Chapter 33
Johnny hung up his phone, leaning his head against the wall. The call he had received was the one he had been dreading - not a call from his father, but a call from the District Attorney's office in Selma. He was going to give a deposition in just four days, but he still couldn't remember all the details of that morning.
"Ohmygod," he groaned to himself, scrubbing his face with his hands. He looked at the time on his kitchen clock and realized he needed to shower and make a trip to the grocery store before the Campbell ladies arrived. He was going to need their help more than ever - if they were still willing to help him.
He pushed himself off the wall, stripping off his sweaty tee shirt on his way to his bathroom, throwing it with more force than was necessary into his clothes hamper. This was going to be a difficult few days.
E!
Marco trudged into his apartment, heading straight to his bedroom. He laid across his bed, wishing he could simply disappear into the covers. He was in love with a woman who had refused his marriage proposal… and who might be pregnant with his child – or was she?
Marco pulled out his shift calendar from his night stand and began counting the days since he and Beverly had first been intimate. Being from a large family, he knew enough about pregnancies to know that the usual symptoms didn't occur until a couple of weeks or so after conception. Even if she had missed one or two of her pills the first time they had made love, her symptoms still wouldn't have occurred so soon after returning from Tehachapi.
Marco scrubbed his face with his palms, not wanting to believe the truth that was staring at him from the calendar. If Beverly was pregnant, then the chances of the baby being his were very slim.
E!
Johnny finished slicing the cucumbers and was tossing them into the salad when he heard a knock on his door. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket as he walked to the door, assuming that the pizza delivery guy had arrived. He was pleasantly surprised when he opened the door and saw Iris and Lily standing there, Lily holding a large pizza box.
"Hey, c'mon in," he said, recognizing the aroma of his favorite pizza. His expressive face gave away his confusion.
"The pizza man was heading up the stairs, so we sort of intercepted him," Iris explained, hoping the gesture would make amends for the previous night's debacle.
"Oh, okay," Johnny said, closing the door behind them. He quickly opened his wallet, but Iris stopped him.
"No you don't," she said, placing a hand on Johnny's arm to stop him from repaying her for the pizza.
"But I invited you over for dinner. I do NOT go Dutch with ladies," he snickered, hoping his nervousness was being hidden by his charm.
"And this is NOT a date, Johnny," Iris retorted, finally feeling comfortable enough to smile.
"That salad looks delicious," Lily said, setting the pizza box on the kitchen counter. Johnny's kitchen table was too small to accommodate the large pizza box, salad bowl, and the dinner plates for the three of them.
Johnny relaxed, allowing his crooked grin to spread across his face as he replaced his wallet into his back pocket. He knew when he was defeated. "Let's dig in, ladies!"
The dinner felt comfortable in spite of Johnny's anxiety. The three of them slipped into an easy conversation with no mention of Johnny's parents' impending visit. As the meal was winding down, Johnny suggested they move to the living room where they would be more comfortable. They quickly cleaned up the remnants of the meal, then Iris and Lily sat on his sofa, Johnny following behind them.
Johnny inhaled deeply, picking up the journal as he passed by the coffee table on his way to his favorite chair. "I know you're wondering why I asked you over here."
Neither of the Campbell ladies spoke, allowing him the time he needed to gather his words.
"I, uh… You know that I'm going back to Selma to meet with the DA and… Well, there's still some blanks in my memory." He waited for them to respond, but when they didn't, he continued. "It's happenin' sooner than I was hopin'. When I got back from my run, I received a call from the DA in Selma. I've got to give a deposition on Friday."
Iris and Lily exchanged knowing looks. Iris chose to ask the question they were both wondering.
"I know you've been worried about making the trip, but… are your memories returning?"
Johnny began thumbing through his journal, more to give his nervous hands something to do than to search for anything in particular.
"No, not really… Like I said. I… uh… I can't exactly remember all the details."
"But don't your pictures give all the details? What more do you need to tell?" Lily asked.
Johnny stared at the space between them, considering her question. It was a valid one, and one that he had wondered about as well. "I guess I need to be able to testify, under oath, that I saw those things happen."
"And… you can do that, right?" Iris asked.
Johnny blew out his breath. "No…," he hesitated briefly, then looked at the two of them. "No, I can't. I remember hearin' it happen. I remember the smell of the place, even the feel of the mornin' breeze, but… but not what I saw. Heck, I even remember the taste."
"Taste?" Iris was growing even more concerned that the stress was affecting Johnny's mental status.
"Yea… I know it sounds crazy but… hell, maybe I am," he mumbled, running his hand through his hair.
"What taste?" Lily questioned.
"I remember tastin' this musty, gritty wood taste in my mouth, but… That's just nuts."
"No, it isn't, Johnny," Lily said softly. "When you returned that morning, you stood on the front porch throwing up. I found you leaning over the railing and-"
"No… I remember that. This is somethin' else," he said, tossing his journal on the floor in frustration.
"But… If you swear that you are the one that took the pictures, then isn't that as good as saying that you remember seeing it?" Iris was searching for something to ease the burden her surrogate nephew was suffering. "I would've shut my eyes, too."
Johnny shook his head. "I dunno. It must not be good enough; why else would the DA be flyin' me back there if the pictures give 'im what he needs? I mean, I can't testify to somethin' I don't remember, but… I… I also asked you over here so I could explain my bad behavior last night, Iris."
