Take Me Higher by Pamela Clare

Chapter 14

Megs satin the hospital lobby, enjoying another lunch from Knockers, while Rain, Sasha, and Rose shared the news from Scarlet.

“Last night’s Town Council meeting was chaos.” Rain shook her head, frustration on her face. “You’d think that last year’s fire would have taught people the importance of fire mitigation. We’ve removed all the trees close to our house.”

“That’s only because you’re smart.” Megs wasn’t surprised to hear the Town Council was getting pushback from the proposed fire-mitigation ordinance. “Some people don’t have the common sense that God gave a goose.”

Rose shrugged, the tassels of her black lace shawl swinging. “People are connected to trees. We evolved in trees. Trees were sacred to the Celts. Trees connect us to our past and our spiritual side.”

“You know what else trees do?” Megs had never had much patience with Rose’s brand of New Age bullshit. “They catch fire and burn.”

Rain pressed her lips together, clearly trying not to laugh. “If you’d been there last night, you’d have shut down that nonsense.”

“I’ll have another chance.” Of that, Megs was certain. There was no shortage of nonsense in Scarlet. She turned to Sasha. “How’s the Team?”

“Conrad is doing a fantastic job. He’s a good leader. Everyone has pulled together. We’re putting in extra hours and making sure everything gets done the way you’d do it—gear inspections, inventory, debriefings.”

Megs felt a sense of pride. The Team was their baby—hers and Mitch’s. They’d put everything they had into it in Dean’s name, and now it was strong enough to go on without them. “Please thank everyone for the extra effort.”

Then Rose brought Megs up to date on the gossip. “Bob Jewell drove to Food Mart wearing only flip-flops, underwear, and his wife Kendra’s floral bathrobe to get some salsa for his breakfast eggs. I was there and saw it myself.”

“That sounds like Bob.” What else could Megs say?

“Marcia, the bartender at Knockers—”

“I know who Marcia is.”

“She’s dating the drummer from the Mudbugs. I saw them together after the show. They were kissing. Marcia has a lot of extra second-chakra energy, so…”

Jesus, help me.

Megs might or might not have rolled her eyes. “Good for Marcia.”

Apparently realizing Megs wasn’t interested in people’s private lives, Rose changed tack. “How is Mitch? When are we going to see him? I brought sage and my eagle feather to hold a healing ceremony for him.”

Megs shared a glance with Rain. “He can’t have visitors in the ICU.”

That wasn’t true, but Megs didn’t want Rose anywhere near Mitch. Though Rose meant well, she didn’t know how to keep her mouth shut. She would share every detail of what she saw with anyone who asked—and anyone who didn’t.

Mitch deserved better than that.

Sasha asked the question Megs hadn’t answered. “How is he?”

“He’s making steady progress. He squeezes my hand when I ask him to. He follows me with his gaze, and, yesterday, he smiled.”

Sasha’s face lit up with hope. “He smiled?”

“Oh, Megs!” Rain raised her hands to her face, and for a moment, she looked like she might cry. “Thank God!”

“They’re going to start weaning him off the ventilator soon, possibly even this afternoon. They say he’s recovering rapidly—more quickly than they had anticipated. That’s a good sign.”

“Do you think he’ll ever be the Mitch we love again?” Rose’s question, asked in an innocent voice, hit Megs hard.

“Rose!” Rain glared at her.

Megs’ temper sparked hot. “He’ll always be the Mitch I love no matter what.”

“Yes, of course, he will.” Rose squeezed Megs’ hand.

Sasha’s eyes narrowed. “He’s like a father to me. Nothing can change that.”

“He would be touched to hear you say that, sweetie.” Megs glanced at her watch, got to her feet. “I need to get back upstairs. I want to be there when they start weaning him off the ventilator.”

Megs thanked them for coming and said her goodbyes. She hadn’t yet reached ICU when her phone buzzed with a text from Rain.

I’m so sorry, Megs. I won’t bring her again.

Megs replied.

It’s not your fault. Thanks for lunch. It was good to see you and Sasha.

