Somewhere In-Between (28 page)

She starts climbing, following the path of the Jeep's descent, grabbing at roots and branches, anything to help pull herself up. At the sound of another vehicle on the road above, this time coming from the direction of town, she scrambles faster, frustrated as it too passes by. But then, instead of fading off into the distance, the motor slows, idles and then with a roar backs up to stop on the highway directly above. As car doors open and close above, Julie screams out, “Help. We're down here.”

She hollers it out over and over, even after the three faces appear on the edge of the bank, their dark eyes looking down to meet hers.

Hah! I always knew there must be a reason for keeping that ugly red sweater. Mom bought one for each of us as a joke, the Christmas that I was fourteen. She thought the tacky sweaters were funny. I even wore mine that Christmas Eve.

None of the other drivers heading in to town saw it hanging from the tree below the highway like a red flag. But the ladies in the blue van, on their way home to NaNeetza Valley, noticed right away that something was out of order in the landscape when they passed by. Thank heaven, the women stopped and went back to investigate. And no, don't go getting the wrong impression. I had absolutely nothing to do with this. I'm not sure that even when I was alive I could have come up with an idea so bizarre.

Now, while one of the women stays above to keep watch up on the road, the other two make their way down the hill with a shovel that Mom had asked for. I wonder if she wasn't so concerned with the accident, with getting Dad safely out of this predicament, if she wasn't in a bit of a state of shock herself, running on adrenalin, would she recognize her rescuers? Would she remember them from the summer Levi invited us all out to the local rodeo on the NaNeetza Reserve?

Would she recall how we had come upon these same three ladies working behind the concession stand counter, chatting and laughing in the way that good friends do when there's no one else around? Or how the laughter ceased the instant they realized that they were not alone, and then their polite, guarded acknowledgements as Levi introduced us to them?

And I wonder, after they get Dad back up to the highway, will Mom recognize the third woman waiting there? Will she see in her wide handsome face, the older version of the woman in the photograph at Virgil's cabin? The photograph of Levi as a baby on his mother's hip.

Without questions or directions, as if they are called to do this every day, once the two women reach Dad, they make fast work of digging under his trapped leg and sliding him out from under the Jeep.

Mom crouches down and gently lifts his corduroy pants cuff. He winces as she pushes it back. She abandons the effort but not before getting a peek at where bone has punctured skin on the front of his calf. The two women are already in action. Pulling a small hand-axe from the leather scabbard on her belt, the tallest one strides toward a stand of aspen trees. Her friend moves along the hillside, searching through the strewn debris. After they return, Mom holds Dad's leg straight while the women, using thick branches, stripped clean and shaped by the axe, expertly splint his calf from the knee to the ankle. His leg is wrapped up and bound securely before Mom can register that the pink material they used to cushion the make-shift splint is my favourite old terry-cloth bathrobe. Right on!

Getting him up that steep hill is another matter. Even from my point of view it seems it will take divine intervention. But don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that it doesn't exist, I just don't know how to call on it. But those two women, hah, they don't need to call on anything. Without hesitating, they hoist Dad up onto his good leg, his splinted leg hanging free, and throw his arms around their broad shoulders and then start climbing. Unlike Mom, who came straight down the hill, and then tried to climb back up the same way, they traverse the hillside, winding their way up as if there is a hidden path beneath their feet. Mom scrambles behind, keeping an eye on the injured leg, mouthing unnecessary warnings of ‘careful, careful,' unaware that she's doing it.

Back up on the highway, a logging truck, with a full load of timber, flagged down by Levi's mother, stops on the opposite side of the road. The driver climbs down and rushes over to the edge of the bank, arriving just as the women, with Dad slung between them, struggle over the top.

“Jeeze,” he says at the sight of them. “I'll go radio for an ambulance.”

“Comes too slow,” the tall woman says, carrying my father toward the van.

