JOHNNY'S CHRISTMAS MIRACLE
By: The J.G.B.'s
Johnny closed his eyes as the hot stream of water from the shower poured over his tired body. He stood unmoving, trying to push the memory of the last rescue away.
“Gage! Come on, you're not the only one that wants to take a shower, you know!” Chet Kelly's voice broke through his trance.
Johnny heaved a big sigh without answering the fireman, and allowed the steady stream of water to continue its hypnotizing effect.
I wonder if she's still alive…she was so cold...and still. He shivered despite the warmth in the steamy shower. How could anyone just throw a tiny baby away?
_____________________________
With a towel wrapped around his slim hips, Johnny walked by Chet without acknowledging him, or making a smart retort to Chet's, “It's about time, Gage! Geez, I thought you were building an ark in there or something.”
Johnny tossed the bundle of dirty clothes he was carrying onto the floor of his locker. He unwrapped his towel, shivering slightly until he got into clean boxer shorts, T-shirt, socks, uniform pants and shirt. He picked his name plate, badge, and pen off the shelf of his locker. He pinned the badge and name plate on his shirt, then slipped the pen into his left pocket. He threw his wet towel into the laundry cart across the room. He sank to the bench, leaning forward to massage his throbbing forehead with one hand. He didn't want to remember the call, but it was all too clear. A fire in a warehouse in an aging section of the city. The warehouse was owned by a discount store chain, and had been stocked with merchandise for the holiday season. Thousands of cardboard boxes made the fire huge, hot, and fast-spreading. Five other engine companies joined Station 51 in getting it under control. Fortunately, no employees had been present in the warehouse that morning, meaning Johnny and Roy manned hoses, other than the few minutes they administered oxygen to a firefighter from 36's who suffered a minor case of smoke inhalation.
Johnny tried to recall now how he had even heard the baby. Between the screaming sirens, the whoosh of gushing water, and men shouting instructions to one another, it was nothing short of a miracle that the weak cries coming from a Dumpster reached his ears. A miracle. Yes, he supposed that's what it was. Or at least that's what Dixie had called it after she was told the story. She'd given Johnny a soft smile and said, “I guess she's your little Christmas miracle, huh, Johnny?” Within seconds, the other women standing around the nurses' station chimed in their agreement. Betty even suggested the abandoned little girl be called Miracle, until she was placed with a family. Dixie quieted her employees by reminding them firmly, “She's in critical condition, ladies. Don't get your hopes up.” Johnny walked away from the women then, not wanting to hear their convictions regarding how God wouldn't let little Miracle die considering what lengths Johnny had gone to with his efforts to save her life. Despite the fact that Christmas was just three weeks away, Johnny wasn't fooling himself into thinking God would intervene where this child was concerned. She was one of many newborns abandoned shortly after birth in cities across the country every year. What could possibly make Miracle different from those other babies who so often died before they ever had a chance to live?
Johnny never heard his partner enter the room. Roy pushed the swinging door open and poked his head in. He studied the dark haired man a moment, trying to decide which Johnny needed worse; a few minutes alone, or a friend to talk with. When Johnny rubbed a hand over his forehead and winced at the pain his headache was causing him, Roy decided he needed a friend. He crossed the floor and sat down on the bench next to his partner.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” Johnny sighed without looking at Roy. “Just a headache.”
“Did you take anything for it?”
“No. I'll get a couple aspirin in a minute.”
“Lunch is ready. Marco made beef stew and dinner rolls.”
“Sounds good,” Johnny said, as he dropped his hand from his forehead and sat up straight.
“Smells good, too.”
Johnny stared into his open locker a long minute before breaking the silence that had fallen over the two men.
“She was so cold, Roy,” he whispered.
“I know.”
“And listless. She was so listless. Not squirming around, or waving her little fists, or squalling, or doing anything newborns do.”
“I know, John.”
“She. . .she couldn't have been more than a couple hours old. Why. . .why would someone do that to a baby?”
“I don't know. Most likely her mother is young. . .just a kid. Probably not over fifteen or sixteen, if even that. A scared kid with no way to support the baby, and no one to turn to for help.”
“But a lot of people. . .couples, married couples, want babies who can't have them. She could have put the baby up for adoption. That's all she had to do. Just put the baby up for adoption. She didn't have to give birth alone, or leave Miracle in a Dumpster, or. . .”
Roy interrupted Johnny's monologue. He didn't think it was a good idea for Johnny to start referring to the baby by the name the nurses had given her. Like Dixie, Roy doubted the little girl would be alive in twenty-four hours. Once she had a name, the more like a person she seemed, and the harder this would be on anyone who had cared for her. Most especially, Roy knew, on the very first man who had cared for her by cradling her beneath his turn-out coat in an attempt to give her some much-needed body heat while they waited for the ambulance to arrive.
“Johnny, the cops are looking for her mother, but the likelihood they'll ever find her is slim. Therefore, the likelihood that we'll ever know why she was abandoned is also slim. I agree with you, partner. In a perfect world that little girl would have been put up for adoption, and right this very minute some couple would be out of their minds with joy knowing she was coming home to live with them in a few days. But it's not a perfect world, and that's not what happened. Neither you, nor I, can change that fact.”
Johnny nodded, not trusting his voice to give his partner a verbal reply. He sat there a few seconds longer, but when he heard Chet singing an off-key rendition of Jingle Bells he stood, shut his locker, and headed for the kitchen. Right now the last person Johnny was in the mood for was Chet Kelly.
The paramedic paused on his way out the door. He looked back at his partner, saying softly, “When I was riding in the ambulance with Miracle, she looked up at me as though she had all the faith in the world that I was going to take care of her. That I was going to save her life. Her eyes. . .they were such an unusual shade of blue, Roy. The most beautiful shade of blue I've ever seen. Blue. They were sapphire blue.”
And with that the door swung shut behind Johnny. Chet entered the room in the same condition Johnny had earlier, with nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips. He was now whistling Here Comes Santa Claus as he started dressing. He glanced over at Roy, who was lost in thought.
“What's with Gage?”
“Huh?”
“I said, what's with Gage? He's been as moody as a woman on the rag ever since we got back from that fire.”
Roy simply rolled his eyes. Chet could be as thick as brick sometimes. Though Chet hadn't been directly involved with the baby's rescue or care, he was aware of the fact that Johnny had found her.
“He's got a headache. Probably just needs a couple aspirin and some lunch. Which, by the way, is ready.”
“Great. I'm starving.”
“You would be,” Roy muttered under his breath, as he walked out of the locker room to the strains of Frosty The Snowman.
_____________________________
Captain Stanley sat hunched over his desk. I hate paperwork. He stopped when he came to the entry in the Squad's log from the last rescue. Johnny's scrawl was harder to read than usual. He read it twice to make sure he didn't miss anything.
Finding that baby was sure an unpleasant discovery. John has barely said two words since he and Roy got back from Rampart.
“Excuse me,” the voice of a young woman caused Stanley to look up.
“Oh, hello, Miss,” Stanley said as he stood up. He smiled at the young woman and the bespectacled little girl that was with her. “Captain Hank Stanley. Is there something I can do for you?” he asked as he shook the young woman's hand.
“Hello, Captain. My name is Melody, and this is my little sister, Harmony,” she smiled. “Our parents are musicians.”
“Nice to meet you, Melody and Harmony,” Stanley said.
“Is this the station John Gage works at?” Harmony asked, stepping slightly in front of her older sister. “He's the paramedic that conducted a tour of the hospital I went on recently.”
Stanley couldn't help the amused look that appeared on his face as the gifted 10-year-old spoke. “Um, yes it is. Are you here to see him?”
“Yes, we would like to see him. I wanted to thank him, and I wanted my sister to meet him.” She leaned in close to Stanley and whispered, “He's really cute, you know. And my sister…who's 20, by the way, is always looking for a new boyfriend. My parents want her to find someone so she will move out the house.”
Hank laughed to himself, so as not to give away the secret. “I'll go find him for you. You can wait right here.”
Captain Stanley poked his head out of his office just as Johnny was crossing the engine bay to the kitchen.
“John! Come here a minute, Pal.”
Johnny's heart dropped to his feet. I hope he didn't get a call from Rampart. I hope Miracle's still hanging in there for me.
“Yeah, Cap?”
Hank indicated to the inside of his office. “There's two young ladies here who would like to speak with you.”
“Young ladies?”
A little girl with long, flaxen hair stepped forward as Johnny reached the doorway.
“Hi, Mr. Gage. You might not remember me, but I'm Harmony. Harmony Miller. I was on the tour you conducted at the hospital two weeks ago.”
Johnny nodded. He remembered the little girl well. That tour had been for students who were seniors in high school with an interest in pursing a career in the medical field in some way, shape, or form. Part of the duties of the L.A. County paramedics was to assist with these tours in order to increase enrollment in their own program. Johnny had been surprised to see a child so young amongst his group of twelve, and had assumed she was someone's little sister who had been forced to tag along. As soon as she started asking questions; however, Johnny realized this was no tag-along. This was a child prodigy.
“I remember you, Harmony. How are you?”
“I'm fine. This is my sister Melody.”
Johnny smiled at the young woman. Like her sister, she had long, white-blond hair and pale blue eyes. There was no doubt she was a beautiful girl, but right now Johnny's mind was only on one girl. The tiny one he'd pulled out of a Dumpster that morning.
“Hi, Melody.”
Hank stepped out of the office just as Chet poked his head in to see what was going on. He placed his hands firmly on the Irishman's chest, pushing him backwards.
“You. To the kitchen. Now.”
“Why? What's going on? And who's the gorgeous chick and her little sidekick?”
“Just some young ladies here to see John.”
“What for?”
“It's none of our business. Now go on. To the kitchen.”
Roy raised a questioning eyebrow as Hank pushed Chet into the kitchen ahead of him. Chet shrugged his shoulders.
“Some good looking chick is here to see Johnny, but Cap won't tell me why.”
“Because you don't need to know why. . .none of us do, unless John chooses to tell us. Now let's eat.”
Five minutes later Chet's suspenseful wait ended when Johnny appeared in the kitchen.
“Well?”
“Well, what?” Johnny asked, as he crossed to the stove and filled a bowl with the stew Marco had made. He put it on the table, then went to the refrigerator, got out the milk, and poured himself a glass.
“What did that girl want?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? Oh come on, Gage. She musta' wanted something.”
Hank hid his smile behind his buttered dinner roll, but Roy caught the sparkle to his eyes.
“Chet, she didn't want anything.” Johnny carried his milk to the table, sat down, and reached for a warm roll. “Just forget it.”
“Just tell me, Gage.”
“Yeah, Johnny, tell him,” Marco pleaded. “We'll never hear the end of it until you do.”
“Did you get her pregnant?” Chet teased.
“Chet!” Came Johnny's indignant cry. “I just met her.”
“Oh. Well. . .you didn't do something stupid like run over her dog on the way to work, did you? We all know how you drive.”
“No. I didn't run over her dog. I don't even know if she has a dog.”
“Well--”
“Chet, look, I know the little girl. . .Harmony, because she was on a tour I conducted at the hospital a few weeks ago. She came by here with her older sister hoping to fix us up.”
“You're kidding me?”
“No, I'm not kidding you.”
“So, when are you doing out?”
“We're not.”
“What do you mean, you're not? That chick is drop-dead gorgeous.”
“Yeah, she is. But we're not going out. I'm not interested.”
Chet reached a hand over and laid it on Johnny's forehead. “Mmmm, no fever. I wonder what else could be wrong with you that would cause you to--”
Johnny grabbed Chet's wrist and threw his hand down. Chet's hand hit Johnny's glass of milk and sent it sailing across the table. Every man jumped up in an effort to avoid a lap full of cold milk.
“Now you've done it, Gage.”
“No, Chet! You've done it! Just leave me alone, for crying out loud!”
Johnny stormed from the room while Hank pointed Chet toward the wash rag hanging over the sink's divider. “Kelly, I think you need to clean this mess up.”
“Me? But it was Johnny who--”
“Kelly!”
“Yes, Sir,” Chet sighed, as he retrieved the rag and a dry dish cloth. As soon as he had everything cleaned up the other men retook their seats.
“So what's got Johnny so upset?” Marco asked.
Roy halted the progress of a spoonful of stew headed for his mouth. “The baby from this morning. He got pretty attached to her.”
“That's understandable,” Hank nodded. “After all, he was the one who found her, and then took care of her until he got her to Rampart. But still, he needs to take a step back and not let it get to him. It's sad, but he did all he could for her.”
“I know. Johnny knows that, too. It'll just take him a little while to work through it, Cap.”
“Well, I hope it doesn't take too long,” Chet said. “I don't plan on cleaning up spilt milk for the rest of this shift.”
In unison, Marco, Mike, Hank and Roy said, “Shut up, Chet.” Roy set his fork down by his plate and pushed his chair back.
“Cap, I'm gonna go check on Johnny."
Captain Stanley nodded. "Good idea, Roy. Why don't you try to remind him of the hazards of staying too close to a victim's situation while you're talking to him."
"Yeah…I will,” Roy quietly replied as he stood. He shot Chet an annoyed glance as he turned to leave the day-room.
Catching Roy's look, all eyes were on suddenly on Chet. "What?" He asked, shrugging.
"Kelly, sometimes you just don't know when to quit." Captain Stanley answered for himself and the others.
____________________
Roy walked into the dorm, hoping to find Johnny there. He gave a wan smile, seeing his partner sitting on the bed across from his. He was writing something on a piece of paper.
Well, he doesn't seem to be too upset.
Sitting down on his bed across from Johnny, Roy decided to try a subtle approach to see how his partner was fairing. "What are you writing?"
