Wild Horses (Sadie's Montana #1)(38)

So beautiful, daisies. You are so beautiful.





Chapter 11




THE FIRST THING SADIE remembered seeing was the brilliance of the green and red in the large Christmas wreath on the wall—the shining, white wall. The Christmas wreath was much too bright. It made her eyes hurt.

Was it Christmas?

“Sadie! Sadie!”

Dat was crying. Dat never cried. Why was he crying?

She rested her eyes again, closing them gently, succumbing to the all-consuming sense of total exhaustion. Nothing had ever felt better than closing her eyelids and letting her body sink into the soft, soft mattress, the soft, soft pillow.

“Sadie, can you hear me?”

Whoa, better answer. Someone’s at the door.

She willed herself to go to the door but was much too tired.

“Sadie, lift your hand if you hear me.”

Of course I can lift my hand. I’m coming to answer the door. I’m walking to the door. Can’t you see?

She lifted her hand. Then she opened her eyes, looked around, and saw the Christmas wreath again, the window with the blinds pulled, the flowers on the wide sill.

She saw Mam, Dat, a doctor, two more doctors, a very large nurse, and another person with a chart. There were hums and beeps and clicks and whirs and a clear plastic bag hanging from a clean, silver pole.

“Hello, Sadie.”

She tried to smile and say “Hello,” but her eyelids wanted to fall down again, completely on their own.

“Hi,” Sadie croaked, then fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Sadie woke on her own, no one calling her. It was nighttime and the room was dark. There were still clicks and buzzes, whirs and hums, but except for these machines, it was all very quiet.

She tried turning her head to the right to see what was beside her. That worked okay. There was a night stand and a pitcher—a plastic one, covered with Styrofoam.

Hmm.

She turned her head to the left and closed her eyes as great spasms of pain shot through her temple. She sucked in her breath, squeezed her eyes shut to bear the pain, and cautiously opened them again.

Wow! That hurt.

Gingerly then, her hands traveled across her body. Shoulders intact, face weird, bandage on head, hand wrapped in bandage, waist and hips hurting but tolerable.

Whoops. That leg.

Opening her eyes wide, she saw her right leg held upward at an angle, encased in a heavy cast, wrapped with that white stuff where people could sign their names.

Oh, boy. She was really banged up.

She pieced together the remnants of what happened as best she could, although there was very little she actually remembered.

Snow.

Cold.

And that was about it.

Sighing, she lay back. She was in the hospital being taken care of by competent people—competent, trained personnel who knew how to operate the machines that clicked and hummed around her, she thought wryly.

She wondered vaguely whether Mam and Dat had gone home and she was here alone, or if someone from her family was here sleeping at the hospital.

She thanked God for the fact that she was alive. Her heart was beating, battered, but alive.

Himmlichser Vater, Ich danke dich.

“You awake, Honey?”

Sadie started, smiled, then nodded slowly.

“You are! Welcome aboard, Sweetie! Good to see you awake.”

The nurse wore a flowered top. Her round arms turned machines, released the rail on the side of the bed, and checked the IV drip in swift, fluid motions, confident and sure.

“You in pain?”

Sadie winced.

“My back.”

The nurse clucked.

“Let me tell you, Honey. We’ve got you as comfortable as possible, but you’ll be experiencing some discomfort, ’til it’s all said and done. You are one fortunate cookie, you are.”

“Am I?” Sadie asked, her voice hoarse.

“Indeedy. If it’s all true what they say.”

“Is … my family here?”

“No. They went home to get some sleep. You’ll be fine. How badly are you hurting, Sweetie? From 1 to 10?

Sadie grimaced.

“Eleven.”

The nurse laughed.

“You’re awake, Sadie.”

She pushed a few buttons, wrote on a chart, asked if she needed another blanket, pulled up the sheet, patted her shoulder, and was barely out of the room before Sadie drifted into a wonderful, cushioned sleep.

The heavy blinds were yanked open, the sun streamed through the window, the nurse trilled a good morning, and Sadie turned her head away, moaning.

Everything hurt. Everything. Even her fingers and toes. She groaned.

“We’re getting you out of bed this morning!” the nurse chirped.

There was no way. Absolutely not. They can’t. I can’t, she thought.

“My leg is … uh … sort of attached!” Sadie said.

“Oh, we’ll get you a pair of crutches. See how you’ll do.”

“I’ll pass out.”

“Oh, no! No, you won’t.”

And she didn’t.

They sat her up, and she thought her head would explode. They held her, prodded her, stuck crutches under her arms, held the heavy cast, and watched her wobble down the hallway. The nurses talked and encouraged her, and Sadie gritted her teeth in determination. Her forehead seeped perspiration, but the heroic effort she made was evident to the hospital staff.