Restoration
Chapter 29
"What does your fortune say, John?" Grace asks as he breaks open his cookie.
"Build it, and they will come."
"That sounds good for your project for the homeless," Grace comments.
"Depending on who 'they' are. It could just mean Lucy and Jackson heckling me. What does yours say?" John wonders.
"Those who hesitate are lost. That applies to a code blue, but I'm not so sure I like it about other stuff."
"Like what?" John asks. "The way things move around here, I can't see you hesitating about anything."
"Sometimes, watch and wait can be best. Many problems resolve on their own, given time. But that's not what patients want to hear. They come to me wanting action."
John leans over the food containers between them. "I don't think treating patients is what you were talking about."
"You're right; it wasn't," Grace confesses. "Simon told me that he wants to move to Northern California, which means rethinking our custody agreement."
"Does he have a timetable for that?" John queries.
"Tentatively. He's talking about when Oliver is out of school in June."
"That's only a couple of months."
Grace crumples the bag from the Dragon Moon. "I can read a calendar, John, but I haven't wanted to think about Simon's proposal. He wants Oliver all summer, on holidays, and long weekends. I can't imagine being away from Oliver that long or for Christmas or Easter. Those are the family times I want to remember."
"Of course you do," John agrees, reaching for her hand. "Some of my best memories with Henry are watching his face as he opened his gifts on Christmas morning — or helping him build cars or trains out of the boxes. And there's nothing like going camping, burning the marshmallows, and sleeping under the stars in the summer. Although I suppose in California, you can do that year-round. Still, you've got to talk to Simon, Grace. Work this out, for your sake and Oliver's."
"I know, John. I'm going to call Simon in the morning, and invite him to lunch," Grace decides. "Maybe we can come to an agreement over sushi."
John grimaces. "That's one California taste I haven't adopted yet. I still think of fish as something to cook, preferably fresh-caught and pan-fried. But good luck with the sushi."
"I've never had fresh-caught fish," Grace confides.
"I should take you fishing sometime. Maybe Oliver too?" John proposes. "If he doesn't want to try hooking a big one, he might like drawing the great outdoors."
A smile creeps over Grace's lips. "I think he might."
Bradford stops short as a woman frantically flags down the shop. "Officer, I was in my kitchen and heard the sound of something breaking next door. Mary Willow lives there. She's 80, and she falls down a lot. I knocked on the door, but she didn't answer, and it's locked. I was just about to call 911 when I saw you coming."
"We'll have a look. Ma'am," Tim assures her.
Lucy pounds on a door with peeling paint. "Mary, Ms. Willow, I'm a police officer. Are you all right in there?" She turns to Tim. "I thought I heard a moan.
"I did too," he responds, gaining entrance with a kick.
They can see the feet of a woman lying on the floor, sticking out from behind a large chair. Lucy rushes to her and feels for a pulse. "She's alive," she reports, grabbing her radio to call for paramedics.
Tim surveys the scene, pointing to a shattered torch lamp. "That must be what her neighbor heard. I don't see any signs of a break-in, but I'm going to look around. Stay with her."
The rising pitch of an approaching siren penetrates the walls of the house, and an ambulance pulls up behind the shop. While trying her best to concentrate on the woman in her care, Lucy's eyes are drawn by an impossibly hot firefighter. "How's she doing?"
"What? Oh, her breathing is steady, but her pulse is fast."
"OK, we'll take it from here, officer um,"
"Chen," Lucy fills in, "Lucy Chen."
"Emmett Lang." He points to the victim. "Do you know her name?"
"Mary Willow."
Emmet leans over the wrinkled face. "We're going to take care of you, Mary."
Before she shoves the thought away, Lucy can't help wondering how Emmett would take care of her.
"Nell, do you ever talk with a dispatcher from the fire department?" Lucy asks.
"Of course, we have to coordinate all the time. Why?" Nell wonders.
"I was just wondering if you knew anything about — never mind, it's stupid."
"I don't think there's anything stupid about Emmett Lang," Nell responds, fanning herself with her glasses. "He is the hottest firefighter in the city."
"How did you know I was talking about Emmett?"
Nell rolls her eyes. "Because suddenly you're sweaty, and I know you ended up on the same call today. Lucy, it's great that you're asking about Emmett. You've been living like a nun since — well, what happened to you."
"You can mention my abduction, Nell. I've had enough therapy to deal with talking about it. But I'd rather hear whatever you can tell me about Emmett. Is he seeing anyone?"
"From what I've heard, he was with someone until recently," Nell recalls, "but as far as I know, he's single now. It wouldn't be hard to have calls sent his way when you and Tim request medical assistance — if that's what you want. Do you?"
"Yeah," Lucy nods slowly. "I think I do."
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Rachel asks, flashing back to asking Lucy the same thing.
"Yeah, I am," Tim confirms. "Isabel was out on the streets for a year, and there was nothing I could do to help her. She was a cop, and drugs still took her down. They damn near killed her. Arresting the pushers doesn't do much to help. There's always a new one on the same corner a day or a week later. If I can help keep addicts off the stuff, it will hit those bastards where they hurt."
"All good reasons, but do you understand how tough this is going to be? Everyone you work with is going to bring back to what you felt when Isabel went off the rails. That's going to be a lot of pain, and I hate seeing you go through it."
"Is that going to be a problem for us?" Tim questions, palming Rachel's cheek.
"No," Rachel avers. "If this is what you want to do, I'm proud of you, and I'll support you as much as I can."
Tim's lips flirt with a smile. "Good. Chen's a cheerleader, but I need you on board with this."
"I am," Rachel assures him. "But I have to go check on a client now. She's just come out of an abusive situation, and she's fragile. But I'll see you later."
Tim leans in for a kiss before Rachel hurries off. He can press 225 lbs., but the door to his classroom still feels heavy to him. To Lucy, he's a seasoned training officer, possibly soon to become a sergeant. Here, despite his experience with Isabel, or maybe because of failing her, he feels like the greenest rookie. Drawing in a deep breath and mentally crossing his fingers, he chooses a seat in the front.
A woman who could be 45 or 65 takes the podium. Her mocha cream skin is almost unlined, but wisdom born of experience shines from her eyes. "I'm Lydia McDonald, director of the Wilshire District drug diversion program. I want to welcome you all to your training as volunteers."