Lily sucked in a silent breath. Was Johnny about to tell her mother about his secret shame?
"Johnny, you don't-"
Johnny quickly held up his hand to stop her. "No, Iris… I know I don't have to, but I want to." He ran a nervous finger beneath his nose, choosing his words very carefully. "My… My dad raised me to be, um, proud of my native heritage. And I am proud of it, but… But back in Selma, I…"
Johnny gritted his teeth together, feeling the adrenaline rush through his body. He hated admitting his failure to the two women who had become a second family to him, but Lily already knew, and Iris would likely find out. It was better to hear it from him.
"I… I failed my father… I failed my people."
"How?" There was no judgment in Iris' voice. She could see the struggle Johnny was going through and wanted to offer him a safe place to reveal his story.
"Because I… I let white people… push me farther west… away from my home. I… I let history repeat itself," he said, his voice fading to a whisper.
Iris saw the downcast dark eyes and felt the urge to pull him into a motherly embrace, but the last thing she wanted to do was to make him feel any weaker than he already felt.
"You were just a child, and you were only one person. You were outnumbered, John. You did exactly what you needed to do and it has nothing… nothing to do with being a… a coward." Iris saw his chest heaving and knew that he was devastated, even if his face remained stoic. "John… You did exactly what… what warriors do. You protected those you loved. You're a protector, don't you see that?"
Johnny swallowed hard, forcing back the lump that was quickly forming in his throat. He had been kicking himself for a decade. Nervously, he bit the end of his fingernail, slowly shaking his head as he stared at the floor. "Nu-uh... I don't see that, Iris. When I look in the mirror... I see... I see me tryin' to be... somethin' I'm... I'm not," he said, his face contorting in shame.
Iris leaned forward, considering his words. "John… Is that why Captain Stanley described you as being the first one into a dangerous scene?"
Dark eyes looked up from the floor, staring at Iris in disbelief.
"Obviously, he doesn't see a coward. He sees a hero; a man willing to lay down his own life for the life of a stranger."
"He… He said that… 'bout me?"
"Yes, he did… and all of your co-workers agreed with him," she explained.
"When?"
Iris looked over at her daughter and then back at Johnny. "When I got them all together at my house, back when you were both in Tehachapi. That's when we devised the plan to…," she looked down at her lap, realizing how bad the idea still sounded, even though it had worked. "To kidnap the two of you."
Johnny and Lily had already been told the story of how the A-shift of Station 51 had developed a well-planned strategy to retrieve the two of them from the cult. Neither of them was shocked by what they were hearing, but Johnny wasn't expecting to hear the accolades proffered by his shiftmates, especially not his captain.
"Johnny, I wish you could've been at my house the night we devised the plan to, uh, retrieve you two. Your coworkers truly are your brothers. They love you enough to risk their own lives for you, and they know you'd do the same for them. They certainly don't think of you as a coward, or weak, and neither do we," she said, waving her hand in Lily's direction. "That was the night that they told me... that I was... part of the 51 family," she said, her voice choking into a whisper.
"But my father…"
"Loves you with a love you can't begin to imagine," Iris said, filling in the gap in Johnny's comment. "Your parents do NOT think of you as anything less than their son that they are extremely proud of."
Johnny leaned back in his chair, blowing out a deep breath. "Look, I can't even think about them right now. Can you stop them from coming since I won't be here?"
"Consider it done," Iris commented, unwilling to tell him of the alternate plan she had already put into motion. After all, she really had stopped the Gages from coming to Los Angeles. Now she just had to let them know when to arrive in Selma.
"Thanks, um, okay, so… Maybe I'll go see them when this is all over. I... I miss 'em."
"They miss you, too," Iris quickly stated.
Johnny inhaled a cleansing breath. "So...," Johnny said, wringing his hands nervously. "Do you think you ladies can help me remember anything? Is there somethin' I might've said, or… anything that I could've forgotten?"
"You were pale, but then when you started vomiting, I just thought you had eaten something that disagreed with you," Iris explained. "Or maybe that you were coming down with a stomach flu."
Johnny rubbed his chin, pondering the events of that morning, at least the ones he could remember. "Humph… I just can't figure out where that taste came from," he mused, his eyes glazing over as he was transported back in time.
"Johnny, could you be thinking of something else? Something that happened before, or after Phillip's murder, that your brain has somehow injected into this traumatic time?"
"That's a good point, Lily. John?" Iris asked, looking from her daughter to Johnny.
"No… No, I remember snapping the pictures while I was tastin' this…" Johnny shook his shaggy head. "I dunno."
Realizing that they weren't making any progress, Iris decided to change the subject. "You know, Lily and I will be going with you to Selma? We'll be there for moral support, for you and Kizzy."
Johnny felt his back stiffen. "Yea… Crockett told me." He inhaled deeply, trying to tell them how he felt without hurting their feelings. "You really don't have to do that; I'm a grown man. I can handle it," Johnny stated.
"Well, you may not need us, but my grandmother does," Lily commented.
"Where are you staying while you're there?" Iris asked, wondering where the DA was planning on housing him.
"The St. James Hotel."
