Lacy's End (11 page)

“It’s Lacy. She collapsed upstairs.”

Brenda dropped her fork, dashed from her seat, and raced up the stairs. She saw a group of people forming a circle and knew it had to be Lacy. She pushed her way to the center. “Excuse me,” she said.

Lacy was lying on the ground, conscious, but rolling in pain. She saw her mother and tears streamed down her face. She reached for her. “Mom,” she said.

Brenda knelt beside her. “Where does it hurt?”

“My back,” Lacy choked out. “It’s been hurting all morning.”

Brenda touched the side Lacy was clutching. She could feel the swelling through her blouse. She turned her head sideways, looking for help. “Can someone call an ambulance, please?”

Pastor Reynolds dropped down beside her. “I already did.”

Just as he said the words, a siren began to wail in the distance. The siren stopped as the ambulance pulled into the parking lot.

Pastor Reynolds jumped to his feet. “I’ll get them,” he said.

He tore out the door. Spotting the ambulance, he frantically began waving his arms, drawing their attention.

“It hurts so badly, Mom,” Lacy cried.

“Shh…sweetie, I know,” Brenda said, stroking her daughter’s hair, which was damp with sweat.

Lacy pulled her mother close. Brenda bent down as far as possible so Lacy could whisper in her ear.

“It’s where he kicked me,” she whispered.

Brenda closed her eyes against the painful words. The day she had always dreaded was finally here. Today, she wouldn’t be able to explain away Lacy’s injuries with a simple lie.

The paramedics rushed into the narthex, where Lacy had collapsed—doubled over and grasping her midsection. Brenda looked, and her eyes riveted on what she saw behind Lacy. Before her, hanging on the wall in the sanctuary, was a giant crucifix. Hanging on the crucifix, was the broken body of Jesus.
This is my body, broken for you
. The words tumbled through her memory as she recalled the familiar communion service, recited on the first Sunday of every month.

She looked down at her daughter, remembered all the times she had tried, unsuccessfully, to convince her to leave. “I will not leave you alone with him,” Lacy had said on so many occasions. She recited the words aloud. “This is my body, broken for you.”

“I’m sorry, miss—what did you say?”

Brenda stared, slack jawed. “Is she going to be all right?”

The paramedic ignored her question. “You can ride in the ambulance with us.”

Brenda nodded.

The paramedics pulled the stretcher into a standing position, pushed it down a ramp, and loaded it into the ambulance.

Brenda started to hoist herself in when she suddenly remembered Peter. She turned and looked at Pastor Reynolds. “Where did Peter go?”

“I don’t know. I’ll find him, though. You go take care of Lacy.”

He helped her climb in, shut the door behind her, waved as the ambulance screeched out of the parking lot, lights and siren running.

Lacy, blessedly, had fallen asleep—thanks to the medication the paramedics had given her.

With Lacy stabilized, there was nothing for the paramedic to do, except monitor her vitals. He looked at Brenda. “What happened?”

Brenda looked away, shamed.

“I asked what happened.”

Brenda shook her head. “She fell down the stairs.” She knew the doctors wouldn’t buy the excuse, but she wasn’t going to explain it to this young man. He didn’t pursue it.

She pulled out her cell phone and a card and began dialing. The paramedic put his hand over hers, shaking his head. “You can’t use that in here.” He nodded at the equipment. “You’ll mess with the machines.”

“Sorry.” She snapped shut the phone.

“Can I ask who you were calling?”

She handed him the card, as a tear slipped down her cheek, and onto the card.

He read it. “Is she one of Dr. Petoro’s patients?”

Brenda nodded, thinking back to the time he had given it to her. “If you ever need anything…”

The paramedic lifted a radio transmitter from its cradle, pushed some buttons, said into the speaker, “This is rescue unit 3. I have one of Dr. Petoro’s patients here. Can you call ahead and make sure he’s there? Her name is…” He trailed off, waiting for Brenda to fill in the blank.

“Lacy Waldrip.”

