Page 40 of Till The Cows Come Home

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Miles

I ’d been downtown grabbing supplies at the hardware store when Sage called me from the back of an ambulance.

In between sobs I made out that she was on the way to the hospital with her father, and from how it sounded, he was in pretty bad shape.

Without a thought, I dropped my basket in the middle of the aisle, jogging to my truck to meet her at the hospital.

The front desk directed me to the room they’d been given, and when I walked to the door Stu was unrecognizable. He was hooked up to more things than I could count, with a tube down his throat, and the only thing familiar was Sage, clutching his hand in the chair next to him.

“Miles!” she cried, and for a moment she moved to stand, but stopped, unable to let go.

“Don’t move, hun.”

I cleared the room in a few steps, and as she settled in her seat again, I wrapped my arms around her from behind. Her shoulders began to heave, and so I held on, waiting for the angst to pass before pressing her for answers.

“They haven’t told me anything, just that they’re treating it as a heart attack,” she whimpered.

“Where’s your mom?”

“She’s on the way. She was shopping in Easton and one of her girlfriends is driving her back.”

“Okay, well as soon as she gets here I’ll find someone and see if I can get us some more answers. Could you try and tell me what happened?”

“Nothing, Miles. It was so strange. We were doing the same as we always did. Dad was holding the framing and I was nailing it down. But after one of our last sheets he just wasn’t hanging on anymore, and now he’s barely hanging on at all.

He was just laying there, not breathing.

I did CPR until the ambulance got there and they shocked him until they got a pulse.

Then in a blink we were here, with all this happening. ”

“You’re brave, Sage. He’s still here because of you.”

“No, he’s here because of me.” She sighed. “If I didn’t push him, he would have been tipped back in his recliner right about now.”

“Sage, don’t do that. No one tells Stu what to do. He was there because he wanted to be, and nothing was stopping him. Not you or me or the entirety of Lox, Virginia.”

She rested her head at my navel and I smoothed her curls until a commotion outside the room signaled that Gale Baker had arrived, and moments later a nurse guided her into the room.

“Oh Stu!” she cried, rushing to the other side of Sage.

I pulled up a chair so they could sit together, and as the two shared their grip on Stu’s hand, Gale looked to Sage.

“Did they tell you anything else?”

“No, Miles was going to see if he could find someone with answers once you got here.”

“I didn’t want Sage to be alone, but I’d be happy to track someone down if you can keep each other company while I’m gone.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. I got her.”

“I got you too,” Sage whispered, squeezing her mother’s hand.

Content they’d be alright in my absence, I wandered to the nurse’s station to see if I could get someone to track down Stu’s doctor. As soon as I approached the counter, the weight of all the eyes behind it were on me.

“Hi. Sorry to interrupt. I was just wondering if anyone would be able to tell me when the doctor for room 459, Stu Baker, would be in to give us some more information.”

“That’s me,” a woman answered, but her back was turned to me as she studied something on the screen in front of her.

After a few moments she spun around in her chair, standing to introduce herself.

“I’m Dr. Brinks, sorry for the delay. I was looking over Mr. Baker’s blood tests and imaging. I can walk with you to the room if the family is ready?”

“They’re very eager for answers, so I’d appreciate it, thank you.”

She nodded, following me down the hall, and as we entered the room, Sage and Gale perked up.

“Hi, are you the family of Mr. Baker?”

“Yes,” they answered in unison.

“My name is Dr. Brinks, I just finished looking over the results of some tests we ran, and unfortunately Mr. Baker did have a severe heart attack. When he got here he was put in a medically induced coma in order to minimize injury to his brain.”

“You’re saying he could be awake right now?” Gale asked.

“He could be, but you wouldn’t want that. Our imaging showed some swelling in the brain, and the coma will essentially allow it time to rest. In twenty-four hours I’ll do more imaging, and if the swelling has minimized enough we can begin the extubation process and attempt to wake him up.”

“So what do we do now?”

“Maybe the hardest part of all…you wait.”

“Walk with me?” Sage whispered.

I nodded, creeping out of the room. Her mother was finally asleep, parked in a recliner as close to Stu as she could get, and the last thing I wanted to do was wake her at 4:00 a.m. Once we were far from the room, winding down the dimly lit hallways, Sage’s worries began to bubble over.

“What if we’re doing the wrong thing? What if it wasn’t the physical stress of the rebuild that got to my father, but the mental stress of being back at the farm? What if he never wakes up?

“Sage, hun, come here.”

I tugged her towards me, tucking her into my shoulder, and as her cheek hit my collarbone, my body absorbed a sigh the size of Texas.

“I don’t have any answers for you, sweetheart, I wish I did. But what I can tell you is that your father is not only a strong man, but a selfless one. I won’t speak for him, so I think our best bet is to take this one day at a time until he can speak for himself. I believe in him, Sage.”

“Should we pause the construction?”

“Everyone is already scheduled to arrive tomorrow, so I can either meet them when they get there and send them home, or we can let them work and reevaluate when they update us on your dad tonight.”

“One day at a time?”

“One day at a time,” I echoed.

“Let them work, then. But you should probably still meet up with them so they know what happened. And also you need to sleep.”

“I don’t want to leave you if you need me.”

“I do need you, but the actual you, not the zombie version. Plus, I could really use some toiletries from my apartment if you don’t mind?”

“Of course not, text me a list. I’ll meet with them at six, take a quick nap and?—”

“A substantial nap.”

“A substantial nap,” I corrected, “and then I’ll be back with a late lunch?”

“You’re perfect,” she mumbled.

“Right back atcha, pretty girl.”

We navigated back to the room with a touch more hope, and once Sage was comfortably tucked into her own recliner, I headed home to deliver the news.