Levi's mother glances from my father's ashen face, to my mother, and I can tell right away that she recognizes them. The man and woman who had condemned her son, who had judged him without hearing him. The knowing flickers through her eyes, then disappears leaving her with an expression of nothing more than the steely resolve to do what needs to be done in the moment. She slides open the van door. Climbing inside, she folds down the rear seat, then in one quick motion unrolls a foam pad onto the van floor. She helps to ease Dad inside, then spreads a blanket and sleeping bag gently over his prone body. He's too out of it with pain to recognize her, and Mom, climbing in beside him, is too out of it with worry. Without a word, Levi's mother slides the door closed, climbs into the driver's seat and turns the van toward town. I wonder if she would be so generous if she was aware of what her son is up to right now.

Out in the forest at NaNeetza Valley, Levi is secretly building a sweat lodge. He knows that Old Alphonse won't let him do another sweat again so soon, so he's going to do it by himself. Virgil Blue is unaware of his young cousin's plan or he would put a stop to it. But Levi is convinced that he almost reached me in the spirit world last time and he intends to try again. Alone. Dangerous stuff. If I knew how to intervene I would. Now it looks like the only one who can save Levi Johnny from himself, is Mom. But she is too wrapped up in her own drama.

“Interesting,” the doctor muses holding the X-rays to the light. “Compound fractures can be problematic,” he says studying first one then the other. Satisfied he lowers them and addresses Ian lying on the ER gurney. “You can thank whoever's responsible for that strange-looking splint for keeping the damage minimal.”

Julie would like to do just that, thank the women who not only rescued them, but also delivered them to the hospital hours ago. But after arriving, in the confusion of the ER attendants removing Ian from the van, loading him onto a stretcher, and rushing him through the automatic doors, she had not thought to. Only as the doors where sliding closed behind her did she turn back. But the van and the three Good Samaritans were gone.

Now sitting in the green-curtained cubical, she listens to the doctor explain that they will be taking Ian up to the operating room shortly for surgery to realign the tibia bone. “Then we'll just keep you in overnight, watch for any swelling beneath the cast,” he says. Switching his gaze from Ian to Julie, he adds, “But my guess is by tomorrow he'll be good to go.”

“Well, that's a relief,” Julie says in the void left by the doctor's sudden exit.

“For who?” Ian mutters.

Startled by the curt response, she turns quickly to look at him lying flat on his back, his eyes closed. It must be the shot they gave him for the pain, she thinks and lets his comment go. The fluorescent light above his head casts a ghostly parlour on his already grey skin. She reaches up and switches it off. Before long his breathing becomes even and she settles back in the uncomfortable chair by his bedside.

The heavy antiseptic hospital smells unsettle her stomach while she waits for someone to come and take Ian up to the OR. As soon as they do, she'll go outside to get some fresh air.

Time can't possibly go any slower than it does for a healthy person waiting in a hospital, she thinks. In the hushed environment, every sound seems amplified, the moans or whispers from the other cubicles, the hum of machines, the squeak of nurses' rubber-soled shoes on linoleum, the minutes ticking by on the huge overhead clock, which she can see through the opening in the curtain.

And then just as she is contemplating the relative peacefulness of this ‘live' Emergency Room compared to that of the constant bedlam of television dramas, a sudden eruption of pandemonium bursts through the sliding glass door. Julie stiffens at the frantic sounds of running feet, and the panicked voices of people rushing into the cubical on the other side of the curtain behind her. Something bumps up against Julie's chair and she quickly slides it away. She doesn't want to eavesdrop, yet there is no way to avoid hearing the heart-wrenching emergency—a child not breathing, French fries blocking her airway—playing out a few feet from where she sits.

How old is she?

Two years, two years... please...

How long has it been since she stopped breathing.

I don't know, I don't know. I just looked down and she was blue.

Julie can feel the panic of the unseen mother as the story unfolds, the practised calm in the voices of the doctors and nurses firing questions as they work to clear the child's airway.
How many did she eat? How long ago?

Then the father's accusing words,
She's just a baby. How could you have fed her fries?

I didn't! I didn't. They were mine, I just turned around, I just... the bag, she had the bag!

It seems an eternity of confusion before Julie hears a weak cry.
Oh god, oh thank god,
her thoughts echo the mother's weeping words.