"Oh… right beside the river," Iris commented, seeing Johnny shoulders slumping.
"Yea… I already thought about that. I hope I get a room on the front. Otherwise… I'll be able to see the place where Phillip died from my window."
Iris gave him an understanding smile. "Well, I'm sure they'll accommodate your request if you ask them."
By the time Iris and Lily left, Johnny was feeling exhausted, but somewhat renewed. He hoped he would be able to get a good night's sleep. He didn't want to have a sleepless night before a busy 24-hour shift. Before retiring to his bedroom, Johnny made one more entry into his journal, then turned out the bedside lamp. As he lay awake in his bed, with his arm thrown over his face, he recalled his many talks with Kizzy about her faith. Not being a religious man, he hoped that she was right about God, and so he did something he normally reserved for times when was trapped inside burning buildings, or cave-ins; he began to pray.
"Please God, please help me…"
E!
The following morning, Johnny entered the kitchen of Station 51 in search of some caffeine. His night had been a fitful one. Just as he had feared, images, sounds, and tastes from Selma had haunted his dreams. He headed for the stove, mumbling a greeting to his exhausted partner.
"Mornin'."
"You look as tired as I feel," Roy commented, staring at Johnny from his seated position at the kitchen table. His chin was resting in his hand, his elbow propped on the table.
Johnny jerked his face around as he reached for the coffee pot. "Oh, yea…," he commented, turning back around to pour his coffee. "You worked a double, didn't ya?"
"Yea… It was awful... and it was all your fault."
Hank, who had been reading the newspaper on the sofa, snickered as he scratched Henry's ear.
Johnny leaned his hips against the counter, blowing a cooling breath on the hot liquid. "MY fault? What happened?"
"Not what, who!" Roy groused, pushing away from the table in search of his second cup of coffee.
"A'right… Who?"
"Who, what?" Chet asked, entering the kitchen door with Mike at his heels.
"What?" Johnny asked, jerking his head in the direction of the junior lineman.
Mike and Roy exchanged knowing looks, and the exasperated engineer rolled his eyes as he picked up the paper from the kitchen table. Chet and Johnny reminded him of a couple of middle school boys.
Hank stood up, folding and dropping the newspaper on the sofa, frustrated by the antics of his younger men. "Alright… Roy, Mike, roll call in five and, uh, bring Abbott and Costello with you," he said, taking a few long strides towards the door. He stopped in the open doorway, scanning the apparatus bay, then returning his attention to the men in the kitchen. "Anybody seen Lopez?"
"HA… Finally," Chet shouted, raising a fisted hand into the air. "Marco gets to scrub the toilet!"
Hank propped a hand on his hip, glaring at his junior lineman. "Not necessarily," he deadpanned, turning on his heels.
"Um, wait..." Johnny's head swished back and forth between Chet and Roy. He hesitated between being angry at Chet for interrupting, intrigued by the identity of Roy's patient from the previous shift, and nervous about the conversation he knew he needed to have with his captain. Deciding the other two men could wait, he set his coffee cup on the counter and followed after Hank's retreating form.
"Cap?"
"Yea, John?"
Johnny waited until the two of them were in the apparatus bay before continuing his conversation. "Can I talk to ya for a sec?"
Hank looked over at his paramedic with a questioning look. "My office?"
"Uh, yea… please," he responded, following Hank into the privacy of the tiny room.
Hank gestured towards the empty chair beside his desk, closing the door behind him. "So, John… What can I do for you?"
"I got the call, Cap. I've got to go back to Selma for a deposition. My flight leaves on Thursday."
Hank leaned back in his desk chair, his left arm propped on the armrest. "So I need to let headquarters know you need a replacement," he said. It was a statement, not a question. "Have you let McConnike know?"
"Uh, no sir," Johnny stated, blowing out his breath. "I guess I need to make that call, huh?" Johnny hated the thought of talking to the biased fire chief.
"No," Hank replied, reaching for the phone. "I'll make that call, too." Hank remembered how McConnike had reacted to the news of Johnny's trip back to the epicenter of the civil rights movement. He didn't want to put Johnny through that again. He looked over at his man whose knee was bouncing rapidly. "Are you ready for this?"
Johnny shrugged his shoulders. "Doesn't much matter. It's gonna happen whether I'm ready, or not."
Hank nodded in understanding. "You know I'm here for you, John. We all are," he said, waving his hand in the direction of the day room.
"I really 'preciate that, Cap. You fellas have…," he gulped, feeling the lump lodging in his throat. How could he explain how he felt about his brothers? They had risked everything to save him when they thought he was in the grips of a cult, and had actually saved his life that night after Lily had unknowingly given him an overdose of opiates. Now they were willing to support him as he traveled back to a place that had changed his life forever, a place that had defined how he viewed himself. He looked down at his hands, considering the irony of it all. Without the events in Selma, he never would've met the men who had become brothers to him. He shook his head, unable to complete his sentence. "Uh, thanks, Cap. I'm gonna get ready for roll call."
"I'll be there in just a minute. Let me get my notes together. Gather the men, will ya?"
"Sure thing," Johnny said, standing to his full height and walking out the door.
Just as Johnny rounded the back of the squad, he caught a glimpse of Marco, appearing disheveled, rushing into the locker room. He snickered to himself, assuming that Marco and Beverly had spent an amorous night together. He opened the door to the kitchen. "Roll call."