"Hmmm?" Johnny looked up, just realizing Roy had come in. "Oh…just trying to think of a list of things we might want to get little Miracle…you know, she's got nothing right now."
"Johnny…" Roy paused, searching for the words to say. "I know she's special to you. But I don't think you should let yourself get in too deep with Mir…um…the baby's situation."
"Roy, I just can't help it. Think about it…think about all the rescues we do on kids, and the parents are there worried for the child. You can see the fear on their faces when the child is sick, or injured, or trapped. Remember the little girl in the well a few years ago? Her mother was so distraught. And seeing the look on her face after we got her daughter out was incredible. You could just see how much she loved and cared for her little girl."
Roy nodded, keeping silent for Johnny to continue.
"Well, then you have this helpless baby who is tossed aside in a trash bin. Thrown away like an old rag doll. No mother or father there to be worried, no one to hug her or to even care that she was rescued. It's not fair. There are people who would give anything to even have a healthy baby, and here someone does and they just throw her away." Johnny blinked away tears. "She deserves to have someone there for her, Roy." He looked down at the floor.
"Yeah, I agree." Roy said, a hint of worried aggravation in his voice. "But the nurses are there taking care of the baby. I just don't think you should stay close to this one. We don't know what the outcome will be."
Johnny's head snapped up. The hurt look on his face told Roy he used the wrong choice of words for the moment.
"I'm sorry. Look, I know what you're saying. I care, too, but I also care about my partner and what this may do to him." Roy eyed Johnny's face looking for a reaction.
"Thanks, Roy. I…"
The tones sounded, interrupting Johnny's reply.
"Squad 51. Man down. 1259 Oliver. One-two-five-nine Oliver. Cross street, Durand. Time out, 13:05."
John sighed as he got up from his bunk and hurried to the squad.
That baby has to make it. She was meant to live. She can't die. I knew she was a survivor when I heard that cry. It's too close to Christmas for somebody that little to die. She hasn't had a chance to live, for crying out loud.The paramedic donned his helmet and took the run slip from Roy.
Don't get involved. Johnny stared at the passing scenery. Easy for Roy to say. He didn't find her. I did. I was a goner when I first laid eyes on her. "Turn left up here," he pointed to the upcoming intersection. Just keep thinkin' positively.
Roy turned down a quiet street lined with modest homes.
"Up there," Johnny pointed to a small bungalow. A police car was parked in the short driveway. Vince Howard stood in the doorway, waving at the paramedics.
Roy pulled the squad to the curb. The two paramedics removed their helmets, then got out of the vehicle.
Vince jogged to the curb. "I'm glad you two are here."
"What's going on?" asked Johnny, as Roy rounded the squad carrying the oxygen. He pulled the drug box out and handed it to Roy, then grabbed the bio-phone and cardiac monitor. The three started towards the home.
"Guy's wife made him a special anniversary lunch," reported Vince. "Said he had to go to the bathroom, got up from the table, and dropped over. He's breathing, barely, and he looks really bad."
The three walked through the front room into the kitchen. The table was littered with dishes of fettucine alfredo, shrimp cocktail, crusty Italian bread and salad. An late middle-aged man with graying hair and a slight paunch to his abdomen, lay beside the table, gasping for breath. An attractive middle aged woman stood beside the sink. Tears streamed from her eyes.
The paramedics knelt beside the man. Perspiration glistened on his pale face. Johnny placed his fingers on the man's neck. The pulse he felt was weak and irregular. "Pulse is 90 and thready." He grabbed the patches as Roy cut the man's shirt open.
"Ma'am?" Roy asked, as he placed an oxygen mask over the man's face. "Does your husband have any health problems? Is he allergic to anything?"
"Call me Betty. Betty Martin." The woman wiped her eyes and shook her head. "No. Barry's always been healthy as a horse. We've been married for twenty-five years, and he's never had a sick day from work. Is he gonna be okay?" She shook her head and rested her hand on her fist. "I don't know what I'd do without him. He's my life."
Johnny and Roy exchanged glances. "Roy," Johnny read the monitor. “Tombstones. He's throwing a lot of PVC's, too."
Roy nodded and glanced at the woman. He pumped up the blood pressure cuff and grimaced. "BP is 80 over 40." He picked up the biophone receiver. "Rampart, this is Squad 51."
"Go ahead, 51. This is Rampart," replied Doctor Brackett.
"Rampart," Roy started. "We have a male, approximate age 55, who collapsed after ingesting a meal. Patient's wife reports no prior medical history or allergies. Patient's vitals are: Pulse 90 and thready; bp 80 over 40; respirations are rapid and shallow. We have the victim on 6 liters of oxygen. Request permission to start IV."
"Squad 51, start IV with D5W, T.K.O. and send me a strip."
Johnny quickly started the IV as Roy transmitted the EKG strip.
"10-4, 51," replied Brackett. "I read sinus tachycardia with multifocal PVC's. Administer 100 milligrams Lidocaine, and start a drip at three milligrams an hour."
“10-4, Rampart.”
The ambulance attendants entered the now crowded kitchen.
Roy passed the syringe to Johnny. Shit! "V-fib!" He grabbed the paddles and handed them to Johnny. Roy snared the conductive gel and placed a glob on the paddles. He hit the charge button as Johnny positioned the paddles on Barry's chest. "Clear!"
Johnny discharged the defibrillator, causing the victim to jump. "No conversion! Let's hit him again." He flexed his jaw.
Barry's wife wept in the corner.
"Clear!" exclaimed Roy.
Johnny discharged the defibrillator, watching in anticipation as Barry's body arched from the jolt. "Sinus rhythm, with multiple PVC's. He grabbed the discarded syringe and administered the medication. He looked at the ambulance attendants. "Let's go!"
____________________
Johnny walked dejectedly from the treatment room.
Poor guy. Probably had a massive coronary.
He glanced down the corridor, and spotted Mrs. Martin seated in a chair, a tissue clutched in her hand. Twenty-fifth anniversary. What a way to spend it. The paramedic sighed as he walked to the nurses' station and put the equipment on the desk.
"Tough run?" asked Dixie, as she jotted a note in a chart.
Johnny nodded. "We lost him. He coded once at the scene, and we were able to get him back. Then he coded again right when we got him on the gurney, and we couldn't do anything." He grabbed a mug and poured a cup of coffee. "It was their anniversary, too." He shook his head. "It really makes you wonder why things happen the way they do."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, on one hand, I find a helpless infant at a fire, and you don't expect her to live...but she does. Then you've got a guy, who looks like he's in pretty decent shape, never been sick according to his wife, and boom. He keels over after a big lunch. You wouldn't expect it to happen that way."
Dixie smiled sadly at the paramedic. "It probably was his time, Johnny. Medical science can only go so far. Sometimes it helps, and sometimes...it just isn't meant to be."
"I guess you've got a point there, Dix. How is Miracle, anyway?"
Dixie shrugged. "She's holding her own, but things are still touch and go at this point." She patted the man on the shoulder. "Johnny, if the worst happens, then it probably wasn't meant to be." She looked up as Roy entered the nurses' station. "Don't take it too hard if she doesn't make it. We've all done the best we can for her. Sometimes these things are up to a higher authority."
Johnny nodded and drained the last of his coffee. He looked at Roy. "You ready?"
"He didn't make it, did he?" Roy asked.
Johnny shook his head as he picked up the drug box and biophone. "See ya' later, Dix."
The paramedics were halfway down the corridor when Johnny had an apparent change of mind. He shoved the drug box and bio-phone in Roy's hands.
"Here. Take this stuff."
"Why?"
Johnny wrestled the handie-talkie from his partner as Roy juggled the equipment he'd just been laden with.
"I'm gonna go up and see Miracle."
"Johnny--"
"I"ll only be a couple minutes. And I've got the handie-talkie in case we get toned out."
Roy scooted closer to the wall to allow two orderlies pushing a gurney to pass by.
"Look, it's not that I mind you going up to see the baby, it's just that I don't think you should."
"Why not?"
"Because of what we discussed earlier. About not getting too involved."
"I'm not too involved," Johnny said, knowing fully well he was lying.
Roy knew it, too. "Johnny, you know her chances of surviving aren't good. You'll just make this harder on yourself if--"
The senior paramedic knew he was fighting a losing battle with his partner as soon as he saw the stubborn set to Johnny's jaw.
"I'm going up to see her, Roy. I'll meet you in the squad."
Roy simply shook his head as Johnny turned for the elevator.
I hope you don't come to regret your attachment to that little girl, Junior.
____________________
Johnny pushed the doors open to Pediatric ICU and peered toward the nurses' station. He didn't recognize one of the women standing behind the counter that was decorated for Christmas with gold garland bunting and hanging red stockings for Santa Claus to fill, but he knew the other one. Charlene Richter was the wife of a firefighter from Station 65.
"Hi, Char," Johnny greeted as he approached the station.
The short, buxom, woman with the cherubic face looked up from her work and smiled.
"Hi, Johnny. What brings you up here?"
"Would it be okay if I spent a couple minutes with Miracle. . .the baby who was brought in this morning?"
At the mention of the infant's nickname, Charlene smiled. "So you're the paramedic who found her, huh?"
"Yeah. It was me. How's she doing?"
"Holding her own for now. We're all pulling for her, there's no doubt about that."
"Yeah, me too."
"Come on. I'll take you to her."
Charlene led Johnny to a supply closet where she helped him get into a blue gown and surgical mask. She had him stop by a sink and thoroughly soap and wash his hands using hot water, then took him to a large glass room that contained critically ill infants residing in incubators. Three nurses in various areas of the room were closely monitoring the conditions of their assigned babies. Charlene led Johnny to the second row.
"Here she is."
Johnny looked down through the incubator's cover. The baby was tiny, not more than four and half pounds he'd guess. She was no longer blue like she had been the last time he'd seen her, but to say she appeared healthy would be an understatement of the facts. Her complexion was chalky, and she didn't move or squirm against her mattress, or at the discomfort of the tiny IV needles poking into her skin.
Johnny never took his eyes off the infant. "Would it. . .would it be okay if I held her a minute?"
"Sure," Charlene agreed. "If there's one thing these little ones need it's some cuddling. Especially a precious little girl like Miracle who has no family of her own to hold her."
The nurse had Johnny retrieve a rocking chair from the back of the room. He placed it next to Miracle's incubator, set his handie-talkie on the floor beside it, then sat down. Charlene transferred the baby from the incubator to Johnny's arms, being careful not to disturb any of medical paraphernalia surrounding her. The nurse covered Miracle with a pink blanket as Johnny began to gently rock her.
"I'll be back in a few minutes, Johnny. If you have any trouble with her, or if you get toned out, let Joyce know." Charlene pointed to a woman on the other side of the room. "She's Miracle's primary nurse."
"Okay. Thanks. Thanks a lot."
"You're welcome."
Johnny gazed down at the sleeping baby's face while he rocked her back and forth. A crown of pale auburn hair covered her head like a neat little cap. She had an adorable button nose no bigger than the tip of his ring finger, but the face, arms, and legs that should have been round and pudgy, were instead as scrawny as a little bird's.
"You'll get better, Miracle," Johnny whispered to the baby. "You just have to do your part for me and fight. One of these days I'll walk in here and you'll be fat, and healthy, and full of smiles. Well,. . okay, maybe not fat. No girl likes to be told she's fat. But you'll be beautiful, Princess. You'll be beautiful."
Johnny smiled when the baby made the tiniest of movements that caused her to snuggle deeper into his chest. It was as if she knew someone who cared about her was holding her.
Five minutes later Charlene returned. With the same care used to transfer Miracle to Johnny's arms, she was now transferred back to the incubator.
Johnny picked up the handie-talkie and carried the rocking chair to its former spot. He paused by Miracle's bed as he headed for the door.
"I'll be back, Miracle," he promised softly. "I'll be back."
____________________
Roy sat in the lounge staring at a half empty cup of coffee, as it gradually grew cold in his hands. He was worried about Johnny, but then again, what else was new?
He's getting too involved. God, what'll happen to him if she doesn't make it?
Roy sighed. He stood up, taking his untouched cup of coffee to the counter. He left the lounge, running into Johnny in the hallway.
"There you are." Johnny took the drug box from Roy's hands. "Ready?"
Roy nodded, staring hard at the expression on Johnny's face. "Yeah. Let's go." Roy grabbed Johnny's arm. "Uh…how's the baby?"
Johnny smiled. "She's gonna be fine, Roy, I know it."
Roy watched Johnny walk away. He sighed, shaking his head as he followed Johnny out.
The two men silently stowed their equipment and climbed into the squad. Roy glanced over at Johnny as he drove away from Rampart. His partner was staring out the window, an endearing expression gracing his face.
"She's better?" Roy asked quietly.
"She's holding her own. That's all anyone can ask for right now."
"Johnny--”
"Roy, I held her…I mean really held her. It was amazing. I sat there rocking her back and forth in the chair, and she just fit into my arms perfectly. She's so helpless…and small…I…it's…" Johnny shook his head, "incredible."
Roy thought back to the first time he held his oldest child in his arms. Chris was so small and innocent. It is incredible. But this wasn't the same. "Look, Johnny, don't get mad here, but you're getting too close to her." Roy gently brought the squad to a stop, taking advantage of the red light to look at his partner.
Johnny's expression changed, the soft endearing look replaced by a defensive one.
Roy jumped in before his partner could respond. He had to say this, and Johnny had to hear it. "What if she dies, Johnny?"
Johnny clenched his jaw, pain filling his eyes. He looked away. "That's not going to happen."
Roy shook his head, looking back to the road as the light turned green.
