Winter Loon(72)

“No, you guys go home. I’ll come by later, when I know more.”

“Anytime you want,” Troy said. “Day or night. I mean it.” He spread his arms like wings, then enfolded me in an embarrassing hug. I fought off the urge to collapse there, to beg him not to lump me in with the mess that seemed to follow me.



I EXPECTED WE’D BE WAITING in the emergency room for hours while the doctors worked to pin and sew Gip back together. But when we arrived with the police, the desk nurse said they’d moved him to the ICU.

The air was sour, pungent from waste and blood and curatives. Gip was hooked up to wheezing machines and bags dripping and draining fluids. Tubes poked up his nose and out his mouth, and a yellowed crust had formed on his lips. His bulging eyes were closed and his brow, usually so prominent, seemed collapsed. A nurse was standing at his bedside, making notes on a clipboard.

I stood in the doorway, staring at the scene, trying to account for my indifference. Ruby gripped my arm. “What have I done?” she said.

The nurse looked up. “You’re the family?”

I nodded. “So, is he in a coma or unconscious or what?” I asked.

“Let me go find the doctor,” she said.

With the nurse gone, Ruby went to Gip’s bedside. She tapped the sheet from his foot up the length of his body, like she was feeling for a hot spot. She rested her fingertips at his shoulder, then turned to me. “You think he can hear me?”

“Beats me, Ruby.”

“I don’t want to make him madder. He’s probably awful mad at me.”

“It’s probably fine. Go on.”

“You started this, you know.” She seemed to be steeling herself for the argument. “He did,” she said to me, before turning back. “You shouldn’t have gone after that girl. You should have stayed away from her. Don’t you tell me it was my fault. It wasn’t. I did everything I was supposed to do. You couldn’t keep it in your pants, was all, could you?”

“Ruby.” Whispers from the other side of the curtain, another family in crisis. “Now’s not the time.” I walked over next to her, closer to Gip than I wanted to be. “No one said he tried anything with her,” I whispered. “Don’t make it worse than it already is.”

She looked at me like it was a surprise I was there, then nodded silently.

The doctor walked in, wiping his hand over his bald head. “I’m so sorry. Crazy night. You’re Mrs. Furniss?” Ruby nodded. “And is this your son?”

“Grandson. Wes Ballot.”

“Yes, right. So, let’s leave Mr. Furniss here for the moment and take a walk to the lounge. It’s around the corner there.”

“I don’t need to go nowhere. Tell me what’s wrong with him.”

“Well.” His voice was reverent, practiced. He pulled a swivel stool from behind the door, straddled it, and sat next to Ruby. “Mr. Furniss has suffered massive internal injuries. When they brought him in”—he paused to consult the chart—“well, as you know, when he made impact with the car, the trauma was severe.”

“Does he need surgery?” I asked. I wondered how they would afford it, whether Gip’s insurance would even cover this, since his own wife was the one who ran him down. “Are there broken bones?”

“I really must insist we step out of the room. Just for the moment. Please, Mrs. Furniss.”

“C’mon, Ruby,” I said, extending my hand to her. She batted it away.

“Oh fine! It’s just words. Don’t see why they can’t be said in here.”

We followed the doctor into the dim hallway.

“What’s this all about?” I asked.

“Mr. Furniss’s body has endured a cataclysmic event. His life is being sustained by these machines that keep his airway open and breathe for him. Despite our best effort, I’m afraid there’s nothing more we can do for Mr. Furniss.”

“You mean right now?”

“I’m sorry, no. We can give you the time you need to gather family, to say your goodbyes. There’s clergy available here in the hospital or you can call your own minister if you choose. The night nurse has information you might need if you are considering organ donation.”

Ruby folded her arms and pressed her lip out in an exaggerated pout, the corners of her mouth turning down as she nodded. “Well, then,” she said. “So what? Do I take him home like this and wait for someone to donate new organs for him? How am I supposed to take care of him?”

“Ruby, I think he’s saying Gip’s not coming home,” I said. “Is that right?”

“I’m afraid so. Once you’re ready, we’ll shut off these machines and Mr. Furniss will pass.”

“So don’t shut them off if it’ll kill him!” Her iron voice roared down the hallway like a locomotive out of a mountain tunnel.

“I wish there was something we could do for him, but I’m afraid there’s nothing. Again, I’m very sorry for your loss. The nurse will be right in to discuss your options.”

“I can’t have killed him. I didn’t mean to kill him. Am I going to jail?”

She stressed the kill part as if her intent was only to maim. I was glad the police weren’t listening in just then. The doctor touched Ruby’s arm. “It was an accident, Mrs. Furniss. His blood alcohol level was sky high. If he was wandering around in the street, it’s no wonder he was hit. You were at the wrong place at the wrong time, I’m afraid. Go back in. Spend all the time you need with him.”