The Fixer Upper (26 page)

“W
e’ve got to get her out of there,” I said, trying to shove the branches out of the way to get to the door handle. But it was no use. A thick limb rested on the side of the door. Tee grasped the limb and yanked, but it barely moved. I ran around to the passenger side of the door, but another limb had it wedged shut.

I ran back to the Mercedes for my cell phone. “I’m calling 911,” I told Tee. “We’ll never be able to move that tree with just the two of us.”

“Ask them to bring a chain saw,” Tee called.

“Nine-one-one. Do you have an emergency?”

“It’s my cousin,” I said breathlessly. “A tree fell on her car, and we can’t get her out.”

“Is she conscious?”

“No. I mean, I don’t know. We can see her inside the car, but she’s not moving. And there’s blood. And she’s elderly. Please hurry!”

“Do you know how long she’s been unconscious?”

“No! She left Guthrie around four
P.M.
, and we just found her. She’s probably been here for hours. Can you get somebody out here with a saw or something? We’ve got to get her out of that car.”

“Ma’am? What’s your location?”

I looked around for a mile marker or street sign, but in the darkness, all I could see were Tee’s headlights, trained on the wrecked Catfish. There were no street signs and no mile markers.

“We’re in the parking lot at an old restaurant called the Cozy Cabin, on the road to Pecan Springs.”

I could hear the tapping of a computer keyboard, and the 911 operator’s soft breathing.

“Got it,” she said a moment later. “Georgia 501, at Bobolink Crossing, does that sound right?”

“Don’t know,” I said. “Wait. Yeah. Georgia 501. I remember the road sign. How long? We can’t even tell if she’s breathing.”

“Hang on, hon,” the dispatcher said softly. “We’ve got units scattered all over the county. I’ll get somebody there as soon as I can.”

I flipped the phone shut and ran back over to Tee, who was now using what looked like a steak knife, hacking ineffectively at the branch wedged against the Catfish’s driver-side door. “I got 911, but they’ve got wrecks all over the place tonight,” I told him. “No telling how long it’ll be till they get here.”

“This was all I could find in Dad’s trunk,” he said apologetically, his breath forming little white puffs in the chilled air. “If we had some rope or something, we could tie it to the tree and try to drag it off the car, but the only other things in the trunk are a set of jumper cables and this.”

He held up an old-fashioned-looking white metal box with a large red cross emblazoned on the side. “I think this is left over from Dad’s Boy Scout days,” he said apologetically.

I peered through the branches, trying to catch a better view of Ella Kate. “It’ll be good to have anyway if we can get her out.”

“Is she breathing?” Tee asked, pushing at the branches.

“Can’t tell,” I said. “But one way or another, we’ve got to get her out of this damned car. She could freeze to death in this weather.”

“I’m open to suggestions,” Tee said, looking around the parking lot. My eyes went to the glass shards scattered on the asphalt.

“The back window,” I said, running around to the rear of the Catfish. “We can’t get in the front because the tree trunk’s blocking it, but if we could break out the back window—”

“The jack!” Tee cried. He pulled it out of the Mercedes’s trunk. “I completely overlooked it.”

Several smaller tree limbs partially obscured the rear window of the Crown Vic. He clambered onto the trunk. “Back away a little,” Tee said, lifting the jack over his head.

He swung the jack with a loud grunt, and landed a blow squarely in
the middle of the window. I heard the soft crunch of the safety glass. He lifted the jack and took another swing, and then another. I climbed up onto the trunk to get a better look. The glass was shattered, but clumps of it still clung to the window frame.

Tee took the end of the jack and punched in the remaining glass.

From inside the car, Shorty started barking.

Tee started to climb into the backseat. “No, let me do it,” I begged. “If I can let the driver’s seat down, maybe I can pull her backward into the backseat, and then you can pull her out.”

He nodded agreement, and held aside the tree branches so I could climb inside the Catfish.

As soon as I was inside the car, Shorty started to whine. “I’m coming, buddy,” I said softly. I reached over the headrest and felt for Ella Kate. Her hair was damp with blood, but when I touched the side of her face, and felt that it was clammy, but not completely cold, I could have wept with relief.

