the bottom of a gully. No ranger is going to back us up if things deteriorate. It’s about keeping the situation on an even keel. No one has to get hurt, especially me.

“Where’s the boy?” Adam isn’t playing around. His demeanor is grim, bordering on lethal.

“He’s behind the cabin waiting for you all. You certainly took your time getting here.” An elderly man chewing tobacco spits onto the ground in front of us.

Stepping around the disgusting wad, we move cautiously, ready to expect anything. The adults remain gathered out front, but a few of the kids prance along beside us. There’s an old tire fastened to a tree branch with a measure of rope. Hunkered in the middle of it is a boy whimpering and holding his arm. Standing above him is a woman in frayed denim shorts and a Dale Earnhardt t-shirt who appears to be his mother although she doesn’t look much older than me. She’s berating him while waving her finger in his face. She’s going on and on about not being able to pay for his care if there’s something seriously wrong with him.

A twig snaps underfoot, announcing our arrival, and her tirade stops abruptly. Apparently we’ve embarrassed her. Now her claws are sure to come out. Her hostility is tangible. I keep a respectful distance as Adam sets his bag down next to the boy. He studies the mother, determining whether or not she’s regained her composure.

“What happened here, little man?” Adam’s employing a classic Charlie technique of talking to the patient like a friend.

“A raccoon bit me.” He glances nervously at his mom, who throws up her hands without uttering a word.

“My name’s Adam by the way. What’s yours?” Distracting the child with a question, he stretches the boy’s arm vertically in order to examine the puncture mark.

“Joey.” He sniffles and the mom digs through the pockets of her shorts. Producing a crumpled tissue, she dabs at his nose over Adam’s head.

Crouching down, Adam carefully disinfects the wound. “Today is your lucky day, Joey. Know why?”

“Why?” Joey makes no attempt to conceal his curiosity, basking in Adam’s undivided attention.

“Because you’re going to hit the siren on the ambulance on our way to the hospital. I didn’t get to that until I was way older than you are.” He finishes wrapping Joey’s arm and shoots a pleading look at his mother.

“No way. I can’t afford any hospital.” She pries Joey off the swing and holds him in front of her.

“Ma’am, we don’t know if the raccoon was rabid. Joey’s treatment requires a series of shots.” Adam stands up and the woman’s intimidation is clear.

“But I lost my job, and I don’t have any insurance. How am I going to pay for all this?” Her voice quivers. She catches me watching her, and her expression hardens. “You probably think it’s funny, don’t you?”

Thinking it wise not to engage her, I shake my head and start walking backwards.

“That’s right. You get the hell out of here.” As I turn, her words cut through me. Tears prick my eyes, and I wipe them away quickly. I still have to get by the contingent in the front yard, and I refuse to let them see me cry. They haven’t gotten the better of me. Not yet.

I pause at the side of the cabin as Adam practically begs the woman to reconsider. The consequences are too dire to consider if the animal was infected. Joey’s blood has to be tested to see if he’s carrying the disease. And Adam can’t do that on a backyard tire swing. Joey has to come with us.

Rounding my shoulders, I march through the assortment of onlookers without breaking my stride. Many simply ignore me like I’m not even there, but a few mutter racial epithets just loud enough for me to hear. Screw them. Screw all of them. They’re so ignorant they don’t even care what happens to Joey. They don’t have enough sense to let go of their aversion to me and focus on him.

Remaining stoic, I load my unused gear into the ambulance before sliding into the passenger seat. In a typical scenario, radioing ahead to the hospital is the next step. But there’s nothing normal about this call. And it infuriates me that we’re going to have to leave an infected child behind—a child who needs treatment that a simple visit to the hospital can provide. I dig my nails into the palms of my hands. I hate feeling so helpless, so ineffective.