Only as the air escapes from her own lungs, does Julie realize that she has been holding her breath. Beside her Ian stirs, and she turns to find the same relief reflected in his eyes. Some things don't have to be said out loud. A broken leg is nothing.

Exhausted, Julie drops the motel key and the Subway sandwich onto the night table, and then sinks down onto the edge of the bed. This morning seems so long ago.

After Ian's surgery this afternoon, she'd dealt with the police, the auto wreckers, and started the insurance claim, before it occurred to her that she hadn't eaten today. She doesn't even feel like it now, but knows she has to get something into her stomach. All she really wants to do is crawl into the motel bed and sleep. But there are still things to be taken care of.

Unwrapping the sandwich, she forces herself to take a bite then sets it back on the nightstand. While she chews she takes out her wallet and searches until she finds the piece of paper she is looking for.

Picking up the bedside phone she keys in the number. She is about to give up on the seventh ring. “Yeah?” a muffled voice demands.

“Terri? It's Julie O'Dale.”

“Julie!” Terri swallows something, and then continues.” Sorry to sound so short, but so many of the phone calls I get these days at supper time are telemarketers.”

“Oh, are you eating? I can call back.”

“No! No, of course not. I heard about your accident. How are you, Gal?”

“My God! You've heard already?”

“The ‘Bush Telegraph,'” Terri chuckles. “Used to take a few days for gossip to make the rounds out here, but now with the Internet, it's hours. Heard Ian broke his leg. How's he doing?”

“Good, he's good. Thanks. He'll be staying in the hospital overnight, but he's okay. The Jeep's a write-off, though. It looks like it could take a day or two to straighten things out here with the insurance, buy another vehicle.”

“I can just imagine.”

Julie hesitates. “That's why I'm calling,” she continues. “Pup is out there alone. And well, I hate to admit it, but I have no idea how to get a hold of Virgil. I don't even know if he has a telephone.”

“Oh that man,” Terri sighs with exasperation. “Yeah, he's got a satellite phone all right, but he never turns the damn thing on. Anyway Girl, don't worry. You're covered. Soon's I heard the news, I went over to your place to tell Virgil. He already knew though. Seems his cousin, Marilyn Johnny, was one of the gals from NaNeetza Valley who helped you out.”

Virgil's cousin? Julie searches her fragmented memory for the faces of the women. But all she recalls of the silent drive into town is the back of three heads in the front of the van, each with a thick braid of raven hair hanging between squared shoulders. She hadn't been oblivious to the fact that they were First Nations, but one of them was Levi's mother? How could she have missed that?

The next day, when Julie arrives at the hospital to pick Ian up in the ‘loaner' Jeep, which they will use until their new one arrives, the afternoon sky is a clear, crisp winter blue. Her breath forms white vapour puffs as she walks the short distance from the ‘patient pick up' area to the front doors.

Up in his room on the second floor, Ian is waiting slumped and round-shouldered in a wheelchair, his leg encased in a cast from below his knee, down to his ankle. As she pushes him to the elevator, he is silent and morose, and, in Julie's eyes, looking as if this broken leg has turned him into an old man. Perhaps it's because, before they left, the doctor had advised them that Ian will be in a cast for at least two months, and that for the next while, he'll need to come in once a week to check on how the bone is healing.

It will be five days before their new vehicle arrives, so there's no reason for them not to return home today.

Downstairs in the hospital lobby, Julie pushes Ian's wheelchair toward the entry doors. Without warning he locks the brakes, causing the chair and Julie to come to a sudden stop. “I can walk from here,” he says, pushing himself up.

Julie has learned that arguing with Ian when he is in such a determined state is useless, so she hands him his crutches. Once he is up and balanced between them he swings his lanky body with surprising agility, out the door and across the sidewalk, reaching the curb before Julie can catch up to him. When she does, she directs him to their waiting vehicle, unlocks the door and slides back the passenger seat as far as it will go. Ian shrugs her away as she tries to help him climb inside. But after he backs himself onto the seat, he allows her to lift his cast and gently guide it onto the foam squares she has placed on the floor.