“I think maybe she’s in shock,” I called to Tee. I swung a leg over the seat and awkwardly climbed into the front.

Ella Kate’s face was ashen and streaked with blood. I touched a patch of withered skin under her jaw, and could feel her thready pulse. I grabbed one of her arms, stick thin beneath the thin cotton of her housedress, and rubbed vigorously.

Shorty whined again. I picked him up and cradled him in my arms. “Okay, guy,” I crooned. “We got ya. You’re okay. You’re goin’ home.” Tee reached through the open back window, and I handed the quivering dog over to him.

“I’m gonna put him in the Mercedes, and start the engine to try to keep him warm,” Tee called. “Be right back.”

As gently as I could, I laid Ella Kate down across the front seat, and then, straddling her, began working the lever to lower her seat back. When the driver’s-seat back was nearly prone, I put her back into position in the seat, and climbed into the backseat.

“Got her?” I asked, as Tee, kneeling outside the open window, reached in with both arms.

“Yup,” he said. I pushed, and Tee pulled, and within seconds, we’d worked Ella Kate out through the back window of the Crown Victoria.

He picked her up like a rag doll, and carried her to the Mercedes, laying her across the backseat. As I jumped down from the trunk of the Catfish, I had an idea. I crawled back inside the car and grabbed the keys from the ignition.

Once I was outside again, I managed to pry the trunk lid open a few inches, and feel around inside, grabbing a rough hunk of fabric.

“Here,” I said, running over to Tee’s side. “One of Uncle Norbert’s army blankets.”

We tucked it around Ella Kate’s unmoving body. “What now?” he asked. “Do you want to wait for the EMTs, or go ahead and get her to a hospital?”

“Hospital,” I said grimly. “The dispatcher couldn’t tell me how soon an ambulance could get here.”

While Tee drove, I opened the first-aid kit and found some yellowed cotton balls and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. I dabbed the alcohol-soaked cotton on a nasty scrape on Ella Kate’s cheek. She moaned softly.

“Ella Kate,” I said, rubbing her hands between mine. “It’s Dempsey. We found you. We’re on the way to the hospital. Shorty’s here. He’s okay. You’re gonna be okay too.”

She was very cold and very still. But she was alive.

I called the 911 dispatcher while Tee drove, and she gave us directions to the nearest emergency room at the Medical Center of Central Georgia.

“How’s she doing?” Tee called over his shoulder.

“She’s breathing,” I reported. “And maybe I’m imagining things, but I think I’m seeing a little color coming back to her face.”

“Can you see any injuries?” he asked.

“Just the cut to her face,” I said, “but God knows, I’m no doctor. How’s Shorty doing?”

Tee reached out and patted the dog’s head. “I think he’s flat worn out,” he said. “But he’s breathing too, so I’m just gonna think positive thoughts and assume everybody is okay.”

Fifteen minutes later, we saw the lights of the hospital’s emergency room entrance. Tee pulled up to the ambulance ramp, a pair of wide double doors opened, and two orderlies rushed out with a gurney. Shorty gave a half-hearted warning bark when he saw his mistress being unloaded by strangers, but Tee quickly picked him up and held him close to his chest.

“Can you stay with Shorty while I go back with Ella Kate?” I asked.

He nodded agreement. “I saw a McDonald’s as we were driving up. Maybe I’ll go get us a couple of cheeseburgers.”

Shorty whimpered softly. “I wouldn’t give him much,” I warned. “He has just had stomach surgery. Maybe just a piece of bun or something.”

“Can I bring you something? It’s been a hell of a long night.”

I shook my head no.

“Call me on my cell as soon as they give you a report on her, will you?” Tee asked. “I’ve got to give Dad an update. He’s kinda fond of the old buzzard.”

I promised I would, and he leaned in and gave me a quick kiss that seemed as natural as the hug that followed.

The next couple of hours were a blur. I gave the admissions clerk what little vital statistics I had on Ella Kate, along with the Medicare card I’d found in her pocketbook. I found a seat in a waiting room crowded with patients and families whose lives had been impacted by the storm. There was a cartoon show on the television, and lukewarm coffee from a machine. At some point, a young Pakistani woman in surgical scrubs came out to the emergency room waiting area to fill me in on Ella Kate’s condition.

