Page 17 of Consuming Logan

She got the message. To do his job he needed her to remain calm and stay clear of the patient. Her feet were rooted in place. She circled to the opposite side of the bed. Slipping her head under the side rail she threaded her fingers through Logan’s.

“His hand,” she choked back the sob.

“I know. I’ll look.” he gave a solemn nod. “I paged the general and neurovascular surgery. The blood bank too. We will do everything we can.”

She watched as Ethan completed his evaluation. Logan had fallen quiet again. With his eyes closed and his utter stillness, she felt like a part of her had joined him. A part of her lay still, and quiet, and angry. With his stethoscope he listened while the staff inserted an additional intravenous line and hung a third bag of normal saline. The oxygen tubing was disconnected from the portable tanks and plugged into the wall supply.

“Logan,” Ethan pulled a pair of black handled bandage scissors from his pocket.

Logan blinked; his eyes unfocused until they found hers.

“Stay…with…me,” he rasped, she felt him squeeze her fingers and she tightened her hold on his left hand.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, voice filled with determination.

Donning gloves, Ethan began to cut away the hand dressing. “I’m sure we can—,”

They both gasped. Cuts, multiple and bloody covered the back of Logan’s hand.

“Oh my God, Ethan….” She trailed off.

The second and third fingers to his dominant hand hung twisted and mangled like a train wreck without survivors.

Ava threw a palm over her mouth. Trapping the wail inside. What if Logan couldn’t operate again?

The sound of fast moving clamored behind her. She heard the voices of her best friends, Lina James Rice and Janna Williamson Wright, first. And then there were the families. Maribelle’s wailing could be heard above the patient monitoring machinery. The door to the room flew open. In the corridor, Ava could see her Granny Lou had family and friends in a prayer circle. Logan wasn’t spiritual, but Ava would welcome a big dose of divine intervention.

“He’s my son,” Maribelle screeched. “I should be with him. Not her.”

Ava couldn’t do this now. She realized Maribelle hurt as much as she did, but all Ava heard was demands. And just like Ava had accepted years ago when she made a mistake with Marcus Grant, when it came to Maribelle Masters, she couldn’t fix riff raff. After tonight, she’d lost interest in hoping to make nice. Her patience ended at the sight of Logan’s blood.

Maribelle marched straight up to Ava. “Get out,” she snapped.

“Look,” Ava faced off, “Maribelle.”

“How dare you speak to me. This is your fault. You’re the reason my son is fighting for his life. You will destroy his life,” Maribelle gestured to the bed, “you already have.”

Ava lost the reins on her hurt, pain, and fear, and she unleashed on Maribelle. “My fault? You hateful witch,” Ava exclaimed, her voice carrying. “You did this to him… to us.” The argument at the party. Their need to escape. It had all been Maribelle. It was always Maribelle.

“Ladies,” Ethan bellowed.

“How dare you,” Maribelle hissed. The heart monitor alarm started, chiming. Logan started to struggle, his big body pulling against the restraints. Darwin, Tyson, Maximus, Robert Lee, and the older black woman that no knew appeared in the door.

All of a sudden, alarms sounded in the room. There was a rustle of moving limbs behind her. Ava pivoted and gasped in shock. Logan’s injured body bolted upright, his blood-shot irises ablaze with fury.

“Another word to Ava, you’ll deal with me,” he growled, low and menacing.

Everyone in the room froze, except her.

She lowered her forehead to his, stroking the sallow skin covering his swollen jaw. Careful of his head, she cradled his face and ever so gently guided his big body down to the mattress. “Shh, I’m here baby.”

He immediately quieted and her heart started beating again.

“Ava, let go,” Ethan said. “We need to stabilize him. He needs blood.”

“Never.” She couldn’t. Logan needed her. But he also needed a blood transfusion. Too little blood to have the surgery. And it would take time to get enough of O-, the rarest of blood types in stock. “We need him.” And then she lowered her mouth to his ear. Ava told him their baby needed him. Her last words were of them being parents together, and that he’d be a wonderful father.

“If he needs blood take mine.”