Golden Hour (Crescent City) Page 6

  I slip my phone out of my pocket.

  My mother is going to go ballistic, but I’ve got no other choice.

  I’m calling 911.

  The house looks like every other house in Uptown.

  Two story, carved pillars, some Easter egg shade of blue—or, in this case, yellow—that screams old money.

  But the car out front of this one? That’s what makes this house different than all the others.

  The little black convertible out front has the Crescent City Memorial parking sticker on the windshield; it’s the same car I walked Elise to last night, when she drove away from the bar looking a little too eager to be done with me.

  I pick up the pace a little, shouldering my equipment as the adrenaline squeezes too hard and fast. Is Elise in the house?

  “What’s the hustle for, partner?” Gabbie calls from behind me.

  Dean’s still out ‘sick’ so I’m working with Gabbie until he figures his shit out.

  “Just want to get inside. These stairs are going to be awkward with the stretcher. Why don’t we go around back?” I suggest, but one thought keeps pounding against my skull: Elise.

  Damnit, I need to get to her. Now.

  “I’ll let you in!” a voice calls. I turn around and see a familiar cop rushing up the driveway. “I’m Officer Charlie Dupuis. This is my parents’ place. Come on around back.”

  “Do you know who the patient is?” I ask. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous as hell that it’s Elise who fell. Dispatch is always a little short on details when they send us out on a call.

  Officer Dupuis walks us to the door, but barricades it with his body before we can rush in. He holds his hands out like he wants us to keep our distance until he gives the go ahead. I grit my teeth. Someone—maybe Elise—is inside, hurt. I can help. This is no time for Charlie here to be marking his damn territory.

  “My sister said my grandmother fell down some stairs,” he explains, and I shouldn’t feel relief, but I do. I hope to hell her grandma is alright, but I’m washed over with relief that she’s fine. Charlie opens the door slowly, still holding us at bay until he deems it time for us to step on in. “And I should warn you, she has advanced dementia, so she can be….difficult,”

  “No problem,” I say, attempting to push by. Charlie holds me back one more second, and there’s a second where we stare each other down, wasting precious time, before he moves to let me through.

  I can’t help but get a sense that Charlie is...difficult himself. And by ‘difficult,’ I mean an arrogant asshole. Sometimes the badge does that to guys.

  Or maybe it’s just who Charlie is, in uniform or out.

  Once inside, I tell Gabbie to leave the stretcher near the door until we see what we’ve got. We wind through the wood-paneled interior and find Elise crouched at the base of the staircase, holding an elderly woman’s head in her lap. Her fingers are combing the woman’s silver hair back and she’s making soft, clucking sounds. When she sees us, she gives a shuddery breath.

  Tears streak her face, and my heart kicks back in my chest. Something in my cold, selfish soul wants to reach down and wipe those tears away, run a hand down her arm and tell her things will be okay.

  Even if I have no idea that they will be.

  “I know I shouldn’t have moved her at all, but she was just so uncomfortable. I had to at least elevate her head,” she sobs, wiping at her nose. “Oh, Charlie, thank god you’re here.”

  She smiles up gratefully at her brother, and I instantly lose some of my aggravation for the guy. Maybe his nerves got the best of him out there. Maybe he likes to bluster a little in situations he can’t control. Hell, I’ve done that myself a time or two.

  “How did this happen? Why was Gran on the stairs?” he demands.

  That little, tiny drop of goodness I was feeling for him disappears, and I’m back to wondering how he manages to walk around with such an enormous stick up his ass.

  Elise’s smile falters and she straightens her posture, and I hold back. Not my girl, not my problem, not my place, I remind myself. I’m here to help her grandmother, period.

  “I just ran out to my place for a second, Charlie, I swear,” she says, rubbing the tears off her face. Her voice is low and full of regret. It was clearly a mistake, and one that she feels terrible for making.

  I wish her douchebag brother would realize that and move the hell out of the way so Gabbie and I can do our job.

  He leans in toward Elise as she shrinks back. He hisses, “You left her?”