“Ms. Timmons—is she your mother?” Dr. Bhiwandi asked, sitting down in the empty chair next to mine.

“God forbid,” I said with a laugh. “She’s sort of a cousin, I’ve been told.”

“But you are her next of kin, correct?”

It took a moment for me to absorb the idea, but I nodded, in a half-hearted way.

“Well, whatever relation you are to her, she is very fortunate that you went looking for her,” Dr. Bhiwandi said briskly. “I think she’s slightly
concussed. She fell on the ice. She has contusions on her arms and backside, and she has a hairline fracture to her right hip.”

“It’s not broken?” I said anxiously.

“No,” Dr. Bhiwandi said. “She’s in some pain, and we’ve given her medicine for that. And she’s somewhat dehydrated, so we’re giving her IV fluids, as well as antibiotics because of the cuts and scrapes. Other than that, your cousin seems surprisingly intact, and lucid, given her age and the circumstances of her rescue.”

“Rescue? I wouldn’t say it was really a rescue. She was missing, and my friend and I went looking for her, that’s all. She’s not really supposed to be driving. The sheriff took away her driver’s license earlier this year.”

“Ms. Timmons is seventy-nine,” Dr. Bhiwandi said. “Or so she told me before she drifted off to sleep again. Believe me, at her age, and with her illness, she would not have survived for long in this cold if you and your friend had not found her. So I would call it a rescue, definitely. And what about her husband? How did he fare in this accident? She seemed quite concerned about him. Was he brought in here tonight too?”

“Oh, Ella Kate’s not married,” I said.

She frowned. “Shorty? That’s who she was worried about. A friend, perhaps?”

“Cocker spaniel,” I said. “I guess you’d say Shorty is her best friend. He was in the car with her. I think he’s all right. If Ella Kate wakes up again, you can tell her Shorty’s just fine.”

“You can tell her yourself,” Dr. Bhiwandi responded. She stood up and yawned. “Forgive me. It’s been a very long night. We’re waiting for a room to open up, and as soon as that happens, and she’s had some sleep, you can have a nice visit with your cousin. I know she’ll be anxious to see you.”

“Well, maybe,” I said, biting my lip at the memory of our last, angry exchange.

A high-pitched beep came from the pager on Dr. Bhiwandi’s hip. She unclipped the pager, looked at its screen, and sighed. “I’m sorry. I seem to have a small crisis with another patient.” She shook my hand, and
turned and walked quickly back toward the treatment area. I was about to call Tee, to give him an update, but something the doctor had said struck me.

“Dr. Bhiwandi?” I called, rushing toward the treatment room door. She stopped and turned around.

“Yes?”

“You said something about Ella Kate’s illness? What illness is that?”

She raised an eyebrow, and her smooth, placid face was suddenly full of furrows.

“The breast cancer, of course.”

The door opened, and a nurse popped her head out. “Dr. Bhiwandi?”

“Sorry,” the doctor told the nurse. “Sorry,” she told me. And then she was gone.

I
walked slowly back to the chair where I’d been sitting. A sullen-looking teenage girl was sitting there, holding a bloody towel to her right cheek. An infant slept in a baby carrier at her feet. The girl glowered up at me and I beat a hasty retreat.

Every seat in the emergency room waiting area was taken. Toddlers were whining, babies were crying, adults moaned and coughed and stared blankly at the droning television.

I found a vacant piece of wall and collapsed against it. My cell phone rang. It was Tee.

“Hey,” he said. “I thought you were going to give me an update on Ella Kate.”

“Sorry,” I said. “Where are you?”

The outer door opened and Tee walked in. “Right here,” he said.

I closed the phone and put it back in my pocket.

“She’s all right,” I said. “The doctor just now came out to talk to me. She’s got a slight concussion, a hairline fracture to her right hip, and some bruises on her arms and butt. She apparently fell on the ice. They’re giving her IV fluids, pain meds, and antibiotics, and they’ll admit her as soon as a bed is freed up.”

