Sultry with a Twist (19 page)

Unable to speak, she clamped her jaw shut and tried to pull deep breaths through her nose, but damn it, the pain. She still couldn’t remember what this snake was called, but she’d once heard its bite wasn’t supposed to hurt. What bullshit!

“Calm down!” he shouted, hands trembling as he tied off the makeshift bandage. “I’m sorry.” Luke cupped her face, and his green eyes darkened. “Listen. The nearest hospital is half an hour away. It’ll take forever for an ambulance to get here, so I’m gonna drive you myself. You keep your arm right here”—he pressed her elbow against her ribs—“and don’t move. Not even a muscle, you hear me?”

She nodded, and Luke gathered her into his arms. Someone made a whimpering noise. Was that her? She wanted to relax and slow her sprinting heart, maybe rest her cheek against Luke’s chest, but the next thing she knew, her head bobbed and thumped against the back of a hot leather seat. There were noises—an engine roaring, rubber tires whirring over rough asphalt, Luke’s repeated, frantic commands to calm down. Then a new pain. “My stomach hurts,” she said, bringing her free hand to her belly.

“Don’t move!” Quick as the snake that bit her, Luke’s fingers gripped her wrist and held it against her side. “Please, Junebug. You gotta be still.” He released her and tapped his cell phone screen. “This is Luke Gallagher,” he said, enunciating each word loudly as if speaking to a foreigner. “I’m on my way to the Sultry Memorial emergency room with June Gallagher. She’s just been bitten by a coral snake. I’m twenty minutes out. Tell the ER staff to be ready for her when I get there. She’s disoriented and in a lot of pain. Make sure they’re ready! You hear me?”

“Augustine,” she whispered to herself. “My name’s June Augustine.” Then an unexpected set of giggles shook her chest. “I’m Mae-June July Augustine.” What a horrible name. If she died, she’d give her parents a piece of her mind for that. “Oh, coral snake.” Instantly, her mind switched gears. The hateful thing that’d bitten her was a coral snake. She remembered reading something in the paper recently. What was it? “Antivenin shortage,” she said to Luke. “They stopped making the antivenin.”

Luke tossed his cell phone aside and cupped his large, warm hand over hers. He stroked her skin, muttering vile curses under his breath. “It’s okay,” he said, more to himself than to her. “It’s gonna be okay.”

A large pair of hands squeezed June’s temple, as if juicing an orange. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the headrest and groaned. Everything seemed to throb—arm, forehead, belly—until June’s body felt like one large, pulpy open wound. She tried to say Luke’s name, but her words slipped out in a lazy slur. It wasn’t supposed to happen this fast. “I love you,” she said, using tremendous effort to pronounce each word. “I’m sorry I couldn’t teach you how. I really tried.”

“Stop that.” He gripped her fingers so tightly it hurt. “Don’t quit. We’re almost there. I swear to God, Junebug, you better not quit. You promised, remember?”

“I’m sorry.” Saliva pooled inside her mouth, and she swallowed down bile. Oh, God, please don’t let her get sick inside Luke’s truck. “I need some air.” It came out in half a whisper. “Pull over.”

But instead, Luke swore loudly and gunned the engine. Soon, swallowing became more difficult, and each breath took forever to suck into her lungs. June let her heavy eyelids sink, allowed her head to flop and thud against the window. The next thing she knew, her body lurched forward against the seat belt, and then she was in Luke’s powerful arms.

There were bright lights and frenzied voices, and June opened her eyes just in time to see Luke’s form retreat into the distance. For some reason, he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his eyes were red, his expression so twisted and pained that she tried to reach out one arm and comfort him. But then something scraped inside her throat, gagging her, forcing down deeper into her chest, and the room went dark, the voices faded to silence.

“Sir? I need you to fill out some paperwork.” The woman’s voice pressed. “Sir?”

Luke shook his head and stared blankly at the solid, white double doors that had just closed in his face, shutting him out from June. His last image of her had burned into his retinas, and each time he blinked, he saw those doe eyes brimming with terror, her outstretched arm, still bandaged in the ragged, blood-speckled strips of his old, gray T-shirt. Then a team of medics had shoved June’s shoulders down against the gurney and forced a gleaming steel device down her throat. He remembered enough from basic training to understand what that meant. If June needed artificial respiration, her lungs were shutting down. She couldn’t breathe. Damn it, she couldn’t breathe!

