Switchy

  Em was checking the running totals on her tablet when she heard raised voices approaching from the back side of the house.

  “Get out of here, Colin, or I’m going to call the cops and have you arrested for violating the restraining order!”

  “I told you, you have no right to cheat me out of my share of this. This is the only reason you divorced me, isn’t it?”

  “I told you the reason I divorced you was because you cheated on me. I don’t get any of this money. None of us do. It all goes to Dad’s care. What don’t you understand?”

  Em was already on the walkie-talkie before the couple even came into view. “Mitchell, I need security out by the pool. Now. The ex brother-in-law is here. Someone call 911 and get a deputy here, please.”

  The guy, while probably in his mid sixties, stood taller than the woman, and was huge, borderline obese. He towered over her by at least a foot and over a hundred pounds.

  Em walked over, edging herself between the guy and the woman, who was several inches shorter and at least a decade older than Em.

  “Is there a problem here?” Em asked.

  The guy jabbed his finger in Em’s face. “This is none of your fucking business.”

  “I’m the Varel Estate Sales manager,” Em said, trying to stay professional. “So if there’s a problem, it is my business. What can I do for you, sir?”

  “Oh, then you all will get arrested, too,” he said, “when I have you guys sued for trying to cheat me, along with that bitch!” He pointed over Em’s shoulder at the woman now firmly behind her.

  They were standing by the edge of the pool shell, near the middle of it, and Em was slowly trying to back herself and the woman toward the house, to keep distance between them and the guy. She was aware of a flurry of traffic over the radio at that point, but she didn’t dare take her focus off the man.

  “Sir, if you have a problem, you need to get your attorney involved and—”

  “I’m not wasting my money on an attorney who’s going to cheat me out of more money. Bastards said I didn’t have a right to any of this. Well, they’re wrong. I was married to that bitch for over twenty years, and put up with her parents’ bullshit all that time. She owes me!”

  Em was aware of Mitchell and one of the security guards bursting onto the patio area from the same direction the couple had come. She took another step back, one arm behind her to keep the older, smaller woman moving back, too.

  “This is a legal estate liquidation sale,” Em said. “The owner has given permission for—”

  “Fuck that!” The guy shoved Em out of his way, sending her flying.

  She lost her balance and found herself briefly pinwheeling her arms in midair over the empty pool shell. Then she hit the bottom face up, landing on one of the contours where the bottom dropped, the back of her head also squarely smacking against the concrete and the impact driving the breath from her lungs.

  “Em!” She was aware of a lot of people yelling, a scuffle up on the patio, and Mitchell jumping into the pool next to her, grabbing her hand.

  When she moved to sit up, he pressed his hand against her forehead, keeping her still. “No, sweetie, don’t move.” He yelled up at someone. “Call 911 back and get an ambulance rolling!”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Shh, no, stop moving. We need to make sure you’re okay.”

  Everything hurt, her head, her back, her legs. But when she tried to wiggle her toes in her sneakers, she realized they had a weird, tingly feeling.

  Her gaze focused on Mitchell. “My feet feel weird.”

  “Baby, do not move.” In fact, he now looked upside down, because he was kneeling at the top of her head, both his hands gently pressed against the sides of her head, immobilizing her.

  “What happened to my radio and my tabl—”

  “Em, sweetie, I’m going to spank you if you don’t be a good girl for me and just lay here. Humor a guy, okay? That’s an order.”

  The fear in his voice had her scared. He’d taken the Red Cross class with her.

  “Is it bad?”

  “You just landed weird. I’m going to play worrywart and keep you immobile. If the paramedics want to let you move, that’s up to them. I’m not taking any chances with you.”

  Now she couldn’t help trying to wiggle her toes. From the way she was lying, she couldn’t even see her feet, because they were in the deeper section of the pool shell.

  “Are my feet moving?”

  “Stop trying to move them. Yes, they moved. Now fucking stop it and hold still!”