I hope not, partner.
____________________
The night had been a busy one with multiple calls for Squad 51 between midnight and five a.m. When the paramedics finally returned to the station at six on Saturday morning, there was no point in going back to bed. When the B-shift assembled at eight, and Captain Stanley dismissed his men, Johnny and Roy shuffled to the locker room. They said few words as they undressed, exchanging their uniforms for their street clothes. Both men were too tired for small talk, and the big subject that had been going on between them during this shift; a baby girl named Miracle, was best left alone Roy had long ago decided.
“So, what do you guys have planned for your days off?” Chet asked the paramedics as he entered the locker room.
Roy turned, placing his right foot on the bench behind him and began tying his tennis shoe. “Gotta put the Christmas lights on the outside of the house for Joanne.”
Johnny copied his partner's posture. “Gotta help Roy put the Christmas lights on the outside of the house for Joanne.”
“Geez, Gage, not only does Roy's wife have him henpecked, but she's got you henpecked, too.”
Johnny thought too much of Joanne to even consider teasing about her like that. “Guess so,” was all he said in return.
Chet looked at Roy with a mock expression of shock. “You better watch it, Roy. Your wife has some kinda power over Gage that's pretty scary if you ask me.”
“Some woman has to,” Roy shot back, while Johnny simply threw his partner a dirty look.
The paramedics gathered up their dirty uniforms and said goodbye to Chet. They walked through the engine bay and out the back door to the parking lot.
“Do you wanna meet me at Country Kitchen for breakfast?” Roy asked.
“Nah. Not this morning.”
“Okay, then. I'm gonna head on home. You'll be over around eleven to help me with those lights?”
“Yep,” Johnny promised, while hurrying to his Land Rover.
“What's the rush?” Roy asked, running to keep up.
“There's no rush.”
“You act like you're going to a fire or something, but since we just went off-shift I don't think that can be it.”
“I just have some place I need to be.”
Roy couldn't keep the suspicion out of his tone as the reason for Johnny's urgency dawned on him.
“Where?”
“Just some place.”
“Some place like Rampart?”
“Just for a few minutes.”
“Johnny--”
“Look, I know what you're gonna say so just drop it, okay?”
“You're getting way too attached to that baby, Johnny. You can't do this to yourself, or to her. It's not fair to either one of--”
“She's not that baby! She has a name.”
“Yeah. A name the nurses gave her. Not a name she'll likely keep if she liv. . .if she's eventually adopted.”
“Well, that's her name for now, so that's what I'll keep calling her.”
“Johnny--”
Johnny took a deep breath in an effort to calm himself. He didn't want to fight with Roy. Especially not today when they were supposed to hang Christmas lights, and when he was supposed to stay for supper and romp with Chris and Jennifer afterwards.
“Roy, I know we don't see eye to eye on this, and we probably never will. You've given me your reasons why you think I'm making a mistake by caring about Miracle--”
“It's not a mistake to care about her. All I'm saying is that it's a mistake to get attached to her.”
“And I respect the fact that you're saying that, even if I don't agree with you. So, please, respect the fact that I can't just walk away from the little girl whose mother threw her in a Dumpster like a piece of garbage twenty minutes after she was born.”
Johnny's request forced Roy to squelch the desire to continue this discussion. Johnny was too good of a friend for Roy to now push the matter farther, and besides, Chet was walking out the door. The last thing either paramedic needed was for the Irishman to get in the middle of their conversation. That would only cause Johnny's temper to blow, and for words to be said that everyone would regret later.
“Okay. I'll do as you ask and respect the fact that you can't walk away. But don't look to me for answers if she. . .if this doesn't work out the way you hope it will because, quite frankly, I won't have any that differ from what I've already given you.”
“I know.” Johnny climbed in his Land Rover as Chet approached, not wanting the man to be privy to their words any more than Roy did. “I'll see you at eleven.”
“See you then.”
Roy gave a tiny shake of his head as he bent low to toss his bundle of uniform pants and shirts in the passenger seat of his sports car. He slide behind the wheel and turned the key in the ignition.
“You're setting yourself up to take a hard fall, Johnny, but I don't know how much plainer I can make that to you. You can be so damn stubborn when you set your mind to doing something. Sometimes too damn stubborn for your own good.”
And with that as his final thought on the subject, Roy drove out of the parking lot, heading in the opposite direction of his Rampart-bound partner.
____________________
Johnny gave Dixie a big grin, a wave, and a cheery, “Hi, Dix!” as he strode to the elevator. He didn't pause to hear the greeting she gave him in return.
Kelly Brackett rounded the nurses' station as the elevator doors slid closed. “Was that Johnny I just saw fly by?”
“Yes.”
“What's he doing here on his day off?” The doctor poured himself a cup of coffee. “Or at least I assume it's his day off since he's wearing jeans and tennis shoes.”
“It's his day off,” Dixie confirmed. “And if I had to take an educated guess, I'd say he's here to see Miracle.”
“Miracle?”
“The critical newborn he brought in yesterday morning.”
“Oh.” Brackett nodded. “Sure. The baby he found in the Dumpster. Her condition was grave the last I heard.”
“It is. Doctor Marshall didn't think she'd make it through the night, but she's still hanging on. Though from what I was told a little while ago, just barely.”
“I hope Johnny's not getting too attached to her.”
“Your hope comes a little late, Kel.”
The doctor arched an inquiring eyebrow.
“He went up to see her yesterday after he and Roy had brought in the cardiac patient we lost. Char Richter told me Johnny held Miracle and rocked her. He called twice last night to see how she was doing. Now he's here to see her again. So you tell me if he's attached or not.”
Kelly put his coffee cup on the counter. “Maybe I should go up and talk to him.”
“Won't do you any good.”
“Why?”
“Roy has already tried. So have I.”
Brackett sighed. “Well, then, I guess there's not much more I can do. Just keep me informed, will ya', Dix? I can't make Johnny stop seeing the baby, but I can talk to him when the inevitable happens if need be.”
“You sound so certain Miracle won't make it.”
“Do you think she will?”
“No.” Dixie broke eye contact with the man. “No, I don't.”
“That's what I thought. Johnny would save himself a good deal of anguish if he thought the same thing.”
Dixie gave the man a small smile. “But then he wouldn't be Johnny, now would he?”
“No, Dix, I guess he wouldn't be,” Brackett agreed as he walked away.
The nurse returned to her paperwork, all the while thinking of a certain paramedic and his Christmas Miracle. She hoped God saw fit to perform a real miracle this year for the sake of that little girl, and just as importantly, for Johnny's sake.
____________________
Johnny slowly pushed his feet against the tiles, gently rocking Miracle back and forth in what was rapidly becoming their favorite chair. He was well aware of the fact that the baby looked worse than she had the previous day, and he was well aware that she'd had a bad night. Those facts didn't stop him from offering soft words of encouragement to her.
“You hang in there for me, Miracle. You're gonna be quite a beauty some day. I can see it already. I know they'll find a great mom and dad for you. You're gonna just bat your eyes at 'em and get your way every time. They won't be able to resist you, I guarantee it.”
Johnny wasn't sure how much time passed before Char returned to put the baby back in her incubator. He lingered over Miracle a few moments, not allowing his mind to fully assimilate the additional medical equipment that had been added since he was here last. He stroked a hand over the top of incubator as though he was stroking it over the baby within. He finally tore his gaze from the infant and exited the nursery with Charlene.
“I'm gonna be at Roy's for the day,” Johnny said as he stripped off his gown and surgical mask. The nurse took the items from him. “But it's okay if I call to check on her a couple times, isn't it? I mean, I'm not bugging you guys, am I?”
“Of course not,” Charlene shook her head. “It's nice to know someone cares.”
“No one else--” Johnny let his question trail off at the hint of sorrow that crossed the woman's face.
“No, Johnny,” she said quietly. “No one else has called about her.”
“I suppose it's stupid of me to think anyone. . .her mother. . .would, but--”
“It's not stupid of you. I was hoping the same thing. But I highly doubt it's going to happen.”
“I doubt it, too, but I guess Christmas has got me overly sentimental.”
“Christmas has us all overly sentimental where your Miracle is concerned.”
Roy wouldn't have liked hearing Char refer to the infant as 'your Miracle' in reference to his partner and the baby, but Johnny didn't care, because that was exactly how he was beginning to think of the little girl who had stolen his heart.
Johnny headed for the swinging doors. “I'll talk to you later, Char. Thanks again for everything.”
“You're welcome.”
The paramedic rode the elevator to the main floor, then headed for the parking lot. As he pulled his Land Rover onto the street he was totally ignorant of the flurry of activity going on at that moment around Miracle's incubator.
____________________
Johnny climbed out of his Land Rover and leaned against the hood laughing. Roy stood in the middle of his front yard, turning a tangled mass of Christmas lights over and over in his hands. Twinkling strings of lights merrily crisscrossed the lawn.
“Hey, Roy!” Johnny called with a grin, “I thought the idea was to decorate the house, not the grass.” He pointed at the lights strung across the ground. “Or are you trying something different this year? I gotta say, it's…different.”
“Very funny,” Roy muttered. “I had to check all the bulbs. Those strings are ready to go up.” He scowled at the mess he held, and began tugging at the plug end of a wire in frustration.
Johnny stepped onto the lawn, carefully avoiding the lights festooning it. He looked from the twisted ball of wire in Roy's hands, to identical messes still in a cardboard box at Roy's feet. “You know, partner,” Johnny started, “if you straightened them all out before you packed them away...” He trailed off when he saw the murderous look his normally easy-going partner was aiming at him.
“They were all nice and neat when I packed them away,” Roy said through clenched teeth. “This happens every year. I swear, if I didn't know any better, I'd think the Phantom was sneaking into my garage and doing this. I can't think of any other explanation. Ahhh…here we go.” Roy let out a relieved sigh as the tight ball began to unravel.
“Look, if you just pull this one through…” Johnny reached out and grabbed a loop of wire, giving it a sturdy pull. The wires that had started to loosen and droop immediately re-tightened into an impenetrable mass.
Roy looked from the wires to Johnny's face with his mouth hanging open. When he started to growl, Johnny took a quick step backwards.
“You said those are all working and ready to go?” Johnny squeaked, pointing at the lawn. “Why don't I get the ladder and start hanging them.” He took a step to the side, looking for a clear path to run past his partner. He was pretty sure there was steam coming from Roy's ears.
“Hi, Uncle Johnny!” An excited yell heralded the arrival of Roy's son, Chris, as the boy came barreling out of the front door. “Hey, Dad! Mom needs you!” Chris launched himself from the top step, running towards his uncle.
“Chris, don't!” Roy yelled in a strangled voice.
The boy landed solidly, his momentum carrying him forward several more steps. Glass crunched, crackled, and shattered beneath his sneakers.
Johnny looked from the broken bulbs to his partner's red face. “Ummm, Roy, since you don't have any ready for me to hang yet, I think I'll go check and see what Joanne needs.” Pushing Chris in front of him, the younger paramedic ran for the safety of the house.
____________________
“Dixie?”
The hesitant voice pulled Dixie's attention from the paperwork in front of her. She looked up into Charlene Richter's tear-filled eyes. Dixie felt a slow sinking sensation in her chest at the sight.
“Dix, you're good friends with Johnny Gage and his partner, right?”
“That's right.”
“I was wondering if you could give me Roy's number? I know Johnny's there, and he…he would want…” Her voice broke and she took a moment to clear her throat. “He would want to know…” she continued in a choked whisper.
Dixie hung her head and felt the moisture gathering in her own eyes.
____________________
The ladder wobbled slightly under Johnny's feet as he swiftly climbed upward, a string of lights draped over his shoulder. His lips pursed and he began to softly whistle a Christmas carol, the words running through his head.
What child is this who laid to rest. . . He broke off and a gentle smile covered his face. I'll call Rampart after this string is up.
He ignored the sound of a car pulling to the curb, and a car door closing.
“Johnny?”
He almost missed the soft voice coming from the lawn in back of him. Almost, but not quite. He recognized the voice, and the sadness that filled it. His breath caught in his throat and the string of lights fell from his hand. He grasped the ladder and laid his forehead against the rung in front of him as a wave of dizziness washed over him. No, it must be something else, it must be. But still, he refused to turn around and face that voice.
Slowly he backed down the ladder. When he reached the ground he stood perfectly still, staring straight ahead, but seeing nothing. He began to shake his head and drew in a deep breath before turning around. “No, Dix…there's some mistake.”
“Johnny, I'm so sorry,” she said softly.
Johnny continued to shake his head. She was wrong, he knew it. He wondered why he couldn't seem to breathe.
____________________
Kelly Brackett noticed a small wisp of a girl moving hesitantly toward the door of the elevator. She pulled back immediately as the doors started to close, so he quickly punched the Door Open button, and smiled invitingly at the girl. She joined him on the elevator almost reluctantly.
Alarm bells began to ring in Brackett's head as he glanced casually at the child; no, young girl, he amended. She was as pale as a sheet, her skin appeared clammy, and in general, she looked much more like she should be wearing a hospital gown than baggy jeans and several layers of shirts. Her thin, strawberry blond hair lay lank and lifeless against the whiteness of her face. Brackett was also not reassured by the girl's composure either, which was practically non-existent. She looked nervously at the floor, at the ceiling, at the numbers changing on the elevator display--but ignored his presence completely, her fingers clutching at her over-sized sweatshirt anxiously. She swayed as the elevator reached her floor.