“She needs me.” Luke pushed against the immovable doors. “I have to get back there. She needs me!”

A pair of strong arms appeared from nowhere, clutching his bare shoulders and chest, and dragging him back as he pounded his fists against the barrier that separated him from June.

“Whoa, mister, hold on a minute,” a voice rougher than three-grit sandpaper said over the top of Luke’s head. If the voice belonged to the same arms holding him from behind, this was one powerful son of a bitch. “You gotta stay out here, just like the rest of us.”

“Get off me, asshole.” Luke struggled in vain, twisting his torso wildly in the stranger’s iron grip. “You don’t get it—”

“Like hell I don’t.” The faceless giant dragged him backward, and Luke kicked out helplessly, watching the double doors disappear as blinding sunlight replaced flickering fluorescent bulbs. “Just hold on—stop kicking, you stupid bastard, I’m tryin’ to help you. We’re only goin’ outside a second,” the man assured him. “If they call security, they’ll ban you from the whole damn place. That what you want?”

“No.” The guy was right. He couldn’t help June if he got himself handcuffed and booted off Sultry Memorial property. Luke quit fighting, shut his eyes, and tried to slow the adrenaline rush, sucking in deep breaths, and then pushing them out so slowly they burned his lungs. His brain settled down enough to understand that if they’d intubated June, she was still breathing—maybe aided by a machine, but alive. Safe, for now. As the seconds passed, his senses began to return, slowly alerting him to the sun’s warming rays on his skin, the distant belch of a car’s busted muffler, and the rank, pungent odor of sweat, gasoline, and old cigarettes from the huge guy still wrapped around him.

“Sorry, man,” Luke said. “I’m okay now.”

The guy’s arms dropped. Finally free, Luke turned and craned his neck skyward, where a pair of bloodshot eyes regarded him from beneath the bill of a grubby John Deere cap.

“Chuck,” the stranger said with a tight nod.

“Luke,” came the equally terse reply. He took a step back to put a little personal space between them and sized up the guy. Judging from Chuck’s mud-stained, sleeveless shirt, jean cutoffs, and the grass clippings pasted to his meaty calves, he’d spent the day doing lawn work. Luke wondered if a mowing accident had brought him to the ER.

Chuck seemed to follow Luke’s train of thought—or at least the path of his gaze—because he glanced down and swept bits of dried leaves and dirt from the front of his shorts. “Uh, yeah. I was…uh…cuttin’ grass when my wife—” He paused, clearing his throat a few times before continuing. “She went into labor and started bleedin’ real bad.”

“Aw, shit.” Luke reached up and gave Chuck an awkward pat on the shoulder. He didn’t know the guy, but Luke couldn’t imagine anything worse than the threat of losing a wife and a baby in the same day. Heat rose into Luke’s face, but not from the fierce Texas sun. He felt like a selfish prick for the scene he’d just caused. “I’m sorry, man. Is she okay?”

Chuck shrugged. “The nurse came out an hour ago to tell me the baby made it.” His breath caught and he flashed half a smile. “It’s a girl. Our first.”

“Congratulations.”

“Yeah.” His half-smile faded into a thin line. “And probably our last. The nurse said Cindy’s still bleedin’—that’s my wife—and they wanted to do one of those hysterectomies. Said they needed consent from her next of kin…and that’s me.”

“So, she’ll be all right?”

“I think so.” Chuck heaved a sigh and tugged off his cap, then raked a hand through his dampened hair. “Till she wakes up, and I have to tell her she can’t have any more babies. And that I’m the one who told the doctors to do it to her.” Pulling his cap low over his forehead, he stared off into the parking lot. “She wanted a whole house full of babies, you know?”

They both stood in silence, until Chuck added, “They’re real good here. Try not to worry about your wife.”

“She’s, um…” June’s voice echoed in his head.
I
love
you. I’m sorry I couldn’t teach you how. I really tried.
“…not my wife.”

“Well, don’t say that, or they won’t tell you anything. Privacy laws and all. Hey,” he said, pointing to something behind Luke, “that your truck?”

