Sacred Ground (31 page)

"A man chooses and lives with it. You have done the same, so I am sure you understand what I am saying. If given the choice to go back, I would not have left Elsie alone. More importantly, I would have been less concerned with Indian and non-Indian." John cleared his throat and then moved into the turning lane.

Sight of a hospital sign filled
Willow
with mixed emotions. She was grateful to have finally arrived and fearful of what she'd find. She swallowed hard.

"What is important?" Brett asked.

"After all this time I've learned it doesn't make a difference. What counts is what is inside. What you believe and what you do with that belief. Once I had learned that, I found the true meaning of happiness. By then, though, it was too late to tell you the truth. I loved and respected Elsie too much to go against her wishes. We had to protect you until the time was right. I am grateful that time came before I died. I feared it would not."

Tenth Avenue
came into view and
Willow
sat up, feeling tense and anxious. She longed to hold Lance in her arms, and she realized she had similar feelings about Sean. Somehow the boys had become brothers in her heart.

She felt Brett's large palm slide over her folded hands. She welcomed and needed his support.

"I'll drop you two off at the door, and I'll park the car.” John stopped at the curb. “I'll be along as soon as I can."

Willow
unsnapped her seat belt and grabbed her purse. Brett had already opened the door and she bolted out. They didn't waste any time talking. As though one mind led them, they rushed to the reception desk.

"Lance and Sean Turner . . . I mean Lance Jenkins and Sean Turner, what room?" She felt flushed and breathless.

"Intensive Care 412 for Mr. Jenkins and Intensive Care 418 for Mr. Turner," the elderly woman said.

Willow
glanced at Brett's pale face. She'd refused to think about the severity of things before. The constant chatting between Brett and his father kept her from thinking about all the possibilities. It suddenly occurred to her that John had done a fine job of keeping them from thinking of all the nightmares that go through a parent's mind. It hadn't dawned on her that she'd never heard him talk that much, even at a council meeting.

"Come,” Brett said, guiding her elbow.

She wanted to run, but kept her pace slow enough for Brett to hobble without stumbling. It seemed to take forever for the elevator to stop on the first floor and even longer for it to climb to the fourth.

"I'll go see Lance, you go find Sean. I'll come see how he's doing as soon as I can," she said, her tone low with forced control.

"
Willow
?" He said, more than asked.

"It'll be fine, Brett. I'll be there as soon as I can. We aren't going to lose either of them, we just can't," she said, her voice cracking.

Brett pulled her into his chest. Tears threatened and she forced them back. "Go," she said with tenderness.

Willow
walked down the hall, each step faster than the last. Stopping before Room ICU 412 she took a deep breath. She pushed the door open a crack, paused, and then walked past a nurse toward the small form on the bed. A large wrap covered Lance’s hand.

"Mom?"
He sounded like a small child, not her grown nine-year-old.

"Hi, baby. I'd say bull riding isn't the best career choice. What do you think?" she asked, forcing her voice to sound cheerful.

"Sean is hurt real bad . . ." His eyes rolled back in his head.

Fear filled her.
Willow
glanced around at all the machines hooked up to her son. "What is all this?" she asked the nurse sitting on a chair in front of the window. "There's more wrong than a severed thumb, isn't there?"

"You're Mrs. Jenkins?" the nurse asked.

"Yes, I'm Lance's mother. What's going on here?" she asked again.

"I'll call for Doctor Anders." The nurse pushed the button on the bedside. "He wanted to talk to you the minute you arrived." She scurried toward the door like a frightened kitten. "Get Doctor Anders," she directed to a flushed nurse's aide.

Willow
leaned over her son and kissed his cheek. As she lifted a strand of hair from his forehead, she realized for the first time his head had been covered by
a soft
, cotton, stocking-type hat. She lifted the material and froze. His head had been shaved.

"Mrs. Jenkins?" a deep voice asked.

Tears surfaced,
Willow
fought them back. "What's wrong?" she asked. The voice didn't sound like hers. She glanced at the man dressed in white and held her breath.

"Mrs. Jenkins, I'm Doctor Jeff Anders.
I've been treating Lance since his arrival. As you know, Lance took quite a fall off that bull. The rope didn't release when he fell. They found his thumb and we've stitched it back on. The color is good and I expect to see signs of rejuvenation soon. We have high expectations―"

"Stop stalling!"
Willow
growled. "You're evading the serious stuff here and I don't appreciate it."

"I know this is going to sound all wrong, but if it hadn't been for this accident, I believe your son would have faced this life-threatening situation within a month, but then it might have been too late."

"What are you talking about? Why is Lance hooked up to all these machines?" she asked, clenching her teeth.

"We did a
CAT
scan and found a tumor in his skull. We have all the paperwork prepared for you to sign and the operating room is all set up. My staff is standing by. What I'm saying is that we need to operate immediately. I've talked to him and it seems Lance is prepared for this. Hard to believe of a nine-year-old, but it's almost like he knew. The tumor has to come out. The sooner we remove it the better."

