Soul's Aperture

By Gary B. Boyd

The reader becomes emotionally committed within the first ten pages. Bart Stearman is committed to meeting his Maker. Melba Kirsham is committed to saving the life of her infant son, Arnold. Circumstance and serendipity thrust both of them into the middle of a medical experiment that will affect not only Barts soul but the souls of others. Fighting against odds that suggest he cannot succeed, Bart struggles to save the life and soul of Arnold Kirsham, who is an unwitting player in the conflict. Before their souls can be saved, Bart must align with the only source of power capable of energizing a battle in the darkness outside the Light.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jan 13, 2015
• ISBN: 9781496962348

Gary B. Boyd

Gary B. Boyd is a story teller. Whether at his cabin in the Ozark Mountains, at his desk in his home or on his deck overlooking Beaver Lake near Rogers, Arkansas, he writes his stories. His travels during his business career brought him in touch with a variety of people. Inquisitive, Gary watches and listens to the people he meets. He sees in them the characters that will fill his stories … that will tell their stories. A prolific author with more than a dozen published titles and a head full of tales yet to share, Gary submits to his characters and allows them to tell their own stories in their own way. The joy of completing a novel doesn’t lessen with time. There are more stories to tell, more novels to write. Gary expects to bring new characters to life for years to come. www.garybboyd.com

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Silent Scream

What are they doing now?

The old man was lying in the hospital bed, only faintly aware of what was taking place. An endotracheal tube in his throat was attached to a ventilator and the annoyingly pulsating apparatus was helping him breath. The tube in his throat restricted his ability to speak, not that he was cognizant enough to speak anyway. The acute-care physiologic monitoring system that tracked his vital signs, in particular his blood pressure and pulse rate, kicked on periodically to make sure his heart was still pumping. The action of the equipment when it activated to measure his blood pressure and pulse was a nuisance and prevented him from drifting into the all encompassing sleep he desired.

I don’t want life support. The angry scream echoed through his mind, unheard by the dark shapes that surrounded his bed. His mindset, his decision was to simply pass. Both he and his wife of more than forty-five years had signed living wills to ensure resuscitation would not result in prolonging the inevitable. Neither of them saw reason to artificially extend their lives, especially if doing so would bring nothing good for anyone. Or better said, if moving on would bring good for someone who needed help, then heroic measures should not be used.

I’m a donor, his raging mind screamed again. Someone young out there needs an organ so they can live. They can do something with it. I can’t. Let me go!

A cool hand, trembling, wiped across his forehead. Even in his comatose unconscious state, he could sense that it was Lauren, his younger daughter. She gently caressed the brow that once held the power to stop a misbehaving child in full stride with a simple wrinkle and a look. Unseen, unnoticed by him, she fought against a lump in her throat. Even though his eyelids parted slightly, he could not focus his drying eyes. He sensed more than saw that his older daughter and both of his sons were also in the small ICU room. Without thinking about it, he knew they were gathered for the end, his end.

His family had always been his driver, the force that helped him function. Nothing took precedence over family. Unfortunately, as with most American males raised within boundaries of the so called Protestant Work Ethic, the perception of those around him was that his job always came first. In his own way, doing the job, making the sacrifices necessary to excel at his job, put his family in a position to have those things they needed and wanted. His role was to provide for them. He did that without hesitation. But, it had all come at a price.

His weakening mind filled with thoughts of Juanita, the woman he had met forty-eight years earlier. Her soft blonde hair and blue eyes captivated him the moment he saw her. He thought about the day she became too weak to continue living, about how she had clung to life, waiting for him to arrive at the hospital before she passed. She had come to appreciate the small amount of time he could spare from his job, and she knew he truly cared. So she waited until he was by her side before she slipped away.

