Page 41 of Reckoning

But she didn’t fool Tate. He could tell she’d been crying, and he could see the terror on her face. “It’s okay, honey. I’m going to be okay.”

Doctor Joe was still focused on Briar’s appearance. “You’re pretty bloody too. Are you also injured?”

“No, sir. This is Tate’s blood, and Tate’s shirt. I used my shirt for his tourniquet.”

Doctor Joe nodded. “Okay, then. Here we go, Tate, I’ve deadened the area around both wounds, so you shouldn’t feel much more than a tug. But if it hurts, let me know.”

“Yes, sir,” Tate said, but his gaze was fixed on Briar’s face as he reached for her hand.

She clasped it firmly. She couldn’t watch what was happening, so she locked into Tate’s gaze, reading his expression as easily as he was reading hers. If the sparks between them had been as incendiary as their thoughts, the whole hospital would have gone up in smoke.

* * *

When the last piece of glass had been removed and the area stitched up, Tate was still belly down, with thirteen stitches in his shoulder and ten stitches in his leg. With every stitch the doctor put in, Briar continued to tell whoever was listening about what happened to her, and how she’d been locked out of their storm shelter, and Tate’s heroism in coming to save her. It would be all over town before dark, but she didn’t care. Whatever shame her mother garnered from this was hers to bear, not Briar’s.

The nurse began applying bandages as Doctor Joe stepped around to where Tate could see him.

“There were minute shards of glass deeper in your shoulder than was visible, but both areas have been cleaned up and you are stitched back together.”

“Can I go home now?” Tate asked.

Doctor Joe frowned. “I want you here at least overnight to monitor your progress. You lost quite a bit of blood, son, and you do not want to go home alone while you’re still this weak. I’ve already notified the nurses’ station to get a room ready for you. And yes, Briar can stay with you. We will reassess you tomorrow, and if all is well, I will release you,” he said, then focused on Briar. She was clearly in shock. “Briar, you are welcome to shower in the bathroom that will be in Tate’s room, and a nurse will bring you a hospital gown to wear. Washing off all that blood will make you feel better.”

She looked down at herself again and shuddered. “Yes, thank you, Doctor Joe. I will.”

“Good girl!” he said, then lightly patted Tate’s back. “Hang tight, son. An orderly will be here soon to move you to your room.”

“Thanks for the stitches, Doc,” Tate said.

“From what I’ve just been told, you are something of a hero. It was my honor to put you back together.”

* * *

As it was with small towns, it didn’t take long for the residents to learn of Tate Bandy’s frantic drive into the mouth of the storm to save his girl, or what it cost him to do it. So, while the story was spreading, theirs was only one of a dozen near-death experiences today.

The miracle was that no one had been killed.

The hard part was going to be rebuilding what had been destroyed. But as night drew near, the lack of power and shelter in Star Ridge became an issue, and Mr. Autry, the superintendent of their public school system, solved it by opening up the gymnasium to anyone who no longer had a roof over their heads.

He didn’t have beds for them, but he had space, and working bathrooms. They came gratefully carrying bedrolls and sleeping bags, and with a multitude of LED lanterns lining the bleacher seats, they made it work.

Andy Sparks, Tate’s boss, had already heard of Tate’s injuries, and knew he’d likely lost a good employee. But in a Good Samaritan gesture, he and his employees showed back up at the store, loaded all of the disposable foodstuffs that would have gone bad without refrigeration, and drove it to the school, along with all of the bottled water he had on hand.

As word began to spread of the shelter, Tate was being moved into a room, with Briar right behind him. But moving him from that gurney onto a bed wasn’t easy. The wounds were on the back of his shoulder and the back of his leg, and he was too groggy to argue.

Briar took one look at the misery on his face and the hospital gown hanging sideways off his shoulder because they couldn’t fasten it without aggravating the wound on his shoulder, then made an announcement. “Excuse me, but Tate is not lying flat on his back in that bed tonight. Surely you can figure something else out, instead of adding to his pain.”

The orderlies and the accompanying nurse turned, eyeing the bloody and bedraggled young girl with fire in her eyes.

“I believe we can make that happen,” the nurse said, and they went to work, raising the head of his bed so he was in a sitting up position, then putting a pillow behind his back to keep his shoulder from touching the mattress, and a pillow under his knee to ease the pressure off the back of his leg.

When they finished, Briar pointed. “I think he also needs a pillow for his neck.”

“Coming up,” the nurse said, and sent the orderly after one more pillow.

He came back on the run. The nurse gently slid the pillow behind his neck, taking care not to push it against the stitches, and handed Briar a fresh hospital gown.

When Tate leaned back with a sigh of relief, Briar nodded. “That’s perfect. Thank you all so much.”