In Her Hands

In Her Hands

Shaunna Gonzales

Front cover by ibehim photography.

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Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used in a fictitious situation. Any resemblances to actual events, locations, organizations, incidents or persons – living or dead – are coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

And always, thank you to my husband, Herman, my beautiful children, for the love and support, strength and encouragement.

Chapter 1

Trevor wondered why palm fronds continually whipped overhead, whirling, and wheezing in chaos. He stumbled through the discordant obstacles of his consciousness. He must get home. But where was home? He panicked, excruciating pain from his back, chest and arms eking into his consciousness. Unexplainable panic joined his hallucinations, blurring with reality.

A semblance of coherency enabled him to recognize his surroundings. An ugly beige curtain hung to one side, a collection of hospital machines crowded close to where he lay. A white cast encased his right hand to just below his elbow. Several tubes protruded from tape securing them to his left arm. He looked down trying to figure out if he dare move at all. He didn't think so, but his chest hurt. He tried to take a deep breath and the sharp pain seared through and around his chest, anchoring his spine to the mattress under him. Moving at the speed of a tortoise, he shifted his hand. Alarms blared. He froze.

Well good evening. A burly, middle-aged nurse, wearing orange scrubs, came into the room. Her voice sounded gentle despite her take-charge manner. Welcome to the land of the living. How are we feeling?

Like I’ve been run over by a truck. Where am I? Trevor answered, noting how he sounded as tired as he felt. Maybe they'd left the truck parked on him.

Trevor, she answered looking at his name on the chart. You are at LDS Hospital in Salt Lake.

How?

Do you remember being in an accident?

Vaguely. His head started to throb.

You were brought here by Life Flight. The only thing we know about you is: your name, your insurance company, and that Glendale, Nevada is your home.

Was. His nose itched but he couldn’t lift his hand to rub it.

Pardon? The nurse asked sounding confused.

Was my home. Why can't I move?

We have you heavily sedated and your movement restricted for your own good just now. We’ll need to remove the tubes draining your lungs before it'll be time to let you lose.

Trevor felt his eyes go wide. Tubes draining my lungs?

She patted his forearm, adopting a teasing smile. This isn't a test. How many tubes do you see? Don't worry. You're going to be fine.

Nurse?

Nurse Simmons, the nurse answered as she emptied a needle syringe into his IV line.

How bad is it?

Save your questions for the doctor. For now, rest, before you drain your strength. Let me ask the questions for a moment. There is nothing on your insurance card that indicates who we should contact.

Trevor didn’t remember answering any questions before slipping into the refuge of unconsciousness. It seemed each time he awakened, a different nurse attended him. He didn't bother counting new faces after the second one. At last he managed coherency long enough to recognize Nurse Simmons as she set a shaving kit on the bedside table.

Are you up to a shave this morning?

Do I have a choice? Sleep sounded like a better option at the moment.

Here, Nurse Simmons held a mirror in front of his face.

He gasped, surprised to discover a generous growth of beard.

How long have I been here?

Long enough. I think Jackie is getting rather fond of you.

Jackie? The name didn't sound right for the female that niggled at the edge of his memory.

Nurse Simmons gave him an evil eye as she draped a towel over him and raised the head of his bed.

You gonna tell me who Jackie is?

You've made quite a name for yourself. She smoothed shaving foam over his beard.

What--?

Don't talk. I'll get to it. Wouldn't want to cut you, Mr. Hunky in 512. You've got the younger nurses all astir and well… She paused, taking the time to wipe the razor free of shaving cream. Who wouldn't want to take care of a young, good-looking hunk such as yourself? We even have a silent pool going as to whether you're straight or not. Jackie, she's from Las Vegas, claims that all the hunks in Las Vegas are either taken, players or gay. Are you taken?

Nurse Simmons lifted the razor away from his face, obviously waiting for his response.

None of the above. There was a girl… why couldn't he remember?

You just broke a half dozen hearts with that response and I'm sure there will be a renewed clamor to get assigned to this wing for rounds. I'm a happily married woman. We could play a little trick on them, though. Nurse Simmons wiggled her penciled eyebrows. "We could tell them we have grown quite close after your bath and shave."

Trevor stared at her. What do you mean, bath?

Nurse Simmons snickered, shielding her mouth with the back of her hand. The razor jiggled as laughter erupted from her.

Oh, Trevor. Can I call you Trevor? You better say yes, I've called you Trevor and talked to you for days. She managed to regain a semblance of appropriate demeanor. The look on your face. Oh my dear, I've bathed you and tended to your every need for almost a week now. Don't worry, you don't have anything I haven't seen before.

Nurse Simmons, do I have need of an attorney to press charges?

No, I'm just yanking your chain. It's a bad habit I have. One of these days it's going to get me fired.

Trevor smiled in agreement as she held the mirror for him.

How long am I going to be trussed up like this? He lacked the energy to nod at his hands.

A look of consternation clouded Nurse Simmons expression. Oh, you mean being confined to your bed.

Trevor nodded.

Well, let's see what we can do to free up your hand a bit. She shuffled pillows and blankets, and then moved things closer so he could move his left hand. That's as much as we can do for a few more days. Are you left or right handed?

Right handed.

When you can hold a spoon in your left hand to feed yourself, we'll get you on solid foods.

I can't have solids now? Trevor craved a nice thick slice of prime rib, or even a nice serving of mashed potatoes. His mouth watered at the thought of food.