He retired from his job after that. Sadly, at the age of sixty-four he walked away from a company where he had worked for more than forty-four years. That was almost five years earlier, and he still felt pangs each morning when he had no place to go…and no one with whom to spend his time. He had been blessed with a sound mind and a strong body, but he had no hobbies and no friends outside of work. His children, now entering the years when they needed to focus on planning their own retirement, and his grandchildren, all young adults working to achieve their own goals, had little time for an old man who had previously been more unavailable than available.

Even so, they loved him.

What are they doing now? The question returned, screaming across his disassociated mind. He wanted to pass. His mind searched for the light that his religion told him would be there.

He sensed a shuffle in the room. Someone else had entered; someone who was important enough that the family shifted their attention away from him to The Someone.

Hello, Doctor Rosenberg. Groggily, he could identify the sound of his children greeting The Someone in unison. One of them, lost in the haze, was talking with the doctor. He faded back into the haze and lost contact with his surroundings.

**

How is he, Doctor? asked Lauren, the third child and natural leader of the family.

Pretty much what you see. His injuries are massive. Doctor Rosenberg was aware of the smallness of the room and the closeness of the five upright adult bodies in it. ICU protocol normally prohibited more than one visitor at a time, but the circumstances dictated otherwise. The family’s need to be with the patient was greater than the need to adhere to protocol. Their presence would not make any difference to the patient’s outcome, and the patient’s condition probably preempted his ability to recognize the overcrowding.

What does that mean? David, the older son, asked impatiently, fearing the answer he knew was coming.

We had to remove his spleen and part of his liver. They were both severely lacerated. I’m not sure the remaining liver will survive. His lower intestines were also ruptured, so there is a serious concern about infection if he can survive, and he is still bleeding inside. We cleaned and repaired what we could, but these things are always serious. The bigger issue is his kidneys. They were both crushed and destroyed in the wreck. There is nothing more we can do for him from this point on, nothing. I am so sorry.

What about a kidney transplant? I’ll give him a kidney. The older daughter, the oldest child, was sobbing and almost screaming in desperation.

The old man lying in that hospital bed was all they had left. They had already lost their mother to cancer only five years earlier. To lose the father who had always been their tower of strength was unfathomable at that time. He was supposed to live forever.

There is too much damage overall and his body is in such a tenuous position that he would not survive the transplant. I know you would give your all for him, but that won’t help him at this stage. It is in God’s hands. Doctor Rosenberg did not know how else to say the words. He felt helpless.

The younger daughter, calmer, asked, How much longer…does he have? His eyes were open a few minutes ago.

The doctor stepped to the bed, lifted the old man’s eye lids open and tested for responsiveness with a small flashlight. There is no pupil response. It may have been an involuntary response to something. At this point, only the life support equipment is keeping him alive. Sadly, you must decide when we stop the machinery.

The silence that filled the ICU cubicle was deafening. Doctor Rosenberg slowly drifted out of the area so the family could talk. During his fifteen year career, he had seen similar situations more than he cared to enumerate. He had come to hate automobiles, the mobility contrivance of modern Man. As had occurred too many times in the past, the next of kin would have to either decide to stop the life support, or worse, ask him to make that decision for them.

David spoke first. "What would Dad want?’ His voice choked on the words. David, though older than Lauren, was not the family leader, nor was his older sister, Tonya. He had joined the Army at the behest of friends and spent twelve years wandering from base to base and from battlefield to battlefield. He had seen friends and members of his squad die bloody, violent deaths. He did not want to lead anymore. He was a realist nonetheless.

He has to live. He wants to live. We have to do everything we can to keep him alive. Maybe they will find a way, some medical miracle, cried the older daughter; desperation strained her voice.

Tonya, Lauren replied sternly, there are no miracles left. There is nothing left for us to do. Mom didn’t want to be kept on life support. Neither does Dad. Whatever he is thinking, it is not that we keep the machine going. He was always independent…always full of life. He is in pain now and will never get better. Why would he want to hang on like this?

You don’t know that! Tonya snapped at her sister. We can’t just let him die!