“Oh, damn.” Luke spun around. He’d forgotten all about the F-250 he’d left idling in front of the emergency room doors. “I’m gonna move it.” Backing away, he added, “Thanks for your help back there.”

“Sure, bud. Good luck.” With a wave, Chuck returned to the waiting room.

Luke fished through his front and back pockets for his keys before realizing they were in the ignition, and then he climbed into the cab and pulled the truck into a space in the visitors’ lot. When he cut the engine, a smudge of dried blood on the passenger seat caught his eye, and all the panic he’d just overcome rose again into his throat. His heartbeat quickened as he skimmed his fingertips over the burgundy stain.
I
love
you. I’m sorry I couldn’t teach you how. I really tried.

God damn it, this was all his fault. If he hadn’t accepted June’s help—if he’d just done the job himself—she’d be at Pru’s right now, probably working one of those math puzzles with the funny name. Or picking vegetables in the garden with her grandma—“Oh, shit!” Luke had forgotten about Pru! She needed to know what happened, but he didn’t want to tell her over the phone. And there was no way in hell he’d leave the hospital, not until he knew June was all right. He grabbed his cell phone and dialed the only person he trusted with something this important.

“Y’ello,” Trey answered.

“Thank God you’re home!”

“Where else would I be, buddy? With this effing cast, it’s not like I can just—”

“Listen,” Luke interrupted, “I need a favor. It’s an emergency.”

Trey’s voice darkened. “What’s up?”

“Call Pauly, or even that idiot Karl, and ask for a ride to Pru’s house.”

“Okay…”

“Tell Pru—but be careful, because she’s, you know, old and fragile and stuff—that June got bit by a coral snake, and she’s at Sultry Memorial. They’ve got her on a breathing machine, but I don’t know anything else.”

“Christ,” Trey breathed. “I’ll do it right now.”

The line disconnected, and Luke jogged back into the waiting room—this time with a clear head. He didn’t know if the nurse had an update yet, but he’d be ready and waiting when the time came. When he approached the information desk, the receptionist—the same young brunette who’d flirted with him when he’d picked up Trey last week—widened her eyes and pointed to his belly.

“Hey, hon,” she said, “you need a shirt, if you want to stay inside.” Her playful grin told Luke she’d prefer to see him in even fewer clothes, and then she winked—actually winked at a time like this!—and pushed a clipboard into his hand. “Fill these out please.”

“Can you tell me anything about June Augu—uh, Gallagher?”

“Is that the woman you brought in a few minutes ago?”

“Uh-huh. My wife.” He yanked his left hand below the counter before she noticed his missing wedding ring. “Anything at all?”

The woman—Heather, according to her name tag—narrowed her eyes, apparently disappointed to learn he was off the market. “I need your wife’s insurance card.”

Uh-oh, did June even have insurance? “Left it at home.”

“Give me her social security number, and I’ll try looking her up in the system.”

“I don’t know it.” When Heather rolled her eyes and geared up for a rebuttal, he added, “I was in such a rush to get here that I left my wallet and her purse at home.”

She nodded at the clipboard. “Fill those out the best you can, then bring them back.”

“What about June? Can’t you tell me anything?”

She clicked a few keys on her computer and scanned the screen in silence. “Nope. Nothing yet, sorry.” But she didn’t sound sorry, and she quit making eye contact. “Don’t forget that shirt. There’s a gift shop this way”—pointing to her left—“and a lost-and-found bin on the second floor, right outside the elevators.”

Luke thanked her and rushed to the second floor. He didn’t have his wallet—no lie there—so the gift shop was out. He rummaged through the bins, shoving aside umbrellas, pink jackets, and paperback books, until he identified a man’s T-shirt that just might fit. Plucking it from the heap, he charged back to the elevator and then pulled the navy blue, cotton fabric over his head without a care for who’d worn it last, or how many germs infested it.

There was no reason to rush back to the waiting area—still no news about June’s condition—but he needed to feel as close to her as possible. Taking the seat nearest the information desk, he leaned forward, resting his forearms against his knees and folding his hands.

An hour later, that’s how Pru found him.