Brackett put out an arm to hold the doors as they opened. "Excuse me, miss," he said as gently as he could. "Are you okay? You look a little--"
"I'm fine," she mumbled, pushing past him. Brackett shook his head and let her go. There wasn't a whole lot he could do, but the girl worried him. Her arms and face were very thin, and yet she had swaddled her mid-section in multiple layers of clothing, making her abdomen seem rather out of proportion. Brackett watched, following slowly, as the girl moved off down the hall, sometimes pressing her hand against the wall for balance.
Out of curiosity, he picked up a chart at the nurses' station he was passing, and moved down the hall behind the girl, who never looked back. She moved with shaky but singular determination, straight to a destination that set off more alarms in Brackett's mind, the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit. The PICU was not as accessible as the newborn nursery; most visitors had to be directed to the spot. That the girl had made a beeline for it suggested she had been here before.
Pausing at the next nurses' station, Brackett pretended to read the chart while he studied the girl. She stood at one of the many windows into the room. Brackett knew from experience it wasn't possible to see much that way, since the babies there were kept in incubators, with heat lamps and other machinery obscuring sight. The girl leaned against the glass, and Brackett eased closer, unnoticed.
She looks like she's close to exhaustion, Brackett thought, worrying. He was as aware as anyone that the baby the nurses had been calling Miracle had yet to be connected to a mother, even one who had abandoned her child in a trash Dumpster, ultimately killing the baby. Could this be her? He wondered, unable to keep his thoughts completely objective. She doesn't know yet that she succeeded.
Brackett forced himself to swallow down the faint trace of bitterness. If this really was the mother, she clearly needed help. The multiple layers of clothing could be an attempt to hide the remnant of pregnancy, a still swollen belly. That she was pale and ill-looking spoke volumes as to her readiness to be a mother. The fact that the girl couldn't have been more than fourteen could have been a huge factor in the decision to abandon the baby. Brackett had done one year of his residency in an obstetrics unit at a hospital that specialized in "high risk" pregnancies. They had treated, almost exclusively, addicted, alcoholic, and/or impoverished mothers with problem pregnancies. Brackett had seen girls just like this one by the hundreds.
When he heard a faint gulp for air, the kind a young girl makes when she's doing her best to cry silently, Brackett knew it was time to step forward. He put his hand on her thin shoulder, but was unprepared for the violent flinch she made at his touch. The girl whirled around, face wet, eyes wide with terror.
"Don't touch me!"
Brackett immediately took a step back, holding both palms up. "It's all right," he tried to be soothing. "I just want to help." He knew they were attracting attention down the hall, and hoped the nurses were calling for assistance.
"I don't want your help," the girl hissed at him. She feinted to his left and then started running the opposite way down the hall. Brackett was calling for help, noting Security appearing at the end of the hall, and then watching helplessly, all in the same span of a second or two, as the girl got about ten feet away before collapsing, a too-still heap of bones and cloth. He raced to her side.
He and the security guard lifted the girl onto a nearby gurney as nurses flew down the hall. "Emergency Room, stat!" Brackett barked. The hall's peace was restored almost as quickly as it had been disrupted, the final sound being the elevator doors sliding shut, closing off Brackett's tense instructions to the nurses already working on the girl.
____________________
It was a pair of firm hands on Johnny's shoulders that prevented his knees from buckling beneath him. He was urged backwards until his calves bumped into the concrete of the front steps.
“Sit down, Johnny,” Roy ordered.
The dazed man did as his partner instructed. Johnny was barely aware of Dixie removing the string of lights he had draped over his shoulder, or of Joanne moving the children away from the front door and to another part of the house when four year old Jennifer asked, “What's wrong with Uncle Johnny, Mommy? Did Daddy get mad at him again 'cause he made the lights a tangled mess?” At any other time the way the child mimicked her father's words would have been funny, but none of the adults were in the mood for humor at the moment.
“Johnny, I'm sorry,” Dixie said again. “I wish. . .I wish I was bringing you any news but this.”
Johnny simply nodded as he stared at the grass, refusing to make eye contact with Roy or Dixie. “When. . .how long ago did she--”
“About an hour. Everyone did all they could for her.”
“I know,” Johnny whispered.
“Including you,” Dixie added.
To that phrase Johnny made no reply. Roy exchanged a concerned glance with the nurse over the top of Johnny's head. He looked down at his partner when Johnny spoke again.
“I just. . .I wish I'd been there. I. . .I didn't want her to die. . .to die alone.”
Dixie reached a hand out and gave the man's shoulder a light squeeze. “She didn't die alone, Johnny.”
“I know. But I wasn't there. I told her. . .I promised her I'd be there.”
“Johnny--” Roy started, only to be interrupted.
“Don't say it, Roy.”
“Don't say what?”
“I told you so.”
“I wasn't going to say that.”
“Why not? I deserve it. You said this would happen. You told me not to get too attached. You said--”
“It doesn't matter what I said. You did what you thought was best for both yourself and the baby. I promised you I'd respect that fact and I do.”
“She wasn't the baby. She had a name. The only name she'll ever have now.”
Before Roy could make a response Johnny grabbed the black iron railing and pulled himself to his feet.
“Come on, let's finish hanging these lights.”
“The lights can wait for another day.”
Though Johnny still refused to meet the eyes of either his partner or the nurse, they could see the unshed tears glistening in his. He took the string of lights from Dixie, put them over his shoulder, and walked to the ladder.
“Johnny--”
“I wanna finish hanging the lights, Roy. I told you I'd help you do this today, so let's get it done.”
Roy looked at Dixie, who shrugged her shoulders. She knew each person grieved in their own way, and in their own time. Johnny had the right to decide for himself how and when he would grieve for Miracle.
The nurse said goodbye to Roy, then paused beneath the ladder as she headed for her car.
“Good-bye, Johnny.”
“Bye, Dix,” Johnny said, without looking down at the woman. “And. . .thanks. Thanks for coming to tell me. It means a lot to me that you'd take the time to do that.”
“You're welcome.”
Dixie turned toward her car, but was beckoned back by Johnny's voice.
“Dix?”
“Yes?”
“Can you. . .would you ask Char to let me know about. . .about the funeral arrangements and all? I. . .I'd like to be there when they. . .when they bury Miracle.”
“I'll let Char know. I'm sure she'll be in touch with you.”
“Thanks.”
Roy gave Dixie a final wave as she got in her car and pulled away from the curb. He looked up at Johnny, who appeared to be diligently stringing lights along the eaves as though he hadn't just been told his Christmas Miracle had died less than thirty-six hours after coming into this world.
Roy sighed, not knowing what else to say to ease Johnny's pain. He picked up a string of lights from the sidewalk and resumed his own part of this project. For some reason later that evening, when it was dark enough to turn all the Christmas lights on, they didn't seem to shine as bright to Roy as they had in years past.
____________________
Johnny had left Roy's house shortly after they finished hanging up the Christmas lights. Joanne and Roy had reminded him he was to stay for dinner, hoping he would so that he wouldn't be alone in the evening, but Johnny simply shook his head and said, “Not tonight.”
Alone in his apartment, the lighting dim, Johnny sat on the couch in his living room. The uneaten Party Pizza he had heated up for himself sat untouched on the coffee table in front of him.
I can't believe she's gone.
Getting up and walking over to a gift bag on the chair, Johnny pulled out a little brown plush Christmas bear with a red velvet dress on it. He had allowed himself to buy it for Miracle earlier in the day, even though he knew she wouldn't be able to cuddle with it this year. At the time he thought he would be giving it to her for Christmas. Roy would string me up for buying this. Fingering the detail of the bear, he felt the wind-up key in the back. He turned it, then held the bear as it played Silver Bells.
Johnny knew what he had to do. Placing the bear back in the gift bag, he picked it up and went out the door, headed for the parking lot.
Driving down the streets Johnny noticed the decorations on the houses. So many were lit up with colorful lights in the windows and along the roof edges, some with lighted Santas and reindeer up on the roofs. Normally he would've been enthralled with the decorations, but for now the magic was missing.
Arriving at Rampart, Johnny carried the gift bag in with him. Dixie was off-duty, so he was able to go up to Pediatric ICU unnoticed.
I just have to see for myself that Miracle's not there.
He stood looking in the glass. Miracle was no where to be seen. A tear ran down Johnny's cheek as he heard someone walk up behind him.
"Johnny. I'm so sorry"
Wiping his tear away with the back of his hand, Johnny turned to face Charlene. "I…I just had to see that she was really gone."
The woman nodded.
Johnny swallowed hard. "Here." He pulled the little Christmas bear out of the gift bag and handed it to the nurse. "This was for Miracle. Would you see if she can be buried with it?"
"Oh, Johnny. I…" She stopped as he put up his hand. Seeing the pain in his expression she quietly said , "Yes, I will." Charlene paused, not sure if she should tell Johnny about what had happened earlier in the Pediatric ICU. Cautiously she asked, "Did you hear about the young girl who came up here earlier today?"
Johnny shook his head. "No, I just got here."
"Well, a young girl came up here and was looking at the babies. She tried to leave, but collapsed. Brackett thinks she may have something to do with Miracle."
Johnny felt so many emotions raging within himself it was overwhelming. "Anyone talk to her?"
"No. I think she's been sedated. Maybe tomorrow someone can."
"I hope so." Johnny said, his voice cracking. "I know I need some answers if this girl is who they think she is.”
The paramedic fought to regain control of his emotions.
"Thanks, Charlene. I appreciate everything you guys did for Miracle. Thanks for lettin' me see her. I know you were bending the rules for me."
"You're welcome, Johnny." Charlene smiled sadly at the paramedic. She swiped at the tears welling in her eyes. "Miracle seemed to know you were there. I think she knew you loved her...how much we all loved her." Charlene shook her head. "You know, they tell you not to get too attached, but sometimes, there are patients who just get to you. They find a way to bore right into your soul like they were your own."
Johnny nodded. "Yeah. Roy...hell, Brackett, Dix...everybody was tellin' me not to get too close. After Dix told me Miracle...died, I thought Roy was right. I was stupid to be this...enraptured by her." Johnny locked eyes with Charlene. "But, the more I think about it, the more I think that once we stop caring about our patients, it's time to get out."
"You're absolutely right. Miracle looked very peaceful when she died. I swear she was smiling." She paused for a moment. "Listen, are you busy?"
Johnny shrugged. "I've gotta work tomorrow, so I want to make it an early night. Why?"
Charlene gestured towards the back of the PICU. "A bunch of us who were in on the code, and took care of her, are going to head over to Fitzgeralds and have a beer or something after work. You know, sort of a little wake for Miracle." She shrugged. "I don't think any of us want to go straight home. We get done in about fifteen minutes. We'd love to have you."
Johnny sighed. "Okay." He smiled wanly at Charlene. "I'd appreciate it. Where do you want me to meet you?"
"Why not meet us back here?" suggested Charlene.
"Okay, I'll be here." He sighed as he watched Charlene walk towards the back of the PICU.
Better hit the men's room while I'm waiting.
Johnny strolled down the hall and turned the corner by the elevator. The door to the men's room opened.
"Johnny?" Doctor Brackett stopped in the door of the rest room. "I suppose you heard."
"Yeah. Dix came over to Roy's to tell me about it. I guess I had to see it for myself that she wasn't here." He shook his head. "I was hoping she'd live up to her name and pull through." He shrugged and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I heard you have a lead on the mother."
"Word sure travels fast around here."
Johnny smiled half-heartedly. "Charlene told me. They're having an informal wake at Fitzgeralds, and she asked me to come."
"If I weren't on call, I'd join you." He crossed his arms in front. "It's a possible lead, Johnny. Nothing more. I'll know something tomorrow. You can probably guess I don't want you going near her."
Johnny nodded. "I don't plan to be anywhere in the vicinity, Doc. I don't know if I could control myself right now." He stood aside to let Doctor Brackett pass. "Hey, Doc?"
"Yes, Johnny?"
"Just ask her one question for me."
"What is it?"
"Why?" Johnny leaned against the door. "I just wanna know why."
Doctor Brackett sighed. "I think that's the question of the hour." He looked up as his name was paged over the loudspeaker. "I'll see you later."
"See ya', Doc," replied Johnny as he opened the men's room door. "Keep me posted, okay?"
"Sure, Johnny."
Johnny sighed as Doctor Brackett disappeared around the corner. He walked into the men's room.
Poor kid. I hope she's in a better place. One with lots of toys, and someone who'll take care of her.
____________________
Under other circumstances, Johnny might have enjoyed being surrounded by lovely, sympathetic nurses at one of their favorite bars. Two weeks ago, he would have used the situation to his best advantage without a second thought, enjoying the light flirting and bantering going on around him. This time, however, he couldn't get the face of a very tiny female out of his mind, or the feel of her in his arms out of his memory.
He scolded himself abruptly, trying to mentally shake himself out of it. You didn't know her that long, he pointed out silently, staring over the nurses' heads at the wall. He took a sip of his beer. You can't be that attached to her that quickly!
But he had, and he knew it. He had always liked babies, though he'd been a little afraid of them before Miracle. He was always irrationally worried he would hurt them somehow, but Miracle had shown him what he had inside to give--and he had been overwhelmed with how much he had wanted to give, how deeply he had allowed his heart to be touched.
Stupid fool, his darker voice insisted, demanding that he drop the subject and get back to the ladies.
Johnny stood abruptly, plopping his barely touched beer down. "I have to go," he announced.
Charlene got to her feet immediately to try to stop him. "Oh, Johnny, don't go yet. Stay a while and talk." She seemed so sympathetic that Johnny was tempted, but he shook his head.
"I have to go," he repeated. He didn't wait to hear more, pushing himself through the crowd, out of the bar, faster and faster, to throw himself in his car and tear out of the parking lot.