The sound of chairs scraping against the tile floor was heard by Marco as he rushed about trying to get his uniform on. He already knew that latrine duty was going to be his assignment, but he didn't want to face the wrath of his superior for being late to roll call.
Marco felt his head pounding as he jogged around the back of the engine, skidding into place in the line-up while Captain Stanley stood tapping his pen against his clipboard.
"Glad you could join us, Lopez."
"Sorry, Cap… Latrines, I know," Marco stated, his voice sounding solemn.
Chet held his breath, concerned that his earlier smart-aleck remark might earn him that particular chore. When Captain Stanley nodded his agreement, Chet exhaled. "Whew."
"Did you say something, Kelly?"
"Ah, no… no sir."
"Lopez, make sure you leave home a little earlier next shift," Hank commented, knowing that a reprimand would not be necessary. Marco was one of the most punctual men on the shift.
"Yes, sir," came the muffled reply.
Mike cut a quick glance at his senior lineman, worried about the man he had grown even closer to since he began dating Marco's sister. Even from just his profile, Mike could tell that something was wrong; his friend was carrying a heavy weight on his shoulders.
Just as Hank dismissed the men to begin their chores, Johnny turned to Roy. "Who?" he asked, his curiosity about the mystery patient continuing to plague him.
Roy opened his mouth to explain his statement just as the tones dropped.
"Squad 51, woman down..."
The two paramedics rushed to their respective doors of the squad while Hank acknowledged the call.
"Squad 51, KMG365." He wrote down the address while Mike opened the front bay door.
As the squad rolled onto the apron, Johnny stared down at the slip of paper he was holding. His mouth moved in silence as he read the address, his eyebrows knitting together. When recognition finally arrived, he closed his eyes, leaning his helmeted head against the back of the cab.
"Aww, no... not again!"
"Yep," Roy replied. "Edwina Self and that damn dog you gave her!"
Johnny crumbled up the slip of paper, tossing it into the floorboard. "How many calls?"
"This is the third," Roy stated flatly.
"Three runs in the last 24 hours?"
"No," the red-haired paramedic groused, making his way to the correct address without Johnny's assistance. "Third run in the last 12 hours."
Johnny arched his eyebrow at his partner. "You mean to tell me that pup has bitten her three times in one night? What's she doin' to the poor dog?"
Roy made the left turn onto the correct street. "That poor dog got spayed yesterday so she's got stitches."
"And Ms. Self is aggravatin' her to the point that the dog bites her?"
"No...," Roy pulled up to the curb, shifting into park. "Ms. Self is once again faking an illness to get us out here so we'll check on the dog," Roy growled. "Get the oxygen and defibrillator, but I bet we won't need them."
E!
By the time the paramedics returned to the station, without making a trip to Rampart, the rest of the crew were engrossed in their chores.
"We need to do morning calibrations, Johnny," Roy said, backing into the apparatus bay, seeing Mike moving out of his way, pushing the mop and bucket with him.
"Yea, and I need to, ah, to tell you somethin', Roy. I'm not gonna be here for our next shift," he stated, opening the passenger's side door.
Roy stared at his normally expressive partner, seeing the blank look on his face. He walked around the front of the squad, opening up the doors to remove the necessary equipment.
Johnny pulled the biophone out of its compartment with practiced ease, setting it on the cement floor. He kneeled down, screwing in the antenna.
"What's wrong?" Roy asked, worriedly.
Dark eyes looked up, forlornly. "I'm headin' back to Alabama on Thursday."
"To be interviewed by the DA?"
Johnny gave his partner only a half-smile. "Gonna give a deposition."
Roy sat back on his heels, preparing the datascope for a test. "Anything I can do for you?"
Johnny merely shook his head. "Thanks, man. I really do appreciate it, though."
"How long will you be there?" Roy asked, watching the equipment run through the calibrations.
"Deposition's on Friday, so I guess I'll be back here on Saturday." He looked up giving Roy a smirk. "Can't get a direct flight anywhere near Selma, so it'll take a full day in the air to make the trip."
"Where will you fly into?"
Johnny snapped the biophone closed, then stood up and shoved it back into its compartment. "That's probably the biggest irony of all. I'll land in Montgomery, then rent a car and drive to Selma. It's the reverse route the marchers made ten years ago."
"You always do things backwards, don't you, Johnny?" Roy chided, grateful when his remark was met by a familiar lopsided grin.
"Let's go get the linens changed, pally. With any luck, we'll get another run before lunch, so we can eat a burger somewhere... Kelly has kitchen duty."
"Ugh, don't remind me," Roy groaned, rapping his knuckles on the hood of the squad as he headed for the dorm to begin their chores, nearly bumping into Mike as he was returning the mop and bucket to the janitor's closet.
In the latrine, Marco was just finishing up with the mirrors when Mike walked in to wash his hands. The engineer looked at the senior lineman's reflection and decided to speak up.
"Marco... Are you okay?"
Marco looked into the mirror, locking eyes with Mike. He saw the sincerity in the other man's face, and decided that maybe Mike could help him make sense of the situation. He craned his neck, looking to see if anyone had walked into the locker room. Seeing that it was empty, he leaned his back against the wall, crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the floor.