David, sucking air hard to keep from crying out loud, said, Dad was always practical. He signed a living will so we would not have to make the decision. He has already made the decision for us. He always knew when to say when. The doctor pretty much said he’s…he’s…he’s…dead. Saying the word was difficult, but David knew that his physically and mentally powerful father would not want to be remembered the way he was at that moment, hooked to a machine in a hospital bed. David broke down and sobbed out the words, Let’s let him have his dignity.

You just want him dead so you can have his money, screamed Tonya, burying her face in her hands.

Lauren, the younger daughter, fought against her own urge to cry and snapped angrily, Stop it! Stop it, Tonya. You know better than that. You know that David is right. We all know it. Dad was always an active person. He said more than once that he didn’t want to be kept alive by a machine. If he couldn’t live a good life, a quality life, then we were to let him go. He said it when Mom died, and they both said it many times before that. They even wrote it in their living wills. We have to honor his wishes.

I don’t want to. Tonya slumped into the lone chair in the room. She loved her Father. She had relied on the strong man to guide her more than her siblings, even as an adult. She emotionally needed him more than they did.

Lauren steeled herself for what needed to be done. Do you want me to go talk to the doctor? She knew by saying the words, she would forever hold in her mind that she had in effect killed her father. But, she also knew it was the right thing to do. Her mind screamed, "Let one of them do it!"

Her three siblings stared at her, eyes blinking against the torrents of tears. After several minutes, David pulled himself to his full six-foot height.

I’ll do it, Sis. Dad would expect me to man-up at a time like this.

Lauren’s heart sank. The fear she had for herself, she now felt for her older brother. Nonetheless, she nodded agreement.

David slowly walked out of the room to find the doctor. Tonya began crying louder and reached to clutch the youngest, Chuck, by the forearm.

**

What’s going on? What’s that beeping? A machine! Turn it off, damn it! Turn it off! Let me go to Juanita. The old man’s mind was screaming, trying to be heard. Even though his eyes were closed, he could see the room. His two daughters were sobbing, heads bowed. Tonya was clinging to one of Chuck’s arms and the youngest sibling was patting her shoulder with his free hand, face red and head bowed. His own body was lying in a bed. Tubes were running into his nose and mouth. Oxygen was being pumped through the endotracheal tube into the lungs of a pale, gray-haired man he saw lying on the hospital bed. Two IV fluid bags were hooked to a plastic tube taped to the top of his left hand. Tubes ran from beneath the thin hospital blanket into enclosed bags hanging from the side of the bed. The face on the body was lax and looked years older than he remembered himself to be. He watched as one of the machines suddenly sprang to life and an attached arm cuff began to inflate. A soft beeping sound indicated the machine was reading his heartbeat. He screamed again, Let me go! but he saw that the old man’s mouth did not move. He did not see David in the room. He thought no more of it.

**

Doctor Rosenberg, David called out hesitantly. The doctor was at the nurse’s station, softly giving instructions to the ICU nurse behind the desk.

Yes. How can I help you? Experienced with human nature at moments such as the family was facing, Doctor Horace Rosenberg had wondered which of the man’s children would approach him. The doctor hoped the young man was there to make the decision, but anticipated an anguished plea for a miracle. He was fresh out of miracles.

David struggled against a lump in his throat to form his words. I’m David Stearman, Mr. Stearman’s son. I…ah…we…think, if there is no real hope, none at all…we think it would be best to honor Dad’s wishes, to do what he put in his living will.

Doctor Rosenberg watched the young man’s face screw into a pained expression as the husky son of the old man in ICU struggled to overcome the urge to burst into tears. He suspected that the man standing in front of him was a copy of what the pale body in the ICU had once been. The doctor reflected on how family members would always preface their meetings by introducing themselves, except when it was truly necessary. He also knew that before the son of the auto crash victim was able to continue, the lower lip he was biting would be bleeding. Is there something more you would like from me first? the doctor asked.

