Sisters in the Wind(19)

“The orthopedic surgeon was here an hour ago. She should be back soon.” Daunis reacts to the urgency in my tone and movements. “Lucy, you have a fractured femur. That’s a broken thigh bone. You had surgery right away to repair it. You also had a concussion that requires more observation. You’ll be in the hospital for a few more days, at least.”

“Are you a doctor? You sound like one,” I say.

“No. I’m not.” She smiles. “But I’ve studied a lot.”

“How soon can I leave?” I keep my voice level to hide my growing fear. “Where’s my backpack? It was in my cubby near the time clock.”

Jamie looks momentarily confused. “The diner’s a crime scene, Lucy. The police are investigating the bombing. The FBI will get involved if it was an act of domestic terrorism.”

I notice my left wrist is bare.

“Where’s my watch?” I shout. “My dad’s watch. I wear it every day. It’s mine.” My eyes plead with Jamie. “I had it on when the—”

“Calm down,” he says in a soothing voice. “Anything you were wearing when the EMTs brought you to the emergency room was placed in a plastic bag and sealed.”

Jamie retrieves a clear bag from the closet. He shakes it, making his way to my bedside. The watch settles at the bottom of the bag.

Relief catches in my throat.

“Please help me open—”

He rips the bag before I finish my request. After digging frantically, I grip the watch. Even my fingers feel weak after waking up. An instant later I inspect the back, front, and band.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” I cry out to God.

“You’re welcome?” Jamie says hesitantly.

He helps me slide the leather strap into the buckle and poke the metal stem through the correct hole.

I stare at the watch, assessing my situation. Risk and reward.

I need to get away. Not just from the hospital or town. I need to flee the state. Probably the country. Daunis and Jamie won’t leave my bedside until the doctor comes in, that much I know. They move like longtime dance partners, gliding in sync. They are connected in a way I don’t understand, especially if they haven’t seen each other in a while.



* * *



It’s not a long wait for the doctor, though it feels that way, watching them watch me.

A petite brown woman in a white coat with a stethoscope around her neck enters the room, accompanied by a taller white woman in hospital scrubs.

“Hello, Lucy Smith,” says the smaller woman. “I’m Dr. Rao. It rhymes with wow.” She smiles warmly and maintains eye contact as she continues. “I am an orthopedic surgeon, which means I focus on bones, as well as muscles and ligaments. I’m your doctor, so everyone on your care team goes through me.” She looks at the taller woman, who steps forward at this cue.

“Hi, Lucy. I’m your nurse today. My name is Ashley Sloan, but since we have a lot of people here named Ashley, you can call me Sloan.” She, too, smiles, before sidestepping to write her name on a whiteboard on the wall next to my nightstand.

Dr. Rao has me sit upright so she can listen to my lungs through her stethoscope. I feel the metal disk pressed at my back. She instructs me to take a deep breath. Repeating her instructions three more times, she moves the stethoscope each time to access a different part of my lungs.

It isn’t until Dr. Rao has finished gathering my vital statistics that she acknowledges Daunis and Jamie.

“Your friends have taken turns staying here since you were brought in yesterday.”

Yesterday? I thought it was still Friday. I was conked out for an entire day?

If I act confused, Dr. Rao might make me stay longer for more observation. I try my best for alert and coherent.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Dr. Rao.” I return the smile. “I’m hoping to go home and recuperate there.”

No one needs to know I’m technically homeless. And in desperate need of a one-way ticket out of Michigan.

She matches my tone. “Lucy, I’d like to keep you for another night or two. Concussions such as yours can be dangerous if left unattended. As for your leg, we want you up and moving with a walker as soon as possible.”

“I can walk like this?” I focus on my leg instead of the pain in my throbbing skull.

There are staples bridging cuts down the length of my thigh. It looks horrible, especially because there’s no gauze to shield anything from me. With a start, I realize there are industrial-strength painkillers dripping into my IV, turning unbearable agony into fuzzy discomfort.

“It will be months before you can put full weight on your leg, but moving with the aid of a walker is essential for bone recovery,” Dr. Rao says.

She puts an X-ray image on top of a lighted screen.

My thigh bone is snapped in half. I can almost feel the bone crack again at the sight of it. The lower portion has shifted upward and to the side of the upper half of bone. I gawk at the image, unable to comprehend something that large breaking completely. The outline of the bone is more solid than the inner bone. The “meat” of my body appears ghostly translucent.

“The straight line here is what we call a transverse fracture.” She uses a pen to point at the blunt sections. “There were no bone fragments and no puncturing of the skin.”