  The near hysteria in his tone more than anything chilled her. If Mitchell, her rock, her steady, funny jokester was close to panic, it couldn’t be good.

  Brent appeared in her field of vision and she tuned out what they were saying, instead choosing to focus on Mitchell’s piercing grey eyes.

  “Don’t stop the sale,” she finally said. “Make sure you don’t stop the sale.”

  “Honey, you don’t worry about that. I’m ordering you not to worry about that.”

  She heard sirens approaching in the distance. Within a few minutes, several paramedics were huddled around her, no one making Mitchell move yet as they evaluated her and her condition. Brent had retrieved her purse from Mitchell’s car and, finally, they got her secured to a backboard and carried out of the pool and to a waiting ambulance.

  Mitchell climbed into the back of the ambulance to ride with her. “Tell the cops I want to press charges,” she told him. It was hard to talk now with her head secured to the backboard and a cervical collar around her neck. But at least now she could see her feet and when she made little movements, they responded.

  Hopefully that was good and this was just an overabundance of caution.

  “Betcher ass there will be charges, but we’ll worry about that later. Right now, I want doctors going over you with a fine-toothed comb. I can’t have anyone damaging my bestie.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Jarred was up on the third floor and helping another CNA get a patient moved from their bed to the recliner in their room when the floor supervisor stuck her head around the edge of the doorway.

  “There you are. Jarred, downstairs. Stat. ER.”

  “What?”

  “Guy named Mitchell Goldstein down there. Called up here and asked for you personally.”

  His heart started pounding. “Can you help here?”

  She walked in and took over from him as he bolted from the room, not even waiting for the elevator to come up and taking the stairs as fast as he could. When he ran into the ER, he slid to a stop in front of the administration desk.

  “Mitchell Goldstein. Where is he?”

  She tapped into her computer. “Hon, I don’t have anyone by that name. I—”

  Jarred swiped his ID and shoved the door to the ER unit open, his eyes scanning the whiteboard of ER patients until they froze on an entry.

  Woodland, M.

  He didn’t even read far enough to see what code designated her reason for being there. He took off again at a run, dodging a nurse with an IV stand and almost plowing into another nurse who was standing just inside the doorway of the room.

  “Em!” He spotted Mitchell next to where she was strapped down on a long backboard on a gurney and being examined by the on-call.

  “She got shoved into an empty concrete pool shell,” Mitchell told him, switching out positions with Jarred so he could be next to her. “Fell about six feet and landed on her back.”

  Relief filled him as he realized her eyes were open and she was responsive and talking to the doctor. “Ma—sweetheart, are you okay?”

  He’d barely caught himself from calling her Ma’am.

  “My feet feel weird,” she said. “They’re tingly.”

  “We need to get her to radiology,” the doctor said to Jarred as he eyed him and his obviously familiar behavior with the patient. “You good?”

  Her hand snaked out of the straps holding her to the board and she g
rabbed hold of Jarred’s. “He’s my fiancé,” she said, staring into Jarred’s eyes. “Please let him come.”

  “Ah, okay,” the doctor said, his tone immediately gentling. “Gotcha.”

  “Get a form,” Mitchell said from somewhere in the corner. “Sign a next-of-kin form for him, sweetie.”

  “That,” she said. “I want him to be able to make decisions for me.”

  “Ms. Woodland,” the doctor said, “you’re going to be fine, but we’ll get that for you.”

  One of the nurses left the room and came back with a clipboard as they were preparing to move Em. She scribbled her name on the form while Jarred held the clipboard for her, then she looked up at Jarred. “Add Garrison for me, too, please. And Mitchell and Brent.”

  Jarred took the clipboard, signed where he needed to, and also added Garrison’s name to the form before handing it to Mitchell to sign, who returned it to the nurse.

  Mitchell tapped him on the shoulder. “Here’s her purse with her wallet and stuff.”