David shook his head, trying to speak past the lump in his throat as tears began to run from his eyes. He stood for what seemed to be an eternity before he could regain his composure and speak. Even then, his words came out in short, strained burst, No. I reckon not. Can we have a few minutes alone with him? I think his brother and sister might want to spend a little time with him too…and Grandma. Oh God! This is going to kill her! He began sobbing harder, sucking air in a vain attempt to control himself.

Certainly. The doctor stood next to the crestfallen man and placed his hand on the shaking arm. It will not happen instantly. Are the others here in the hospital? What was about to transpire was the part of the job he hated. Grief was hard to master, no matter how many times you encountered it. All the training on how to deal with death situations was wonderful, except it did not make it any better for the survivors. The years had made him somewhat detached from the pain himself but the fact remained that a human family was suffering. He turned to the nurse and said, Prepare for the final visit. Returning his attention to David, he asked, Do we need to do something for his mother, or his siblings? Are they going to be okay?

Doctor Rosenberg’s concern about his Grandmother and his Aunt Linda and Uncle Steve refocused David’s mind. His grief abated slightly and he decided that he needed to stand strong for the older members of his family. He struggled to regain his composure, noting that the doctor stood politely waiting. I think I need to just bring them in if it is okay. I will explain to them. Grandma is almost 92, but she’s a strong woman. It won’t be easy. His brother and sister are strong too. All of them are strong. He sucked snot up his nose and swallowed hard. Give me a couple of minutes to settle down. Can I go get them now?

Whenever you are ready Mr. Stearman, replied the doctor. He was relieved inside that the decision was being made in a timely manner. It would eventually be seen as the best move, even if some did not think so at that moment.

David steeled himself for what he had to do. He smiled weakly at a nurse who handed him a tissue and wiped his eyes and cheeks. He walked toward the ICU cubicle to tell his sisters and brother of the plan.

As soon as David disappeared into the cubicle, Doctor Rosenberg asked the ICU nurse, Have we implemented and maintained proper organ donor protocol?

The nurse nodded and offered a separate chart to the doctor. Hct is greater than 30. We have maintained his core temp at 98. All other labs indicate he is ready for harvest when available.

Doctor Rosenberg accepted the chart and picked up the phone to call the organ harvest contact for the hospital. He set the phone back on its hook and shook his head slowly and muttered to no one in particular, I just hope there are organs worth harvesting. Damned automobiles! It would be a shame if there is too much damage since he apparently was adamant about being a donor. Nurse, he said with a tone of resignation, call me if they need me. He walked toward another patient’s cubicle. That one should survive.

**

Stanley Kirsham pulled the wheel hard to his right. He felt the blood drain from his face and tasted the metallic tang of fear in his mouth. His whole body tingled as adrenaline coursed through his veins. His foot pushed the brake pedal so hard he was afraid it would break off and be shoved through the floorboard. The car swerved as he had directed it. He felt the automatic braking system struggle to keep the car from sliding off line. The vehicle did not seem to want to slow down. He heard Melba screaming, Stanley! Look out!

The metal and plastic of a modern automobile does not make a huge crunching sound when they meet the metal and plastic of another automobile. The collision makes a sickening thud even while the components absorb a tremendous amount of the kinetic energy while they are being rapidly compressed into mangled junk. In a head-on collision, the air bags activate rapidly. Stanley did not see the powdery smoke from the airbag. His face was full of air bag before his minivan came to a complete stop, crushed against a guardrail with a pickup truck’s front end shoved into the motor compartment. He had been hit nearly head on by a drunk driver.

