An Act of Friendship
Chapter 15
Chet walked quickly and purposefully through the Emergency Room doors of Rampart. His arms pumped vigorously, matching the rhythm of his legs. He was way too early to go up with Johnny, but he didn't know where else to go. He really wished it wasn't so late; he wanted to talk to Marco. Earlier, he'd gone home and had a long nap, but for the last hour he'd paced relentlessly back and forth in the confines of the small living room of his apartment before realizing he couldn't stay at home any longer. By the time he'd left, he'd felt like a caged animal, desperate for any means of escape, ready to kick and claw and rend and tear his way out.
Habit had led him to the Emergency Room entrance. He walked through eerily quiet halls. The normal hustle and bustle completely and utterly absent. The sterile, antiseptic smell of the ER assaulted his senses as he approached the head nurse's desk. Dixie stood, her back to him, head bent over the paperwork she was concentrating on. He stood there, shifting from foot to foot for a few moments before softly clearing his throat. "Excuse me, Miss McCall," he said tentatively. She spun around quickly and her blue eyes held a warm glow as she questioned him, "Good evening, Chet. What can I do for you tonight?" Jamming his hands in his pocket, his head dropped to stare at the floor. His foot scuffed back and forth.
Dixie gazed at the curly haired fireman. It was patently obvious that his nerves were on edge. He had an aura about him that practically vibrated with frenetic energy. His eyes darted everywhere, not resting on any one thing for long. Absently, he chewed the edge of his mustache as his body shifted from one position to the next. At that moment, he reminded her so much of Johnny that she had to bite the inside of her mouth to keep from saying something.
"I was just wondering if you knew how Johnny was," he asked imploringly, eyes filled with hope darted to her face.
Dixie pursed her lips as she fought down a smile. For as antagonistic as their relationship appeared on the surface, Dixie was well aware of the depth of feelings that existed between Chet and Johnny. Giving a small smile, she replied, "I just peeked in on him about 15 minutes ago. His fever's still rising so Kel ordered a cooling blanket, but other than that, he's doing the same." Wishing she could give a more favorable answer, Dixie placed a comforting hand on Chet's arm, rubbing gently up and down. She sensed the disquietude rolling off him in waves. "You're here early," she observed. Arching a brow, she asked, "Why don't you buy this old broad a cup of coffee?"
"Sure," Chet stammered in relief. He followed Dixie into the Doctors' Lounge and sat as she poured them each a cup. "Thanks," he replied with a small smile as the steaming cup was placed in front of him. He wrapped his hands around it and felt the heat travel up his fingers, soothing his jangling nerves.
Dixie looked at him questioningly. "Better?" She sat back in her chair, waiting him out.
He gazed into the depths of the rich aromatic brew, steeling himself for what he was about to ask. Brow furrowed, he looked at Dixie pleadingly. "Johnny, he's…um…he's going to be…o - okay, isn't he? I mean he's…he's…he's not gonna die or anything – is he?" His stomach churned as he awaited her answer.
Placing a hand on his forearm, Dixie soothed. "Chet." She looked into beseeching blue eyes. "You know I can't answer that question. What I can tell you is that Johnny has a lot going for him. He's young and healthy. Why he's more resilient than anyone I've ever met."
Chet's shoulders lowered as tension drained from him, but his face still held a troubled expression.
"We're doing everything we can for him," Dixie comforted. Changing the subject, she said, "If I didn't know better, I'd think the phantom might actually care about his pigeon."
Chet grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, well that cover was blown a long time ago," he admitted thinking of the many times his pigeon was almost a dead duck.
"Can I ask you a question?" Chet nodded as he looked at her in concern.
"Why do you always prank Johnny?" She'd often wondered about this, but this was the first opportunity she'd ever had to question Chet. She'd once asked Johnny, but he'd just shrugged his shoulders and said 'it is what it is'.
Chet could feel the heat rise in his cheeks. He thought about making some lame excuse, but knew that Dixie would call him on it. She had an uncanny way of reading people. Also, he knew that to lie about it, would do a disservice to Johnny and with him being so ill, it just didn't feel right.
He took a deep breath before he began. "I know you're gonna find this hard to believe, but I've always been a prankster." He chuckled when Dixie rolled her eyes. "Even in grade school I was always in the Sister's Office for some stunt I pulled." He clasped his hands around his cup and stared into it. He took a deep breath as he prepared to bare his soul. "I'm ashamed to admit it, but when we first started at 51s, I was jealous and envious of Johnny." He looked up quickly, expecting to see pity or scorn in Dixie's eyes, but what he saw instead was a deep compassion and understanding. "Man, the guy was just so…so likeable," his tone indicated this was not a good thing. "Everyone felt instantly comfortable with him, you know, and I'm not even talkin about when he goes into paramedic mode." He shook his head thinking of the calm, comforting persona John became on a run. "And he was so tall and good looking…or at least that's what everybody said." He waggled his brows. "Personally, he's really not my type," he joked as he batted his eyes. One brow rose as Dixie gave him a sardonic look. He continued, "that and the chicks really dug him." His face flamed once again. "I know that sounds really dumb, but take it from a 'short, stocky guy' there is somethin to be said for people's perception and height. And ya gotta admit the man really has a way with the babes. He just smiles that weird kind of lazy smile and they practically melt into a puddle." His arm flapped in the air showing his irritation at the vagaries of women.
Dixie coughed, hiding the smile she could no longer hold back behind her hand. Once she had herself under control, she lowered her hand and took a quick sip of coffee. "Okay. That explains why you started, Chet, but why continue to prank him?"