“Thank God,” Tee said, leaning up against the wall beside me. His hand glanced mine, and I pulled away.

“Tee. Ella Kate has breast cancer.”

“What? Since when?”

“I don’t know. The doctor just sort of casually mentioned it. I guess she assumed I already knew about it.”

“You didn’t.”

“She never said a word about cancer to me. I mean, I took her to the
drugstore, to pick up some prescriptions, but I just assumed they were for high blood pressure or something. I had no idea—”

Suddenly, my legs felt rubbery and my head was fuzzy. I sank down to the floor, pulling my knees up to my chest and resting my forehead on my knees.

Tee dropped down beside me. “Hey,” he said, touching my shoulder. “Are you okay? Do I need to get a nurse or somebody?”

“I’m okay,” I said. “Just…numb. It’s a lot to take in.” I looked up at him. “How about you? Did you eat something? Where’s Shorty?”

“We split a Big Mac,” Tee said. “I ate most of it though. I walked him in the parking lot for a little bit. He’s obviously pooped. I left him sleeping on the backseat of Dad’s car.”

“Did you talk to your dad?”

Tee nodded. “He was relieved to hear from me. I told him I’d call again in the morning, once we know more. He’s gonna call a tow truck to pick up what’s left of the Catfish.”

I groaned. “It’s probably totaled, huh?”

“DOA,” he said cheerfully. “How about you? Want to get out of here? I got us a room for the night. There’s a Comfort Inn right down the street. We can sneak Shorty in.”

“Tee—” I started.

He cut me off at the pass. “There’s no sense in trying to drive back to Guthrie tonight. The roads are still all messed up, and I figured you’d want to check on Ella Kate in the morning. No arguments, okay? The room’s a double. You can have your own bed, and Shorty can bunk with me. Just us boys.”

“All right.” I struggled to my feet. He gave me a hand up. He was like that. Solid. “How come you’re so nice to a bitch like me?” I asked.

He gave me a lopsided grin. “I’m a sucker for a pretty face.”

I stripped down to my long johns and crawled into the bed. When I woke up in the morning, Tee was just coming into the room, with a wriggling bundle wrapped in Uncle Norbert’s army blanket under his arm, a Styrofoam coffee cup in hand.

He put Shorty down on the floor, and the dog sat down on his haunches and solemnly surveyed the room. After a moment, he trotted over to my bed and put his paws on the edge of the mattress. I reached down and hauled him up and onto the bed. I reached over and scratched his ears. He sniffed my hand tentatively, then lay down on top of the covers.

“I guess this means we’re friends,” I told Tee. “I think this is the first time he’s ever given me the time of day.”

“Who, Shorty? He’s not such a bad little mutt,” Tee said, handing me the coffee. “At least he’s housebroken. He got up at the dot of seven and started scratching at the door. We went outside, he did his thing, and then we went for coffee. We decided to let you sleep while you could.”

I sat up in bed and pried the lid off the coffee. “Thank God,” I said, taking a sip of the steaming brew. I looked up at him in surprise. “Not bad.”

“We’re in Macon, Dempsey,” he said, sitting down on the bed opposite mine. “They’ve got Starbucks and running water and everything.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I said, taking another sip. “How’s the weather?”

“Not a cloud in the sky,” Tee said. “The sun’s shining, most of the ice is gone. It’s as if the storm didn’t even happen.”

“It happened,” I said, making a face and holding up my hand, which had started to throb. Angry red streaks emanated from the jagged cut on the palm.

“You might need stitches,” Tee said. “Maybe you should let the ER docs look at it when we check on Ella Kate.”

I yawned and stretched and swung my feet out of the bed. “I just want a shower,” I said, heading for the bathroom.

I noticed with gratitude that Tee was an exceptional bathroom sharer. The toilet seat was down. The sink had been wiped clean. His damp towel was folded and hung on the rod on the back of the door, and he’d left me clean towels, and more important, a toothbrush, on the bathroom counter.

Tee was lounging on his bed, watching SportsCenter on the television,
when I came out of the bathroom, reasonably clean, although dressed in the previous day’s clothes.