Back in the ICU, she found Mitch awake, earbuds in his ears. She removed them, turned off the recorder, her heart swelling to see him looking straight at her. She took his hand. “Rain was just here with Sasha and Rose. Sasha said you’re like a father to her. I told her you’d be touched to hear that.”

She brought him up to date on the news, stopping when Debby appeared.

“Okay, it’s time. I’m going to set the ventilator for a spontaneous breathing trial—what we call an SBT. The machine will still give him oxygen, but it will stop breathing for him. He’ll have to initiate breaths himself.”

“What happens if he doesn’t?”

“I don’t think that will be the case, but if it is, an alarm will go off, warning us, and we would cancel the trial and put him back on his previous settings.” The monitor beeped as Debby programmed it. “The machine will collect a lot of data that the doctor can use to decide what happens next. Here we go.”

A series of beeps and then…

Debby watched the monitor for a moment and then smiled. “For now, he’s breathing on his own.”

Megs stood beside him, watched his chest rise and fall, her hands wrapped so tightly around his bedrail that her knuckles turned white. “You’re doing it, Mitch. You’re breathing.”

Five minutes.

Ten minutes.

Debby came in to check his progress. “You know, you should breathe, too.”

Megs exhaled. “Right.”

Mitch’s eyes drifted shut, but his chest continued to rise and fall.

Debby left the room again.

Megs talked to Mitch, tried to encourage him. “One breath at a time, love.”

Fifteen minutes.

Twenty.

Megs watched the time pass, Rose’s words still in her mind. “I’ll love you no matter what. Do you hear that? Even if you can’t walk, can’t talk, can’t climb, I will love you. You’ve given me the best years of my life. If it were me in that bed and you standing here, you’d say the same thing.”

Twenty-five minutes.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Megs jumped, saw that Mitch was still breathing.

The time had run out.

Debby returned. “I would call that a successful trial. We’ll put him back on his previous settings now so he can rest. This was hard work for him.”

“Thank you so much, Debby.”

“You’re welcome—both of you.” Debby reset the ventilator. “We’ll start doing several of these each day until we’re certain we can extubate him.”

Megs kissed Mitch’s forehead. “I am so proud of you. I always have been. You rest, and I’ll read.”

She and Mitch were about to be reunited in his journal—but it wasn’t going to go the way he had expected.

Mitch arrivedat Camp 4 in his new 1970 VW camper van, expecting to find Megs waiting for him, but her car wasn’t there. Neither was Dean’s.

He parked, grabbed his backpack, and walked over to the dirtbags, who were hanging out at the picnic table.

“Hey, Ahearn!”

“There’s the college grad!”

“Welcome back, man!”

“Hey, Gridwall. Accardo. Cook. Yoder. Ansel.” He lowered his pack onto the bench. “Has anyone seen Megs or Dean?”

Gridwall grinned. “Can’t wait to see her, huh?”

Mitch didn’t see the point in pretending. “You could say that.”

In fact, he was aching to see her again, aching to touch her, to hear her voice, to see her smile, to kiss her.

“I haven’t seen them since I left Tahquitz Rock,” Accardo said.

“She said in her last letter that she’d be here a week ago.”

“Maybe she lost track of time.” Yoder took a hit, passed a joint to Cook.

“Maybe.” Mitch set up his tent in the camping spot he’d shared with her last summer, unable to shake a sense of misgiving.

She ought to be here. She’d said she would get here early so she wouldn’t miss a moment with him. Megs didn’t say things she didn’t mean. It wasn’t like her or Dean not to show up on time.

He counted the change in his pocket, glanced through his wallet for Chris and Renee’s phone number, then got back in his van and drove to the Village. He found a payphone, dropped in a dollar’s worth of quarters, and called them.

“That will be one dollar and fifty-five cents, please,” a voice said in his ear.

He dropped in the additional change, hoping Chris or Renee was home and would answer quickly.

“Calder residence.”

“Chris, it’s Mitch calling from Yosemite. Megs and Dean haven’t—”

“Thank God! She’s in Palm Springs. She had a bad fall.”

Blood rushed into Mitch’s head. “What?”