"Not really."
Mike walked over to the nearest sink and began washing his hands. As he finished drying them, he spoke to his friend in a hushed tone so that no one would overhear. "Wanna go out back and inspect the hose tower?"
Marco knew that Mike was offering him a sympathetic ear while maintaining his privacy from the other men. "If you don't mind, I... I could really use some advice."
The two men headed for the back of the station, both finding a comfortable spot near the hose tower. The warm autumn sun of the last day of September felt soothing against Marco's skin and he leaned into the metal post nearest him, closing his eyes. Where should he begin? And what would Mike think of him when he found out?
Mike saw the internal battle raging within Marco's mind and he had no doubt that whatever was bothering the lineman, it likely involved his love life. "Is it Beverly?"
Marco pressed his lips together tightly, nodding in affirmation as he lowered his face to the ground. "She... She's been sick since we made that trip to Tehachapi... headaches, nausea, dizziness..."
Mike placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. The symptoms were familiar ones, at least for a young woman. "How far along is she?"
Marco rubbed his forehead with his fingers, hoping to ease the tension headache he was feeling. "Not sure... She's going to her gynecologist tomorrow. We'll know for sure then."
"Well," Mike said, offering him a slight squeeze across the back of his neck. "Just in case it's positive, let me be the first to congratulate you, papa."
"Humph... yea... I wish it were that simple," Marco said, inhaling deeply. "I, uh... I've been looking at rings, Mike. I mean, I really thought she was the one. When she told me that she might be pregnant, I proposed."
Marco's countenance told Mike the answer he had received. "Don't tell me she turned you down."
"She did... and she even kicked me out of her apartment," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I really wanted to marry her, even before this, but... She just flat turned me down... I don't get it, Mike. Why would she do that? Why would she string me along, even... even sleep with me and then... when she thinks she's pregnant, she turns down my marriage proposal?"
"I don't know, Marco. You two seemed happy, really happy together. Has anything happened between you, a misunderstanding, or something?"
Marco began to pace in the small area between the hose tower and the retaining wall. It was the same question he had been asking himself since he left Beverly's apartment. "I can't think of anything, Mike. Everything was fine when we got back from the mountain. We were both tired and... and she stayed over at my apartment and... Well, one thing led to another and... It was only the second time we'd slept together. When she got home, she discovered that she'd forgotten to take her pill that morning and the morning before. I didn't use a condom and... Then a day or two later, she started getting these bad headaches."
Silence settled between them as Mike's brain made the same calculations that Marco's had made the day before. The timing wasn't adding up. "Ahem," he began, clearing his throat to summon up the courage to say what he was thinking. "You said that it was only a couple of days later that she started getting sick?"
"Yes... and it was only the second time we'd had sex," Marco responded, knowing where Mike was heading with his comments. "I've already done the math, Mike. I know what you're thinking."
"I'm not making any judgments, but..."
Marco looked over at him with red-rimmed eyes. "If she IS pregnant... the baby isn't mine."
"I'm sorry, man. I just can't explain it any other way," Mike said, resting his shoulder against the pole.
"It's the only reason I can think of that she'd turn down my proposal. She won't marry me because she knows that... that I'm not the father. So what do I do now?"
E!
Lexi Lopez finished cleaning up the breakfast dishes, putting them away in the cabinets while her mother began making a shopping list of grocery items they would be needing for the next few days. Maria made a couple of notes on the piece of paper then set the pen down, preferring to watch her daughter for a few moments. She had come so far in the last few weeks and Maria was sure that Mike Stoker was the main reason why. Lexi had spent a lot of time with him yesterday and today she was practically glowing.
"Are things going well between you and Michael?"
Lexi turned around, a blush evident on her pretty face. "Yes, Mama... very well. We had a long talk yesterday... about trust issues, stuff like that, and... and he asked me to be in an exclusive relationship with him."
Maria saw the twinkle in her daughter's eyes and she felt genuine happiness for her. "Does that mean that you two are going steady?"
Lexi laughed at the terminology her mother was using. "Yes, Mama, that's exactly what it means."
"Michael is a good man, Lexi. He'll treat you well," she said with a knowing grin.
"He already does, every time we're together." Lexi looked down at the dish cloth she was holding. "Yesterday, when I was alone with him, I... I wasn't... afraid. It was really the first time I'd been completely alone with a man since...," she lowered her face towards the floor. This wasn't an easy topic to discuss, especially with her mother.
"I know what you're talking about, sweetheart. Since the years you were away from us."
Lexi nodded, grateful that her mother understood without her having to actually say the words out loud. Her days as a prostitute were behind her, but the effects would remain for a long time – maybe forever.
"Anyway, we had a long talk, and... and I really think the therapy session with Beverly yesterday morning and then talking to Mike yesterday afternoon helped me make a breakthrough... I feel like I'm really starting to get my life back."
Maria pushed her plump body away from the kitchen table, walking over to the place where her daughter stood. She enveloped the younger woman in an embrace, stroking her soft dark hair. "Keep your eyes on the future, my daughter, then the past will never catch up to you."
"I will, Mama." When her mother released her, she wiped a finger beneath her lower lashes. "I think I'll go call Beverly. I want to tell her how much progress I made yesterday."