____________________
Brackett brought his night shift to a close with rounds to see his patients, ending with Jane Doe. The nurses were keeping a close eye on the room, he noted with approval. He checked his watch. It wasn't quite eight a.m. yet, but she'd had a good long sleep. She might be awake, but if not, he'd still take a quick peek. He picked up her chart at the nurses' station.
"She's awake, Doctor Brackett," the duty nurse told him quietly, in keeping with the early-morning atmosphere. "We told her she can't leave until she's spoken with you. She wasn't too happy about that, so I put Karen in with her." Karen was the social worker on staff at Rampart.
"Good idea," Brackett murmured, checking the nurses' notes for the evening. His Jane Doe had had an uneventful evening once the light sedative and her own exhaustion had taken over. He walked down the hall to her room.
"This is bullshit!" He heard a high pitched, incongruously child-like voice snap, presumably at the social worker, Karen. Brackett knocked once and pushed open the door.
The girl turned on him without the slightest pause. "Are you Brackett?" she demanded. She stood beside the bed, holding a hospital robe tightly shut.
"I'm Doctor Brackett, yes," Brackett nodded soberly, "and you are?"
"I don't have to tell you," the girl shot back, eyes blazing with the same anger he'd glimpsed yesterday. "And I don't have to stay here. You can't keep me here!"
Brackett closed the door behind him. "No, you're right," he agreed reasonably. "If you don't want to stay here for treatment, I can have you released."
"I told you," the girl hissed at the social worker standing to the side, arms crossed. "So where are my clothes?" she demanded.
Brackett leaned against the wall, crossing his own arms. "The police have them," he told her pleasantly.
"Shall I call them, Doctor Brackett?" Karen offered helpfully.
Brackett bit back a smile as the girl gasped. "Yes, why don't you? I mean, if our Jane Doe doesn't want to stay with us--"
"Wait a minute!" the girl protested, waving her arms from the social worker to the doctor. "You mean, if I leave here, I have to go with the police?" She sounded less sure of herself, Brackett noted.
"Of course," he told her affably. "You've been made a ward of the state." He made his tone imply that this was obvious.
The girl's gaze fluttered nervously from Karen to Brackett. "W--ward of the state?"
"Yes," Brackett agreed. "Ordinarily, you'd go to foster care," he mused, "however, in your case, I think the police are going to want you under closer observation."
"Definitely," the social worker agreed.
The girl gulped, and Brackett pretended he hadn't seen. "So, Karen," he blustered on, "why don't you give Lieutenant Crockett a call and--"
The girl hopped back onto the bed and pulled the cover up to her waist. "I don't feel good," she announced.
"Oh?" Brackett approached the bed. "Well, I'm not surprised, young lady." He perched on the edge of her bed. "Why don't you tell me about it?"
The girl hugged the robe and cover to her. "I don't know," she mumbled. "I just don't feel good."
____________________
Karen closed the door after she and Brackett stepped out into the hallway. "For a minute there, I thought she was going to break down and tell you, Doctor."
"No," Brackett shook his head wryly. "That's one tough nut to crack," he gestured with his head toward the closed door.
"Do you want me to tell the police she's awake?"
"I'll call them," Brackett answered. "However, I need you to let everyone know she's an escape risk."
"She's our mother, isn't she?" Karen asked, pretty sure of the answer.
"We've got blood tests in the works," Brackett informed her. "But if she's not, I'll be surprised." He shook his head.
Karen looked sadly back at the closed door. "I wonder if she even knows why she did it."
____________________
Carla Hudson sat up in her hospital bed, straining to hear the conversation going on in the hallway between the doctor and the social worker.
I've gotta get outta here. They can't call the police, and I'm not goin' to any foster home.
The fourteen-year-old feigned sleep when a nurse came to check on her a few minutes later. Though she'd been at Rampart less than twenty-four hours, Carla already knew the routine. Unless the doctor had ordered some type of medication for her, the nurse wouldn't be back for an hour or more.
As soon as the door closed behind the nurse Carla tossed the covers back. She swung her spindly white legs over the side of the bed, clutching the mattress as a wave of dizziness washed over her. When she finally gathered the strength to stand she headed for the closet. She opened the door, smiling when she saw her clothes hanging within.
I knew that doctor was feeding me a buncha' crap. He's just like all men. A dirty rotten liar.
It took Carla less than a minute to exchange her hospital gown for the baggy jeans she'd been wearing when she'd collapsed in front of Kelly Brackett. She slipped her white T-shirt over her head, then buttoned up a blue work shirt that was a men's medium and far too large for her tiny frame. Over the top of her ensemble went a bulky navy blue sweatshirt that was a men's extra large. It had been the only thing she owned in the way of maternity clothes as her pregnancy advanced.
The girl tossed the hospital gown on a chair, then rolled the sleeves of her sweatshirt to her scrawny wrists. She reached for the brown suede hiking boots that were sitting on the closet floor. She pulled her white socks out of the boots and slipped them on. She shoved her feet into the boots, making quick work of tying the laces.
Carla opened the door a mere crack and peered into the hall using one eye. She didn't see anyone, so risked opening the door a little wider. There were four more rooms across the hall, but the doors on all of them were closed. The fifth door, at the far end of the hall, led to a stairway and had a red EXIT sign hanging over the top of it.
The girl looked to her right. An intersecting hall ran east and west twenty feet ahead of her. Beyond that, was the nurses' station. She could see the social worker talking on the phone, but the woman's back was to Carla. There was a nurse seated behind the counter, but her head was bent down and it appeared that she was writing on a piece of paper, or maybe recording information in a patient's chart.
Carla took a deep breath. It was now or never. She heard the social
worker. . .Karen, she thought the woman's name was, she heard Karen say something into the phone about needing a security guard posted at a patient's door. Carla knew exactly which patient Karen was talking about. She didn't plan on sticking around long enough for such an action to take place.
The girl stepped into the hall like she was stepping into a frigid lake, by bringing just her right toe to the floor first. She repeated that action with her left toe, then again with her right. Carla's right arm remained behind her so she could ease the swinging door shut with the palm of her hand. Once that action had taken place Carla knew she had to move quickly.
The fourteen year old scurried across the hall, hugging the wall when she got there. She inched along the flat white surface, keeping one eye on the nurses' station. She had to ease her way around a stainless steel cart bearing breakfast trays, and couldn't resist snitching two pieces of warm toast off it. With toast in hand she dashed the rest of the way to the stairwell.
Like she'd done with her hospital room door, Carla was careful to open and close this one without making a sound. She breathed a sigh of relief to have simply made it this far. She took a huge bite of one piece of toast as she headed up the stairs. She had no intention of staying in the hospital long, but she was going to see Amber before she left.
Carla smiled at thought of her baby. Amber. It was such a beautiful name. Unlike Carla, which was plain and ugly, just like the girl had felt every day since she'd been born. She'd always thought her life would have turned out differently had her mother given her a better name. Something elegant like Katherine. Or cute and perky like Heidi. But no. She'd been christened Carla. Whoopee do. Carla. It was nothing more than a derivative of the name Charles and meant Man. Why would her mother name her baby girl something that stupid? Carla already knew the answer. It was probably a name her father picked out. Her father whom she'd never met. Her father, just another man in a long line of men who had known her mother's bed.
But Amber, now that was a perfect name for a little girl. It meant Precious Gem. And Carla hadn't let her twenty year old boyfriend, Larry, have any part of picking out the baby's name. Not that it mattered. As soon as Amber had been born in their run-down, dirty apartment, Larry had snatched her up and left with her.
Carla brushed at her tears as she gobbled down her second piece of toast. She'd wanted that baby. She'd wanted her so badly, even if she hadn't really understood what was happening to her body, what was growing inside of her, until just a couple months before Amber was born. But Larry said no. He said they couldn't afford another mouth to feed, and besides, their land lord said no kids were allowed. Well, as far as Carla was concerned they could afford another mouth to feed if only Larry would get off the drugs, and the booze, and look for a job. Then they could afford to move as well, to another apartment that did allow kids. Carla had tried to tell Larry all those things while he was fleeing the apartment with the wailing baby. She'd screamed, and cried, and begged him to come back, but he just kept right on running. When he returned thirty minutes later he didn't have the baby, and no amount of pleading on Carla's part could get him to say where he'd taken Amber.
Later that night Carla found out what happened to her baby. While Larry slept off a bad trip in the bed Carla had given birth on that morning, the girl sat glassy-eyed on the lumpy sofa in the living room. She stared at the thirteen inch TV screen, though she was paying no attention to the news broadcast until she heard the words, “Abandoned baby.” There was a brief shot of a dark headed paramedic holding a tiny baby against his chest, then the newsman's voice said the little girl was in critical condition at Rampart General Hospital where the nurses were calling her Miracle. Now, before she left Rampart for the last time, Carla was bound and determined to see the miracle she had named Amber.
The girl followed the stairs up to the floor that housed the babies. She wondered if she'd be able to find Amber without asking any questions. If she had to ask, maybe she could say she was visiting a friend who was a patient on another floor, and that she had heard about the baby on the news, and that she'd just like to know which baby, amongst the many babies in the nursery, was the one called Miracle.
Carla was satisfied with her improvised plan as she eased into the hallway. She tucked her shoulder length hair into the collars of her shirts. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans and walked with her head bowed. She hoped that if anyone took notice of her they'd think she was a skinny teenage boy, like often happened when she carried herself in this manner.
Carla casually approached two nurses sitting at a round table in an alcove that contained a soda machine and snack machine. Even though she'd just eaten two pieces of toast her stomach grumbled. She wished she had some money so she could buy a Coke and a Snickers bar. When she caught a snatch of the conversation the two women were having all thoughts of hunger left the girl's mind.
“Little Miracle was such a beauty, wasn't she?”
“She sure was. I don't know what it was about her. . .the time of year, the circumstance she was found under, how much she needed us. . .I don't know, but whatever it was, she stood out from all the rest. She was special.”
“She sure was. Charlene says Johnny Gage is just broken hearted over her passing.”
“Is he the paramedic who found her? The good looking guy who was coming by to rock her?”
“That's him. He's really taking Miracle's death hard.”
“Aren't we all?”
“It would seem so. I know I gave my kids an extra long hug last night when I got home.”
“Me, too.”
“Are you going to the funeral?”
“If I'm not on duty. When is it?”
“Wednesday morning at ten. Char made the arrangements. She wanted it scheduled for a day when Johnny's off so he can attend. There's going to be a service here in the hospital chapel, and then she'll be buried at Memorial Cemetery.”
“Who's footing the bill for all this?”
“Doctor Marshall got the hospital to pay for some of it, otherwise the rest is being funded by donations. I know Char gave some money, and Doctor Marshall, Doctor Brackett, Doctor Early, and Dixie McCall. Char said Johnny wrote a check yesterday for one hundred dollars. I'm going to balance my checkbook on my lunch hour and see what I can spare.”
“I'll do the same.”
Carla didn't hear anymore of the conversation. The room was spinning and there was a sudden roaring in her ears. Amber was gone. Thanks to Larry, who had promised her someone would find the baby and adopt her, Amber was dead.
Carla grabbed for the wall. She took slow, deep breaths, knowing she had to get out of here before the nurses took notice of her. They were already looking at her funny, and one was saying, “Son?” with an odd note to her voice.
Carla hunched her shoulders up even farther and tucked her chin into her chest. In a low, quiet voice she said, “I'm okay,” as she hurried to the stairwell. She never turned around to see if the nurses were following her. When the door shut behind her, Carla stumbled down the five flights of stairs and out a side door that led to the visitors' parking lot. The sobbing girl zig zagged between parked cars, heading for the distant street and the grungy apartment she was forced to call home.
____________________
Johnny stood in front of his closet, staring blankly at the clothes within. He'd been to funerals before, but he'd always known exactly what to wear; his dress uniform. Somehow, that didn't seem right today. Sighing, he settled for a dark blue sport coat and a pair of pants that were a slightly lighter shade. He'd always meant to buy a proper suit.
He was struggling with his tie when the doorbell rang.
"Roy?" he asked, upon seeing his partner on the other side of the door. "What're you doing here?"
Roy was wearing a dark charcoal gray suit. A proper suit. "I thought," the blond man started, suddenly self-conscious and stammering. "I thought I'd come with you, if that's okay."
Johnny was stunned; it was the last thing he'd expected his friend to do, given how persistent Roy had been in his warnings about getting too attached. "Yeah, sure," he finally said. "But why?"
Roy reached out and silently fixed his partner's tie before answering. "I didn't think you should be alone," he finally said. "I'll drive."
____________________
"I keep having dreams," Johnny said quietly as they made their way through traffic toward the hospital. "Sometimes I'm digging and digging and I can't find her. Sometimes I find her in the Dumpster and she's already . . . gone." He looked over at Roy and smiled sadly before turning and staring out the window. "I sorta wish that's what happened, now."
"You don't mean that, Johnny," Roy admonished gently.
"I don't? Why not? Woulda saved me," he stopped suddenly, catching himself. "It woulda saved a lot of people a lot of heartache. I mean, if she was gonna--," again he had to stop, afraid to let his emotions get the best of him. He steeled himself and looked directly at his partner. "If she was gonna die anyway," he finally finished.
By now Roy was pulling the car into a parking space at the hospital. As soon as he killed the engine Gage started to open the door, ready to flee the confined space, and distance himself from the confession he'd just made. But his partner stopped him with a word.
"Johnny."
The dark-haired man stopped, the door open and one foot on the pavement. "I told you not to get too attached; not to get too involved. But you did." Gage pulled his foot back inside, waiting to hear what Roy had to say.