“Dean is with her. It sounds like she was pretty beaten up. She has a broken arm, a mild concussion, and a few bruised ribs. Dean said she was testing some new gear, and it failed. They’re at the Palm Springs Suites in Room Two-Oh-Four. She was discharged from the hospital a few days ago, but Dean didn’t think she could handle a long drive.”

“When did this happen?”

“About a week ago. Dean called your parents and left a message with your mom.”

A week ago, Mitch had been home. His mother hadn’t passed the message along. Well, he would deal with her eventually.

Damn it!

“Thanks, Chris. I’m on a payphone. If they call again, tell them I’m on my way.”

“I will. Drive safely!”

“Thanks.” A knot in his chest, Mitch climbed back into his van, drove back to camp, and shared the news. “She was testing some new gear, and it failed. I’m headed to Palm Springs.”

Gridwall shot to his feet. “I’m coming with you. Someone has to make sure you stay awake and follow the speed limit.”

“Okay, but no weed or LSD or bullshit like that.”

“Fine.” Gridwall ran back to his tent.

By the time he returned, wearing a clean shirt and a pair of jeans, Mitch had his gear together and was ready to go.

It was a six-hour drive, but Gridwall proved to be a capable navigator—and better company than Mitch had imagined. It was almost ten when they reached the hotel. They made their way through a vacant lobby to the elevator.

“They’re in Room Two-Oh-Four.” Mitch punched the button for the second floor a half-dozen times in quick succession.

“You’re going to see her in just a minute, so take it easy.”

Gridwall was right.

Mitch drew a deep breath.

The elevator doors opened, and Mitch saw that their room was just across the hallway. “There it is.”

He knocked.

Dean opened it, glared at him. “Where the hell have you been, man?”

“My mother didn’t give me the message. I found out what happened when I called Chris to see if he knew where you two were.”

“Jesus!” Dean stepped aside. “She’s in bed. She’s having a hard time sleeping because of the pain in her ribs. They gave her narcotics, but…”

Mitch walked down a short hallway, found Megs propped up on pillows, her hair tousled, yellowing bruises on her cheek, her left arm in a cast. “Megs, honey?”

She opened her eyes, smiled. “Mitch! You came. Hey, Gridwall.”

Gridwall spread his arms wide, grinned. “No fear. Uncle Jim is here.”

Mitch resisted the urge to draw her into his arms. Instead, he kissed her cheek, sat down beside her, took her right hand. “I’d have come sooner, but I just found out this afternoon. I’m so sorry.”

Her smile crumpled, despair in those gray eyes. “I can’t climb for six weeks, maybe longer.”

“The important thing is that you’re going to be okay.” He wanted to ask her what had happened, but he could tell she was exhausted. “You need to get some rest. We can talk about what happened tomorrow.”

“I can’t sleep. My ribs hurt too much to lie down, and these stupid pillows don’t stay fluffed. They sink and don’t hold me up.”

“I have an idea. I’ll be right back.” Mitch made a pit stop in the bathroom then got a drink of water. Back at Megs’ bedside, he stripped down to his jeans. “We’ll scoot you forward, and I’ll climb in behind you. You can use me as a pillow.”

“Okay.”

He helped her inch forward, her little gasps of pain cutting at him. He piled the pillows high against the headboard, then sat, his back against the pillows, his legs on either side of Megs. “Lean back against my chest. Nice and easy. There you go.”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Megs said in a sleepy voice. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too. I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.” He looked over at Dean. “Is it time for another pain pill?”

Dean turned out most of the lights. “Not for another hour.”

Damn.

“You just sleep now, okay?”

She held his hand. “Okay.”

Dean had already claimed the other bed, so Gridwall took the sofa. “Anyone have a pillow they can spare? Not you, Ahearn.”

“Sure.” Dean threw a pillow at him.

“Thanks.” Gridwall pointed. “She’s already asleep.”

Mitch drew the blankets up to Megs’ chest and then met Dean’s gaze. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

“She climbed thirty feet up to test that new hex for her sponsor. She let herself hang from it. It broke, and she fell. I thought it was over. She was unconscious at first. I carried her back to my van, put her in the back, and drove her to the ER. She woke up on the way in a lot of pain. They had to set her arm and kept her for observation.”

“She climbed thirty feet and hadn’t placed other protection?”

