The Best Man (Blue Heron #1)(57)
He opened the door to the Opera House. If there was an accident tonight, he’d definitely have to go out; Ev wasn’t up for handling that yet. That being said, Levi hadn’t had more than two nights off in a row since he was hired.
Maybe Nina’s leaving wasn’t such a mystery, after all.
He pushed the thought from his mind. His wife hadn’t left because he’d worked too much; she’d left him because she was an adrenaline-junkie chopper pilot.
Levi opened the ornate brass mailbox—bills, a movie from Netflix—then headed upstairs. Faith’s door was open, and he hesitated, almost hoping she’d come out and...hell, do what, he didn’t know. It just seemed like a long night in front of him all of a sudden.
Something pressed against his leg. Blue, the big dope. “Go home, pal,” he told him.
He went into his apartment, only to have the dog head-butt the door, probably hoping for some special time with his leg. Levi changed into a flannel shirt and jeans, putting his uniform in the hamper. Life in the military had made him become a little obsessive about neatness, something his mom and Sarah had found quite funny, as he’d been the typical teenage slob before. Not anymore. The apartment was neat as a pin, especially now that Sarah was away. He always cleaned her room after she left, since God knew she wouldn’t make a bed on her own.
He called Lorelei; she’d made it home just fine, but, yes, it was slick out, and he was an angel for checking on her.
Levi hung up, then opened the fridge, took out a bottle of Newton’s Pale Ale and surveyed his dinner options. Lots of leftovers; cooking for one wasn’t easy. Plus, there was a vat of sauce and meatballs; he’d made it for Sarah on Tuesday, since that was her favorite. Just because he didn’t want her to drop out of college didn’t mean he didn’t love his little sis.
There was the thud against the door. Blue again. Beautiful dog, but dumb as a fern. The dog was whining now. Another thud.
Levi opened the door and stared down at the dog. “What?”
Blue looked up and whined.
“Holland, your dog’s out,” Levi said. Her door was still wide open.
There was no answer.
“Faith?” He went into her apartment. “Holland, you here? Oh, shit.”
Faith was standing at the kitchen counter, plucking at her sweater. She looked confused.
If memory served, she was about to have a seizure.
“Faith? You okay?”
She didn’t turn. The dog barked once, and Faith crumpled. Levi yanked her toward him so her head wouldn’t hit the counter and eased her onto the floor. She was already jerking, poor kid, muscles stiff, jaw clenched. He turned her on her side in case she threw up. Her eyes were open and vacant, and out of reflex, Levi looked at his watch. 18:34:17. Time the seizure in case it lasted more than five minutes, that was protocol. He wasn’t an EMT for nothing.
He’d seen Faith have a seizure four or five times in school. Somehow, it was scarier now that he was the adult in charge. Her fingers were splayed and rigid, her back arching with the force of the spasms.
Blue paced back and forth, panting and whining. “It’s okay, buddy,” Levi said, his hand on Faith’s shoulder as her arms and legs spasmed. “She’ll be fine.”
18:34:42. Still seizing. What else should he say? Speak reassuringly to the victim, the nurse used to say, and the whole class knew who the victim was. “You’re okay, Faith,” he said. “You’ll be fine.”
18:35:08. “Doing great, Holland. Don’t worry. Your dog is here.” Well, that was dumb. “Me, too. I’m right here.”
It was oddly quiet, the seizure, just the sound of her shoes rubbing against the floor, the sleet pattering against the window, the sound of her hard breathing. “Hang in there, Faith.”
Shit. It couldn’t be fun, having your body and brain rebel against you like this. Her muscles were tight and clenched under his hand, her right arm out in front of her face as if shielding herself from a blow. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Almost done.” Not that he knew anything.
18:35:42. Maybe he should call her dad. As a member of the volunteer fire department, Levi knew there wasn’t anything a call to 911 would do; they’d give her oxygen, which did more to make them feel better than because she needed it. No, she was breathing fine, if hard. No blueness to her face or lips. Dr. Buckthal had done an in-service for Emergency Services last year—Marcus Shrade had a TBI from a car accident, and had grand mals a few times a year. The doc said a seizure would end when it ended. Hopefully soon. Helluva way to get a workout.
Okay, she was stopping. 18:36:04. Her arms and legs stilled, and he could feel the tension start to seep out of her, see her practically sink into the floor as the misfirings in her brain stopped and allowed her muscles to relax. Blue lay down next to her and put his head on her leg.
“Faith? You okay?” He smoothed some hair off her face. She wasn’t shaking anymore, but she was still out of it. Postictal, that was the word, staring straight ahead. The dog’s tail started thumping. “You’re in your apartment, Holland. You had a seizure, but you’re doing fine.” She blinked and swallowed but didn’t answer. He fished his phone out of his pocket and found the Hollands’ number on it. “Hey, John, it’s Levi Cooper. Listen, sir, Faith just had a seizure. Lasted about ninety seconds.”