He gave the name and disconnected.

From the gurney, Lacy moaned.

“Can you give her some more medicine?”

“I’d rather wait. Sometimes the pain medication can mask the symptoms, making it difficult for the doctors to adequately assess the patient.”

He knelt down close to Lacy’s ear, shook her a little. “Are you with us, Lacy?” Lacy slowly nodded. “Good. We’re almost there. Can you hold on a little while longer?”

Lacy nodded and lifted her hand, reaching for something. Brenda grabbed her hand. “I’m here, baby.” She relaxed.

Brenda looked out the window. She saw the sign for the hospital and visibly relaxed. “Here we are, baby.” Lacy nodded. Tears rolled down her face. Brenda wiped them with a tissue.

The ambulance jerked to a halt, causing Brenda to lose her balance. She steadied herself and prepared to climb down. The driver threw the van in park, climbed out of the seat, opened the back doors, and began to slide the gurney out. Brenda climbed down after it.

Dr. Petoro burst through the emergency room doors. He caught site of Brenda, rushed to her side. “What happened?”

Brenda began to speak, but he cut her off, casting an angry glare at her. “I mean the truth.”

“I honestly don’t know,” she said, shouting above the clanking noise the gurney made as it rushed down the hallway. “I wasn’t there when it happened. We were at church. She was in the narthex, but I was downstairs eating. Pastor Reynolds said she just collapsed.”

The gurney bumped against the doorframe as they rounded the corner. Lacy groaned against the jarring. “Sorry,” the nurse said.

Dr. Petoro followed the gurney into an exam room. “Talk to me,” he said, addressing the paramedic.

“She’s hypertensive, complaining of severe abdominal, back, and side pain.”

Dr. Petoro started calling out orders. “I need a CBC, chem panel, UA, and an ultrasound.”

None of the terms was familiar to Brenda, who just hovered in the corner, chewing on her lip.

Dr. Petoro leaned over Lacy and smiled. “Remember me, Lacy?” Lacy nodded. “Good. Can you show me where it hurts?”

Lacy made a feeble attempt to reach for her back, with little success. Next, her fingers traveled to her side, tracing a path to her abdomen.

“Are you having trouble urinating?” Lacy nodded. “Any blood?” She nodded again.

He looked at one of the nurses. “Call for a nephrology consult, and add an MRI to the list of tests.”

The nurse nodded and left the room, a streak of green hospital garb rushing past the window.

Brenda began to cry. Dr. Petoro turned and smiled. “It’s okay, Mrs. Waldrip.” He took her arm and led her to the door. “It’s going to be a while. Why don’t you wait in the family waiting room?” He turned, motioned for another nurse. “Heidi will show you where it is.”

Brenda looked at Lacy, who had somehow managed to fall asleep. She looked at the doctor, questioning. “I’ve given her something for the pain. It’s making her sleepy.”

Brenda nodded. “All right, then.” She followed Heidi. Just as they were about to enter the waiting area, the lobby doors slid open, and Peter barged through. “Where’s my daughter!” he demanded.

Brenda sighed, raised her arm in a ‘come over here’ wave.

Peter saw her and rushed to her. “Where have they taken Lacy?”

“She’s sleeping right now. I’ve been asked to wait in here.” She entered the room, coaxing Peter after her. Heidi returned to Lacy’s room.

“What is going on?”

She repeated what little she knew, minus the part where Lacy told her about his kicking her. When she had finished, she said, “They’re running some tests now, but they warned me it will take some time. There’s nothing to do but wait.”

She sighed and collapsed into a chair. Peter stared at her a moment but didn’t move. She raised her eyebrows and patted the seat beside her. “Come on,” she said, just like a mother summoning her child.

Peter complied, settling into the seat beside her. After a moment of silence he said, “Why didn’t you come find me?”

“There wasn’t time. It seemed just as I realized what was going on, the ambulance was there, and they were loading her into their van. Didn’t Pastor Reynolds find you? I sent him to look for you.”