Melba Kirsham saw the headlights of another vehicle veer from the oncoming lane into their lane. She screamed, Stanley! Lookout! She waited for him to scold her for being so panicked, as he usually did. Instead, she heard him exclaim, Oh shit! Her thoughts switched to Arnold, their nine-month old son, who was strapped into his car seat in the back of the minivan. Before she could turn to provide him protection, the airbags filled the space around her. She was briefly unaware of her surroundings as her brain did a quick system check. They were stopped. The acrid smell of smoke was the first outside thought that came to her mind.

Stanley! We need to get Arnie out! The car’s on fire! Her mind raced as she struggled to release her seat belt and push the airbags away from her face so she could see.

Arnold Kirsham was sleeping in his car seat. When the family first loaded him for their trip, he screamed and resisted being strapped into the protective seat away from the warm comfort of his mother’s embrace. As soon as the vehicle started moving, the steady drone and the motion lulled him to sleep. That always happened. He had no sensation of the wreck. He was still asleep when the minivan came to an abrupt stop.

Stanley struggled to free himself. He heard Melba screaming. He knew she was at least alive. Arnie was not crying. That worried him. How could the baby have slept through such a violent collision? His seat belt would not come free. He heard Melba suck in air and exclaim, Stanley, your arm!

He looked down at his right arm. Blood had soaked his shirt sleeve and covered the metal sign post that was speared through his bicep. His arm was pinned to the back of the seat. The arm was numb and not responding to the instructions his brain was giving it. He realized why he was unable to unfasten his seat belt; his arm was not really trying to unfasten it. He reached across with his left arm and pushed the release button. It came free. He still could not move from his position because of the sign post. He could barely turn to peer into the back seat. Arnie’s car seat was still firmly in place. He began to fade into unconsciousness, satisfied that the baby could sleep through anything.

Melba was reaching to release her seat belt so she could attend to Arnie. As the air bags cleared from her face, she saw the sign post speared through Stanley. At first, she thought it was through his chest, but quickly realized it had his arm pinned. Stanley, your arm! She watched as he struggled to release his seat belt and look back at Arnie. She saw her husband slump into unconsciousness. She struggled to break herself free so she could open her door and get out. The door would not open. At that point, she realized that the minivan was wedged against a guardrail and the offending pickup truck was imbedded in the motor compartment of the minivan.

A voice yelled out, trying to reassure her, Help is on the way! Remain calm. Is everyone okay?

Melba responded, I need to check on Arnie and my husband is hurt pretty bad. I think I’m okay. I can’t get out. Can you check on Arnie? He’s only nine-months old.

Other voices began to swarm around the wreck. Melba heard one of them say, I can’t believe anyone is still alive. She could not see the enormity of the damage. She did not want to see it. She wanted to make sure Arnie was okay because he was not crying.

Sirens began approaching within a short time. Some of the passersby struggled to open the back door of the minivan to check on the baby. The first voice was speaking calmly, reassuring her and anyone else who would listen that everything would be alright. Panic overtook her.

The paramedics immediately took Arnie away from the vehicle and assured her that they would take care of him first. She calmed somewhat, turning her attention to Stanley. An ambulance screamed away from the scene, rushing through traffic that parted to give it room to pass then closed the gap as soon as the rescue vehicle passed.

The ambulance holding Melba was the next to leave. She did not get to stay and watch the rescue squad cut the sign post before they could transport Stanley. As much as she loved Stanley and as much as she wanted to know how he was doing, her motherly instincts drove her to focus on Arnold.

Stanley roused to the sound of a voice reassuring him that help was on the way and that he would be alright. Phasing in and out, he lost track of time. He was subtly aware of the smell of metal smoke, airbag powder and the presence of paramedics and firemen all around him. He began to fully regain his sense of being when the siren on the ambulance that was carrying him to a hospital began screaming its alarm to road traffic.