  She hangs her head, pressing a hand over her eyes, and moans softly.

  That’s when I’m officially done counting back from ten, trying to remember my job, and staying out the way of family drama. And if I’m not ready to admit that I want to protect this beautiful, torn-up girl, there’s the indisputable fact that I have a job to do. One I can’t while the good officer hovers over his sister, bullying her and getting in the way.

  I elbow past and get to work, ignoring his furious protests.

  “Officer Dupuis, we need to focus on the patient right now. You’re gonna need to move back and give us the space to do that,” I say, not leaving room for argument. We glare back and forth for a few tense seconds before he crosses his arms and stands down. I turn to Gabbie. “Alright, let’s get her stabilized in c-spine,” I say. “What’s her name?”

  Elise is staring at me with shock all over her face.

  Don’t know why. She knows what it is I do. Should have expected that I might have been the one to show up when she punched in 911. I gotta admit, I’m a little disappointed that some tiny part of her wasn’t at least hoping she might see me.

  I guess after a few more whiskeys straight alone at that bar, I had myself convinced last night hadn’t gone as badly as I thought. And I guess I was wrong.

  “Eleanor. But she goes by Ellie,” she says, her voice still wavery from all the crying.

  “Ms. Ellie,” I say, keeping my voice soft. The older woman perks up and looks toward me, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. I take her hand and squeeze it. “How are you feeling, sweetheart? I hear you took a little tumble.”

  “Just down a couple of stairs. It’s nothing.” She moves a hand up to smooth her hair and giggles a little when she smiles at me.

  I smile right back and even throw in a wink for good measure. “Well, you sound pretty tough to me, Ms. Ellie. Is anything hurting you right now?”

  “Just my right hip,” she says with a shrug, rubbing on her left hip.

  “Yes, ma’am, I bet it does. What my partner and I need to do is take you into the hospital and get you checked out so they can make sure that you didn’t break anything, okay?”

  She nods. “Just fine. Will you be going with me?”

  “Of course I will, ma’am. I’ll be there all the way to the hospital. Gabbie, why don’t you get medical history from Elise here, while I get Ms. Ellie on the backboard.”

  Elise looks at me like I’ve at least answered a few of her prayers and slips her arm out from under her grandmother. There are a whole slew of things I want to say to her, but now isn’t the time or place for any of them.

  “Can you get back there and hold her head stable for me?” I ask her brother, looking up with a glare that lets him know it’s not really a question.

  Charlie grimaces, but does as I ask and holds his grandmother’s head steady while I slide a spinal immobilization collar under her head.

  “Is this really necessary?” Charlie asks, looking uncomfortable the way most people do when they see their loved ones looking less than perfectly healthy.

  I’d have a few shreds of sympathy for him if I didn’t watch him verbally attack his sister when the chips were down.

  “It’s protocol,” I mutter.

  “Charlie, let him do what he needs to,” Elise says, her voice still soft.

  Charlie glances up and opens his mouth to say something. Our eyes meet, and I try to telepathically let him know I will drag his ass ou
tside and rough him up if he gives Elise any more shit today. I have no clue if I’ve got some ESP I never realized or if he’s just smart enough to know that blaming his sister isn’t the right thing to do, but he keeps his yap shut.

  I lean down and check pulses in Ms. Ellie’s wrists and then clasp her hand.

  “Can you feel me holding your hand, Ms. Ellie?” I ask. I can’t help but smiling back when she grins at me. Damn, Elise inherited that gorgeous smile from Eleanor for sure.

  “Yes, Mike, I sure can,” she says, squeezing back.

  I glance over at Charlie, who suddenly looks kind of gray around the gills. He mouths, “Don’t ask.”

  I look over at Elsie, who has her hand pressed to her lips and is shaking her head back and forth. She doesn’t say anything, but I know she echoes her brother’s sentiment.

  She doesn’t want me to ask either.

  So I don’t.

  “That’s good. You’re doing great,” I say. I continue to check her out and have Charlie help me get her on the spine board, but all the while I feel his eyes on me. When we’ve finally got Eleanor loaded onto the stretcher, Charlie leans in and asks me a question through gritted teeth.

