The Single Dad's Guarded Heart

“Blankets, blood, Ringer’s,” Marlee responded automatically. She knew this emergency routine well. More’s the pity, she thought.

The red lights of the ambulance cut through the thickening dusk, moving toward them slowly as Marlee set the Arrow down in the smoothest landing she’d made all day. This time she didn’t let visions of the smug Wylie Ames intrude—much. She braked, removed her headphones and was out the door, racing around the tail section to throw open the cargo doors well before the propeller stopped spinning.

A paramedic team hustled to load the patient onto a rolling stretcher. One medic strapped on a blood pressure cuff while another attended oozing wounds, then swabbed Gordon’s arm before inserting needles for blood and Ringer’s solution, which would keep him hydrated and hopefully from going deeper into shock.

Marlee lent a much-needed third pair of hands. It wasn’t until she heard Jo Beth’s shoes hit the tarmac behind her that she realized she’d reacted as she would have at her old job. In so doing, she’d left her daughter to fend for herself. Awash in guilt—of the type Rose Stein had heaped on her at their recent custody hearing —Marlee removed herself from the scene at hand.

She gathered Jo Beth against her. Mom and daughter stood with arms wrapped around each other, watching medics load the gurney and boost Josh into the ambulance. The doors slammed and the vehicle roared off into the night with sirens blaring.

Her part in the rescue was over and she didn’t personally know Maclean. But she recalled the fear etched on his son’s face. Marlee had spent more time in Josh’s shoes than she cared to think about. The kid was sixteen. What if his father’s injuries were too massive, and Gordon died in spite of their efforts?

“Mama, you’re squeezing me too tight.”

“Sorry, Jo Beth.” Marlee loosened the arm anchoring her daughter to her. Stifling a sigh, she raised an unsteady hand and rearranged her hair, which had come out of its clip during the afternoon.

“Why don’t we go inside to see if we can rent a car to drive to the hospital?”

The child looked up and nodded solemnly. “That would be good, Mama. Josh might need us. He’ll have to sit in the hospital waiting room all by himself.”

The understanding filling the eyes of her five-year-old surprised and concerned Marlee. “Honey, Grandmother Rose never left you alone in the waiting room. Didn’t you stay next door when Daddy went for his treatments?”

“Sometimes he had ’mergencies at night. Grandmother didn’t have time to wake up Mrs. Griffith.”

Marlee battled more nagging guilt. Of course, over time she’d come to realize Cole had kept the truth about how sick he was from her. He’d outright lied during her last ten-month deployment. But Jo Beth’s admission meant Rose hadn’t been honest, either. She had denied the extent of Cole’s illness. It stood to reason his mom would do that, she thought, as she opened the door to the so-called terminal office.

A single clerk stood at the counter working a crossword puzzle. “May I help you?” he asked, glancing up.

“I just landed the Piper Arrow. Do you have a car available to rent or if not, the number for a cab?”

“That Mick Callen’s plane?”

“Yes, he’s laid up at the moment. I’m his sister.”

“And you don’t trust that eyesore he parks here? Can’t say I blame you. Mick claims he leaves it in my lot so his grandpa can’t hop in and take off.”

Marlee found a smile. “Is it a ’62 Caddy, robin’s egg blue and cream?” At the man’s nod, she said, “Mick and I learned to drive in that old tank.” She studied a cork board filled with tagged keys behind the clerk. “I don’t suppose Mick keeps a key to it here.”

The young man turned and lifted one from a pushpin and handed it to her. “Now I know all pilots thrive on danger.”

“How late is someone here?”

“I’m here till midnight. If you come back later, park the car in the same spot and shove the key through the mail slot in the door.”

“Is midnight when the tower shuts down?”

“Yep. And that’s when we turn off all runway lights except for number one. That stays lit for emer gency landings.”

“We’ll be back long before then.”

Marlee helped Jo Beth into the back of the Caddy, and dug for a seat belt wedged under the seat.

“Mama, this backseat is the biggest I’ve ever seen. I bet it’s as big as my bed.”

“This was your grandpa’s car. They made them bigger in the old days.” If Jo Beth had been older—a lot older—Marlee might have joked about modern cars not being nearly as good as this one for making out.