Hospital waiting rooms are cold. The ER waiting area was no different than thousands of other waiting rooms across America. Reasonably comfortable chairs with easily sanitized surfaces that are cold to the touch lined the walls except below a wall mounted LED TV that droned on with constant news coverage. The rectangular room also held a row of back-to-back chairs in the center that faced the wall chairs. A small counter held a coffee maker and choices of regular and decaf along with an assortment of additives in small paper packets. Melba stood and paced around the waiting room, shaking, sobbing and only pausing when she passed by the wide entrance to the waiting area. From that vantage point, she could see swinging doors that were the portal to operating rooms and examination rooms that supported the emergency room.

Melba had not sustained any injuries during the accident, other than bruises, soft tissue strains and minor lacerations. She had been treated and released. She had nowhere else to be released to at that moment. Stanley’s surgery was taking longer than she had been told. She still did not have a definitive understanding of her baby’s condition. Arnold was taken into a care room before she arrived at the hospital. Repeated attempts to get information were met with reassurance that the doctors were doing everything they could and would be out shortly. Her nerves were about shot by the time her sister and brother-in-law arrived to wait with her.

**

David walked into the ICU cubicle and stood quietly for a moment. His siblings looked at him expectantly.

Well? Lauren asked.

What are they going to do? Tonya asked.

David looked at his red-eyed sisters, knowing his were just as red. He glanced at Chuck, the youngest sibling. The young man’s head was bowed low. The young man never looked up from staring at his folded hands. David knew what he would see if Chuck did raise his head. David paused thoughtfully before he carefully responded. The doctor can’t give us any hope. Pretty much, he’s already dead. I will go get Grandma and the others so they can come in and say good bye. The doctor will shut the machines off after we have done that.

We get to stay here, don’t we? Lauren asked, fearful that no one would be with her father when he passed. She remembered the day her mother died; all the children were in the waiting room when the ailing woman simply smiled and exhaled a final breath.

Sure. That doesn’t change. It will just happen faster without the machine. David was trying to fill the void in his knowledge by adding words. He knew what she feared the most.

What does that mean? Tonya snapped, finally getting up from the chair she had commandeered as hers since she had arrived.

Nothing. It’s just that he is technically gone already. The machine can keep him breathing and keep his heart pumping, but that doesn’t mean he’s really alive. David realized that Tonya was going to make it harder than it already was. She always did. He walked to his father’s bedside and stroked the forehead of the man who had taught him to throw a ball, to shoot a gun, to use a rod and reel and to drive a car. He reflected on all the things the two of them had done together. As dedicated as his father had been to his job, he had still found time for the important things, even though at the time it had seemed the man was too busy to share enough time. Tonya was a couple of years older than him and Lauren was a couple of years younger. Chuck was much younger, barely old enough to buy beer and still in college – a change of life baby. If David had married before he joined the service, his children would likely be nearly the age of Chuck; Tonya’s were.

Do we need to get the kids in here too? Lauren asked, referring to the grandchildren.

Where are they right now? David asked. He had not thought about his nieces and nephews.

Weldon is still in Oregon, but he can come out quickly if I call him. Darren is in Austin at UT. Adrianna is in the waiting room. Lauren’s youngest was the youngest grandchild. She was barely seventeen. Chuck was not married yet and David struggled to keep a marriage alive long enough to have children.

All my kids are at work today, but I can call them, replied Tonya. She immediately started dialing her cell phone.

Lauren cut her eyes toward her sister. Go out in the hall to do that. You know how much Dad hates cell phones.

Tonya rolled her red-rimmed eyes and left the cubicle.

Okay, I’m going to get Grandma and the others, said David with a sigh of resignation. Should I bring them all in at once?

Lauren was rubbing her father’s hand, crying again. I guess just bring them all, unless they want to come one at a time. I’m not leaving. Can you bring Adrianna?

Sure. David sucked himself up to his full height and left for the waiting room. He noticed that Chuck was following close behind him. He appreciated the young man’s supporting presence at that moment.

