“Ms. Brockwell, I’m Dierdre. How are you feeling?”
“Okay, just a little woozy. And very thirsty.”
Keith reached for the yellow pitcher and poured a cup of water for Celia.
“I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake. She’ll be in soon.” Dierdre left the room, and Celia took a sip of the cool water.
“So what happened?” She asked.
“You passed out at the prison.”
“I remember feeling sick. I went to the restroom.”
“After you came out, you talked to Andrew and me. I was about to walk you to your car, and you just buckled.”
Celia groaned. “Please tell me you didn’t call an ambulance.”
“Prison protocol.” Keith shrugged. “Besides, the sirens were a good way to disperse the protesters. You woke up once you got here, but you were kind of out of it. They gave you something to help you calm down.”
“Well, at least I slept all night. You didn’t stay here all that time, did you?”
“I went back to the prison to do paperwork, and then I came back here. I’ve been here about three hours.”
Dierdre walked back into the room with another woman. “I’m Dr. Schuester. Glad to see you awake. Let’s check a few things.”
Dr. Schuester listened to Celia’s heart, had her track the doctor’s fingers with her eyes, and asked a few basic questions about the day of the week, her phone number, and address.
“Did I pass?” Celia chuckled.
“You did. The tests show no sign of bleeding or problematic swelling, and your blood work looks good.”
“So why did I pass out, and when can I go home?”
“It looks like you may have mild post-concussion syndrome. It can happen, even with a mild concussion.”
“So what does that mean?”
“You may have some lingering symptoms for a few weeks. A headache is common, along with difficulty concentrating. It typically resolves itself.”
Celia nodded. “And can I go home?”
“We’d like to watch you a couple more hours. But yes, you can go home today. I’ll let you get some more rest now.”
Once she was gone, Keith poured her another cup of water. “Just so you know, I’ll be staying with you for a few days, and I don’t care how uncomfortable the bed is.”
“Yes, sir,” Celia teased.
Then she noticed a breaking story. Bart’s photo appeared on the television screen.
“Turn that up,” she told Keith. They both watched and listened.
“Local attorney Bart Vandiver was found dead in his Philadelphia townhouse last night, of an apparent overdose. Vandiver was a partner at Lewis, Tyler & Brown. He was 41 years old...”
Celia felt her heart rate accelerate. “Can I have a minute?”
“Sure.”
“Bring me my purse, please.”
He looked at her with a strange expression but did as she asked and then left the hospital room, cracking the door behind him.
Celia opened her purse and found the envelope Andrew had given her the night before. She muted the story about Bart, whose photo was still on the screen. Why are my hands shaking? Celia opened the envelope and pulled out a sheet of notebook paper.
A gift, because I knew you wouldn’t
Celia took a deep breath and folded the paper, placing it back into the envelope. She took the remote and turned off the television. Bart is dead. I have a note from Natasha, and Bart is dead. Celia looked around the room until she saw a small trash can sitting in a corner.
“You okay in here?” Keith knocked and then walked back into the room.
“I’m good.” Celia shoved the envelope into her purse. “It was just a bit of a shock.”
“I get that,” Keith said. “But, and I hate to say it, at least you don’t have to worry about him.”
“Thank goodness,” she sighed.
“I talked to the doctor while I was waiting. I told her I was going to be staying with you, and I persuaded her to go ahead and release you. If you can get dressed, we’ll leave now.”
Yes. Please. Celia wanted to get out of the room. “I can dress. Just bring me my clothes.”
Keith retrieved a plastic hospital bag from the cabinet and helped Celia stand. “Want me to hold your purse?”
“I got it. I need a couple of things in there.”
Keith led her to the restroom, and she locked the door behind her. Celia turned on the water and checked her phone. The news of Bart’s death was already on the internet too. As she scanned the article, the phone buzzed.
“Willian,” Celia answered. “Is everything okay?”
“You’re the one I should be asking. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m about to leave the hospital.”
“Have you seen the news?” William asked.
“I have. I can’t believe it.”
“Yes, well, now you can breathe easy.”
“I got a note from -”
“Well, I just wanted to check on you. Take a few days. I’ll see you back at the office.” He ended the call.
That was odd. Celia’s reporter's mind raced as she quickly put on her clothes. Then she took the envelope out of her purse. She read the note again before tearing it into tiny pieces. After doing the same with the envelope, she dropped them into the toilet and flushed. A quick fluff of hair and a bit of lip gloss, and she was ready to go.
“You all set?” Keith asked as she opened the door.
“I am,” Celia said, looking back at the bathroom. “Thank God it’s all over. Let’s go home.”
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About the Author
I’ve been writing since I could hold a pen. Prior to that, my teachers or mom wrote down the stories I told. I spent years singing throughout the US and in Europe, taught school for 15 years, and even worked for a division of NASA. Now I work as an instructional designer for a state university. Through it all, I have continued to write. My favorite genres are Christian
