Beyond Eden

5

PRESENT: New York City

Taylor

Taylor ran into the emergency room, pale and looking more terrified than a man should ever look.

The head emergency room nurse, Ann Hollis, was sixty, tough, and more seasoned than a four-star general. She saw the man coming toward her, saw his fear, and readied herself for the outbreak. Screaming, raw and impotent anger, outward fury, the rage brought on by the helplessness of it all. To her utter surprise, when he spoke, his voice was calm and low.

“I would appreciate your help—” He looked at her name tag. “Yes, Ms. Hollis. Lindsay or Eden is her name. I understand there was some sort of accident and she was hurt and now she’s here, being treated. I’m her fiancé. Please tell me what’s going on. This is very difficult.”

And Ann Hollis responded to him with the truth. “I will tell you what I know. First of all, stop worrying. You stay here and I’ll go check and find out exactly what’s happening. All right?”

Taylor nodded and she left him. He didn’t move. He waited, knowing that everything that mattered to him, everything that was deeply inside of him, deeply a part of him, hung in the balance.

Nurse Hollis touched his arm. “Two broken ribs, a collapsed left lung, which they’re reinflating.”

“How’s that done?”

“A small incision between two ribs and a tube is inserted that’s in turn connected to a lung machine. It makes breathing easier for her.”

“Thank you.”

“Contusions and lacerations, but those aren’t all that bad.” Ann Hollis paused, then drew a deep breath. “Then there’s her face.” Again she touched her hand to his arm. “It’s impossible to say right now because Dr. Perry has just gotten to her. He’s got examinations to make. He’s got to get CT scans before he can make a determination.”

“What exactly happened to her face?”

“It was badly smashed.”

He flinched from the baldness of the image that word brought to his mind, but nonetheless he was grateful to her.

“However, Dr. Perry is one of the best reconstructive surgeons in New York City. He probably won’t wait to operate. There’s the problem of swelling, you know.”

Taylor didn’t say anything. He was trying not to shake. Nurse Hollis patted his arm again. Touch was very important, she knew that, it comforted, it reassured, it gave human connection and warmth. With a touch, the other person was no longer alone.

“As soon as I can find out any more, I’ll call you. Please go sit down. I know it’s hard, but you must try to stay calm. She won’t die. Her face will heal. As I said, Dr. Perry is one of the best in facial reconstruction.”

“Thank you, Ms. Hollis.”

She watched him walk slowly away from her. She’d seen the young woman’s face. They hadn’t cleaned it yet, and there was nothing but dried blood and bits of bone and matted blood-dried hair. Yes, it would be difficult to be beautiful when your face was smashed.

Taylor felt the weight of helplessness. And suddenly he remembered how he’d failed her in Paris, the crying young girl who didn’t understand what was happening to her, the young girl who’d been raped so brutally, struck repeatedly, and yet she was at a hospital but the hurt was continuing and she was unable to grasp any of it. And he’d been unable to help her. Just as he’d not helped her this time either.

Her face was smashed. Dear God, what had happened? But all he could think of was the eighteen-year-old Lindsay in Paris, hurt and scared and beaten. And none of it her fault. Just as none of it this time was her fault. And he’d been unable to help her this time, just as he’d been unable then… .