**

What the Hell is happening? Turn loose. I don’t belong here anymore. Can’t you see that I need to get to Juanita? Turn loose of my hand so I can leave. The old man was growing impatient with whatever was holding him back. His ‘self’ could see Lauren holding his hand and sobbing. What are you saying, Lauren? No. I want to go. Don’t wish anything different than that. It just makes it harder for all of us. Are you the only one here? I thought the others were here. The old man’s mind drifted back into blackness.

**

David walked into the ICU waiting room. His Grandmother struggled to get to her feet. Adrianna quickly jumped from her seat and went to her Great-Grandmother’s aid. Uncle Steven and Aunt Linda stood up, worried questions etched into their faces. He walked to his Grandmother and put his arm around her shoulders.

Grandma, it’s not good. David bit his already bloodied lip and blinked back tears. He’s gotten worse since you saw him earlier. The damage is just too much. The doctor says we should all visit him now because it won’t be long. He did not have the courage to tell the elders that he had authorized shutting off the machine that kept his Father’s body alive.

Grandma Stearman smiled a knowing smile and hugged David’s waist. There, there, Son. It will be alright. Your Daddy is a good man and has lived a good life. He has lots of grandchildren to remember him. Claudia’s two little ones are such a thrill for him; those great-grandbabies can be a delight. Let’s go tell him goodbye. The old woman used her two grandsons as a support as she mustered all her strength to walk bravely toward the ICU. She knew what had to be done. She had already watched a husband and two children pass. Death no longer caused her pain like it once did.

Uncle Steven and Aunt Linda grasped their spouses’ hands briefly and left them in the waiting room as they slowly followed their mother and their nephews toward the ICU. Adrianna followed close behind her Great-Grandmother and uncles with her lips pressed between her teeth to keep them from quivering. She feared what was to come.

**

The old man returned from the edge of the blackness that awaited him. His vision was much clearer, finally clear of his body. He saw his mother leaning over the bed, patting his hand that did not have the IV needle in it. Oh my God! I never thought about her. What a heartbreak for her. But, I must go. Juanita is waiting for me and I have to go now. Momma, don’t cry for me. You know how I feel about that. Someone hold her so she doesn’t fall. Good. David is there. He’s strong enough for both of them. Linda and Steven look so sad. Crap, Guys! We all know this happens. Live with it! Someone tell the doctor to turn that damn machine off. I’m tired and too weary to go on. You will be doing me a favor if you unplug the machine. I must go. For God’s Sake! IF you love me, unplug me! The old man drifted back toward the blackness.

**

A doctor in scrubs paused to peer into the waiting room. Melba stopped pacing and stared wide-eyed at the man. She did not know if he was tending to Stanley or Arnold. Either way, she needed to know something. There was only one other stranger in the waiting room, and that woman had come in later than Melba. Melba almost dreaded what the Doctor would be saying to her.

When Melba had first been sent to the waiting room, the family of an old man who was also in a wreck was there. They had been directed to another area in the hospital after about an hour. She did not know where they went or if the driver had survived. Her sister told her that the word around the hospital was that the person who had hit their van was a drunk driver.

The Doctor stopped near the other woman, Stearman family?

No. I’m Cantrell. Maybe those folks there. She pointed toward Melba, who slumped when the doctor had asked his question.

No. Kirsham. I don’t know who the Stearman’s are. She began pacing the area in front of the row of chairs where she had been seated. She watched the Doctor turn to leave the area.

Before Melba could relax enough to continue her nervous pacing, another doctor came into the waiting room. Kirsham family?

Yes. The excitement in her voice surprised her. The waiting was about over for one of her loves. Who are you working on? Melba was wringing her hands. Her sister and brother-in-law stood on either side of her, arms around her waist.

Your husband is fine, replied the Doctor, slightly confused by the question. "It took a lot longer than I anticipated to get that arm like it needs to be. The sign post shattered his humerous and tore the ligaments that attach the bicep to the elbow. The middle section of the bone between his shoulder and elbow was completely fragmented. I had to graft cadaver bone