"You did because you care. You always have. You always do. But this time, this baby - Miracle; she got to you more than the rest; she was special." He shook his head, clearly frustrated at his inability to say what he wanted to. Finally, he started again.
"When you visited her, Johnny. When you held her. That feeling you had," he looked at his partner; John was looking at him, somewhat wide-eyed, as if he was both afraid of what Roy would say next, and hanging on every word. The older man turned and stared at the steering wheel, suddenly somewhat sheepish about finishing the thought. But he wanted it said, so he finally continued, letting the words spill out quickly. "I think . . . I think I know what you were feeling--the same kind of thing I felt the first time I held my kids." He looked at his friend again. "And if I'm right, you wouldn't trade having felt that for anything. Even if it was only for two days. Even if it meant that it would hurt this much now."
Johnny stared at his partner for the longest second in Roy's life. Then he turned and exited the car without a word. Sighing, Roy followed.
____________________
John remained silent throughout the brief service at the hospital chapel. Roy watched him carefully; he seemed a million miles away, as if he wasn't paying a bit of attention to the proceedings going on around him.
"I'm sorry," Roy told him as they returned to the car for the trip to the cemetery.
"I know," Johnny said sadly. "I'll be okay, though."
"No, I mean about what I said earlier. I shouldn't have said that."
John ran his hand through his hair. "No, it's okay." He paused for a moment. "You're wrong, though. I just want you to know that you're wrong."
"About what? About what you were feeling?"
"No, not about that; I don't know if you're wrong about that. Wrong about not wanting to trade it for anything. You're dead wrong." Roy risked taking his eyes off the road to look over at his partner, and even in profile could see the unshed tears glistening in the man's eyes. "I only held her twice; for maybe an hour." He took a deep breath before continuing. "I would, Roy," he turned his head and looked at his partner with a fierceness in his sad eyes. "I would trade that hour if it meant I wouldn't have to feel like this now. I would." John broke his gaze and looked out the window, allowing Roy to turn his attention back on the road.
"You don't mean that, Junior," he whispered under his breath sadly. But he was sure Johnny hadn't heard.
____________________
"Why are there reporters here?" Johnny mumbled when he saw the small crowd of TV cameras in the cemetery parking lot.
"Well," Roy explained, "it made the news. Hoping the mother would come forward, I guess."
"Oh, yeah, I guess." Gage had remained quiet for the rest of the drive, and Roy hadn't exactly known what to say, either. They both got out of the car and started walking briskly toward the location of the graveside service.
Johnny was stopped by a hand on his arm. He turned and found a camera mere inches from his face. "Excuse me," a woman standing next to the camera said, pointing a microphone toward him. "Aren't you John Gage, the fireman who found little Miracle? Do you have a comment about her death?"
Stunned, Johnny let his eyes travel from the woman to the camera lens, and then to the other cameras that had quickly surrounded him. "I . . . ," he started, frozen by the lenses and the lights. "I'm sorry," he finally blurted out. He felt Roy tugging at his arm, and gratefully allowed himself to be pulled away.
Sitting at home and watching the noon news on television, Carla saw the whole thing. "Amber," she said to the empty room. "Her name was Amber." The tears started to flow again, and the young girl did nothing to stop them.
____________________
Geez, Gage. Johnny lay on his overstuffed sofa, half watching a movie. Roy was right. You just don't want to admit it. Holding her was just like holding your own daughter. He rubbed his eyes. That kid got to you. She penetrated that emotional armor you put on every time you don that uniform, and nailed you right in the heart.
A lot of your friends are married and have kids of their own. What's wrong with you? Sure, being single has its advantages, but you do envy Roy sometimes. The way his kids run up to him and hug him. Sure, they love you too, but it's not the same.
I'm sure there'll be kids...someday. But you were secretly hoping that the parents would never be found, and you could adopt her. She was a precious little girl that could've been...yours. Miracle Gage. Admit it; you had it all planned. He shook his head.
I guess I care too much for my own good. Johnny rubbed his face, then narrowed his eyes. Hell, if I didn't care about the patients, I wouldn't be in this profession. I love it too much to quit. I don't feel the same way I felt about Miracle with all the patients. Just her. I just wish it didn't hurt so bad. He looked up as the phone rang. I know I'll get over it. I just wish it would hurry up.
Johnny pushed himself from the sofa and picked up the receiver. "Hello."
There was a pause on the other end. Johnny could hear the noise from a television set in the background. "Hello?"
"Is...is this John Gage...the fireman who found that baby?"
The voice on the other end of the phone was obviously female. A younger female. Johnny paused for a moment, his pulse quickening. "Yes."
"Amber," said the caller. "Her name was Amber." Her words were interrupted by a series of sobs. "I didn't leave her there. I wanted to keep her, but he wouldn't let me. I loved her." The sobbing was replaced by a dial tone.
"Hello?" Johnny asked. "Hello? Who wouldn't let you?"
Johnny put the receiver back into its cradle. He stared at the phone for several minutes. Was it really Miracle's mother, or was it a hoax? I thought she was in Rampart. He sighed, picked up the receiver and dialed. Guess I'd better call Lieutenant Crockett.
____________________
Johnny sat on his sofa anxiously waiting for his phone to ring. It had been an hour since he had tried to call Lieutenant Crockett to notify him of the phone call he had received. Crockett was out and not available, but he was supposed to get back in touch with Johnny as soon as possible. The paramedic was tempted to call Doctor Brackett or Dixie at Rampart to ask them if the alleged mother had indeed disappeared, but at the same time he was almost afraid to find out.
Could have been a hoax since I was on the news again. Anyone could've gotten my name from there and they would certainly know the story.
He laid his head back, closing his eyes and sighing. Why didn't I listen to Roy in the first place? Because little Miracle stole your heart from the moment you first laid eyes on her, you fool.
Leaning forward now, Johnny propped his elbows on his knees and rested his chin in his palms. He sat staring at the phone again. The words of the distressed caller played over in his mind.
"I didn't leave her there. I wanted to keep her, but he wouldn't let me. I loved her."
The more Johnny thought about it, the more he convinced himself it was really Miracle's mother. If that's the case, and what she said is true, she's got to be devastated.
"Amber…the baby's name was Amber."
The paramedic's thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the phone. Johnny let it ring a few more times. This might be the answer. Picking up the receiver, he quietly spoke "Hello?"
"Johnny, this is Lieutenant Crockett." The voice on the other end of the line sounded distant as a buzzing noise indicating his dread took up residence in Johnny's head.
He hesitantly acknowledged, "Yeah?"
"I understand you received a call from a girl and it concerned the baby?" Crockett sounded very serious.
"Um...yes I did." Johnny went on to explain what was said and how the conversation, if it could be called that, had ended abruptly.
"Your caller may have very well been the mother of the baby," Crockett informed him. "The girl who was in Rampart proved to be a match through the blood tests, and she slipped out somehow earlier today. No one knows exactly when. But she's gone."
Johnny didn't know what to say. He got a sick feeling inside once again thinking back to what the girl had said. "I didn't leave her there. I wanted to keep her."
If it was true, then this girl was in need of someone, and who knew what she might do next or how she was feeling?
____________________
Johnny dragged himself out of bed the next morning and made it to work on time, pulling into the lot just as Roy got out of his car. The two men walked toward the station together, oblivious to the scene playing out inside.
"This is really not a good idea," Marco insisted, wringing his hands as Chet finished with Johnny's locker. "Have a heart, Chet, the poor guy was just at a funeral yesterday."
"Lighten up, Marco, old buddy, he only knew the baby for a day or two. This is just a little light humor, that's all," Kelly told him authoritatively. "Gage needs something to take his mind off everything." He closed Johnny's locker door carefully. "And a little mood-lightening from the Phantom is exactly what's called for."
He moved off to his own locker, and Marco paused, caught between the urge to try arguing more with Chet, or to defuse the latest trick of the Phantom himself. He ran out of time; outside the locker room door he heard Johnny and Roy talking as they approached. Still conflicted, he let Chet pull him back behind the lockers.
"Chet--"
"Shh!"
The door opened and Marco heard the two men enter, Roy talking. "Cap would understand," he was telling Johnny insistently. "Everybody would."
"And do what, Roy?" Johnny asked as they approached the lockers. "Spend the day staring at the walls, thinking about it? No, thanks."
"But look at you." Marco had to strain to hear Roy's soft voice reply to his friend. "I'll bet you didn't sleep at all last night. You look terrible. I'm telling you, Johnny, everyone would understand if you took the day off. Go camping or something. You'll feel better."
Marco was just about to pull out of Chet's clutches when it happened.
"Nothing's going to make me feel--" and the locker was opened, and the spring released its load with a loud splash. Marco glared in disgust at Kelly, who was barely holding in his laughter.
There was an uncharacteristic silence, and Marco was suddenly afraid to come around the corner of the lockers. Usually by now Johnny would be yelling. He heard a solid punch to one of the lockers, and expected Johnny to begin calling for Chet.
Instead, it was Roy's voice that came, surprising Marco. "Kelly!" the usually mild-mannered paramedic yelled at the top of his voice. There was another bang on the lockers. "I'm going to kill him," Roy said grimly, and the door to the locker room swung shut.
"Kelly!"
Marco looked over to Chet, who had lost his sense of humor at this new, peculiar turn of events, and finally looked nervous. Marco shoved him in the direction of the dorm, and eased out from behind the lockers.
Johnny sat, dripping wet, on the bench before his open locker. He was unnaturally still, for Johnny, and Marco moved closer to see his face. "I'm sorry, Johnny," Marco said quietly, ashamed that he hadn't stopped Chet.
The paramedic turned a completely emotionless face toward him. "I'm going home," Johnny said tonelessly. "Roy says everyone will understand." His gaze fixed on a point at his locker and didn't move.
Marco cursed Kelly in his mind. "Can I get you a towel, Johnny?" he asked, worried about the lack of response the normally excitable young man was showing.
Johnny stood up and closed his locker. "I'm going home," he repeated, eyes still fixed, voice flat, scaring Marco even more. Marco followed Johnny out of the locker room, watching him, still dripping, cross the bay to Cap's office, ignoring Roy calling out back of the station for Chet.
There was no time to join Roy, or get Chet, or go into the day room; Johnny appeared back in the bay only a moment later. He walked out into the parking lot without a word, without a glance in any direction, seemingly oblivious to everything, including Roy, who started to approach him.
"Kellllllllyyyy!" The bellow from the doorway to Cap's office startled Roy and made Marco jump, and in just the time it took them to look back to where Cap was standing furiously in the bay, Johnny was pulling out in his Rover and driving away.
Chet slunk into the bay from the dorm entrance. "Yeah, Cap?" His manner was innocent and yet subdued, hopeful and yet resigned, looking a lot like a child dragging a baseball bat, and asking, 'What window?'
Stanley stepped aside from his door and glared at the ceiling, obviously not even wanting to look at Chet. "Get in there," he growled. He took a minute to compose himself before following the man inside and slamming the office door behind them.
____________________
Johnny drove a few blocks, until he couldn't see, and then he pulled over. He wiped angrily at his eyes and pushed his wet hair off his forehead. His anger grew exponentially, at Chet, at himself, at Rampart, at Roy, at Miracle's--no, Amber's --mother, at the whole world. He slammed his fist onto the dashboard and swung the other one against the door. Then he slouched down in his seat, boneless.
"No," he mumbled, angry with himself most of all. The moisture in his eyes infuriated him, and he wiped them roughly again. "No!" He gave a strangled scream of disgust and once again hit the door beside him, more weakly this time.
"Why?" he asked the air around him. "Why? Just tell me why, God, please. Just tell me why!"
Someone rapped on the glass by his head, and Johnny whirled, straightening up and wiping one more time at his eyes. He rolled down his window to a young girl looking in at him.
She probably thinks I've lost my mind.
"Hey," the girl beckoned, and Johnny started preparing his answer to the question, 'Are you okay?'.
"Are you John Gage?"
Johnny was stunned. He blinked, then looked down to see if he had put his uniform and nameplate or badge on at some point. He hadn't. He looked back up at the girl. "I--you--"
"I saw you leave the station and followed," the girl told him. "You are John Gage, right?"
Johnny nodded dumbly. "Uh, yeah--how did you--"
"I need to talk to you," the girl said firmly. "Now."
____________________
Once more Hank sighed, gritting his teeth. He turned around, fixing Chet with a murderous stare. "Sit…down." Hank's voice was low and deep, sending a chill up Chet's back.
"Cap…"
"Sit down!" Hank roared, pointing at the chair next to his desk. "Now!"
Chet sunk into the chair and stared at the floor.
Hank sucked in a breath and held it.
Calm down, Hank. Be rational, logical. . .
"Kelly! What the hell were you thinking?"
So much for logic!
"Cap…I…I thought it'd make him feel better, ya' know, distract him and all."
Hank stared icicles at Chet. "Well…thanks to your thought, Gage is gone for the day and I have to find a replacement!" Hank sat down hard in his chair. He leaned back, his stare never leaving the guilty firefighter. Hank pointed at Chet, opening his mouth to say something, but abruptly stopped. He looked away, sighing. His right hand drummed on his thigh and was the only outward indication of the level of his anger.
Chet sank lower into his chair. He's never been this angry before.
Hank finally looked back at Chet. "Kelly," his voice was deathly quiet, "You better learn when too much is too much…and you better learn it fast. Latrines, Kelly, and there better not be one speck of dirt left when you're done."
Chet jumped up, hastily heading for the door.
"Kelly!" Hank snapped, freezing the firefighter in his tracks.
Chet winced, turning around timidly. "Yeah, Cap?"