Lexi walked into the living room, curling up on the sofa beside the telephone, watching Antonio play with his farm set on the floor. She dialed the familiar number to the Wellhouse, knowing that Beverly was on duty, but she was quickly told by the house mother that Beverly was out sick.
Worried for her friend, Lexi pulled open the drawer on the telephone stand, thumbing through the various notes until she found the one she was looking for.
Inside Beverly's apartment, the counselor lay on her sofa. Her nausea was particularly bad this morning and she wondered if it was due to a pregnancy, or because of what had happened with Marco the previous day. She hadn't slept at all, unable to stop crying over the loss of the man she loved so much. Why had she turned down his proposal? Why had she asked him to leave her apartment? Her emotions were warring within her. Her greatest fear was being abandoned by Marco Lopez and yet, she had actually caused her fear to become a reality, a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Suddenly the shrill ringing of her telephone pierced through the throbbing pain in her head. In her rush to stop the offending noise, she quickly rose to her feet and reached for the phone on the end table a few feet away. She had barely picked up the receiver, when another wave of dizziness rocked her vision. She swayed from side to side as darkness came rushing in from her peripheral field of vision.
"Ugh," she groaned, reaching for something with which to steady herself, but her flailing arms found nothing.
On the other end of the line, Lexi heard a groan followed by a crashing sound. Her heart slammed around inside her chest, wondering what was happening to her friend.
"Beverly? Beverly!"
The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. She could only hear a few raspy huffs of air being exhaled. No one spoke from inside Beverly's apartment.
"BEVERLY!"
Antonio heard the alarm in his mother's voice and turned around to see the fear on her face. "Grandma!" he called out, rushing toward the kitchen.
Maria Lopez met him in the doorway, having heard Lexi shout out Beverly's name. "What's wrong?" she asked, sitting down near Lexi, her hands balled into fists at her chest.
"I don't know. She... She tried to answer and then... I think she must've fallen." Lexi returned her attention to the telephone. "Beverly, can you hear me? Are you alright?" The only thing she heard was a clunking sound and then a dial tone.
"Mama, something's wrong. I have to help her. I have to go over there," she cried out, her words coming in a series of rapid fires.
"No," Maria said, grabbing her daughter's forearm. Her own fears of retribution from some of Ricardo's cronies were crouching around her. "Call the station. Let the men go check on her. If she's sick or injured, then they can do more for her than you can."
Lexi struggled to see the rotary dial of the telephone through her own tears, fear clouding her brain. "I... I can't remember the number. What's the number, Mama?" she cried in a near state of panic.
Maria reached for the telephone, dialing the number she knew so well. She silently prayed that the call would be answered, hoping the men weren't out on a run.
"Station 51, Fireman Kelly speaking."
"Chet, it's Mama Lopez."
Chet leaned the broom against the wall, recognizing the sound of urgency in Mrs. Lopez's voice.
"Is something wrong?"
"Yes, I think it might be. Please go check on Beverly. Lexi was just calling her on the phone and we think she might have fallen. She didn't say anything."
Lexi quickly grabbed the phone away from her mother, having regained some of her composure. "Chet, Beverly didn't go in to work today because she was sick. When I called her, I just heard a crashing sound and then I could hear someone breathing, really quick breaths, but she wouldn't say anything. Oh Chet, please hurry over there, please?"
"We're on our way," the junior lineman said, hanging up the phone and shouting for the rest of the crew. "Hey, CAP! We've got a still alarm over at Beverly's apartment," he called out, rushing through the day room door and nearly bumping into Hank.
"I'll call it in; get the rest of the guys together," Hank stated, his deep voice covering up the worry that was crawling up his spine. When a run involved one of 51's family, it was always a little more intense.
"Marco! Johnny, Roy... Hey, let's go, fellas!"
Marco and Mike heard the alarm in Chet's voice, but neither had heard him say Beverly's name. Both men leaped into action, each one heading for his respective seat on the engine.
"What's going on, Chet?"
"Marco," Chet replied, his blue eyes wide. "That was your Mom on the phone. She thinks Beverly fell at her apartment and wants us to go check it out."
"Did Beverly say she was hurt?" he asked, pulling on his turnout coat as the bay doors rose. He saw Hank jogging across the bay in front of the vehicles and noted he seemed to be in more of a rush too. "That's just it, Marco. All they could hear was rapid breathing; Beverly wasn't able to talk to them."
Marco felt like he had been kicked in the gut. Beverly had collapsed?
"Lopez, in the squad," Hank ordered, watching Johnny swiftly slide over to the middle of the bench seat to allow Marco room to ride. He was the only one who knew where Beverly lived, and with that realization, his brain kicked into gear.
"Take a left, Roy," he directed. Now he knew what it must feel like for the victims and their families to be waiting for the fire department to arrive. He leaned forward in the seat as if trying to pull the squad faster through the winding streets, between lanes of traffic, and on toward the rescue of the woman he loved, no matter what the circumstances might be between them. He just hoped they would arrive in time to help her.
E!
Inside her apartment, Beverly began to regain consciousness. She found herself lying on her side on the floor, disoriented, her head and left hand throbbing. Her vision was blurry and something warm was running down along her cheekbone.