  “How’d you know her name?”

  I meet his eyes as I tighten the straps around Charlie’s grandmother, and then give him a calm once over. I know what he’s asking. I don’t appreciate his tone is all.

  “Who? Ms. Ellie?” I ask, letting my bayou drawl roll out just to see his mouth go tight with distaste.

  “No, my sister,” he growls, looking over his shoulder to where Elsie stands, giving Gabby answers for the paperwork we’ve got to fill out. Her arms are crossed tight over her thin body and she bows over like she’s exhausted. “You called her ‘Elise’ when you came in. How’d you know her name?”

  I get the overprotective older brother vibe, trust me. I’ve been on the receiving end of a stone cold stare and a pile of threats about what will happen to me if I ever hurt the girl more than a few times. But this feels different somehow.

  “Settle, bro. She works at the hospital. I don’t know if you’d gathered, but I’m frequently at the hospital.” I flick at my nametag.

  “So you two just ran into each other at the hospital?” he demands.

  I’m not all that fond of the way he’s jumping into interrogation mode. “Like I said. I work for Crescent City Memorial. Elise does too.”

  Charlie stares at my badge, his mouth working back and forth like he’s trying to discern whether I’m telling the truth or not.

  “I’m so sorry to be so much trouble,” Ms. Ellie interrupts, her voice scratching out like she’s about to cry.

  I tear my eyes away from the standoff with Charlie and shift my focus back to the important person; the patient.

  “Oh, darlin’, you’re not any trouble at all. Meeting you has been the best part of my day,” I say to her, taking her hand again to let her know I’m here and paying attention. Well, paying attention now.

  “Mike, you joke with me too much,” she says with a girlish giggle. “I just love when you come around. Why haven’t you been here more lately? We missed you at Mardi Gras. I snuck you the piece of king cake with the baby, even though that’s the piece Charlie always likes to get. But you never came.”

  Elise glances up, startled, and Charlie clears his throat loudly.

  “Grandma, please,” he says, his words low and harsh. I’d knock him on his ass in a second if he spoke to her in temper, but I recognize the feeling behind his words, and it isn’t anger. It’s pain, deep and coiling.

  What’s happened in this family to leave such a gutted void. I’ve got to assume Mike—whoever he is—is at the heart of it all.

  Ms. Ellie sure seems to think highly of him.

  “Well I appreciate it. Maybe next year I’ll get that piece of cake,” I say, giving her one more wink before I load her in and let Gabbie sit back with her. “In the meantime, we’re all set. We’re going to get you to the hospital and get you looked at, and you’ll be up and dancing again before you know it.”

  Ms. Ellie swats at me and laughs. “I don’t dance!”

  I lean in toward Ms. Ellie on the stretcher, but I fix my eyes on Elise and say, “Ah, come on, every pretty girl can dance. They just need a strong male to lead.”

  “You should take my granddaughter dancing young man. She hasn’t been out dancing since Mike died,” Ms. Ellie says, her mouth trembling like she’s just remembered that fact.

  That Mike, the mysterious Mike at the center of all their lives, is actually not in their lives at all.

  I think back to the question Elise asked at the bar, her dark eyes so full of hope. So, what do you think, Warren? Do you think people hang around after they’re gone?

  Strange I didn’t pick up on the fact that she was asking about someone specific. All the clues have been hitting me over the head from all directions.

  Good thing I’m not a goddamn detective.

  Good thing I’m always so wrapped up in my own fucking personal hell, I don’t seem to notice when I crush other people.

  That’s the major downside of walking around like you’re alive and well when everything good in you is dead. You spread your own vicious pain like a plague.

  I think back on Elise’s dark eyes, wide with pain she was trying to contain. She ran, I let her go. She was hurting, I piled more hurt on top. And when I look up from Ms. Ellie’s eyes, Elsie is in the driveway, her face pale, silent tears dripping down.