Chet stood up and walked to the window, thinking of how to answer her. He looked out into the dark, almost deserted parking lot. "Ya know Miss McCall, I've often wondered the same thing." He shrugged his shoulders as he sighed heavily. "It's kinda hard to explain. But even back when it first started, Johnny never got mad. Yeah, he'd bluster and spout off and pretend to be mad, but ya could tell he really wasn't. A couple a months after I first started pranking him, Captain Hammer came down on me real hard for it; even threatened to suspend me if I didn't cool it. So, I try turning the volume down, you know, laying low and next thing I know Johnny acts like he's all hurt that I haven't 'got' him." Shaking his head, he remembered how confusing the whole situation left him. He turned his head back to look at Dixie. He wasn't sure if she would understand what he was about to say, heck he wasn't sure that he understood what he was about to say. "It's almost as if me singling him out makes him feel special…like he means something; weird as that sounds."
Dixie pondered Chet's statement for a few moments. "I don't think that sounds 'weird' at all. In fact, it makes perfect sense," Dixie admitted. At Chet's questioning look she continued, "You know Johnny's past. It probably does make him feel special, and we all know he didn't have a lot of that growing up."
Chet turned around, walked back over to the table and slumped down into his seat. He thought over what Dixie had said carefully. Finally, the puzzle pieces fit together. She was right. He'd never given Johnny's past much thought other than to feel sorry that he'd had to live through something like that. Looking at it from the perspective of a child who was abused and pawned off from one situation to the next, it did make sense that attention, whether good or bad, would be something that person would crave. As he thought about it, his heart lightened. He sat up straighter. Maybe in some small way, even if it had started for the wrong reasons, he'd made his friend happier and more secure. A small smile played across his lips.
Dixie watched the wash of emotions play over Chet's face and saw the subtle change in body language. 'Mission accomplished – in the span of one cup of coffee – from nervous nelly to calm, cool and collected – or at least as calm, cool and collected as Chet will ever be. Those nurses up in ICU have no idea how much they owe me,' she thought drily.
"Hey thanks, Dix. Johnny's right – you're the greatest," Chet said earnestly as he rose. He picked up his cup and placed it in the sink, noting the pink blush that stained Dixie's cheeks.
"Well, thanks Chet. That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me all day." She glanced down at her watch. "Times up, it's back to the grind for me and I think you have a friend who needs you."
Chet grinned broadly. "See ya later, Dix," he said then strutted out of the room.
'Hose jockeys,' Dixie thought as she cleaned her own cup.
XXXXXXX
Joanne looked over at Roy and smiled happily. She inhaled the sweet tang of freshly mown hay. Newly cropped fields, a patchwork of browns and light greens, dotted the landscape as they passed by.
Dr. Early had come in first thing this morning and released her to go home, with an admonishment to rest. Fortunately, pneumonia had never developed and all she had was a simple cold. The aches and pains were receding and the headache was much more tolerable compared to how she had felt. She was anxious to get home and couldn't wait until this afternoon to see the kids when they came home from school. She had really missed them. The only dark spot to her day was that Dr. Brackett still refused to let her see Johnny. He had promised that she could come back for a visit in two days as long as nothing new developed.
Roy slowed down to match the car ahead of him. They were chatting amiably trying to decide how full their freezer would be when they got home. The dark smell of damp earth and decay stole into the car as he noticed the "Work Ahead" sign by the side of the road. Looking ahead he saw the bridge and cursed himself for the fool that he was. In his excitement to take Joanne home, he'd never thought to take a different route home. He looked around but there was nowhere to turn around.
Joanne drew in a quick breath as she realized where they were. Roy's eyes swiveled to her, contrition plainly painted upon his face. Her pulse started to race as images of the accident floated through her mind.
Roy saw Joanne pale as they drove onto the bridge. "You okay, honey," he asked, concern lacing his voice. He clenched his jaw as traffic came almost to a standstill. The gurgling sound of the river and the deep rumble of equipment blended and filled the air.
Taking a deep breath, Joanne forcefully pushed the images racing through her mind away. "It's okay, Roy, really – I'm okay," she said as she gave a small smile. Ahead, she saw the oncoming lane was filled with orange traffic barrels. A single lane of traffic was alternated between the two flagmen. Heavy construction equipment was being unloaded and moved to the side of the road. They inched closer to the end of the bridge. "Roy, pull over. I want to see it," she beseeched.
'Not a good idea,' he thought as he looked into pleading green eyes. "Joanne, I don't th…"
"Roy, I need to see it," she stated firmly, knowing that it would eat at her if she didn't. "Please."
Hating what he was about to do, he nodded as he grudgingly said, "Alright."
As they left the bridge he scanned the area for somewhere suitable to pull over. He drove a short distance ahead before finding a spot. As they got out, a construction worker came over and asked them to move. Roy showed his department ID and explained. The worker gave Joanne a sympathetic look before waving them on.
Roy put his arm around her shoulders. Looking deeply into her eyes, he waited until she nodded before he led her across the road. When they stopped a short distance from the edge, their shoes sank into the warm, moist earth.
Joanne gasped involuntarily as she looked down. It was steeper than she'd imagined with little pockets of vegetation, sprinkled here and there. Large, ugly gouges of earth were torn along the slope in a random pattern. She shifted as her feet sunk deeper. The sparsely treed bank had two long divots down to the water, a testament to the final slide. A shiver coursed down her spine as she looked out at the water. Trying to imagine where they'd come to rest. Warm arms wrapped around her as she heard Roy's voice ask, "You okay?" Soaking up the love and support, she replied, "God Roy, how did either of us survive?" Arms tightened around her.
Roy shook his head. Looking at the scene now, he wondered the same thing. "I don't honestly know," he admitted truthfully. They stood, his arms wrapped around her for a while before they quietly walked to the car and headed home.