"Ugh," she groaned, trying unsuccessfully to get onto her knees. Sweeping her injured hand around her trying to figure out where she was, she quickly grimaced and hissed in pain as something sharp stabbed her, slicing through her wrist.
The distant wail of sirens penetrated through the brain fog, reminding her of the man she had lost, the man she had driven out of her life at a time when she probably needed him the most. "Oh... M-Marco," she wept, laying her head back down on the cold hard floor, her strength waning.
The sirens grew louder, keeping the darkness from closing in on her completely. Just when she thought they would pass by her apartment, they abruptly stopped. She closed her eyes against the rushing sound in her ears and the constant surge of pain along her temple. The sound of footsteps scrambling up the staircase alerted her to the presence of visitors, and then a round of pounding on the door and shouts sent a surge of hope into her heart.
"Beverly? Beverly, it's Marco," he shouted, reaching for the hidden key beneath an old flower pot while Johnny continued knocking and calling for her.
"Beverly, it's Johnny. Can you open the door?"
Hank looked around at the frantic looks on the faces of his men. They were all professionals, able to keep calm under duress, but this call was personal – Beverly was family. He noted her car parked in the driveway, and yet, there were no sounds coming from inside the apartment. That didn't bode well, and he knew it.
Marco managed to unlock the door and immediately bolted into the living room, gasping at what he saw. Beverly was lying in a heap near the end table, a lamp lay in shards along the edge of the sofa and the telephone was lying haphazardly on the floor, but it was the blood smeared on the handset and running down Beverly's pale face that shocked him the most.
"Beverly!" he shouted, rushing to kneel by her head. He wanted to cradle her in his arms, but he knew not to move her. It seemed obvious by the condition of the apartment, that she had lost her balance and fallen into the corner of the furniture, knocking the lamp and telephone off the end table as she fell.
Johnny and Roy kneeled down on either side of their friend who was now their patient, setting up their equipment. Chet and Mike followed Hank inside the apartment, each carrying a piece of paramedic gear.
Beverly was vaguely aware of the presence of men in her apartment. They seemed familiar but in her haze, she couldn't quite identify them. Suddenly hands were all over her, on her abdomen, her wrist, and a tight vise-like grip was on her upper arm. Her fight or flight instincts kicked in, but she didn't have the energy to do either. In an act of self-protection, she tried to curl into a fetal position, but again, strong hands held her down.
Johnny held the handset of the biophone pinned between his ear and his shoulder as he wrote down the vitals Roy was calling out.
"Rampart, this is squad 51; how do you read?"
"Go ahead 51," came the deep baritone voice of Dr. Brackett.
"Rampart, we have a female victim, approximately..." Johnny looked over at Marco who filled in the blank.
"Thirty-one."
"Thirty-one years of age. She is unconscious, but responding to vocal and pain stimuli. Vitals are BP 92/50, pulse 100, respiration 18 and shallow. She appears to have been injured in a fall in her home. There's a laceration along her left temple, bruising and swelling beginning along her left cheek and eye, and several lacerations along her left wrist and hand. We're applying pressure bandages to the lacerations and she's on 6 liters of oxygen," he said, seeing Marco adjusting the nasal cannula per Roy's instructions as the senior medic began dressing her wounds.
Roy reached for the IV box, anticipating the orders they would receive.
"Fifty-one, start an IV, lactated ringers, monitor her vitals and transport as soon as possible."
"10-4," the dark-haired paramedic replied, replacing the handset.
Dark eyes looked over at Marco who was gently caressing Beverly's right cheek. "Hey, Marco?"
There was no response.
Johnny reached for the lineman's arm. "Marco, is she on any medications, or had any recent illnesses we need to know about?"
Marco tried to lick his lips, but his mouth was too dry. "She... she's been nauseated lately. She's had headaches and… and dizziness, and…," he gulped, worry for her health making concentrating difficult.
Roy and Johnny exchanged knowing glances.
"Marco?" Johnny said, his dark eyes staring at his friend, not wanting to be presumptuous. "Is there any chance she might be pregnant?"
The senior lineman nodded.
"We're gonna take good care of her, Marco," Johnny replied, sympathetically. Johnny returned his attention to the biophone. "Rampart, be advised the patient might be pregnant."
Mike caught the look his captain was giving him and he slowly shook his head. Hank, being a perceptive man, understood the silent remark. There was more to the story than just a possible pregnancy.
Vince arrived just ahead of the ambulance and he and the two attendants entered the tiny apartment.
"Hey, Hank," he said, giving the living room a visual sweep. "Any sign of forced entry?"
"No, we had to use her spare key to gain entry. I think she fell," Hank replied, assuring the law enforcement officer that no foul play was involved, at least not with the damage in the apartment. Based on the look he had been given by his second in command, he was beginning to suspect that foul play might be involved in another way.
As soon as Beverly had been covered with a blanket and secured to the gurney, the attendants slowly made their way down the narrow stairway to the open doors of the ambulance.
Hank caught Marco's elbow as he passed by. "Go in with her, pal. I'll call in a replacement for you."
"Thanks, Cap, but... instead of going in with her, I'll ride back on the engine and then drive my car over to Rampart. I," he stammered, looking down at his feet. "I don't think she wants me with her right now."
"Roy's riding in with her," Johnny stated, picking up the biophone and trauma kit. "I can drop you off at the station on my way in with the squad. We'll be going right past there on the way to Rampart."