I sat down on the edge of his bed. “How come you’re so perfect?” I asked, eyeing him suspiciously. “I treat you like crap. And then you help rescue my extremely unpleasant cousin, take care of her dog, rent us a room for the night, bring me coffee in the morning, and even get me a toothbrush and toothpaste? All of this without trying to jump my bones? Are you for real?”

His eyes never left the television. An announcer in a bad plaid jacket was doing an in-depth analysis of the Atlanta Braves pitching staff.

“What?” he said absentmindedly.

I picked up the remote and clicked the television off. “Okay, so you’re not perfect. You keep on watching television when somebody’s talking to you. Did you even hear anything I just said?”

He took the remote away from me and switched the television on again. “Damn,” he said. “Smoltzie’s gone. We got no relievers, and nobody who can go the distance. And don’t even get me started on the infield. We’re toast. I don’t know what the front office is thinking. We never should have let Andruw Jones go. He had a slump, but lots of guys have slumps.”

“Tee?” I said, waving my hand in front of his eyes. “Anybody home? I’m trying to have a serious conversation here?”

He gave a deep, martyred sigh, and turned down the volume, although he did not turn the television off.

“I am a far from perfect man,” he said finally, his eyes meeting mine. “My faults are legion. According to some women in my past, I have an unfortunate tendency to hog the covers. I’m absentminded. I might not remember your birthday until the day before, if I’m in the middle of a big case or work gets crazy, and I lose things, I mean, things like keys, cell phones, and sunglasses. I lost a car once, in the parking lot at Lenox Square Mall, at Christmas. I don’t like big loud parties, because I suck at small talk and I can’t remember people’s names. I crack my knuckles when I’m bored. I fall asleep in movie theaters, unless it’s a James Bond movie. I won’t eat raw oysters. They are an abomination against man, so don’t even try to get me to try them. I feel the same way about lima
beans and sushi. But I’m loyal to a fault. And I really, really care about you, Dempsey. I keep thinking you’re gonna wake up one morning, and realize that you care about me too, and you’ll quit treating me like crap.”

I bit my lip.

He rolled his eyes and turned up the volume again. “Don’t start crying on me again, okay?” Tee said. “I’m no good with criers.”

I laid my forehead on his shoulder. He’d somehow managed to find himself a clean shirt. “I’ll try not to be a crier,” I said, in a tiny voice. “And Tee? I hate sushi too. And I really, really do care about you. Really.”

“Good.” He gave my shoulder an awkward pat. “Anyway,” he said. “I kinda like the dog.”

Ella Kate was sitting up in the hospital bed, spooning red Jell-O into her mouth at an alarming rate. Her iron gray hair was matted to her head, and she had a piece of gauze adhesive-taped to the cut on the side of her face, and an IV needle attached to her arm, which was blooming with ugly purplish-black bruises. Her other arm had a matching set of bruises.

I stood in the open doorway and knocked tentatively. “Ella Kate? Do you feel like company?”

She pursed her colorless lips. “I feel like going home is what I feel like. Where’s Shorty? They told me Shorty was with you.”

I could tell she was feeling like herself, all right.

“Shorty’s fine,” I told her. “He’s out in the car, with Tee. They won’t let dogs in the hospital or I would have brought him to see you.”

“Huh,” she grunted, dropping her spoon into the empty plastic dish and pushing it to the back of her tray. “I reckon you come to get me then. If you’d a come an hour ago, I could have saved payin’ another day for this room. Now they’re gonna charge me who knows what, and I don’t even get to eat a free dinner.” She fumbled around among the bedcovers. “Where’s the buzzer? Let’s get that nurse lady in here and get this durned IV contraption unhooked so I can get on home.”

I took a deep breath. “Actually, I spoke with the doctor before I came in. They want to keep you here for another day or so. Did they explain that you have a hairline fracture in your hip?”

“Somebody said something about a fracture,” Ella Kate said. “But I say, if it ain’t broke, ain’t no sense in me staying around here layin’ in the bed. I can do that at home, just fine, for free.”

