Wish Me Tomorrow

“John. Blink if you can hear me,” Christie was saying when they returned. “Good. Now, can you squeeze my hand? No. Okay. Don’t worry. We’ll get you fixed up, good as new.” She looked relieved at Anne’s appearance.

“Anne, call 911. Tell them we have an ependymoma patient who’s had an arrhythmia-induced stroke that’s affected the left half of his body and speech. He’s conscious but in atrial fibrillation.”

Anne rushed off, phone already in hand. She stopped at Christie’s next words.

“Where is the center’s AED Unit?”

After spending hours in medical clinics, Eli knew these were machines that used electricity to jump-start failing hearts.

Anne whirled, her face ashen.

“It’s down the hall near the gym.” Her voice was a notch above a whisper. She turned back to her call for the EMTs and hurried out of the room.

“Mr. Roberts,” she began, but he cut her off.

“Got it.” Eli bolted for the door. After scouting the hall, he spotted a couple of guys leaving what looked like the gym and raced that way. In a locked cabinet marked AED he saw a gray plastic box. But where was the key?

“Hey,” Anne called from down the hall, the phone pressed to her ear. She threw a set of keys to him. His hands shook as he tried three before finding the right one.

Back in the meeting room, he passed the AED to Christie. She thanked him with a faint smile before turning her attention back to his friend. Who was this capable, take-charge woman?

“Would you lift him to the floor?”

Eli scooped John from the chair and laid him down, sliding his jacket beneath his friend’s head. Christie pulled up John’s shirt and pressed two adhesive pads to his chest while the rest of the support group sat in a worried huddle. An automatic voice rang out that it was assessing the patient. Eli’s heartbeat thundered in his ears.

After a moment, the voice warned all to stand clear; a shock was advised. Christie pressed an orange button and stepped back, her eyes meeting Eli’s. Her calm expression slowed his racing pulse. Clearly, she knew what she was doing.

A jolt shuddered through John and his lids fluttered open. “Wharrrr—” he slurred.

She smoothed John’s glistening forehead then pressed her fingers to the base of his throat. Behind them, seats shifted and creaked as the group strained to see what was happening.

“Is he going to be okay?” someone whispered.

“John, stay with me. The ambulance will be here any minute,” she said, but John’s eyes closed once more.

“No!” Eli burst out. This was not happening.

She took her fingers off John’s neck. “No pulse. Starting chest compressions,” she announced to no one in particular. “The AED needs two minutes to recharge.”

He scrambled over to John’s other side and grabbed his friend’s limp hand. Hang on, buddy, he pleaded silently. You can do this.

Christie began rhythmically pressing John’s chest. “Is he breathing?”

Eli gawked at her. If John wasn’t breathing, that meant he was—

“Put your ear next to his mouth.”

He bent toward John and felt a faint rush of air against his cheek. “Yes. Still breathing.”

Thank you, God.

She checked his pulse again. “Still no pulse.”

The whimpering behind them gave way to all-out crying as she resumed her chest compressions with cool precision. A minute later, the AED announced its readiness. She hit the button and they moved away before it zapped John again.

Eli and Christie exchanged a worried look. She probably felt as scared as he did, but she hadn’t panicked under pressure. She was a competent professional and he’d made all the wrong assumptions about this strong woman.

After the unit completed its round of electricity, Christie felt for John’s pulse. His breath caught when her eyes squeezed shut, a tear slipping through her lashes. He rubbed a hand across his eyes. No. No way. Not now, John.

“Pulse is faint, but it’s steady,” she whispered and opened moist eyes. Suddenly, she rocked back on her heels. Without thinking twice, he ducked over to her side and slid an arm around her waist for support.

She’d saved John’s life.

Christie blinked up at him but made no move away from his touch. “Thank you,” she said, a blue vein standing out on her pale forehead. “I’m not usually so...” Her voice trailed off as she looked over at John again.

She really was something—unflappable when it counted most, when he could hardly see straight. Eli’s fingers tightened around her slender waist.

“Coming through,” hollered one of the two men pushing a stretcher. She gave herself a small shake then took off the AED unit before he helped them lift John onto the lowered gurney. While they checked vitals, Christie summarized what had taken place.

“Good work.” An EMT nodded to her before tucking a chart under his arm. “Who’s coming with John?”

“Me,” Eli and Christie said.

“Only one rider, up front with the driver. Decide fast and meet us outside in thirty seconds.”

Eli’s shoulders drooped. Without a babysitter he’d have to renege on the vow he’d made John to stay with him, see him through whatever happened. But asking Mary to stay was out of the question. She deserved this special night with her husband.

“I guess it’s you.” He folded John’s wheelchair and picked up his coat. “I promised John I’d be there if the end came, but I don’t have child care.”

She studied him for a moment then surprised him. “Obviously you and John are close. If you feel comfortable with it, you could give me your address and I’ll watch Tommy and Becca.”

“You would do that?”

She nodded. “But I’d want an update every half hour. Deal?”

The children had met her twice. And he’d seen her in action. They couldn’t be in safer hands. Besides, Mary would give Christie the third degree before she’d even let her into the apartment. Mary would make it work. “Thank you. It means more than you know.”

When he rattled off the address, she pressed something furry into his hand and closed his fingers around it. “Trust me. I know how important it is to be there for your friend. And that’s for good luck.”

He called Mary from the ambulance then unfurled his other hand to reveal a rabbit’s foot. Seriously? He tucked it into his pocket, wondering how someone who dealt with loss all the time could believe in something like that.

“Lucky for this guy a nurse was there. She saved his life,” the EMT said.

Eli peered out of the ambulance’s passenger window at the disappearing YMCA. He imagined Christie in full-on pep mode, offering hope and comfort. The platitudes hadn’t been an act. And the EMT was right—she did save lives.

But as his fingers dug into the lucky rabbit’s foot, he knew firsthand that no amount of comfort, luck or medical skill could rescue some people.

CHAPTER TWO