Marco nodded, mumbling his appreciation to his co-worker. He knew he had a lot of explaining to do and he was not looking forward to that conversation.
Hank looked past his lineman, again searching Mike's face for answers. Mike stepped up to his captain, whispering to him.
"I'll explain later," the engineer commented.
"Let's clean up a little, men. She doesn't need to come back home to this," Hank commented, as Chet and Mike began to wipe up the blood and pick up the pieces of the broken lamp.
Just as Mike finished wiping the blood off the telephone, it began to ring, startling the engineer.
"Aww man, that's probably Mama Lopez," Chet replied, dropping the remains of the broken lamp into the trash can.
"Marsh residence," Mike answered, picking up the receiver.
"Michael? Ohmygod, what's wrong with her?" Lexi asked, feeling a mixture of panic for her friend and relief that Station 51 was there.
"She's on her way to Rampart. It looks like she fell, but she's going to need some stitches. She was semi-conscious when they left with her."
"Okay, I'll... I'll head that way. Thank you for checking on her," Lexi said, wanting to say more, but now wasn't the time.
Clean up was completeed quickly and within minutes, the engine was headed back to the station, minus a lineman. Hank reached for the microphone.
"LA, take engine 51 out of service, lack of man power," he explained. He looked over at his stoic engineer whose eyes remained on the road ahead. "You knew, didn't you?"
"Marco was just telling me about it when we got the call, Cap. She was going to have a pregnancy test tomorrow. I guess you've figured out that... that this wasn't planned."
"Yea," Hank stated flatly, peering out the window. Would the crises his men had been facing for the last year ever end?
E!
Inside the ambulance, Roy kept a vigil on his patient, watching her head loll from side to side as she began to regain consciousness.
"M-M'co?" she faintly mumbled.
Roy released his hold on her wrist where he had been checking her pulse. "Hey, don't try to talk, okay? Just relax. Marco will meet us at Rampart," he soothed. He held her cold smaller hand in his own, worried not only for her health, but possibly the health of an unborn child.
Roy soon felt the ambulance making the familiar turn into the entrance of Rampart's emergency department. "Okay, Beverly, we're here. Just relax and keep breathing through your nose, okay?" He wanted to ask her more health questions, especially about the possible pregnancy, but decided she wasn't lucid enough to give a reliable answer.
"'m 'kay," was the weak response.
The doors opened and the orderlies removed the gurney, heading down the hallway with Roy flanking Beverly's side in search of a directive from an awaiting nurse. The friendly face of Dixie McCall met them outside treatment room two.
"In here," she said, holding open the door.
Dr. Brackett followed the gurney into the treatment room where the orderlies were already transferring her onto the exam table.
"Doc, BP is up to 100/62, pulse is 90, and respiration rate is 16. Her alertness is improving slightly, and...," Roy hesitated, locking eyes with Dr. Brackett who looked up at the break in the report from the paramedic. "I haven't been able to confirm the pregnancy."
Dixie's head jerked upwards, looking back and forth between the two men. Immediately she withdrew the necessary tubes to draw the blood work she knew would be ordered, and that blood work included a pregnancy test.
Dr. Brackett leaned over his patient, speaking to her in a calming voice. "Beverly... Beverly, if you can hear me, open your eyes."
There was a flutter and then the appearance of the green eyes he recognized. Beverly Marsh had been a regular in the emergency department for a few years. She was the person called in whenever a patient came in who had been sexually assaulted, or who was suspected of being forced into prostitution. She had always been a commanding presence when she entered the facility, feeling comfortable dealing with these patients who were in an emotional crisis, something the rest of the staff felt very inadequate at handling. Dr. Brackett couldn't help but feel a tug at his heart, seeing her lying on the exam table, looking pale and vulnerable.
"Atta girl," he said, offering her a smile. "Can you tell me what happened?"
"M-Marco?"
Dr. Brackett looked up at Roy for the answer to her question.
"He'll be here any minute now. Johnny dropped him off at the station to get his car."
"Marco's on his way, Beverly. Now let's take care of you. Did you fall?"
"Dizzy... f-fainted... I think," she whimpered.
"Is there a chance you might be pregnant?" he asked, already knowing the answer. She nodded her head. "Well, Dixie's going to draw some blood and we'll find out for sure." He patted her shoulder. "Don't worry; we're going to make you feel better, alright?"
"O-kay," she said, closing her eyes as the physician began the process of assessing her injuries while he waited for the results from the lab.
E!
The ride back to the station was a quiet one for Johnny and Marco. Johnny didn't know what to say and Marco really didn't want to have to explain himself. Johnny pulled into the parking lot of the station, near the backdoor, to allow Marco to exit the vehicle. When the older man opened his door to get out, Johnny reached over, grabbing his elbow.
"Hey, Marco?"
Marco turned back, looking at his friend.
"She's in good hands."
Marco nodded, his eyes telling Johnny how much he appreciated the comment. "Thanks, man. Thanks for taking care of her back there."
"I'll see ya at Rampart," Johnny replied with a knowing smile. As soon as the passenger's side door slammed shut, he turned the squad around and headed for Rampart, his mind reeling from the news, realizing that he wasn't the only one carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.