Page 29 of Claiming His Reunion Obsession

I step into the cubicle, gloving up, silencing hysterical intern doctors with my look first and then my belly second.

“What am I looking at?” I ask.

“MVA, crush trauma to the chest, BP dropping ECG’s all over the place… suspected double pneumothorax…”

Being around someone who’s about to lose their mind from lack of sleep and way too many things to remember is the easiest way to stay calm.

But today, I get a jolt. I get a test from the universe. A surprise visit from the past, and if karma ain’t a bitch.

“Cindy Sanders,” I announce absently, hesitating for just a moment before I take over myself.

“You know her?” the young intern asks, and I nod. I realize instantly, that no matter how bad a person might be to others, how cruel or unkind they are, they’re still human beings and right now, this one needs my help.

Young doctor Doolittle here has jumped the gun on a number of things, but she’s not too far off her preliminary diagnosis.

“Get a surgical consult in here, stat. We’ve got extra-capsular rupture of implants… we won’t know it’s pneumothorax until we intubate, shit! Hold on, what’s this?” I ask, looking down her throat, which is swelling up. She’s stopped breathing.

“Help me sit her up, get her up!” I shout and she helps me to lift her, just long enough for me to get behind her and holding both my arms tight around her sternum, I pull them back towards me with force, and hear the sound of something shooting from her mouth, sliding down the wall.

“Try now,” I tell the intern, who’s standing looking on in amazement. “Well intubate her! She’s not gonna breathe on her own, is she?”

“No, ma’am,” she says, and gets the tube in first try. In seconds, Cindy’s breathing with our help, her body stabilizes quickly. She’ll make it. More help arrives and within seconds the cubicle’s crowded with all those magicians who keep people alive and bring them back from the brink every single shift, all shift.

Cindy Sanders will make it though, I know she will.

People like her always do, but it’s my job to help them, whoever they are, whenever they come through my hospital.

Plus, those silicone fun bags? They probably saved her life, acting like silicone air bags, stopping her heart from being crushed.

“Surgical consult is on his way,” the intern says, “I panicked back there… thanks a lot! I’m Denise.”

“Chelle,” I tell her, holding out my gloved hand to hers and making way for the other team to move in and take over.

“Denise?”

“Yeah?”

“Get a wheelchair, my water just broke. I’m having my baby.”

“Oh shit!”

Extended Epilogue

Quinn

“Because I’ve told you, Randy. No kid of mine’s getting on your damned boat, not until they’re twenty-one and divorced us as parents, meaning it’ll never happen.” I say.

I hate to burst his bubble, but I just won’t have the kids on that boat. I won’t allow it.

I’ve put my foot down.

Randy puffs his cheeks and goes out onto the balcony, looking down at the pier. Down at the boat he thought would bring us all together as a family.

Chelle’s sigh. I can hear it from the kitchen before I see her coming out, pink rubber gloves on and a turkey baster in one hand, a hammer in the other.

“Okay, you got me, mommy… what the hell’s going on in there?” I ask, not being able to stop myself from smiling.

“Your hammer, Daddy,” she announces, strolling over to me and handing it back. “… doesn’t live in my drawers, you’ve got a basement for this stuff, haven’t you?”

“I think it’s your dad’s…” I start to say, but change my mind, “…I’ll put it downstairs, I will honey.” And I lean up from the couch to peck her cheek as she bends down to accept my apology.

“And that?” I ask, looking at the turkey baster.

“For the next man who puts his hammer in my drawers,” she warns me with a wink and I shiver a little, because I know she’s serious.

“And will you go tell Dad we’ll go on his damned boat. Stop being such a wimp,” she challenges me, cutting me right to the quick.

Of all the things I fear most, it’s water. I can’t stand it. Hate it. It’s also the one thing Randy doesn’t know about, we somehow managed to get through life inland without having to ever face my fear together.

“Daddy! Daddy! Look what we made!” Jason screams, tearing into the living room and rescuing me. From Randy, from water and from rogue turkey basters.

God bless you son!

“What did you make son?” I ask, scooping him up as I stand, holding him at arm’s length with one hand over my head, growling like a bear until he’s nearly crying from giggling, begging me to let him down.

Mommy goes back into the kitchen, just long enough to grab Jason’s sister, Claire and comes back in and settles down on the couch opposite me.

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