Tucker looked sharply at him and Brax shook his head. “Sorry. This is what we’re dealing with. You wouldn’t want me to sugar coat it.”
Tucker nodded, the guilt and anguish eating clear through him.
“One of the biggest side effects of morphine is respiratory depression. We need to monitor her closely,” Braxton said.
“We’ll take turns watching her through the night.” Mama Porter nodded and Tucker could already see her making a chart in her head to make it all fair and even.
“No.” Tucker was not leaving Maryn’s side until she woke up and a doctor snowmobiled in to check her out and give her antibiotics. “I’ll stay with her.”
Braxton and Mama Porter exchanged glances. Johnson stared at him with that level gaze of a friend who knew what he was dealing with. Only someone who had survived Afghanistan would truly understand.
“Keep trying to get through to the Sheriff or the medical center in West. As soon as a doc or EMT can get in here with some antibiotics and whatever else he thinks she needs, I want him here.”
Braxton nodded. He packed up the unused supplies while Mama Porter grabbed a garbage can and Johnson swept the bloodied gauze and ruined clothing into it.
“I brought Max in,” Johnson said. “We’ll stitch her up and keep her in the lower garage tonight. I think she’s going to be okay.”
“Max?” Tuck had no idea what his friend was talking about. Why would their dog need stitches?
“The bear got her too. I think she was trying to protect Ms. Howe.”
“Oh, Max.” The dog loved to explore the Island Park property and was a great companion to all of them. Tucker wished he could bring her upstairs, but he wasn’t up for a fight right now. Mama Porter stayed very firm on the no animals in the house rule. “Let me know how she’s doing.”
Johnson nodded.
They all started to file out, but Mama Porter turned back. “This isn’t your fault, Tucker Shaffer, and I won’t let you blame yourself for it.”
Tuck couldn’t respond.
Mama Porter patted him on the shoulder. “We’ll check on you throughout the night and we’ll get a doctor here.”
“Thank you.” He hung his head, but forced himself to look up and call out to his friend. “Brax.”
Braxton pivoted and waited.
“Thank you. I know that wasn’t easy.” Braxton had been a professional so maybe it was easier than Tucker could imagine, but watching that had made him sick. It was hard to imagine how Braxton kept his hands steady and did such a good job.
Braxton dipped his head in acceptance of the simple gratitude and then followed the others down the stairs.
Tucker glanced over Maryn’s still form. She seemed to be sleeping as comfortably as one could whose body had been ripped apart. He pulled an overstuffed leather chair over and sat heavily, knowing this was going to be a miserable night with his demons, regrets, and fears for Maryn and Max’s recovery.
The night passed slowly. Mama Porter brought him Dr. Pepper and sugar cookies, muttering about the batch she burned, but he didn’t touch any of the food. How could he eat and drink his favorites when Maryn might not survive? He passed a hand over his face. Okay, he was being dramatic and that was a word that had never described him before. Maryn should survive, but she was still in danger of infection, or not waking up if she had a concussion, and her beautiful body might never be the same again. It made his stomach churn.
Tucker stood and paced next to his bed. Maryn seemed to be resting more easily since the last dose of morphine Braxton administered around three a.m. Thank heavens for Braxton’s knowledge and his smuggling of medical supplies from Mexico. Tuck hadn’t known about the morphine, but to see Maryn asleep and not writhing in pain was the best sight he could remember.
He studied her face relaxed in sleep. Her features were delicate, from her small nose to her rosebud lips. She was beautiful, but she hadn’t acted like the type of woman who used her looks to her advantage. Friendly, open, and fun were probably the words that had best described her before she’d seen those pictures and he’d turned into a growling jerk. How would she react to him when she finally opened her eyes? Tucker dreaded and wished for that moment.
A few times in the night she’d twitch restlessly, her eyelids fluttering, and she would mutter something unintelligible. Tucker hovered, brushing her brow with his fingers and murmuring what he hoped were comforting words, until she settled back down.
The sky lightened outside, signaling the sun had risen, but there was too much snow swirling in the air to see past the river. Tuck heard the high whine of a snowmobile and dropped his head. “Thank you, Lord.” He was surprised at how much he’d prayed tonight. After Afghanistan, he’d given up hope of a higher power ever forgiving him for his sins, but he found he could still beg favors for someone else. He gazed over Maryn. He’d do a lot of things for her he never thought he’d do for anyone and he barely knew her.
A loud rap, and then the sound of the doctor and Braxton pounding up the stairs drew his attention. Tucker stood on wobbly legs and met them at the entrance to his suite. He extended his hand. “Thanks for coming.”
“Sorry I was so slow. Message just came through a couple hours ago then it was slow going through this storm.”
Tucker shot a glance to Braxton who held up his hands. “We’ve been trying all night. The storm blocked the towers.”
Tucker escorted the doctor into his bedroom. Maryn still slept soundly. The doctor checked her pulse and took her temperature before uncovering her back and probing her neck and spine for a few minutes. “I don’t feel any misalignment, but when she awakens ask her if she’s feeling any pain. If she is, don’t move her. We’ll have to get an ambulance or helicopter in here somehow and transport her if that’s the case.”