“Lucas!” With one mammoth hand clutching her heart, Pru scurried across the lobby, followed closely by Pastor McMahon, the preacher from her church. Hopefully, the old guy had driven her here, because Pru didn’t look fit to operate a bicycle, let alone a car. “How is she?”

Luke stood and met her by the information desk. “No word yet. And not for lack of trying, either.” He’d bugged the receptionist, each passing doctor and nurse, patients and their families, candy stripers, janitors—anyone who had access beyond those damned double doors—for news of the curly haired snakebite victim, but his efforts were useless. Twice, he nearly stormed the doors himself. Only the threat of being barred from the premises had kept him glued to his seat. That, and the fact that a nurse had to buzz them open. He was beginning to wonder if they’d transported June to another hospital and forgotten to notify him.

“I know the chaplain here,” the pastor said in a low voice. He covered his mouth and whispered, “Maybe he can slip back there and let us know what’s going on.”

“At this point, I’ll try anything short of taking hostages.” Hell, maybe even that. Luke gave the preacher an enthusiastic pat on the back and watched him hurry away. Then he linked his arm through Pru’s and guided her to a cluster of empty chairs by the soda machine.

The late afternoon sun cut through the glass, illuminating Pru’s white hair so her bun practically glowed from within. Bathed in the harsh light, each of her lines and wrinkles seemed amplified, and she looked so fragile—a word he’d never, ever used to describe her before now.

“Lucas,” she said in a tiny voice. “What happened?”

He pulled his chair closer and held her hand tightly in both of his. “She was gardening. I didn’t see it, but I heard her scream, and then I got her here right away.” Dropping to one knee, he peered into Pru’s watery, blue eyes and lied like the devil. “I know she’s gonna be fine.”

“I just got her back.” Pru pressed her thin lips together, her chin quivering. Tears spilled over her cheeks.

“She’s not goin’ anywhere,” Luke said firmly. He wrapped his arms around Pru’s shoulders and pulled her close, feeling her large frame shake with each sob. Swallowing the thickness in his throat, he rubbed her back and repeated, “She’s gonna be fine,” until several minutes passed, and Pru pulled away, blotting her face with a crumpled tissue from her purse.

When Pastor McMahon returned, Luke had to physically restrain himself from tackling the man and shaking the information out of him like coins from a piggy bank.

“Okay,” the pastor said, taking a seat across from Pru, “he said they’ve given her the antivenin, and they’re keeping her asleep until they see how she reacts to it.”

“What do you mean ‘reacts to it’?” Luke asked. He’d expected the cure to work instantly, neutralizing the snake’s venom in June’s body the way baking soda neutralized acid.

“Seems some folks are allergic. In that case, the cure’s worse than the bite.”

“But that’s rare, right?”

“No idea, Luke. Sorry, I wish I had more to tell you. Maybe we should find the hospital chapel and put it in the Lord’s hands.”

Luke chewed the end of his tongue, literally biting back his sarcastic response. Where were “the Lord’s hands” when June had needed them earlier? Or when her parents had wrapped their car around an oak tree, leaving her an orphan? How about when his own mama’d abandoned him to a stranger? In Luke’s experience, he was better off taking matters into his own hands than leaving them up to God.

“You and Pru go ahead,” he told them. “I’m gonna stay here and wait for the doctor.”

After they left for the sanctuary, a familiar, dingy John Deere cap caught Luke’s eye, and he turned just in time to see Chuck’s linebacker form shuffling toward the front entrance.

“Hey,” Luke called, rushing to meet him at the automatic doors.

When the giant glanced over, Luke noticed the awful change in him right away. It was his eyes—bloodshot, glassy, their lids swollen half-shut. Bracing himself for the worst, Luke asked, “Any word on Cindy?”

Chuck sputtered and grinned so widely it split his face in two. “Yeah. She’s sleeping now—the baby too—but I got to see ’em for a few minutes.”

“So the surgery went okay?”

“Uh-huh, just fine. And when I told her the news, she wasn’t mad about what I did. Y’know, for letting the doctors operate. Cindy was so relieved the baby was okay that she didn’t fret too much about what she’d lost. She said we’ve got each other, and now our little girl, and that’s all that matters. And there’s plenty of kids out there needin’ a home. We can still have a house full of babies.”