I held still through having the thermometer in my mouth, and various things checked. A bright light aimed into my eyes hurt like a squirt of lemon juice and I grunted. Dylan said, “Sorry. I’ll try to be quick. Pupils are looking good.”
“Didn’t we do this before?” My brain was hazy, my thoughts like sticky cotton candy, but I remembered the light torture, maybe more than once.
“Honey, I hate to tell you, but we’ll be doing it all night long. At least you’re looking fine. Real stable. So the doc said I can give you a little dose of the good stuff. I’ll be back in five minutes. Let me know if you feel woozy or nauseous as the relief comes onboard.” He tucked a plastic device into my right hand. “There’s your call button.”
“Wait,” I said as he moved out of my flat-on-my-back line of sight. “What happened? What’s next?” I didn’t want to put my worries into words.
“You’ll have to ask your doctor,” Dylan said unhelpfully.
“When will he be here?”
“You mean she. Dr. Ranjan will stop by when she has a break. The painkiller should take effect soon. Try to get some rest.”
I lay flat, breathing shallowly, trying not to move so I wouldn’t stir up the hornets nesting in my right thigh or the fireworks behind my eyes. What happened? Did I fall? I had a vague impression of Kevin and a dog, and a light-haired stranger who met my eyes in a moment of shock. Pretty greenish-gray eyes, I thought, and parted lips surrounded by a short-cropped light-brown beard. Startled…Gunshot. Memory came flooding back, of the sound of a shot, running, Kevin, the dog, the damned chickens. “He shot me. He really shot me!” I could hear the shock in my own voice even as I squeezed my eyes at the volume.
“Sure did,” a familiar deep voice drawled from over by the unseen door. Footsteps approached. I blinked and then James’s face came into view, with an unfamiliar tight-jawed frown. “What were you thinking?”
“I don’t remember?” The morphine or whatever it was seemed to be hitting. My brain felt fluffy as tangled cotton wool, but the pain had backed off to something nasty instead of excruciating. Thank you, modern medicine.
“That’s fair. You’ve been through a lot in the last couple of hours.” A scraping sound and then James hauled a chair over so he could sit where I could see him.
“But they let you in?” I was teasing. Having James there was a comfort.
“Since I came back with your medical power of attorney, yeah. And a good thing too, because they insisted you couldn’t have visitors otherwise.”
“Thanks.” I was glad he was there, even though I wasn’t managing any stellar conversation. “Did the doc tell you what’s wrong with my leg?” I remembered a pulsing flow of blood and felt sick.
“Other than being shot?” James held up a big hand. “Sorry. They said you had a penetrating wound and muscle damage. Nothing broken.”
“So it’s going to heal?”
I’d tried to sound casual, but James reached across and set his hand over mine where I clutched the call button. His dark skin was a warm contrast to my pasty white. “As far as I know, you’ll heal just fine.”
I sighed and didn’t bother to ask about my head. I’d had a concussion before. The signs were familiar, and I knew what the docs would say. Give it time.
James let go of my hand and sat back. “Why don’t you get some sleep, and I’ll wake you when the doctor comes in?”
“You won’t leave?” I begged, the painkiller loosening my tongue. “I know you have Colin and Widget and now the kids to get back to, but…stay? For a bit?” James was a good friend. Although now he had a husband and so much on his plate, I shouldn’t ask for his time.
“I promise. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
I wouldn’t have expected I could drop off, but I was exhausted and trusted James to keep me safe. The woozy warmth of the drug sucked me under.
When I woke to the dual throbbing of my head and leg, some time had passed. How much, I wasn’t sure, but a middle-aged, dark-haired woman in blue scrubs was standing over me. “Mr. Bjornsson? Arthur?”
“Arthur, please.” I licked my lips and squinted my eyes against the halo of the room lights behind her.
“I’m Dr. Ranjan. I’m here to do an assessment and then talk about your ongoing care.”
James said at her shoulder, “Do you want me here, Arthur, or should I wait outside?”
“Get yourself some coffee,” I told him. “Or a snack. Thanks for staying with me.” If the doc had bad news, I didn’t want James to hear it.
He made a sound as if he wasn’t pleased, but disappeared from my limited view, and I heard the room door open and close. James was a really good guy.
“On a scale of one to ten, how’s your pain?” Dr. Ranjan asked.
I wanted to say eight, but I could imagine much worse things, like falling in boiling water or having my leg blown off, so I said, “Six.”
