LITMIR.BIZ

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Three

      Afternoon sunlight slanted through Krissie’s bedroom window, a welcome sight as she awoke. She smiled and stretched contentedly. The air mattress beneath her made its familiar hollow sounds.

      Being in the navy for six years had taught her to minimize her possessions. If it didn’t fit in a duffel bag, she didn’t own it. Then the habit proved hard to break, and the few items of furniture she had bought while working in Denver had seemed easier to sell than to move.

      She needed to change that mindset, she thought now. A bed, a table, some additional cooking utensils, maybe even a sofa. She could afford these things from her savings, and since she was determined to stay here now that she had come home, she didn’t need to live like a gypsy any more.

      In fact, she thought ruefully, gypsies probably had more worldly possessions. She stretched again and glanced at the small travel alarm clock near her bed. Four o’clock already! She must have slept like the dead.

      Just time enough to grab a shower and try to make something to eat, then pack a lunch for her shift. And maybe a quick chat with Mom on the phone.

      Almost as if reading her mind, her cell phone rang, and she saw her parents’ phone number pop up. Smiling, she opened the phone and answered.

      “Hi,” she said.

      “Hi, honey.” Her mother’s warm voice filled her ear. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

      “I was just waking up.”

      “Oh, goodie. So, you know what the best thing about having you back in town is?” Marge Tate’s tone became gently humorous.

      “No, what?”

      “I can ask you over for dinner now. And it just so happens we decided to eat early. That wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact you have to be back on shift at seven.”

      Krissie laughed. “Oh, Mom!”

      “So your dad’s heating up the grill and I thought we’d make burgers, and I’m in the middle of making this really great salad—”

      “Sold!” Krissie said. “I just need to shower and throw some things together for tonight.”

      “Don’t rush, honey. Dinner won’t be until five or so. But while you’re not rushing, hurry up. I miss you.”

      Still smiling, Krissie closed her phone, jumped up and trotted to the shower. God, it was good to be home!

      The Tate family house looked as it always had during the years Krissie and the five other girls had grown up there, except that it had a fresh coat of white paint and some new bushes out front. The full-size van was gone, too, no longer necessary for carting six kids around.

      But it was still home, and as soon as Krissie stepped through the front door, she felt enveloped in warmth and love.

      She found her parents out back on the deck, sipping tall glasses of lemonade. Immediately, they enveloped her in hugs, as if they hadn’t just seen her two days ago, then sat her down with her own glass of lemonade.

      Nate, her dad, didn’t look a day older than he had when she left for the navy eight years ago. It was as if he’d weathered and aged all he could by forty, and then remained unchanging.

      Marge had put on a couple of pounds, but on her they looked good. She had apparently stopped washing her short hair with henna, so the red had faded mostly to gray. The years, however, had taken no toll on her smile or her twinkling eyes.

      “We invited Wendy and Billy Joe for dinner, too,” Marge said, “but apparently there was a car accident, so you’re stuck with just us for company.”

      “As if I’d complain?”

      Nate chuckled, a deep gravelly sound. “Well, I know how much you were looking forward to the three-ring circus.”

      “No, that’s Christmas, when everyone comes home.”

      Nate laughed again. “My favorite time of year.”

      Marge smiled at him. “Go get the burgers, dear. Krissie has limited time and I want to have a private word.”

      “Uh-oh,” Krissie said humorously as her dad rose from his chair.

      He leaned over and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Call me if you need protection.”

      “Oh, go on,” Marge laughed. “It’s nothing like that.”

      Nate disappeared through the sliding glass door, closing it pointedly behind him.

      Marge looked at Krissie as if drinking in every detail. “I know you wrote and called all the time while you were away. But I’m a mother, and I can tell there was a lot you weren’t saying.”

      “Mom…”

      Marge shook her head and patted her hand. “Nate says I shouldn’t ask, and he would know. I just want you to know that if you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

      “I’ve always known that.” But Krissie felt her throat tighten anyway, and she had to swallow hard.

      “And if you feel it’s something only your dad would understand, well, he’s here, too.”

      “I know…” Krissie could hardly talk around the sudden lump in her throat. Marge left her chair to come wrap her arms tightly around her daughter. All of a sudden, Krissie felt like a small child again, when all the comfort in the world could be found within the arms of her mother, with her head on her mother’s breast. Comfort and safety.

      “I can only imagine,” Marge murmured. “I can only imagine. But you’ll heal now. I know you will.”

      “I’m healing already,” Krissie managed, her voice thick.

      “Yes, you are. I knew it when you decided to come home.”

      Marge squeezed her hard then let go. As if reading a signal, Nate returned with a plate of raw burgers.

      “I hope you’re hungry,” he said jovially. “ ‘Cuz I’m cooking for four.”

      Marge resumed her seat, raising a brow. “He’s always looking for an excuse to get a second burger.”

      “Well, if you’d let me have them more often, I wouldn’t need to resort to tricks!”

      Krissie laughed, feeling the intense emotions begin to subside, allowing her to breathe and swallow again. “I love you guys,” she said.

      Her answer came in unison, “We love you, too.”

      

      When Krissie arrived at the hospital just before seven, she realized the auto accident must have been a serious one. Police cars and two ambulances stood at the emergency room entrance, and the medevac helicopter was on the pad not far away. Even as she walked across the parking lot, she saw her sister Wendy emerge alongside a gurney headed for the helicopter, an IV bag swinging in the breeze. The rotors were powering up even before the gurney reached the chopper.

      Taking a chance, she entered by way of the E.R. and was collared immediately by David. “We need you here,” he said briskly. “Have someone call the ward and tell the charge nurse not to leave.”

      “What happened?”

      “Three-car pileup. One of them was a van with a family of five.”

      Krissie nodded and took off. She called the ward herself to advise them she’d be late, then tore to the changing room to pull on scrubs and booties. Back out in the E.R. controlled chaos reigned. To a practiced eye, it was clear that everything was functioning as it should, even though they were shorthanded, but to the uneducated, it probably looked like total uproar.

      “In here.” David motioned her into a cubicle and she found a child of maybe eight or nine on the gurney inside. He was unconscious, but breathing normally. David bent over him, ignoring the

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