Herb would be pulled into a private curtained area for the initial examination. The ER doctor might not want Harriet to witness that.
Pete drove, and I wedged in beside him on the bench seat. He glanced down at my hands clenched in tight fists on my lap.
“We’re going to be there for them, Babe. Whatever the outcome, it won’t be the way you’re worrying it.”
“I know.” I pressed my face against his shoulder. “I know.”
We found Harriet in the waiting room, the hanky still clutched in her hand. She sat like a lost child, alone in the middle of a long line of green vinyl chairs. She perked up when she saw us coming across the squeaky clean linoleum floor, her eyes as bright as ever.
“He talked to me, told me to check the well pump tonight to make sure it’s primed, so I know he’s going to be fine,” she said in a rush. “It’s something called a TIA.” She dabbed her eyes with the hanky. “A pre-stroke or a mini-stroke. He needs blood thinners.”
I slid into the chair beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
Pete sat on her other side and squeezed her knee. “I’ll take care of the pump and make sure your garden gets watered.”
Harriet emitted a trembling sigh. “I was hoping we could open your gifts today. I wanted to help you keep track of who to thank for what.”
“I’m sorry they’re clogging up your kitchen,” I murmured.
“Don’t be silly.” Harriet sniffed. “It’s like Christmas, only better.” She flashed me a hint of her usual mischievous smile. “All those pretty packages. I’m going to start peeking if you don’t hurry up and open them.”
I chuckled. “We’ll have a little party when Herb comes home — how about that?”
“Harriet?” A nurse waved Harriet over from the other end of the room.
Pete and I waited fifteen minutes, watching a couple nurses and the ER doctor pass back and forth behind the privacy screen. When it appeared they were finished with their ministrations, we followed and poked our heads into the curtained space.
Herb reclined on a bed — not lying down, of course, but relaxed, an IV line threaded into his arm and a couple other monitoring devices taped to his skin.
His face told me everything I needed to know — our Herb was back. He was weak but alert and still worried about the well pump, based on his first comment to Pete.
Harriet sidled up to me and whispered, “You and Pete go on now. I know you have better things to do.”
I frowned down at her. “Are you staying the night?”
“Yes. We’ll be fine. The doctor gave me a checklist.” She flapped a piece of paper full of small print. “I’m going to badger Herb until he follows it. No more strokes, not even minor ones.” She shook her head emphatically.
If anyone could overcome a health problem by sheer force of will, even if it was someone else’s problem, it was the tiny woman beside me.
“You’ll call? We’ll come pick you up tomorrow. Sills’ taxi service,” I said — using my new last name for the first time. I filled Harriet in about Tuppence who was also spending the night — in a cinderblock cell with doggy accommodations (i.e., a drain hole in the floor) on the other side of Lupine. Why are hospitals so much like prisons?
“Ohhhh,” Harriet whimpered and wiped her eyes — for a different reason this time. “Poor dog. Mae Brock’s cooking—” Harriet’s white ponytail swished against her shoulders. “Well, Tuppence has enough sense to never sample it again.”
“I hope so.”
oOo
If possible, the Surely ’s living quarters were more cramped than the fifth-wheel’s. While Pete jury-rigged suitable sleeping arrangements, I set up shop at the built-in banquet table and bench at one end of the galley kitchen.
I pulled up the website for the freight company handling the Near East artifacts. The shipment was getting white glove treatment, which meant it was scheduled with a dedicated semi-truck and trailer tandem the
Pete drove, and I wedged in beside him on the bench seat. He glanced down at my hands clenched in tight fists on my lap.
“We’re going to be there for them, Babe. Whatever the outcome, it won’t be the way you’re worrying it.”
“I know.” I pressed my face against his shoulder. “I know.”
We found Harriet in the waiting room, the hanky still clutched in her hand. She sat like a lost child, alone in the middle of a long line of green vinyl chairs. She perked up when she saw us coming across the squeaky clean linoleum floor, her eyes as bright as ever.
“He talked to me, told me to check the well pump tonight to make sure it’s primed, so I know he’s going to be fine,” she said in a rush. “It’s something called a TIA.” She dabbed her eyes with the hanky. “A pre-stroke or a mini-stroke. He needs blood thinners.”
I slid into the chair beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
Pete sat on her other side and squeezed her knee. “I’ll take care of the pump and make sure your garden gets watered.”
Harriet emitted a trembling sigh. “I was hoping we could open your gifts today. I wanted to help you keep track of who to thank for what.”
“I’m sorry they’re clogging up your kitchen,” I murmured.
“Don’t be silly.” Harriet sniffed. “It’s like Christmas, only better.” She flashed me a hint of her usual mischievous smile. “All those pretty packages. I’m going to start peeking if you don’t hurry up and open them.”
I chuckled. “We’ll have a little party when Herb comes home — how about that?”
“Harriet?” A nurse waved Harriet over from the other end of the room.
Pete and I waited fifteen minutes, watching a couple nurses and the ER doctor pass back and forth behind the privacy screen. When it appeared they were finished with their ministrations, we followed and poked our heads into the curtained space.
Herb reclined on a bed — not lying down, of course, but relaxed, an IV line threaded into his arm and a couple other monitoring devices taped to his skin.
His face told me everything I needed to know — our Herb was back. He was weak but alert and still worried about the well pump, based on his first comment to Pete.
Harriet sidled up to me and whispered, “You and Pete go on now. I know you have better things to do.”
I frowned down at her. “Are you staying the night?”
“Yes. We’ll be fine. The doctor gave me a checklist.” She flapped a piece of paper full of small print. “I’m going to badger Herb until he follows it. No more strokes, not even minor ones.” She shook her head emphatically.
If anyone could overcome a health problem by sheer force of will, even if it was someone else’s problem, it was the tiny woman beside me.
“You’ll call? We’ll come pick you up tomorrow. Sills’ taxi service,” I said — using my new last name for the first time. I filled Harriet in about Tuppence who was also spending the night — in a cinderblock cell with doggy accommodations (i.e., a drain hole in the floor) on the other side of Lupine. Why are hospitals so much like prisons?
“Ohhhh,” Harriet whimpered and wiped her eyes — for a different reason this time. “Poor dog. Mae Brock’s cooking—” Harriet’s white ponytail swished against her shoulders. “Well, Tuppence has enough sense to never sample it again.”
“I hope so.”
oOo
If possible, the Surely ’s living quarters were more cramped than the fifth-wheel’s. While Pete jury-rigged suitable sleeping arrangements, I set up shop at the built-in banquet table and bench at one end of the galley kitchen.
I pulled up the website for the freight company handling the Near East artifacts. The shipment was getting white glove treatment, which meant it was scheduled with a dedicated semi-truck and trailer tandem the
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