“He found me.”

“Where were you?”

He lowered his head. “I was setting Walter straight.”

Brenda gasped. “Oh, Peter, tell me you didn’t hit him.”

“Of course, I didn’t. What do you think I am, a tyrant?”

Brenda didn’t answer. She picked up a magazine, instead, and began thumbing through it. Peter stood abruptly and began pacing. “What the hell is taking them so long?”

“The tests take time.” She lowered the magazine. “She’s fine, Peter. Really.”

“What do you mean she’s fine? She had to be whisked away from the church in an ambulance, and you say she’s fine?”

“I mean…” she trailed off, shook her head. “I mean, they’re taking care of her.”

They fell silent again. “Do you want to go to the cafeteria?”

“No.”

“If you want to go home, I don’t mind waiting alone.”

He looked at her. “Why the hell would I do that? So everyone in town can gossip about what a lousy father I am, abandoning my daughter when she needs me?”

Brenda shook her head. “I was just offering.”

He took his seat again. He smiled. “Do you remember when Lacy was five and needed her appendix removed?”

Brenda couldn’t help but smile. It was the one time she and Peter had pulled together to offer support. It had been a touching time.

Peter said, “She kept trying to tell us she needed extra ice cream.”

Brenda laughed. “And you tried to make her see that it was a tonsillectomy that earned her the ice cream.”

“But she wasn’t taking no for an answer, and she got the doctor in on it, too.”

They laughed together for a moment, and it felt good. Brenda looked at him, wondering what had happened to him to make him such a violent man. When they were dating, he was a gentleman, except when he got near her father. Perhaps that was the problem. Perhaps if they hadn’t lived with her father, had gotten a place of their own, they might have turned out a different couple.

He reached for her hand. She let him take it. He held it for a while, stroking each finger, tracing around her wedding ring.

After what seemed like forever, the door opened, and Dr. Petoro walked in. Beside him, walked another man in a white lab jacket similar to Dr. Petoro’s. He indicated the man. “This is Dr. Beacon. He’s the nephrologist on call.”

Dr. Beacon extended his hand in greeting. Brenda readily accepted it, but Peter stood with his hands in his pocket. “What’s wrong with my daughter!” he demanded.

Dr. Beacon looked him in the eye, hostility blazing from his eyes. “It appears someone has been using her for a punching bag. Any idea whom that might be?”

The room remained silent. “Just tell me what’s wrong with her.”

“Your daughter has an arterial occlusion to the kidney, caused by severe trauma—such as a beating,” Dr. Beacon said.

Brenda admired the way he stood up to Peter. Could this be the intervention for which she had prayed? Or, would it be propulsion toward another beating when they got home?

“Speak English, please,” Peter said.

“Lacy has a blood clot, which was caused by trauma to the kidney,” Dr. Petoro said.

Brenda shifted her weight, growing uncomfortable with the accusations. She lowered her eyes to the ground, not daring to look either doctor in the face.

Peter shrugged and smirked. “So, she’s clumsy. That girl never pays attention to where she’s going,” Peter said.

Dr. Petoro held up Lacy’s file. “Last month it was the garage door. Six months before that it was the woodpile. And six months before that she needed eleven stitches on her arm because of a tire iron. Are you going to tell me the tire iron leaped from the floor and hit Lacy across the arm?” He was staring Peter down. His nostrils flared with anger.

Peter grinned. “Lacy has always been a bit of an accident-prone child, hasn’t she, Brenda?”

At the sound of her name, Brenda jumped. “I, uh…” she stammered.

Dr. Petoro stared at her, unbelieving. Even with her daughter hospitalized, she wasn’t going to stand up to him. He turned and fled the room in anger.

At the nurses’ station, he slammed Lacy’s file down. Heidi jumped as papers flew everywhere. She made a feeble attempt to catch them.

“Sorry.”

Heidi smiled sympathetically. “You’re getting personally involved. Aren’t you the one who’s always preaching detachment?”