Married in Haste. Roz Fox Denny

front of you. My only excuse is that I hit the ground running at 6:00 a.m. and haven’t slowed since. Which isn’t your problem,” she added with a deprecating shrug.

      “I sympathize,” Abby said. “I hope your day hasn’t been as bad as mine. After I see Sam I wonder…could you direct me to the department in the hospital that can tell me where—” she cleared her throat “—where, ah, a person or persons who died here might be sent?” Her throat clogged and her eyes filled with tears. “Funeral homes, I mean.”

      The nurse broke her stride, and gave Abby a brief, spontaneous hug. “I’m on break, but I’ll wait until you visit Sammy, then I’ll get you a list of the area funeral homes. The front office gave each nursing center copies of the list after we began to get figures on fatalities. Last I heard it was ninety and rising.”

      “Oh, so many? I’m from West Seattle. My brother and his wife were apparently almost across the bridge when it—” Abby swallowed hard, and ended by simply shaking her head. “I thought Taylor’s. They handled my parents’ funeral—a long time ago. Maybe them if they’re still in business.”

      “They are. I’ll get them on the line while you look in on Sam.” Abby already had her nose pressed to a window of the glassed-in room. “Sam’s in the third bed. Someone’s monitoring his vital signs. Go on in. I’m sure Dr. Galloway gave an order to let you see him.”

      “You’ve been very kind.”

      “I wish that I could change your circumstances.” Gravely, the nurse, who was near Abby’s age, turned and went behind the counter at the nursing station. That left Abby wretchedly alone to enter a room that was silent except for the hum of monitors.

      She glanced hesitantly at a nurse working with her nephew. Sam looked pitifully tiny, swathed as he was in padded white bandages. Abby’s chest constricted.

      “Sam, honey, it’s Aunt Abby. Can you hear me?” Although his eyelids fluttered, they remained closed.

      “He’s responding subconsciously to your voice,” the nurse whispered. “Try to speak normally.”

      Abby blinked back stingingly hot tears. Try to speak normally? Sam’s life had changed dramatically today. Hers, too. From now on, their roles would be totally different. Never again would she be Aunt Abby, a person to whom Sam and his brothers could look to get them off the hook with their folks. She, who never raised her voice to the boys and rarely meted out discipline except occasionally on the school playground, would be a parent. Starting tomorrow. Large tears leaked from her eyes and dripped on Sam’s pristine sheets.

      “Get better, guy,” she muttered. She did her utmost to keep her voice from sounding panicky. “I’ll be back in the morning, and I’ll bring Raggedy Andy,” she promised softly. Each of the children slept with a favorite toy. Sam’s was a rag doll Blair had made for his first birthday. Andy had undergone several surgical procedures himself. Maybe Sam would be comforted by that. Because the older of the two nurses kept eyeing her watch and then Abby, she took it as a hint to leave. Smoothing Sam’s mop of carrot-red curls, she dropped a kiss on the tip of his freckled nose. Abby had always been partial to this child. She understood firsthand the teasing he’d one day endure at the hands of schoolmates. Of her brother’s five children, only Sam had inherited Grandfather Drummond’s fiery Scots hair. The others all had strawberry-blond shades, and few freckles. Sam and Abby—kindred spirits.

      With a last look at her broken nephew, Abby scrubbed at her cheeks and escaped from the room.

      The nurse who’d promised to help Abby contact the funeral home appeared in her peripheral vision. “I have a representative from Taylor’s on the line in the conference room. Come. I’ll wait outside until you’ve finished making arrangements.”

      “Thank you—what’s your name? I feel I should call you something.”

      The woman frowned at the left side of her uniform. “Drat. I lost another name tag. I lose one a month. It should say Olivia Warren here.” Abby’s helpful companion tapped a torn flap near her left shoulder.

      “Olivia? Oh, you’re the one who phoned me. I remember the name.”

      “I made a lot of calls. Too many.” Pursing her lips, the nurse continued to stroke the spot where she was missing her name badge.

      “Hmm. Perhaps you should take your uniforms to one of those firms that embroider names on kids’ ball shirts.” Part of Abby couldn’t conceive how she could carry on such a mundane conversation in the midst of tragedy. On the other hand, discussing inconsequential things gave her an excuse not to face the task she needed to face.

      “I never thought of having my name stitched on. That’s a great idea.”

      “Sports King in West Seattle does it on site. Our elementary school gives them a lot of business,” Abby said. “I teach second grade, and I coach sixth-grade girls’ soccer.” It dawned on Abby, as she entered the conference room and saw the phone lying on the table, that, too, would probably change in the coming months. She knew how much time Blair spent shuffling the boys to soccer, baseball, karate and what-have-you. She deliberately blanked from her mind the fact that Blair’s full-time job had been taking care of the house, the menagerie, the boys and…Elliot.

      Picking up the phone with a damp hand, she said in a shaky voice, “This is Abigail Drummond.” She gave her address and mentioned that Taylor’s had handled her parents’ funeral. “I need to arrange for a double, ah, burial. No. I…don’t know if they had lots at Shady Glen. I understand you have to ask, but this is very…difficult for me. I’m calling to arrange for my brother and his wife. Apart from their asking if I’d serve as guardian to their sons, I’m afraid we never discussed the details of their…uh…wishes. I thought…we all thought we were planning for a remote possibility.” Abby’s voice faded.

      “Uh, huh. Now I see the need, but then…sir…must I provide this information tonight? Oh, fine. I don’t mean to be difficult, but—” She burst into tears. “Sorry.” She blotted her eyes on her jacket sleeve. “If you could work with the officials at Mercy General, I’ll come in tomorrow and fill out the papers and give you a check.”

      Abby fumbled the receiver as she attempted to hang it up. She looked through her tears as Olivia Warren popped into the room.

      “Hey, are you okay? Taylor’s didn’t give you a hard time or anything, did they?”

      “I expected this to be rough, Olivia,” Abby said around muffled sniffles. “I had no idea how bad. Taylor’s were nice enough. I’m just so horribly ill prepared.”

      “Are you related to Dr. Galloway?” the woman asked as they left the room and started down the hall.

      “No. What made you ask?”

      “My friend said she saw you come out of the chapel with Dr. Kirk’s son. She said he had an arm around you.”

      “We’re…” Abby hesitated. She’d started to say, friends. But in view of their interrupted plans, she supposed they were more. Right now, she wished they were much more. Which was odd. Abby couldn’t recall ever picturing herself married. If ever the vows of for better, for worse had meaning, this would be it.

      “Ben and I met last year. I had one of his nieces in my class. We’ve dated. So, of course, he was my first thought when I learned Sam needed an orthopedic surgeon.”

      “I see. You taught Ben’s niece? Then I guess you must know he lost his sister today.”

      “What? No. No, I didn’t know anything of the kind.” Abby stumbled over nothing on the tiled floor. “Surely you misunderstood. I…saw Ben. We spoke. He talked with his father.” Abby waved a hand feebly.

      “Yes,” Olivia said with eyes gone dark. “I probably shouldn’t have mentioned it, but apparently Dr. Ben and Dr. Kirk had a difference of opinion over who should look after the little girls.”

      Going back over a scene she’d witnessed from afar,