"My God!"
Willow
said, sinking onto the edge of the bed next to Lance. "I knew something was wrong. I've mentioned his headaches so often. No one would believe me."

"Calm down, please. I understand you're upset. We don't have time for accusations or hysterics. We need your permission to operate, now."

Willow
straightened her back and raised her jaw. "Get me a pen, I'll sign. Take him, and Doctor Anders, please bring him back to me."

"I'll do my best, Mrs. Jenkins. If you don't mind my saying so, it's his inner strength that will do more for him than even I can do."

"Thank you."
Willow
kissed Lance’s cheek. "You need to call on the old ones for help," she whispered in his ear. "Watch for the buffalo, your protector will give you strength."

"You're under a great deal of stress. I could prescribe a sedative for you," Doctor Anders offered.

Willow
shook her head.

"Be assured I'm a fine surgeon and if that tumor is operable, I can do it. Start saying your prayers, I'll take all the help I can get."

Willow
recognized the warmth in his smile and felt reassured this doctor would do his best. "Thank you," she said.

"You’re welcome," he said as he rushed from the room.

It took only seconds for a nurse to bring the papers to sign and for orderlies to wheel in a gurney. They transferred IVs, tubes, machines, and Lance to the cart.

She rushed to his side and kissed his cheek. "I'll be here when you wake. I love you, Lance. Call on your ancestors. They will guide you down the path back to us so Brett, Sean, you, and me can be a family." She squeezed his good hand as they whisked him out of the room.

"Sign here." A middle-aged woman stood before her with a clipboard and pen.

It didn't seem real.
Willow
knew it would be wise to read the papers, but she signed and signed until the woman seemed satisfied and left.

As
Willow
sought ICU 418 she prayed Sean was doing better than Lance. Fear filled her as she entered the room.

On the second bed, a nurse was drawing blood from Brett’s arm.

Willow
rushed to him, glancing at the drawn curtain around the first bed.
"You all right?"

"I'm . . . yeah, I'm fine. They're going to cross-match my blood, just in case Sean needs some during surgery. They stopped his bleeding, which means the artery was just missed, thank God. They need to operate to put the bones together. They're going to have to put a few screws in it, I guess."

"They stopped the bleeding; that's a good sign," she said, reassuringly.

"I called
Lorraine
, but she's gone to
Hawaii
with some guy. Her mother is trying to locate her. Not that I want her here, but it seemed serious enough to let her know."

"Can I see him?" She rubbed Brett's arm.

"I'm done here," the nurse said cheerfully. "You both can go to him. Make an effort to touch him, hospitals can be scary things for these young ones."

Willow
moved around the white shelter. She didn't expect the dome of plastic that surrounded Sean. The nurse's comment made more sense now.

"It's to keep the risk of infection down," Brett explained. “I feel like I can't get close enough to him.”

Willow
searched out the small form beneath the covering and gadgets.
"Hi, Sean.
I don't think I'd use your father's tapes as good examples of bronco riding anymore," she teased. "There are easier ways to get out of doing chores."

"Hey, I think that was a smile," Brett said, moving in closer.

"Yes, I think it was,"
Willow
agreed. "I just saw your
brother
and he said to tell you to be tough. He has to have surgery on a tumor in his head―"

"He's what? Good God, Willow―"

"It's
all my
fault," Sean sobbed. “It was my idea to ride the bull.”

"No, it wasn't your fault at all. To be honest, Sean, you may have saved his life. They wouldn't have found that tumor until later, which might have been too late." She pulled Sean's hand into hers and rubbed it with her thumb. "He is going to be just fine and so are you," she said with as much reassurance and warmth as she could find.

"Where is this tumor?" Brett asked.

"They didn't have time to explain it all. They've already rushed him into surgery. The tumor has been causing all those headaches."
Willow
paused to get control. Sean didn't need tears right now.

"Lord!" Brett slid his arm across her shoulder. "I can't believe it. I should have been there with you."

"No, Sean needed you more. They're both going to be just fine," she said, giving him a smile. "We're all going to be just fine."

"All the boys wanted was for us to like each other and now that we do―"

"You do?" Sean asked, his voice a scratchy whisper.

"Yes, we more than do,"
Willow
confessed. "Does that make you happy?"

He nodded slightly.

"What would you think about us being a family, the four of us?" she asked, smiling when he forced open his eyes.

"For real?"
Sean asked.

"For real," Brett answered. "I've asked
Willow
to be my wife and your mom. You and Lance will be brothers, like you've always wanted."

"Brothers work," Sean mumbled before his eyes slid close.

Willow
smiled, even though she knew he couldn't see it. "You be tough and get better so you can be there for Lance. We want you well for us, too. We went through a lot of trouble to fall in love for you and Lance." Sean didn't answer, but she felt certain he heard.

"Morning, folks."
An elderly man holding a patient chart pulled back the privacy curtain. “I'm Doctor Fulburn. I've taken a special interest in Sean. He's a real inspiration with his humor and attitude. I won't mislead you by saying things aren't serious, because they are. But we've got the bleeding under control and although the break is nasty, it’s clean. I don't expect to find many bone fragments."