Dean shook his head. “It was an easy route, one we’ve both free soloed before. We both thought she was safe. She was just testing that hex. That turned out to be a big mistake. The moment she put her weight on it, it broke.”

“Yeah.” Mitch kissed the top of her head, the thought that he could have lost her making his heart ache. “A big mistake.”

“Your mother livedto regret not delivering the message, didn’t she? You called her from the hotel and let her have it. You stood up for me.” Megs tucked her receipt bookmark into the journal, certain Kurt would like to hear this story. “That was the first time you and I slept together. I don’t think it lived up to either of our expectations.”

Not by a long shot.

They’d spent a week at that hotel, the three men taking care of her—giving her meds, getting water and food for her, making sure she was as comfortable as she could be. “I’ve never felt more protected or loved. It was ridiculous, really, but sweet.”

Once the swelling had gone down in her ribs and she was able to lie down again, they’d packed everything into Dean’s and Mitch’s vans and had made the long drive back to Yosemite, Megs riding with Mitch, and Gridwall with Dean.

She’d spent the next four weeks in a hotel room pouting because she couldn’t climb, and everyone else was sending new routes left and right.

Megs laughed at the memory. “I was afraid there wouldn’t be anything left in the Valley for me to climb.”

But, of course, once she’d healed and returned to Camp 4, she’d found plenty of unclimbed rock still available. She’d had to take it slow at first, building up the strength in her left arm, getting back into climbing condition after six weeks of inaction.

“God, it felt good to climb with you again.”

François had shown up in the Valley when he’d gotten the news of her fall. He’d paid her medical and hotel bills and had taken her to see a specialist for her arm, apologizing profusely since it was his hex she’d been testing. He’d looked into it and found out that the contractor manufacturing the hexes for him had used a cheaper metal alloy. But the greater mistake had been hers—climbing more than twenty feet with no protection apart from a new, unproven device.

“People wonder why I’m so uptight about safety.” Megs knew that Team members thought she was a pain in the ass when it came to safety protocols. “I learned the hard way that when you cut corners, you cut your chances for coming out alive.”

But her focus on safety hadn’t saved Mitch, not this time.

God, she wished she’d decided against Painted Wall when they’d read the beta for that route. It warned climbers that the rock was chossy and loose. If only they had decided to climb somewhere else…

Regret gains you nothing.

Mitch looked up at her, a confused and pleading look in his eyes, his fingers tightening around hers without Megs having to ask.

“I’m here, love. Are you in pain?” Megs hit the call button.

He tried to push the vent away.

“Don’t do that. You need that for now.” Megs caught his other hand, restraining him just as Debby came in. “He just tried to pull the ventilator out.”

“Time for more sedative.” Debby injected the meds into his subclavian line.

Almost immediately, Mitch relaxed, his eyes drifting shut.

“What about pain meds?”

“I think we can give him another two mgs of morphine. I’ll be right back.”

Megs stroked Mitch’s cheek, his eyes opening to look up at her once again. “You’re fighting so hard to get out of there, aren’t you? I can’t imagine what it must be like. Do you even know who and where you are? My poor love.”

Debby returned promptly with the morphine. “The doctor has him scheduled for another breathing trial in about a half-hour. So I don’t want to give him too much morphine because that can suppress his breathing.”

“I understand.” Megs explained to Mitch what was about to happen. “They’re trying hard to get this vent out of you and get you breathing on your own again. I know that’s what you want, too.”

Megs found herself growing tense as the time for the next SBT approached.

He’ll do fine. He did just fine before.

Debby came back almost exactly a half-hour later, programmed the monitor, and the second SBT began.

Megs watched Mitch’s chest rise and fall, her gaze darting now and again to the timer on the monitor. Once again, Mitch completed the trial with no problems.

Debby was pleased with the data on the monitor. “I think he’ll be extubated sometime in the next several days. He’s come such a long way in such a short time. That’s probably because he’s so healthy and strong.”

“Did you hear that? You might get that vent out in the next few days.” Megs watched Debby leave the room, then took Mitch’s hand again and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’ll make you a deal. You get that vent out, and I’ll read you the X-rated parts of your journal.”