Behind the wheel, she cursed the engine that wouldn’t turn over. It took five minutes but finally it caught. As she left the lot and merged with highway traffic, she decided she’d been wrong to tell Mick that she absolutely wouldn’t fly for Angel Fleet. If Gordon Maclean pulled through, it’d be due in large part to the fact that she’d had a plane in the area and been willing to help.

A sign on the highway told her where to turn for the hospital.

Marlee debated whether to go to Mick’s room first or try to locate young Josh Maclean. Stopping to see Mick won out, because she knew where his ward was. Maybe a nurse there could help her track down Gordon.

Two women in print smocks and white slacks were helping Mick out of bed when Marlee and Jo Beth walked into his room. The anguish on his face made it clear that standing was very painful. Marlee hovered in the doorway, not sure she should’ve brought Jo Beth, after all.

Mick hailed them. “There you are. What the hell, sis? Pappy’s called here three times in the last half hour. Didn’t you take your cell phone today?”

She quickly dug the phone out of her back pocket. “Oh. I thought I’d put it on vibrate, but it’s shut off. Is something wrong?”

“How’s Gordy?” Mick had been bent over with his weight distributed between the two nurses. He straightened marginally.

“So you know about my side trip? I don’t know yet how Mr. Maclean is. He looked pretty rough when we landed. Maybe a little better when they loaded him into the ambulance.” Marlee stepped into the room. “Why has Pappy been calling you? He reached me at Glenroe’s. I told him I’d take the Angel Fleet job.”

Mick mustered a brief smile. “According to Pappy you didn’t agree without dumping some harsh words on me. Not that I don’t deserve every one. I totally forgot to ask Angel Fleet dispatch to delete us from their roster. I feel doubly bad that you had to make a run without us ever discussing the process.”

“Yeah, that would’ve been helpful,” Marlee agreed, with a smile to soften her words.

“How it works is a coordinator phones the volunteer nearest to a victim. If the volunteer’s plane is free, we go. At the scene we touch base with Angel Fleet to let them know we’re underway. And volunteers sign in again after transfer is complete.”

“Ah, so I didn’t phone them nor did I contact Pappy from the airpark. It’s my turn to apologize, Mick. I’m not a novice at rescue. I guess since most missions I flew in Iraq were under strict radio silence, I didn’t even think to call in.”

“Pappy wasn’t the only one worried about your whereabouts. Wylie called Cloud Chasers twice. He apparently decided you’d fallen out of the sky.”

“Wylie, as in Ranger Ames?” Marlee’s chin shot up several inches. “Why, in heaven’s name? I left his place ages ago.”

Mick shuffled a few feet, but had the nurses take him back to bed. Once they’d settled him, he un-clenched his jaw. “Pappy said it started out with Dean Ames phoning to speak with Jo Beth.” He found a real smile for the little girl who still hovered in the doorway, staring at him with huge eyes.

She waltzed up to his bed, finally. “Mama said Dean and me could call each other.” She slid her small hand into Mick’s larger one. “Do you hurt a lot, Uncle Mick? Can the nurse give you a pill to make the pain go away? That’s what they did for my daddy.”

One of the nurses involved in exercising Mick flipped through his chart. “The doctor ordered Vicodin as needed. I see you’ve refused any pain meds up to now.”

“I’d rather not use painkillers. The months I spent in military rehab, I saw far too many guys hooked on prescription drugs.”

Marlee broke in. “On the other hand, Mick, won’t you heal faster if you take the edge off your pain?”

His features relaxed into a grin. “I wouldn’t be in pain if the nurses were nicer. If they didn’t barge in here and force me to get up and walk. Four times today,” he drawled, clearly angling for sympathy.

The petite brunette holding his chart rolled her eyes. “You’re so full of bull.” She glanced at Marlee and backpedaled, “Uh…we’re just following doctor’s orders. By the way, I’m Tammy, his evening nurse.”

“Don’t pay any attention to Mick. He’s squeaked by on charm since he was born. You have my permission to whip him into shape before you send him home. ’Cause we sure won’t be pampering him.”