Straightening the Curves
Chapter Ten: The Heart of the Matter
Dr. Reynolds consulted with Bo and Rachel about the severity of the situation with their daughter, Chelsea. Rachel was still in the bed resting after having the baby, Bo still with her.
"Now, you must understand that the procedure is very difficult, especially on a child. Even more so with a premature infant. She only weighs a little more than five pounds, and her heart is very delicate and tiny. My main concern is that she won't be able to handle the surgery and could possibly bleed to death. Having just been born, her immune system may not be able to protect her against any air-borne particles floating about the room.
"If we are able to patch up the opening without any difficulties, however, I have no reason to believe that she should live a long healthy life just like any other normal child."
Rachel wiped some tears from her eyes. Bo asked, "How soon can ya get started with the operation?"
"Unfortunately, I have other patients that need attending to besides Chelsea. I won't be able to fit her into the schedule until next week—Monday perhaps. The situation isn't so big an emergency that it need be done immediately. Many adults grow up with this defect and don't discover it until their mid-thirties or forties. But since we detected it early on with Chelsea, I'm determined to go ahead and fix the problem to prevent further difficulties. I'd like to keep her in the hospital until that time, to monitor her and to make sure that she doesn't become ill from the cold outside. If it is all right with you, of course."
Bo looked at Rachel, who nodded. "Yes," she told him. "Keep her as long as you have to, anything to help with this."
That night at the hotel seemed rather quiet. Eve felt terrible that her muse, the 'great Atticus', had seemed to fail her as far as the left hand-right hand theory seemed to go. Upside down victims indeed! Only Nick Rogan would pull a fast one like that. The jury seemed to fall for it. Now she had to figure out a way to get them to fall out of it.
Eve went out from her room and paid a visit to the boys. She knew Cooter would be feeling rather down, and she was correct. Cooter was rather somber looking as he sat on his bed, Luke standing over him trying to cheer him up.
"Come on, Cooter, it was only the first day," Luke tried to tell him. "Things never go smoothly on the first day. Things'll perk up."
"Let's hope so," Eve said as she walked in and shut the door. "I can't believe the nerve of----never mind. Let's just go down to the dining room and grab somethin' to eat, I know we're all hungry."
Cooter didn't move from where he was. He was terribly upset.
"Cooter, dear, there's no reason to sit there an' starve to death. Get up before I drag ya out the door."
Her cousin forced himself up and headed out the door without even waiting for the other two. Eve didn't say anything about it, she didn't blame him for being sullen. She glanced over at Luke, who was still standing in the room.
"Care to join us?"
He shook his head. "Nah. I'm not too hungry, thanks."
She smiled, then she pulled out a piece of paper from her pocket and gave it to him. "This is the address to The Night Owl, the club where Ali works. I thought you might like to drop in an' visit while you were in town." She gave him a little wink,then turned to head out the door after Cooter.
The Night Owl was lit up with neon on the outside, a blinking image of an owl drinking a martini then falling down, then getting up again before the animation started all over from the beginning. Jazz music could be heard coming from the inside, which was dark save for the small lamps that lit a few tables. The dance area was a little more lit, but only enough to be able to see the person you were dancing with's face and perhaps the people right beside you. Eric Carmen's Hungry Eyes played throughout the club.
Wealthy businessmen puffed on their cigarettes, the smoke hazily spreading through the building and giving the place a mysterious hazy look. Some of the cheaper customers were joking about at their tables, apparently drunk. A couple in the back corner were making out, getting a reprimand from one of the waitresses who told them sharply to go upstairs to one of their bedroom accommodations that they rented out nightly to the customers that were either too drunk to go home or too lustful to wait to get home.
Ali Willows was cleaning up the bar area where she was working. She picked up a few receipts from the gentlemen that she had served a little more than an hour ago that had five dollars total sitting beside them. That would be her tip for her service and she stuffed the bills in her tight black leather pants. That was the required uniform—tight black leather pants with little black heels along with a satiny, sleeveless black top.
As she was doing this, some intoxicated fellow halfway fell over the bar. He had a goofy appearance about him, as most drunks do, his clothes a bit disheveled.