  I open my mouth to say something, anything, but Charlie puts an arm around Elise’s thin shoulders and leads her into the big old house. When he comes back, he’s alone, and I’m left with Ms. Ellie, weeping in my truck, and Elise, weeping in her house.

  Though I know it’s sheer stupidity to feel responsible for all this pain, I do.

  I know from personal experience there’s nothing that really helps. But I could have been more careful. I could have offered some comfort instead of stomping on sacred ground.

  Or I could have just kept my damn mouth shut about things I know nothing about.

  I trace the shape of the steering wheel with shaky fingers while I sit in my car, watching him like some deranged stalker. I keep dredging up excuses to sit tight in my car just a little longer.

  He might not be done closing out his shift; once I see him take his stethoscope from around his neck, I’ll get out of my car.

  He looks frustrated; the next time he smiles, I’ll get out of my car.

  He may want to change before leaving work; once I see him walk toward his own car, I’ll get out of mine.

  He may not want to talk to me around his co-workers; once the parking lot is clear, I’ll get out of my car.

  The problem is, I’ve been sitting here for thirty minutes, my eyes glued to Caleb, and all of those things have happened. Yet I’m still sitting here, nervous as hell, looking more and more like a stalker and less like someone who just wants to offer up a proper ‘thank you’ for the way he took care of Gran.

  I didn’t see him after he left with her in the ambulance. Charlie walked me into the house so I could sob for a few minutes. He apologized for the way he barked at me when he saw Gran on the floor, and I told him no apology was needed. I would have freaked out if I walked into that, too. Hell, I was there the whole time and I never got my head on straight.

  I heard the ambulance start and knew full well that the last thing Warren saw was me looking like a hot mess, crying and pale. I checked my reflection, and it was bad. I’m a little nervous after the way I left him at the bar and the way he last saw me at the house that he’ll think I somehow blame him or don’t appreciate what he did.

  I took my time getting to the hospital, knowing Charlie was following right behind the ambulance and Mama was on her way. I wasn’t looking forward to a public scolding from my mother for letting Gran fall. Not in front of my co-workers—or Caleb Warren.

  But I can’t leave this all unresolved. I can’t leave him thinking I�
�m anything but grateful for what he did and how perfectly he handled that tense, scary situation. I know he’s a pro, I know that’s what he does; I also know pros can lose their shit and buckle. He didn’t, and I appreciate it.

  “Looking for someone?” The voice at my window makes me jump. My heart is exploding as I try to place the familiar face. My dull brain finally kicks in; it’s Dean, Caleb’s partner.

  I give a nervous laugh that makes me sound like a twit. “Oh, hi. Dean, right? I’m just… I’m Elise, a friend of Caleb’s, I just wanted to stop by and…I didn’t know where else to find him...and….”

  Friend is a major overstatement when I don’t even have his phone number or know where he lives.

  “You’re the nurse from Crescent, right?” Dean asks, smiling at me. I didn’t notice the night Zoe treated him in the ER, but he as an adorable smile. Glinting white teeth and a little dent in his chin, plush dimples. I smile back and nod.

  He gestures with his thumb over his shoulder. “He’s just about to leave. You should get over there to catch him.”

  Dean is right. Caleb is walking toward his pickup truck, clutching his keys in his hand.

  “Thanks Dean,” I say, opening my car door. I’m suddenly more nervous about missing the chance to talk to Caleb before he leaves than I was a few minutes before at the prospect of talking to him. I pause before rushing in Caleb’s direction, though. “Hey, Dean, I hope you’re feeling better. I checked on your friend, Tara up on the floor yesterday. She’s doing much better you know. The nurses upstairs said she’d be home very soon. You guys did a great job with her. You saved her life.”

  Dean’s casual smile contorts into a grimace, and I know he thinks he didn’t do enough to help her. What he doesn’t understand is that even if he had done everything perfectly, everything according to the medical books and protocols, he’d still never feel like he did enough to help any patient—ever.

  He’ll learn that lesson the hard way, over time. And it will never get any easier to accept. At least it hasn’t for me.

  Dean clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck. “Thank you. I know Tara’s in the best hands.”