Secret Santa

CHARLI KEPT RUNNING out of wrap, and Neil Bailey wouldn’t hold still. Every time she’d get his arm splinted, he’d move or the spool of bandage would be inexplicably empty. Finally, she snapped at him, “Just what is your problem?”

And he grinned at her. “I’m taking up money for Toys for Tots, and I’ll ride Rudolph to deliver the cash.”

And there was Rudolph, nosing in behind her, his red nose blinking and buzzing—

No. She shook herself awake. It wasn’t Rudolph. It was her cell phone. What now? She pushed herself up out of her warm snuggly covers and saw—very clearly in the bright-as-daylight glow of her neighbor’s Christmas extravaganza—her phone buzzing away on her nightstand.

Caller ID registered the hospital’s number as she hit the answer button. “This better be good,” she griped into the speaker. The bedside clock told her she’d been asleep only a couple of hours.

“Charli.”

Lainey’s voice sounded all wrong. Somber.

“What is it?” Charli asked, already reaching for the slacks she’d dumped on the bench at the end of the bed. “I’m on my way, whatever it is. Knife Guy?”

“No...Charli, your dad...”

An icy chill shot through her. She froze on the bed. “What’s wrong?” She was surprised she could even verbalize the question, as scared as she was.

“He’s had an MI. At home. Your mom called 9-1-1, and the EMTs responded. They’re inbound. She’s with them and, well, Charli—from the way it sounds from the EMTs, you’d better come right away.”

* * *

NEIL WAS BUSILY rigging up a plastic bread bag over his bad arm in order to take a shower when first his front doorbell rang, long and loud, followed by someone doing a good impression of the Gestapo on the heavy oak.

He dropped the bread bag on the kitchen counter and made his way through the living room to the foyer. When he threw open the door, Charli Prescott nearly beaned him on the head, apparently ready to pound on the door again.

He caught her fist in his good hand. “Whoa! I’m here.” He released the pink-tipped fingers. For a long moment, all she could do was gulp in air. Maybe she was still ticked about his Christmas lights? He tried a smile to defuse the situation. “Can’t sleep?”

“My keys... I gave you my keys!” she got out.

“Yeah. I put them under the flower pot by your back door.”

“Oh! Sorry! I didn’t look there!” She whirled around, purse flying, no coat on despite temps hovering around a chilly forty degrees, and her hair even worse for wear than it had been earlier.

“Wait! What’s wrong?” Neil followed her as she stumbled down his steps and down the walkway.

“My dad! He’s had an MI—I’ve got to get to the hospital.” She wobbled unsteadily as she shouted this over her shoulder and backed past his Christmas lights.

“A what?”

“An MI... A heart attack.” As she turned to head for her own driveway, her purse got caught in Neil’s trio of wired angels by the front walk. She snatched at the strap, making the whole chorus of angels rock back and forth.

“Let me drive you. I have my keys, right here in my pocket.” Neil held them up and was gratified to see her extricate the strap from the offending angel’s halo without doing any damage and without falling herself. “My car’s here.”

Charli stopped again. Her expression revealed indecision. Neil could literally see her body jerking first one way and then the other.

So he didn’t wait for her reply. Instead, he dipped back into the little foyer, grabbed two jackets and shut the door behind him. He loped over the short distance between him and Charli and took her arm gently in his.

“Come on. Let’s get you to the hospital.” He steered her to his car and assisted her in with a fumbling one-handed approach, though she didn’t seem to notice. He wrapped the spare coat around her slim frame. She didn’t protest, just folded her long legs into his little Corolla and seemed to withdraw into herself.

Once he’d negotiated closing the door with his right hand, he started the car and backed carefully out of his drive. It seemed to trigger something in her. “I’m never like this,” she said. “I’m always cool in a crisis.”

“Hey. It’s your dad. You’re thinking like a daughter, not a doctor.” Gravel that had collected in the dip between the street and the drive crunched under his tires as he backed out onto the street and started for the hospital. “What happened? Do you know?”

She jerked her head in the negative. “Lainey—a nurse—”

“I know Lainey. She called?”

“After they got a call in from the EMTs. It’s bad.”

She would know. She’d probably handled lots of these in her work, Neil figured. At the stop sign, he hung a left and made the subsequent turns to the main road in town.

“Do you want to call your mother?” Neil asked her as they stopped for the last red light between their neighborhood and the hospital. “I didn’t think to ask if your mom needed a lift.”

In the crimson glow of the light, he could see Charli’s swallow. “Should I go back?” he asked.

“No. Lainey—Lainey said Mom was riding with the ambulance.”

The light turned green and he took his foot off the brake, trying not to gun it, but still going a little faster than the speed limit.

Charli seemed calmer now, but he could tell from her drawn face in the glow of the streetlights she was anxious.

“You said it was bad. How bad?”

“I don’t— What if he dies?” She put her hand to her face. “Listen to me. I don’t have any information. I’m just freaking out, and I tell my patients’ families to wait, to see, that we’re doing all we can. They’re doing all they can. They are. I know.”

Neil understood why she’d blurted out her what-if. Did he ever know that desperate thought. He’d never forget the night they’d taken his mother to the hospital. A terrified six-year-old, all he could think was, What if she dies? And she had died.

Now wasn’t the time to tell Charli that life was survivable, if far poorer, after the death of a parent. Honestly, there was never a time when anybody should say that, but Neil knew it for the truth it was. Instead, he reached over, squeezed her hand and said gently, “You are a doctor. You know way too much about, well, about everything medical. But I think you’ve just given yourself some excellent advice.”

The reminder of who she was seemed to fortify her. She straightened up and leaned against the gray fabric of the car seat. “Well, we don’t have enough information. We have to wait and see.”

“And we will. We will wait and see.” Now they were in the parking lot of the emergency room. The small, low 1960s building seemed perfectly preserved in the lights of the vapor lamps, but Neil knew that the morning sun would not be kind to it. It would reveal the overdue paint job, the scraggly bushes that the understaffed and overtaxed maintenance guys never got around to hedging. But for a town this size and this poor, simply keeping the doors open on a twenty-five-bed county-run hospital was an achievement. Across the street lay the town’s doctors’ offices—the offices where Dr. Chuck Prescott had spent much of his professional career.

Beyond Neil’s car, bathed in vapor lights and the Corolla’s headlight beams, lay the big circle with the H in it, ready for the helicopter that would certainly come for Chuck Prescott, to take him to a larger trauma hospital. If, that is, the E.R. could stabilize him.

Charli didn’t budge. For a moment, Neil let her sit there, collect herself. He saw the last vestiges of her earlier emotion hidden behind a mask that covered all the pain and fear and confusion.

“Okay. Let’s do this.” She flung herself out of the car and strode toward the hospital, back straight, head high. Even without the lab coat and the stethoscope, Charli looked every inch the doctor he’d seen earlier that evening.

Neil shook off his amazement. Scrambling to follow her, he caught up with her halfway to the entry. The doors whisked open in front of them, a belch of hospital air their greeting.

Lainey dashed toward them and wrapped Charli in a quick, tight embrace. “Charli, I am so sorry. He’s here, they’re working on him....”

For a moment, Neil saw Charli’s mask slip. “Who’s working on him?”

“Shafer—well, everybody, except me. They’re running the full code. Your dad...he didn’t have a DNR in place.”