  “Did you call her parents yet?”

  “Are you nucking futz? Hell, no. She’d have killed me.”

  “Don’t call them yet,” she begged. “Please. Call Garrison and get him here.”

  “I will, baby. Let’s see what’s up with you.” Jarred helped transfer her, backboard and all, from the ambulance gurney to the bed and they moved her down to radiology for initial X-rays. Jarred had Mitchell follow them since Jarred could intercede for him with the staff and get him in, too.

  While they were waiting for the radiology techs to prepare, Jarred rooted through her purse, grabbed her cell phone, punched Garrison’s number in, and hit send before handing it to Mitchell.

  “Tell him where we are and what’s going on, please. And to not call her folks yet.”

  “Will do.” Mitchell ducked into the hallway.

  She looked scared, terrified, her blue eyes teary and focused on him.

  He leaned in and kissed her. “You’re going to be okay. It’s probably a pinched nerve or something. This is just a precaution.”

  “I hit hard. I felt something pop when I hit and it hurts.”

  He tried not to let his fear show. “That can mean a lot of things. Please don’t stress. I’m here. I’ve got you. They’re going to take good care of you.”

  They got her ready to take the X-rays, and he stepped out into the hall because there weren’t enough smocks for him, and they had several techs handling it because of her backboard.

  Mitchell was standing there and returned her phone. “He’s on the way. I told him to call my cell when he gets here, and I’ll go meet him and bring him back.”

  “What the hell happened?” Jarred asked.

  “Stupid asshole brother-in-law got into a fight with his ex. He wasn’t even supposed to be there. The woman has a restraining order against him. He went after her, and Em tried to get between them. Damn pool was empty. Had there been water in it, she’d have been pissed off, but fine. She hit the bottom on one of the contours and I kept her still until the EMTs got there and transported her. Eventually, I’m going to need a ride, too. My car’s still at the sale property.”

  “Did they arrest the fucker?”

  “He was wearing a pair of deputy’s bracelets as they shoved him into the back of a marked cruiser. Don’t worry, we’re going to be pressing charges.”

  They called them in to help transfer her back to the bed. Since she was conscious and responsive and not having any breathing problems, they wouldn’t remove the back board until they knew exactly what injuries they were dealing with.

  “How you doing?” Jarred asked.

  “My right foot’s numb. Not like it’s asleep. I can’t feel it. But they said I’m wiggling my toes.”

  He tried not to panic. “That’s good. Pinched nerve can do that. Let’s let the radiologist read the films and we’ll go from there.”

  He saw the conference going on in the booth where the techs and a radiologist were reviewing the scans. Everything now was digital, instantaneous results with no development time needed.

  “Well?”

  The radiologist raised an eyebrow at him.

  “I’m her fiancé,” he said, knowing they could talk about that later. That she’d had the presence of mind to declare that under the circumstances was another sign in her favor that she was going to be okay. “And I work here.”

  He waved him in and showed him. “Good news is it looks like the bump on the head is just that. No signs of skull trauma, or a concussion. Her back, however, isn’t so lucky. L1-L2. Fracture. She’s showing neurological symptoms, so we’re waiting for the CT machine to open up. I called downstairs and they ordered it.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “You’ll have to talk to ortho and neuro about that. You know how this works. I’m not going to go there.”

  It was another twenty minutes before they could get the CT scan done and then get her transferred back to the ER. Garrison arrived just as they were returning to the ER unit, and Jarred didn’t even care about the funny looks they received as Garrison leaned in to kiss her and whisper to her.

  The on-call returned. “Okay. We’re going to get you off that backboard, but we’re going to keep you immobilized for now.”

  “Do I need surgery?”

  “I’ve got calls out for consults. We’re going to get an IV started and get some fluids in you, but no food or drink right now.”

  A code blue was paged in one of the other ER bays, and everyone else went running.

  Jarred stayed there with her, knowing he’d only be in the way at that point.