"Hey . . . ya in'trested in a lil' dirrrrty dancin' . . ."
Ali smiled, lowering her eyes, and pushed the man up straight to where he wouldn't be breathing whiskey in her face. "Darlin', even Patrick Swayze couldn't get away with that line."
"How 'bout me?" she heard a deep voice say from the side.
"Hey, who're you," the drunk man said, squinting his eyes in the darkness to see who it was. "I was . . . I was here first, y'know." He almost tripped over himself and grabbed the bar to hold himself up.
Luke turned his head so his face could be seen. Ali's eyes got so wide, you could almost see right through to the back of her head.
"Luke?" she asked in a puzzled manner.
The drunk looked back and forth between the two, having gotten confused over the matter. He thumped his hat with a finger at Luke then turned to leave, only he fell flat on his face in a drunken unconsciousness. Nobody rushed to help him. Luke stepped over the man so he could get near Ali, who was still flabbergasted.
"Long time, no see, huh?" she chuckled nervously, wringing her hands together. "So, um, how've ya been? When'd ya get home?"
"Just a few days ago," he answered, now sitting in the stool in front of her. He observed her outfit, the appreciative look in his eye not requiring an explanation. "Y'know 'bout your cousin don't ya?"
"Cooter? Yeah, I heard some stuff on the news. Ridiculous, huh? But Evie's his lawyer, she'll fix it in no time."
"I'm not so sure. Prosecution seems pretty tough---ex-husband tough."
"Nick's alow-life, he'll shrivel once it's obvious Cooter didn't do it. Let's talk about somethin' else, this is depressin' me. Did ya see Rachel while you were home?"
He shifted in his seat. "Yeah, she's pretty big."
Balladeer: Remember, they don't know she's had the baby yet.
Luke cleared his throat and added, "Why'd ya leave Hazzard?"
She was so shocked at the question that she didn't have an answer to it. She'd open her mouth to say something, change her mind, and close it again.She was beginning to look like a fish the way she kept doing that.
"Don't tell me it was because I made ya made that night. Somethin' more than that had to run ya off."
Ali blushed. "I meant to apologize for hittin' ya before ya left, but I was too scared to.Then I figured you were mad at me anyways for slappin' ya, that it'd be no goodto apologize. And thenyou were leavin' an' with Rachel married, I didn't have anyone to talk to or hang out with anymoreso I decided to just head on back here while I could. That's why I left. Sheer loneliness I suppose."
She sorta laughed and ran a hand through her short brown hair. It wasn't quite as short as it had been, but it only went so far to cover half her ears. "Kinda dumb, huh? Heck, I didn't even go to my own sister's weddin', that's how estranged I've been. Both of 'em would either kill me for bein' away for so long or suffocate me with hugs."
"Allison Willows!" a heavy-set red-haired woman, (don't worry, she wasn't wearing any leather), called out from the other end of the bar.
"Great," Ali muttered. Her boss.
"Stop picket fencin' with the customers an' get back to work!"
Ali looked a little sheepish. Luke seemed to understand that it was time for him to go.
"Nice talkin' to ya," he said, getting up to leave. Ali grabbed his hand before he got out too far. "I'll see ya later." He glanced at the boss lady. "Hopefully when she's not around."
Rachel was allowed to go home the next day—it was heartbreaking that she couldn't bring Chelsea with her. She had been so eager to rock her to sleep in the middle of the night, humming lullabies, fixing bottles, changing diapers . . . but now she'd have to wait. Oh, it seemed so strange to enter the empty house without having a child to introduce it to.
"Everything seemed so perfect durin' the delivery," she said sadly as she sat on their bed. "Like it was all going to be all right. But now, the whole thing seems ruined. Why did this have to happen to our baby?"
She started crying, covering her face with her hands. Bo reached to give her a big hug, trying to calm her. "It's okay, Rach. Dr. Reynolds said things would be all right once the operation was over."
"But what if somethin' goes wrong?" she sniffed. "What if she doesn't make it through the operation? She's so tiny . . . you know, you held her. Her nerves might not be able to take it."
She started crying even more at the fact that Chelsea might not live through surgery. All Bo could do was sit there and hold her, as if she were a baby herself.