If someone were here to help you, yes. But with the cutbacks, we can't spare the personnel to feed you.

Did you contact my mother?

Yes. She said something about timing, heat and convenience.

Let me guess, basically she isn't coming.

Well, not right away. She spoke to the doctor though.

No doubt Mother still smarted from his parting words. It hadn't been entirely pleasant, but he didn't need her meddling in his life and she wanted nothing more than to relive her youth via a marriage to the man who now owned her deceased husband's company. Did she really think she'd find happiness with him, even if the honeymoon took them abroad? Of course there remained one tiny problem, he needed her, or at least someone now.

Was there anyone else that came in when I did?

No. Nurse Simmons shook her head. No, you were the only one on that flight.

Trevor swallowed hard. Porsche. Remembering warmed his insides. The mine collapse. She hadn't survived. His gut twisted, a wave of nausea coming over him. The memory became painfully clear. He had led her to her death.

He knew the mine was dangerous but she'd wanted to be there. She'd helped him open the mine after all. They'd survived that day, but…

Nurse Simmons jabbered about how sharp he looked clean shaven. He couldn't care less about his appearance. He'd murdered Porsche.

Can you leave now? I'm feeling pretty tired.

Hours later Trevor woke in a cold sweat. He struggled and thrashed. Alarms sounded. The nurses rushed in. Their arrival signaled his safety and he immediately calmed down, taking several deep breaths to slow his breathing. Whatever woke him no longer existed.

Chapter 2

Mercedes eased her way through the wide hospital room door, not wanting to disturb her mother. Ilene stirred from her chair, stretching. She'd probably sat in that chair for hours instead of finding a more comfortable place to rest.

How is she, Mom? Mercedes asked needing to know how serious Porsche's injuries were.

As good as can be expected. Ilene spoke softly.

What do the doctors say?

Not much. Thanks for coming, dear. You really didn't have to.

Yes, I did Mom, Mercedes corrected her mother and moved to Porsche's bedside to touch her sister's hand. When I told Dr. Whipple I couldn't take the job and why, he was very understanding. He insisted I be here for you and the meeting with the doctors. He expects a full report when I get back to Vegas.

Then you didn't actually quit?

I thought I did, but apparently not. Mercedes gave a weak smile.

It's good that your new boss understands. Ilene stood and gathered Mercedes into her arms. The faint fragrance of soap wafted off Ilene. Mercedes inhaled and turned to bury her face against the shoulder that had comforted her for twenty-four years.

I bet Porsche has hated being home from school with no guys to chase. Mercedes tried to keep the conversation light as she reached to comfort an unconscious Porsche.

Actually, I think she rather enjoyed this past month, even if your father brought the young man home.

She met someone…that Dad approved of? Mercedes asked incredulously, her gentle stroke over Porsche's arm stuttering. Dad didn't like the young men Porsche dated. He'd even taken to keeping his favorite shotgun standing in the corner behind the front door to dissuade as many of them as possible.

It hadn't done an overly effective job as Porsche arranged to meet most of the guys further from home. She got away with it because Mercedes often went with her, hoping to be given her cast offs, the guy's friends. It didn't take long for Mercedes to find she had little in common with the rejects that seemed to want nothing more than a make-out partner. The constant pawing and groping was a scene she wanted nothing to do with. By their senior year, Mercedes had eased her growing lack of self-esteem with a full load of college online courses.

Let's sit. Ilene motioned to the two chairs in the hospital room, taking the one she had occupied earlier. A lot has happened while you've been away at school and now you have a new job.

Barely, Mercedes mumbled.

We are so proud of you, Ilene beamed with pride. Her happiness shifted to a more somber attitude. If I recall correctly, it was an unusually busy day. Mrs. Harper called to thank Porsche for returning her goat. You know that little wether goat Porsche fed when you were both younger.

So, Mrs. Harper still has Houdini. I shouldn't be surprise after she got him castrated. There for a while I thought she intended to make him a house pet. Mercedes visibly shuddered. At six months the little kid her mother referred to, thought he was a family member rather than a barnyard animal. He'd acted the part of Porsche and Mercedes's surrogate dog since Ilene didn't want a dog in her pristine house or yard. He didn't play fetch but they'd dressed him up in doll clothes, played tag, and even taught him to pull a wagon, or rather a travois due to the wheels coming off.

Porsche was working at the hardware store for Reinhold and apparently they saw Houdini out so Porsche caught him and took him home. I'm not sure what else happened or how it happened. I just remember your father coming home with the young man right after Porsche called to tell me we had a guest for dinner and that she wouldn't be home to join us.

How did she know that? Mercedes asked with a smidgeon of surprise. If Porsche had forgone a dinner with a guy that Dad approved of, she had changed.

I found out later that your father gave her a ride from Maverick's to Mrs. Harper's. Apparently, she hadn’t liked the look of the young man.

She must have thought he was an absolute loser to not come home for dinner. Mercedes had little doubt that if Porsche thought a guy worth it, she'd waste no time getting to know him better.

I'm not sure what she thought. But 'loser' is not how I would describe the young man. I just remember him walking in with your father and… well… it's difficult to describe. I got this feeling that I can only describe as, 'I knew him.'

Whoa, Mom. Ilene had a way of embarrassing her daughters at the worst possible times and all in the name of trying to help.