  She stared up into his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “What for, baby?”

  “I’m sorry this happened. And sorry for the fiancé thing.”

  He leaned in and kissed her. “Don’t apologize, Ma’am,” he said. “It saves me the worry of whether or not to propose.” He stroked her forehead. “Stop worrying. It’ll only mess with your blood pressure.” He glanced at her stats on the monitors. Pulse and BP were elevated, obviously.

  “How bad is it?” Garrison asked.

  “The trauma probably caused a little swelling. There’s a fracture, but they might just want her to be on bed rest and wear a back brace. Or she might need surgery to stabilize it.” He focused on her again. “Don’t panic.”

  Except an hour later, she was still in the ER. After getting her off the backboard and carefully undressed when she refused to let them cut her shorts and T-shirt off her, then covered by a hospital gown, they took her for an MRI. By this time, her other foot had gone numb, too, even though she still could wiggle her toes.

  Meanwhile, a deputy had come by to take her and Mitchell’s statements about what had happened. When he left, that’s when the orthopedic surgeon came in.

  “I’ve reviewed the radiology reports and films. I want to go ahead and get her into surgery. It could just be the swelling from the trauma, but I don’t want to take any chances. They’ve got an OR open and my PA and surgical nurse are on their way.”

  Jarred left Garrison and Mitchell with her and pulled the doctor aside to talk to him and get the whole story. As the doctor left to go make the preparations, Jarred returned to her side.

  “Okay, baby. Listen to me. It’s not as scary as it sounds. He can’t tell from the films if it’s just the bone or if it’s the disk, too, and he’s worried about making sure it’s stable. Just going to be a little tiny incision.”

  “It’s surgery. I’ve never had surgery before.”

  “We’re going to be right there waiting on you,” he said.

  “Don’t call my parents. Please don’t call them.”

  “No one’s calling anyone,” Garrison assured her. “It’s all right. We’ve got you.”

  “Please don’t be upset with me,” she said to Garrison.

  “Honey, why would I be upset with you?”

  “I told them Jarred is my fiancé. I was scared they might make him leave and ca
ll my parents.”

  Garrison leaned in and kissed her. “Baby, the only person I’m upset at right now is the asshole who did this to you.” He stared into her eyes. “Ma’am,” he whispered, “we’re going to take care of you. You just listen to us, and everything’s going to be okay.”

  “We’ll be there the whole time,” Jarred assured her. “You need this to keep from having worse problems.”

  * * * *

  Logically, Em knew that several hours had passed, but with everything going on, and her fear, and the pain in her back and from the goose-egg on her head, it felt like time had stopped.

  She hadn’t even realized what hospital they’d transported her to until Jarred was suddenly at her side instead of Mitchell in the ER.

  Thank god her boys were there to take care of her. She wasn’t too proud to admit she was scared shitless.

  “Can you go in the OR with me?” she asked Jarred.

  “No, honey. I can’t. I’m family. Technically, they shouldn’t have allowed me to help as much as I have. I’m going to be sitting there in the waiting room with Mitchell and Gare.”

  “We’re right here, baby,” Garrison said from her other side. They each had a hand and she knew Mitchell was sitting in the corner, too. “They’re going to take good care of you, and we’ll be waiting as soon as you get out.”

  “Sometimes they do this kind of surgery out-patient,” Jarred told her. “But the doctor you drew, he’s good. Very cautious in terms of trauma care. He’s got a good rep.”

  “Mitchell?”

  He stood and walked over, standing behind Jarred. “Yeah, sweetie?”

  “I think I’m going to need a couple of days off. Sorry.”

  He burst out laughing. “Honey, I’m ordering you on a minimum two-week paid vacay. I reserve the right to make it longer depending on what the doctor says. Oh, FYI, workman’s comp will be picking up this tab. You were on the job when it happened. I’ll take care of filing the claim. You just focus on what these two guys tell you to do.”