"Not one water bomb. Not one shaving cream pie. Not one trick, joke, or 'tension reliever' of any kind. Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal, Cap." Chet let the door close behind him. He leaned against the cool brick wall, sighing in relief. "Way to go, Kelly," he muttered.
____________________
The girl's earlier statement finally sank into Johnny's brain. “You followed me?” he asked in disbelief. Glancing into the mirror, he noticed the beat-up VW parked at the curb in back of him for the first time. “Do I know you?” He examined her face through narrowed eyes. The short red hair and freckles weren't ringing any bells.
She started to bounce on her toes impatiently, and glanced quickly up and down the street. “No, man, you don't know me. But it's important. We gotta talk.” Without another word she walked away from his window and crossed in front of the Rover, heading into the park next to them.
“Hey! Wait a minute!” Johnny watched her retreating back and hit the door next to him in frustration before flinging it open and following her.
She stopped beside a small screen of bushes and gestured impatiently before disappearing behind them. Johnny slowed down when he neared the bushes, and hesitantly stepped past them.
A picnic table sat in a private alcove created by the greenery. The girl sat on the bench, her denim clad legs pulled up in front of her and her arms wrapped around her knees. She looked up expectantly.
“What's this about?” Johnny asked impatiently.
She gestured at the bench next to her.
Johnny shook his head . “Look, I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but this isn't a good day for it. I'm just too tired,” he said in disgust. He turned his back and began to walk away.
“It's not a game. It's about Amber.”
Johnny stopped dead, as ice filled his veins.
“You called her 'Miracle,' I think.”
The paramedic clenched his jaw as his hands curled into fists. He twirled around and advanced on the girl, the vein in his temple pulsing wildly in time with his increasing heartbeat. “Are you her? Are you her mother?” He ground out.
“Me?” The girl looked at him wide-eyed. She shook her head and snorted. “No, me and babies, we don't…I couldn't…I'm not like Carla.” Her expression softened. “Man, she was wild about that kid the whole time it was inside her. Or least-wise after she figured out what was growing in her belly. She had all sorts of plans. Dumb kid,” the girl said softly.
As swiftly as it had filled the paramedic, the anger drained away. Johnny slumped onto the bench next to her and rubbed his aching forehead. “What happened? How did Miracle end up in a…where she did?”
“Larry. Carla shoulda' known there was no way Larry was gonna let her keep the kid. She figured they'd be some happy family or something. He grabbed it right when it was born and that was the last she seen her baby.” The girl wiped surreptitiously at her eyes and stared at the ground.
“How could he do that to his own daughter?” Johnny asked softly.
The girl dropped her feet to the ground and rested her fisted hands on the bench next to her. “Oh, Larry figured chances were good it wasn't his. He, uh...,” the girl turned her face away and Johnny had to strain to hear her words. “He pimped Carla out some, and he figured the baby was from that. That's what he does. He finds kids with nowhere else to go and he 'puts them to work.' He did it to…other girls, too. He used to treat us…them, pretty good, but now he's just so high all the time, or so drunk, it's just gotten pretty bad.” Her voice trailed off to a whisper and Johnny stared at the back of her head, his heart breaking.
She glanced at him and quickly looked away when she met his eyes. “I thought he'd let her go when he found out she was gonna have a baby. I couldn't figure why he didn't. Now I think I know. Carla was a real cute little thing before she had the baby. Real cute and real young.”
“Younger than you?” Johnny couldn't help the catch in his voice as he examined the sad profile in front of him.
“Oh, hell yeah! A lot! She's only fourteen. I'm sixteen. She made Larry a lot of money. I think getting rid of the baby is what he planned all along.”
“Why don't you go to the police?”
She looked at him in disbelief. “Are you kidding? Larry'd kill anybody who talked about him. There was one girl, well, I just ain't seen her in a while. And besides, at least with Larry around, we usually got a place to sleep at night. You know, he didn't used to be so bad. Maybe…well maybe he'll change again, and you know, things could get better again, right?” She looked at him hopefully.
Johnny just shook his head. “Why are you telling me all this?”
“Well, Carla, she seen you on the TV, and she heard some nurses talking. She said she's glad Amber had somebody who loved her to, you know, hold her and stuff before she died? She said no baby should die without ever being held by somebody who loves it.” Tears started to run slowly down her cheeks. “She thinks you're some kind of hero.”
“I'm no hero,” Johnny said in a choked voice. I couldn't save her.
“Well, Carla thinks you are.” She wiped angrily at her cheeks. “And she's kinda smart about that stuff.” Her voice strengthened as she continued. “That's why I came to you, Mister Hero Fireman. Because Carla needs help. She's really losing it, man! She's starting to talk crazy. Like she's gonna kill Larry or something. You gotta get her away from him before somebody gets hurt.”
Johnny stood up and began pacing back and forth in front of her. “Maybe you should go to the police. I'll go with you.”
She shook her head vehemently. “No, man! No police! They'll just put us in with some fake family. Or some kind of kid's home or something. I ain't never going to a place like that again! Look, you gotta do something. And you gotta know, Larry's not real thrilled with you right now. If you hadn't ever found Amber, then he don't think he'd be having this much trouble with Carla. He woulda' just told her some family had the kid. Plus, Amber keeps ragging at him about what a good man you are, and what a piece of…well, how he's not so good. Larry's getting mad. Really, really mad. At Carla, and at you. Just get Carla away from him and give him a chance to calm down. 'Cause you don't want Larry mad at you. He gets real dangerous when he's mad!”
“Now wait a minute," Johnny said firmly. "I wasn't born yesterday. If this Larry guy is already mad at me, if he sees me comin' after your friend, he's gonna make us all disappear. When he knows his source of income is gone, he's gonna come lookin' for her, and he'll be out for blood. Yours, mine, and Carla's. From what you've said, it wouldn't be beneath him to kill all of us," he pointed to the girl. "Including you, since he'll know you squealed to me. What will that solve? Nothing." Johnny shook his head for emphasis. "Listen, your friend needs help. A lot more help than I can give her." Johnny stood up. "You're comin' with me. I'm gonna make a phone call."
"You're not calling the cops, are you?" The girl asked warily.
Johnny scratched his chin. "Yeah, I'm calling the cops." He put his hand up as the girl started to protest. "This is a friend of mine. His name's Ron Crockett. He's a lieutenant, and he'll make sure that Larry's out of the way, and get Miracle's mom back to the hospital." He sighed and looked at the girl. "She just had a baby, and since she collapsed in the hallway at the hospital, she could be pretty sick." He locked eyes with the girl. "This is the best way to do it, trust me."
The girl studied Johnny for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. We'll do it your way, for now." She pointed at Johnny. "But if they start talkin' about foster homes, and shit like that, leave me out of it." She shook her head vehemently. "She's younger, but I can take care of myself."
"Okay," lied Johnny. I can't promise that, but I'm not letting her get away. "Let's go."
The two found a pay phone, and Johnny contacted Lieutenant Crockett. After a brief wait, Johnny spotted the Lieutenant getting out of his car.
"Hey Johnny," said the Lieutenant as he shook the paramedic's hand. "Thanks for calling." He nodded to the girl. "Thank you for coming forward. It could save your friend's life."
"How's that?" asked Johnny.
"Doctor Brackett told me that he received results of the lab tests that were done shortly before Miracle's mother walked out of Rampart," replied the Lieutenant. "There were some serious abnormalities, and he wants her back in to do some follow up."
"That bastard!!" The girl angrily wiped her eyes. "If he gave her the clap..."
"If Larry gave her the clap," Johnny put his hand on the girl's shoulder, "it's even more important for us to get her help. If it's untreated, it can lead to serious complications, like sterility, and brain damage." He met her gaze. "It's really important you tell the Lieutenant what you told me, so we can find her. Her life could be in danger, even without Larry."
The girl nodded. She sighed, then repeated the story to the lieutenant she had told Johnny. She gave them the address to the apartment where Larry and Carla were living. "She's not gonna go with him," she pointed to the lieutenant. "Carla won't go anywhere with anybody but you."
"I tend to believe her, Johnny," Ron Crockett put his note pad back in the pocket of his sport shirt. "I'm glad you called me, and didn't try to go in there on your own. I've heard of this 'Larry' character, and he's got a reputation for being mean. Very mean. He's suspected in the disappearance of one prostitute, and he's done time for Assault and Manslaughter."
A chill passed through Johnny's spine. "That's why I called you. I didn't think it'd be wise for just her and I to go in there alone. So, what's next?"
"Well, since you're the only one Carla will go with, I think we need to pay a visit to that apartment. I'll have a plainclothes unit meet us there for backup. We'll all go in my car."
"Okay," replied Johnny. He looked at the girl, who was looking at the dirt." "This is the best way to do things. You're not being a snitch. Nothing's gonna happen to Carla. After we find her, we're gonna take her to the hospital. Okay?"
The girl nodded. Reluctantly, she accompanied Johnny and Lieutenant Crockett to the Lieutenant's car. The three sped off to the apartment. They arrived in front of an aging brick building decorated with graffiti twenty minutes later.
"Let me check it out first," Crockett told the other two as he eased the car against the curb. The detective got out and climbed the steps to the second-floor entrance of the dilapidated building. He casually knocked on the door.
Johnny watched the police officer's shoulders noticeably slump when his contact with the door pushed it open. Crockett cautiously peeked inside, then took one step in. After just a moment he was back on the landing, beckoning Johnny and the girl to come up.
"Shit," Johnny muttered when he entered the apartment. Though well-worn furniture still riddled the room, it was instantly obvious that whoever lived there was gone, and had left in a hurry.
"No kidding," Crockett agreed. He turned to the girl. "Any idea why they would leave so quickly?"
"Hey, man, I have no idea," she said defensively.
"Did Carla know you were gonna look for me? Did she know what you were doing?" Johnny asked.
"Well, yeah. It was her idea! She begged me, man. I didn't want to get involved. Dammit, why didn't I listen to myself! I knew it! Fuck! Gettin' involved is just asking for a whole shitload of trouble! Larry's gonna have my ass when he catches up with me!"
"All right, that's enough. Watch your mouth," the detective admonished her. "I want you to tell me anything you can think of that might help us find them. What are Larry's hangouts? Anywhere he'd go when in trouble? Anything you can think of."
"Oh, no. No way. I'm outta here." The girl made a break for the door, but Johnny caught her easily by the midsection, depositing her back in the middle of the floor. He could tell that she hadn't really fought him; that she hadn't really wanted to get away. He suspected her bravado was more an act than anything.
Crockett took her by the arm and pushed her down into a threadbare green armchair. "Okay, missy," he said. "Tell me what you know."
The girl was still complaining when Johnny wandered away. He couldn't believe the state of this place. It was a dump; as bad as anything he'd ever seen in all his years in the fire service. First he wandered into the kitchen, which was not only filthy, but riddled with exposed, fraying wires. A dump and a deathtrap, he thought bitterly. So this is where Mirac-no, Amber, would have lived. He shook his head sadly at the thought.
But still, he knew, it would have been better than where she was now.
He left the kitchen and next found the bedroom. A small dresser and a mattress on the floor were the only furnishing here. The bed had been stripped of any bedding, and Gage could see the stains all over it. It was disgusting; they'd been living like animals. Several used syringes still littered the floor. John idly opened a door, only to find an empty closet. But as he went to shut the door he noticed the pile of fabric crammed into the corner. He knelt down and poked at the towels, and it only took a second for him to realize what they were. Covered in dried blood and fluid, they'd no doubt been used when Carla had given birth. Johnny stood quickly, reeling, and looked at the bed. There. That was where that little baby had been born. In this room, on that bed. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach, and raced to the window, throwing it open and sticking his head out to take huge gulping breaths of fresh air.
"Gage? C'mere a minute." It was Crockett. Johnny brought his head in and stood up straight. He took another deep breath, and left the bedroom behind.
"Yeah?" he asked, finding the detective in the tiny bathroom. The man looked up from what he was holding in his hand, and his brow furrowed.
"You okay, Gage? You look kinda sick."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay," Johnny lied. "Whatcha' got?"
"What do you make of this?" Crockett held up another bloody towel, only this time the blood was still fresh. And there was a lot of it.
Johnny slumped against the door frame and sighed. "She's bleeding, Lieutenant. It's normal after giving birth to bleed, but probably not that much. She might be hemorrhaging."
"Then we better find her."
"Uh huh," Johnny agreed. He wandered back into the living room. "Hey, Crockett?" he asked. "What happened to the girl?"
The police officer covered the distance from the bathroom in two steps. "Shit," he muttered to the empty room.
"Yeah," Johnny agreed.
____________________
Roy backed the squad into the bay and jumped out before the engine had completely quit. "I gotta make a phone call," he told Dwyer, who had agreed to come in and pull a double to cover for Johnny.
"Yeah," Charlie said. "Tell Gage I said hi."
Roy looked into Cap's office and let out a relieved breath to find it empty. He shut the door behind him, and dialed Johnny's number.
"Yeah," came his partner's voice through the line. John sounded tired.
"Hey, Johnny, how you doing?"
"Hey, Roy. How's it going?" That John didn't answer the question was not lost on the older man.
"Okay. No complaints here."
"Busy shift?"
"Nah. Not too bad so far. Charlie came in to cover for you. He says hi."
"Tell him I said thanks."
"Will do." Roy paused. "So," he finally said after a deep breath. "How you doing?"
"I'm dried off, if that's what you mean," Johnny answered tonelessly.
"It's not," Roy admonished. He hated when Gage turned reticent, but he knew it was only a matter of time before he wouldn't be able to keep it in, and Johnny would tell him what he was thinking. He was right.
