Page 9 of Catch a Kiwi
The man swore again, worse this time. Delilah said, “Summer doesn’t approve.”
“Pardon?” he asked.
“Swearing,” she said.
“Bloody hell,” he said. “It’s everywhere I go. Right. Get back in the car, both of you, and hang on. I’ll go get somebody to help.”
I didn’t get back in the car. It seemed too hard. I shut the door on Delilah, put my non-bloody hand on the car’s roof, and waited in the rain, feeling like a left-behind dog, uncomprehending.
Think,I told myself as fiercely as I could manage.You’re not a dog. Think.
I couldn’t. I was wet. I was hurting. I was so cold. And it was all gone.
Somebody coming, then. A woman in scrubs and a raincoat, getting wet herself, pushing a wheelchair.
I opened the car door with fumbling fingers. “Here. She hit her … head. She …”
“He told us,” the woman said, pulling Delilah from the car and depositing her in the wheelchair. I said, “Oh,” and began to go after her.
Oh. The man. Still standing there. I turned and said, “Th-thanks. I’ll—I’ll—” Then stopped, because I had no idea what I’d do. What happened now? I felt for my phone in my pockets, then remembered I didn’t have it.
He said, “I’ll park and come find you.”
“You don’t have to.” That was the one thing I seemed to know. “It’s not your … problem.”
“As your campervan is decorating my hillside,” he said, “it’s very bloody much my problem.”
“Oh. I’ll—” There I was again, with nothing to say.
“Stop standing here in the rain,” he said, “and go inside and have them see to all that. I’ll find you.”
“But I’m—but you’re—” It was so hard to focus. I had my hand on the car again. Why was I dizzy? I hadn’t hitmyhead. Why couldn’t I breathe? “I’m …”
He muttered something—something dirty, I was sure. I couldn’t quite hear it. Everything was going a little gray, suddenly. He opened the car door, but on the passenger side, picked me straight up off my feet, and put me in there. Then he shut the door and headed around to his side.
“What?” I was still saying when he closed his door and started driving. “Delilah! I have to—” Wait. Was hekidnappingme?
Oh. No. He was driving around to the parking lot and pulling in. I was halfway out of the car by the time he’d turned it off, saying, “Right. You parked. Right.” Aware that I was babbling, but not able to do anything about it.
He said, “I’ve never been the hero type.” I was still blinking at that when he reached down and picked me up.
I said, “What? I can … I can walk.”
“Yeh? Didn’t look like it to me.” He was striding through the parking lot, then, the same way he’d strode down that hill. Through the doors into Emergency and up to a desk with somebody behind it. A nurse, probably. There was no sign of Delilah. That was good. That meant they’d be taking care of her.
“She was with the other girl,” the man told the nurse. “Hypothermia. Shock. She’s bled a fair bit, too. Not making much sense. In a daze.”
I was not in a daze! I was cold, that was all! I said, my teeth still chattering, “I’m … fine. I’ll be fine.”
The nurse said, “Sit with her a minute. I’ll get somebody,” and picked up a phone.
Did the man put me down? Not exactly. He sat down. With me in his lap. Things were getting fuzzier, though. I closed my eyes.
If I could only getwarm.
5
APPOINTMENT WITH LIFE
