Washed Away. Carol Marinelli

Flynn shouted, as Beth promptly dissolved into tears.

      “Now, how about you lie there quietly for a moment, Flynn, while I speak to your mom, and soon I’ll be back and we can see about making your arm a bit more comfortable.”

      “I’m sorry,” Beth gulped as they reached the kitchen. “I know it’s only a broken wrist and you probably think I’m overreacting. It’s just that…”

      “It’s the last thing you need right now,” Cheryl said as Beth nodded slowly. “You’ve got a new baby, Beth. It’s no wonder you’re upset that Flynn’s broken his arm. Any mother would be.”

      “I suppose.” Beth didn’t sound particularly convinced or comforted. “Do you have kids, Cheryl?”

      “No.” Cheryl gave a small smile. “But I’ve seen enough moms in my line of work to know that your reaction to Flynn’s injury is perfectly normal. There’s nothing wrong with shedding a few tears.”

      “Oh, don’t mind me.” Beth forced a smile. “I’m fine. The kettle’s just boiled, Cheryl. Can I make you a drink before you get started?”

      “Not for me, thanks. I’d best get started on setting that wrist.”

      “Well, after then,” Beth suggested. “I’ve made some cookies….”

      But Cheryl shook her head, keen to get the job done and return to town.

      “I think Mitch will want me to head straight back. If you can find me a bucket that would be great. I’ll also need some warm water for the plaster and a few towels.” Taking her cue, Beth scurried out of the kitchen, and Cheryl unloaded her backpack on the freshly scrubbed table. Come to think of it, everything was freshly scrubbed—the place was spotless.

      Immaculate even.

      So why didn’t it sit right? Cheryl wondered.

      “Are you going to put on a cast?” Beth asked, returning loaded with towels and a bucket.

      Cheryl shook her head. “Just a temporary back slab, but that should be enough to provide some relief for Flynn. His wrist doesn’t look displaced.” As Beth frowned, Cheryl checked herself and spoke in layman’s terms. “I’m pretty sure it’s just a small break with no deformity, but it will need to be confirmed by X ray. Given the weather, I think your chances of a trip to the hospital are slim. So for now, we’ll stick with the back slab. First, I bandage the arm with cotton wool, then put on a slab of plaster of Paris, which I’ll mold to his arm and attach with a bandage. It’ll come off easily when he gets to the hospital, but that will give him a lot of support and take care of his pain till then. Just keep his wrist in a sling, and once the storm is over, you can take him for an X ray and no doubt they’ll put on a more substantial cast.”

      “And he’ll be fine,” Beth said firmly, flashing a smile, but the sparkle of tears in her eyes didn’t go unnoticed by Cheryl.

      She narrowed her eyes in concern. Something told her that no matter how much she was needed back in Turning Point, for a moment or two she was needed here, as well.

      “Is there anything else on your mind, Beth—apart from Flynn, I mean? Anything else worrying you?”

      “Oh, you haven’t got time to listen to my moans,” Beth said airily. “Mitch will be wondering where you’ve got to.”

      “Mitch can wait awhile,” Cheryl said gently. “Sometimes it helps to talk….”

      “Oh, what would you know?” Beth’s voice was brittle. “I suppose you think it’s easy. I suppose you think that keeping house is child’s play compared to what you do.” Aghast, Beth clapped her hands to her mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You’ve been nothing but nice and I…”

      “It’s all right, Beth.” Cheryl kept her voice calm. Beth’s words might have stung but they weren’t aimed at her personally. Cheryl had been nursing long enough to know when someone was near the edge. Beth’s defensiveness and passive-aggressive responses were signs that needed to be heeded before Cheryl left this vulnerable woman alone with two small children. Tears were flowing freely now, and in the absence of tissues, Beth wept into the towel she was holding, her shoulders heaving as she let out whatever it was she had been keeping in. Instinctively Cheryl headed around the table, dragging a chair over and sitting by Beth.

      “I’m so sorry,” Beth sobbed.

      “Forget it,” Cheryl said gently. “What’s going on, Beth?”

      “You haven’t got time for this.”

      “That’s for me to decide,” Cheryl said firmly, taking the pressure off Beth while assuring her patient that she was in control. At the same time Cheryl was painfully aware that she didn’t have the luxury of sitting for hours. It was up to Beth. If she needed help, then she had to reach out now.

      “I’m so worried, I can’t sleep, can’t sit down.”

      Still Cheryl said nothing, just held the other woman’s gaze.

      “Hal says that I’m being stupid, that there’s nothing wrong with Paul.”

      “The new baby?” When Beth nodded, Cheryl pushed further, feeling her way slowly, unsure of the real issue here but knowing that whatever it was, it was big to Beth. “So you’ve got two boys now,” Cheryl probed. She was careful not to offer congratulations, not to assume, as most people might, that this should make Beth happy. When the woman literally crumpled before her, Cheryl knew she had been right.

      “It should have been three.” Beth’s voice was a pale whisper, and Cheryl held her breath, knowing that the instinctive murmur of sympathy on her lips was not what Beth needed right now. “I should have had three little boys, but my second son, Cody, died.”

      “How old was Cody?” Cheryl asked softly when it was clear Beth wasn’t going to volunteer anything more. “When he died?”

      “Eight weeks old.” Beth pressed her fingers into her eyes, taking a few gulping breaths before continuing. “Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. I put him down for his afternoon sleep in his room….” She shook her head fiercely, clearly not ready to relive the experience, yet desperately needing to talk. “Hal was out on the farm with Noah….”

      “Noah?” Cheryl asked, the name familiar, answering her own question in her mind before Beth did.

      “He’s Turning Point’s veterinarian.”

      And local hero, to boot, Cheryl thought with a dash of bitterness as she recalled their encounter at the gas station. But Noah wasn’t the issue here, Beth was, and Cheryl listened intently.

      “They heard me screaming and came straight in. Poor Flynn. He saw everything. He still remembers it. He has nightmares about it every now and then.” She gave a loaded sigh. “We all do.”

      “I’m so sorry.” Her expression of sympathy was appropriate now, and Cheryl squeezed Beth’s hand to show it was heartfelt.

      “The coroner said everything that could have been done, had been. Hal and Noah were amazing. He even said that if there had been a hospital next door, they couldn’t have done anything more for Cody.”

      “Did that help?”

      “Not at the time,” Beth admitted, “but it does a bit now, especially since we’ve got Paul. At least now I know that there was nothing we could have done to prevent Cody’s death. Everything possible was done to try to save him. But when it happened, I was beyond consoling. I fell to pieces for a while.”

      “Which is understandable. How about Hal?”

      “He was devastated, of course, but in a different way. He’d take himself off to the farm or out to the tool-shed out back for hours on end, fixing things up, building things we didn’t need. He just wouldn’t talk about it to me.”

      “Men