"Roy," John started, winding up. Here we go, Roy thought. Let it out.
"I saw . . . I saw where she lived today." Gage's voice was quiet, like he was making a confession.
"Where who lived?"
"The mother. You shoulda' seen it Roy. It was a pit; it was disgusting. No one should live like that."
"Wait a minute, Johnny. How did you see it?"
"Doesn't matter," Gage dismissed. "I saw it. It made me sick, just thinking of Amber in that place."
"Amber?" Roy was totally confused now.
"Miracle. Her mother named her Amber. She's only 14 years old, Roy."
"Hold on, Johnny, how do you know all this?" He'd been worried about John getting too involved with the baby, but now it seemed like he was getting involved with the mother, and that seemed even more treacherous to Roy. "Are you in contact with the mother? Have you called the police?"
Before John could answer the klaxons sounded. "Johnny," Roy said urgently. "I'll call you again as soon as we get back. And if you haven't done it yet, call the police!" He dropped the phone in the cradle and ran for the squad.
____________________
Johnny held the phone in his hand until it started making the screeching noise telling him to hang up. The noise startled him--he hadn't even been aware that the receiver was still in his hand. He did hang it up, and flopped backward onto his sofa. He had called the police, and a hell of a lot of good it had done him. They were no closer to finding the girl than they had been yesterday.
He lifted his head and looked back at the phone. Call me, he urged. Call me again. But the appliance remained silent.
Gage stood and started to pace the room. Why hadn't he stayed at work? At least then he'd be on that call with Roy, keeping busy, keeping his mind off Amber, and Carla, and what was the boyfriend's name? Larry, that's right. Larry. Now he had two more days. Two days to do nothing but think about that tiny bundle he'd held in his arms. Two days to think about a sick, grieving little girl out God-knows-where with no one to help her. Two days to think about some pimp who knew his name and wanted a piece of him.
And then what? Back to work, back to facing all sorts of people who needed him, who would be counting on him to help them, when he hadn't even been able to help a little baby. Or that baby's mother, for that matter.
Oh, Roy, John thought again. You were so incredibly wrong.
Finding that baby was quickly proving to be the worst thing that had ever happened to Johnny.
____________________
As the afternoon wore slowly on, Johnny tried to watch television, but found he couldn't concentrate on even the silliest of syndicated TV shows, Gilligan's Island. Normally under circumstances like this one, where the paramedic had a lot of worries on his mind and two days off work in front of him, Johnny would pack his camping gear and head for the mountains. A couple days away from the city didn't necessarily solve all your problems, but it sure seemed to put them into perspective. Or so the man had come to discover was true for himself. But for as much as Johnny would have liked to do nothing more than head for the San Gabriel Mountains, he knew he couldn't leave his apartment. What if Carla called back? That girl this morning, the one whose name neither Johnny nor Lieutenant Crockett had ever managed to get, had said Carla would only talk to him. That Carla wanted to talk to him.
But why? Johnny asked himself, as he stood from the sofa and walked over to the television set. He shut the TV off, then began pacing the length of his living room once again. Why would Carla want to contact me? Sure, I'm the person who found Mira. . .Amber. But the baby's gone. . .dead. She's dead. What does Carla think I can tell her?
Less than five minutes later Johnny had an answer to his question. He was just entering his kitchen while trying to convince himself he should eat something, despite having lost the infamous Gage appetite, when the phone rang. Johnny was so certain the caller was Roy he almost said, “Hey, Roy,” when he picked up the receiver. What stopped him from giving that automatic greeting, Johnny never knew.
“Hello?”
“Is this. . .is this Mr. Gage?”
Johnny immediately recognized the voice as being that of his caller from last night. “Carla?”
“How. . .how do you know my name?”
“It doesn't matter how I know, I just do. Listen, Carla, I know you're not feeling well. I know you're bleeding pretty bad--”
“No I'm not.”
“Yes, Carla, you are. I know you are, so don't lie to me. Listen, sweetheart, you need to get to a hospital as soon as possible.”
Carla shivered as she stood at the pay phone around the corner from the flop house where Larry had rented a room for them. She huddled into her shirts, unable to get warm despite the sunshine and seventy degree temperature. No one had ever called her sweetheart before. Or at least not in the tone Mr. Gage was using. When he said the word it sounded. . .it sounded like he cared about her. Like he was worried about her. It sounded like what a big brother might call a cherished little sister. When other men had called Carla sweetheart, all they'd wanted was to use her body like Larry promised them they could.
“Carla? Are you still there?”
The girl sniffled back her tears. She was so afraid of what Larry would do if he found her using the phone, and yet at the same time she knew Mr. Gage was right. She was sick and needed to get to a hospital. “I. . .I'm still. . .I'm still here.”
“Carla, don't cry. It'll be okay. Tell me where you are, sweetie.”
“I. . .I can't.”
“Carla, you have to. I'll call for a squad to come and. . .”
“No! I won't go with them! I'll run away if you do!”
“Okay, okay, calm down,” Johnny implored, as he raked a hand through his hair in frustration. From personal experience he knew fourteen-year-olds could be extraordinarily stubborn and strong-willed. “I won't call anyone. But, Carla, this is serious. You need to see a doctor.”
There was a few seconds of silence, then a shy admittance on the girl's part.
“I. . .I kind of liked that doctor who took care of me. . .who took care of me where Amber was.”
“Doctor Brackett?”
“Yeah. Him.”
“If I come pick you up will you let me take you to see him?”
“I. . .” the girl paused in thought. She was cold, hungry and exhausted. She also had a throbbing black eye from the beating Larry had rained on her after he discovered Carla had confided in Trina that she'd called John Gage the previous night, and she had cramps so bad she could barely stand upright. The thought of going back to the filthy flop house and eating saltine crackers while washing them down with warm Pepsi was more than Carla could bear. Besides, Larry had told her she had to work tonight so they could buy some real food. She'd tried to tell him she was in no condition to work. . .to be with a man, but he wouldn't listen. The thought of a hot shower, clean clothes, a warm bed, a good meal, an ice pack for her eye, and some medicine to make her cramps go away, was suddenly very appealing to the girl. “I. . .I guess that would be okay. But only you, Mr. Gage. Just you.”
“Only me.”
“And if you call the cops I'm history.”
“I understand.” Johnny opened a kitchen drawer and fumbled for a scrap of paper and a pen. “Where can I find you, kiddo?”
“I'm in a phone booth at the corner of West 12th and Mitchell.”
Johnny jotted the address down. It was just his luck that Carla was standing in one of the worst sections of the city. Gang violence, drug trade, and prostitution were the three main activities that when on down there day or night.
“It'll take me about thirty minutes to get to you, Carla. Is your. . .your boyfriend there?”
“Larry?”
“Yes,” Johnny said, wanting to avoid a confrontation with the young man if at all possible, or at least be aware of what he might have to deal with upon his arrival to pick Carla up.
“He's not my boyfriend. And no, he's not here. I. . .I ditched him.”
“That sounds like a good idea. You wait right there for me, you understand?”
“I understand.”
“I drive a white Land Rover.”
“What's that?”
“It's kind of a cross between a truck and a car. You'll know it when you see it.”
“Okay.”
“Is there a bench in that phone booth?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. I want you to sit down on it and wait for me. If you start to feel dizzy, you sit right down on the floor, understand?”
“I understand.”
“I'll be there just as soon as I can.”
“Okay. And Mr. Gage?”
“Yeah?”
“I wanna. . .I wanna talk to you about Amber, too. I want. . .I want. . .” Carla started crying again. “I want you to tell me all about her. What she looked like. What color her hair was. What it felt like to hold her. Everything. Okay?”
Johnny recalled his musing from just prior to the phone ringing, and how he couldn't figure out what Carla thought he could tell her about the deceased infant. Now the paramedic knew exactly what Carla thought he could tell her. She thought he could tell her about her daughter. She thought he could tell her about the baby she'd never even gotten to hold.
“Sure, sweetie. Everything. I'll tell you everything.”
With that Johnny gave the teenager final instructions to stay right where she was at, then hung up the phone. He hurried through the apartment to his bedroom. He slipped his tennis shoes on and made quick work of tying them. He opened his closet door and reached up on the shelf. If Carla was bleeding as bad as he surmised, she'd be cold. He took down two blankets and a medical bag he kept for emergency use. It didn't have much in it that would be of help in this situation, but if nothing else he'd be able to take her blood pressure, which would give him a good idea of how much blood she was losing.
The paramedic stopped at the linen closet in the hallway and grabbed a stack of clean towels, then headed for the door. He briefly thought of calling Roy just so someone knew where he was headed considering the unsavory section of town Carla was in, but decided not to spare the time. He couldn't risk Carla not being there when he arrived. Johnny knew fully well Roy would spend at least five minutes trying to talk him out of getting involved with the girl, then another five insisting that he summon a squad and ambulance to her location. Johnny could easily guess that last would be an effort in futility. The girl would run as soon as she heard the sirens. Despite his best efforts, Johnny hadn't been able to save little Amber. He wasn't going to lose Amber's mother if it was in his power to prevent another senseless death.
Johnny locked his apartment door behind him, then hurried down the stairs, out the front entrance, and across the parking lot. He placed the medical bag, blankets, and towels on the back seat of his Land Rover, then climbed behind the steering wheel. He started the vehicle and pulled out onto the street. He headed in the direction of West 12th and Mitchell, never realizing that in trying to save a life, he was putting his own in serious jeopardy.
____________________
Larry Campbell stood around the corner from the phone booth Carla was sitting in. Every few seconds he'd peer out from the alley to see if she was still there. He fingered the Smith and Wesson in his right jacket pocket, and the six inch knife in his left. If the bitch had called the cops he'd kill her. If she'd called that fireman hero who had tried to save the baby Larry would kill him.
“Don't need no one interferin',” the man with eyes streaked angry red by a myriad of drugs, mumbled to himself. “Don't need no damn fireman interferin' by tryin' to 'rescue' my Carla. If she goes with him, then he'll go to the cops. And if he goes to the cops, then they'll come lookin' for me 'cause of the baby and all. I shoulda' made Carla abort it. Damn, but I knew I shoulda' made her abort it.”
Larry shook his head as he kept watch over the girl.
“Better notta called that fireman, Carla. If you know what's good for you, and for him, you'd better notta called him.”
____________________
Carla hung up the phone, then sat down on the bench like Mr. Gage had told her to do. She couldn't explain it even to herself, but there was just something about him that made her feel like she could trust him and what he said. He genuinely seemed to care about her and Amber.
Amber. Oh my God, my baby!
The reality that she had actually given birth, and now her baby was gone, finally hit Carla like a ton of bricks. Until now, she had felt kind of detached…like she had watched it play out for someone else. Sure the pain of childbirth had been real, but she had managed to distance herself once Larry had taken the baby away. Now knowing that Mr. Gage had seen and held Amber made it all so much more real. She had been missing the baby that had been inside her…missing the kicks, the little hiccups Amber would get. Every time she talked about the baby, she broke down in tears.
But now this was a different kind of pain. It grew from within and overwhelmed her entirely. An incredible emptiness she had never felt almost made her feel nauseous.
I wish there was a way I could bring her back. Have another chance with her. But she's gone forever. No matter what I do, she'll never be with me again.
Looking up towards the roof of the telephone booth, Carla found herself compelled to speak, her lower lip trembling as she began to cry again.
"Oh God, Amber. I'm so sorry. I'm… sorry I wasn't there for you. A mom's supposed t'…to be there for her kid and I let you down. I didn't mean to…I know how bad it feels." Tears streamed down her face, as she continued between sobs. "I…I love…you. Wherev…ever you are. Wh …why did you …have to leave me here by myself? I woulda fou…found you. I…I'm all alone now. I feel…" She paused then sobbed, "I feel like you left me..be…behind. Babies aren't su...supposed to die."
____________________
Johnny pulled up to the curb by the phone booth. He got out of his Land Rover carrying the few medical supplies he had brought , eyeing at the run-down buildings around him. He spotted the top of a head in the booth. Looking in, he could see a young girl sitting on the floor sobbing into her hands. He tapped on the glass, trying not to startle her. Once he saw he had her attention , he slowly opened the door.
Carla looked up, her red eyes swollen and puffy, her face tear streaked. She recognized Johnny right away. "M...Mr. Gage?"
Johnny immediately went into paramedic mode.
____________________
Larry watched the Land Rover pull up by the telephone booth. Seeing Johnny get out and go to Carla angered him even more than before.
You damn fireman. No way are ya gonna take my Carla anywhere. Ain't no way in hell.
____________________
"Carla, sweetheart, try to stop crying," Johnny soothed as he knelt beside the distraught girl. She'd started her sobbing anew the minute he'd arrived. "It's gonna be okay. I've gotcha'." He took her wrist and found that her pulse was bounding, which was no surprise given her hysteria. "You've got to calm down, okay?"
The young girl took a deep breath and made an effort to regain her composure. After a minute she'd succeeded and Johnny set to work. He'd just taken her blood pressure, and was about to wrap a blanket around her shivering shoulders, when he saw the girl looking up over his head, eyes wide with terror.
"NO!" she screamed, and Johnny reflexively spun around, throwing his right arm up in a defensive posture. He didn't even see the knife, or the man, but he felt the burn on the underside of his forearm as the blade met his flesh. He fell backwards, and as he did he finally got a glimpse of the man. Larry raised the knife menacingly, and Gage watched in horror as it descended upon his chest. At the last second he shifted and parried to the side, preventing the knife from plunging directly into his torso. But it still made contact, sending a searing pain through his left side. It left him gasping and defenseless on the ground, and John Gage was sure he was about to die.