“It’s not just the fracture,” I said. “You’re dehydrated, and that’s why they’re giving you fluids. They’re also giving you antibiotics because of the cut on your face, and they just want to keep you under observation for a little while longer.”

“Observation!” she said, slapping the sheets disgustedly. “That’s a fancy way of sayin’ they want to get their hand in my pocketbook and keep it there till I’m bled broke.”

“I think Medicare probably covers your hospitalization,” I said gently.

“Like fun,” she said, staring up at the ceiling. “What else did that doctor tell you? What’s her name again? Some funny kinda foreign name I never heard of before.”

“Her name is Dr. Bhiwandi,” I said. “She’s very nice. Smart too. One of the nurses told me she has degrees from Duke and Emory Medical School.”

Ella Kate snorted. “Emory! What’s wrong with the University of Georgia? Does she think she’s too good to be a bulldog? I wouldn’t give you a dime for a doctor didn’t go to the University of Georgia.”

“Well, no. I mean, I don’t know,” I stammered. I’d been with Ella Kate for less than five minutes and she’d already worn me down to a frazzle.

Ella Kate crossed her arms over her chest. “I need to get me an American doctor.”

“Ella Kate!” I said. “That’s not fair. I’m sure Dr. Bhiwandi is an American citizen. She speaks perfect English. Much better than mine.”

“Norbert had a doctor that was a foreigner,” Ella Kate said darkly. “And you know what happened to him.”

“What?”

“He died, didn’t he?” She nodded her head, satisfied that she’d uncovered a grand medical conspiracy.

“But…I thought Norbert was almost a hundred years old when he died,” I protested. “And didn’t he have a heart attack?”

“He was only ninety-seven!” Ella Kate said fiercely. “Had a mind as sharp as a tack.”

But not as sharp as your tongue, I thought to myself.

I sat down, uninvited, in the chair beside her hospital bed. “Listen, Ella Kate,” I said. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

She clasped and unclasped her hands. “I’m sorry about the car,” she mumbled. “I know’d better, but I took it anyway, got myself lost like the old fool I am, and nearly killed Shorty.” She laid her head back on the pillow, and swallowed several times. “I reckon the car’s wrecked pretty bad, ain’t it?”

“I’m not worried about the Catfish,” I told her. “We can get another car. It’s you I’m worried about.”

“I thought that foreigner doctor told you I was gonna be fine.”

“She did. She also told me you have breast cancer.”

Ella Kate stared up at the ceiling. “That ain’t no concern of yours. And it wadn’t any of her bidness tellin’ you my bidness.” With obvious effort, she grunted and turned on her side, leaving me facing her back.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be moving around like that,” I offered.

“Go away,” she said, her voice muffled.

Lord knows, I wanted to go. I wanted to run down the hall and get far, far away from this hateful old hag. But I stayed anyway.

“How long have you known about the cancer?” I asked.

“Awhile.”

“What are you doing about it?”

“Prayin’.”

“Is it…I mean, have you had surgery? Or anything?”

There was a long silence in the room. I thought I heard her sniff. Her back shuddered a little.

“They done give me a mastectomy already,” she said, her voice quavery. “That was a long time ago. Last year, the cancer come back, on my left side. I seen a doctor in Atlanta about it. Wadn’t no need to spread the news around town.”

She rolled herself back so that she was facing me now. The IV tube was tangled around her shoulders. I stood and carefully lifted the tubing free of her body. Her bones beneath my fingertips felt as fine and as brittle as twigs.

“I seen me a good, American doctor who went to the University of Georgia. This boy’s neighbor’s nephew is the vet that takes care of UGA. You know UGA? He’s the bulldog mascot. Lives down in Savannah. Those bulldogs, they’re all pure white English bulldogs. Same family’s been raising them all these years. Norbert cried like a baby when UGA number six died. You know they bury all them dogs right up there at the stadium in Athens.”

“I didn’t know that,” I said truthfully.

“I seen all about it on WSB,” Ella Kate said. “This doctor in Atlanta, he was all set to cut on me, but then I told him no. I beat cancer one time. I was younger then. But I’m seventy-nine years old now. If the Lord wants to take me, I reckon I’m ready to go.”