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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
See Part 1 for disclaimer.
Brand New Year, Pt. 2
By Ginger
After watching Jarod pace for almost an hour, Charles finally felt compelled to say, "Son, you are going to wear a groove in the floor if you keep that up."
"Sorry, Dad," he replied wanly then resumed pacing as he continued, "She WOULD choose NOW to pull something like this! If I'd only known I could have helped her. Instead she HAD to do it all on her own, getting herself shot in the process. Stubborn, impossible woman," he grumbled.
Oh dear, his father thought, emitting a heavy sigh. But then, Jarod's words only served to confirm what he'd already demonstrated, dramatically, hours earlier.
* * * *
Immediately following Parker's arrival, the cabin had been in an uproar. Em and James had returned shortly thereafter and barely had time to express shock over the arrival of an unexpected visitor or, rather, visitors. They were immediately sent out again to find Doc Donohue, who had proven himself a trusted family friend since their arrival months earlier, as well as becoming the Major's regular fishing companion before the lake had frozen over for the winter. Jarod had hastily scrawled a list of items for the doctor to bring with him: medical supplies sufficient to turn his room into a makeshift hospital room.
They returned in short order with the doctor, who stood by in stupefied silence as Jarod tended to Miss Parker's wounded shoulder. The Major joined him in stupefaction as he watched his son literally open a vein for the woman who was, by all accounts, his sworn enemy. His son never took his eyes off her as he completed the transfusion, the look on his face as the blood left his body and entered hers something that Charles would never forget.
"We're the same type," Jarod announced, finally awknowledging that there was anyone else in the room as he carefully removed the needle on one end of the tubing from the well in her arm then replaced it with the needle from the IV. "But she's been transfused before - once for a perforated ulcer and once for a.... previous gunshot wound. She may have antibodies."
Raising an eyebrow, the doctor observed, "You'd never know it to look at her but she must be one tough lady."
Removing the needle from his own arm and slapping a piece of gauze over the puncture wound, he replied, "You have no idea," adding, "In addition to the antibiotics, I was planning to administer 50 mg of diphenhydramine hydrocholoride and 200 mg of acetaminophen every four hours to reduce the risk of an immune reaction.
"Yes," the doctor concurred with a nod. "Standard procedure when the match is less than ideal. But something tells me you already knew that."
Jarod shrugged and said, "Yeah, but it never hurts to get a second opinion." Sweeping his hand across her forehead then lifting her wrist to check her pulse he added, "I have no idea how long she was walking around like this. The last thing she needs right now is a complication of any kind."
"Her vitals are stable and her color is already improving. Just monitor her closely and keep her hydrated." The doctor checked the IV bag and continued, "And let the antibiotics and other meds do their job. She sounds like a fighter."
"She is," the Major piped in, stepping forward to place a hand on his son's shoulder.
"Meanwhile," the doctor commented wryly. "I need to be getting back to the clinic soon which, lucky for all of us, closed at noon today. I have to record these supplies and meds without mentioning a gun shot wound which, incidentally gentlemen, I am compelled by law to report to the authorities."
Jarod looked away from his patient and up at the doctor who remarked, "And since I have no intention of doing so, I am betting my career that they will not find out another way."
"Thank you," Jarod offered warmly.
"Your dad knows where to find me if you need me," Dr. Donohue replied with a smile. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I hear there's a little tyke around here somewhere that you'd like me to have a look at." On his way out the door, the doctor stopped, turned and advised,
"Oh, and Jarod, plenty of fluids for you too. It won't do your patient any good if you pass out on her."
* * * *
Recalling the doctor's warning, Charles gently coaxed, "Son, please sit down and have another glass of juice. Miss Parker is stable and resting comfortably. You said yourself that it's a clean wound; the bullet went clear through. And Doc says the boy is in fine shape, very healthy."
"Well, they do raise us healthy, like prized cattle," Jarod sneered then softened, dropped his head and uttered, "I just wish she'd have asked for my help."
Shrugging, his father offered, "Maybe she felt it was something that she had to do herself. He is her flesh and blood, after all. Besides, she did seek your help and she's getting it."
"Look who's up!" Emily chirped as she entered the room with the child in her arms. "Apparently, he sleeps about as much as you do, Jarod."
"Hello there," he said with something approximating a smile for the first time all day. "I can see a resemblance, the way he's looking around, determined not to miss a trick. Just like his sister."
The approximation of a smile blossomed into the genuine article, which wasn't lost on either his father or his sister, who exchanged a look. The child began squirming and, taking the hint, Emily set him down. He immediately teetered over to Jarod, staring up at him with wide eyes.
"Pardon me," he said, crouching down to hold out his hand to the child. "But we haven't been formally introduced. I'm Jarod and I'm an old friend of your sister. We're taking very good care of her and she's going to be fine."
The boy grabbed Jarod's index finger with his pudgy little hand and squeezed it then shook his head no.
"What is it? Are you worried about Miss Parker? I promise, your sister will be fine. She just needs to sleep right now."
"No!" the boy exclaimed, the defiant gleam in his eye again reminding Jarod of the woman in question even though his eyes were a very different color - light brown with flecks of deep green.
"Your sister..."
"No!" the boy repeated then declared, "Ma!"
"Yes," Jarod replied softly with a sweet smile as he stroked his thumb across the child's dimpled knuckles. "I suppose she is, isn't she?"
* * * *
"I'm glad you're here," James whispered, slipping his hand tenderly over hers. "And I hope you're feeling better soon."
He had gladly volunteered to sit with Parker and give Jarod a much- needed break. Even now, injured and unconscious, she was as beautiful as he remembered, this woman who was the first person to ever show him real kindness. He knew she was supposed to be on the opposite side. She worked for THEM after all. And, yet, he never felt anything but warmth when he thought of her. Now she was here and he could finally tell her what he'd been afraid to tell another living soul, even Jarod, for fear that they'd think he were crazy.
"My name is James," he stated softly then his gaze fell to her hand, so small and delicate in relation to his own. He had grown up since their encounter at the Centre; he was a young man now. With a fortifying breath he continued, "Everyone thinks I chose it myself but I didn't. I had a dream and in it this woman came to me. She was beautiful like you. In fact, she looked like you but, somehow, I knew it wasn't you. She called me James and it sounded right so I knew it was my name."
He smiled, leaned forward and pressed his lips to the top of her hand then whispered, "That was your mother, wasn't it?"
"Mama?"
James sprang into an upright position and met her half-open, groggy eyes. He was about to bolt from his chair and tell the others that she was awake but was stopped by the sensation of her hand on his, faintly squeezing.
"Mama gave you your name?" she asked in a soft, raspy voice.
Her voice may have been weak but her eyes were already growing more alert, conveying that single-mindedness Jarod had always complained about. James didn't see anything wrong with it; as far as he was concerned, she was spectacular.
Sitting back in his chair he grinned and replied, "Yes, I believe she did."
# # # #
Brand New Year, Pt. 2
By Ginger
After watching Jarod pace for almost an hour, Charles finally felt compelled to say, "Son, you are going to wear a groove in the floor if you keep that up."
"Sorry, Dad," he replied wanly then resumed pacing as he continued, "She WOULD choose NOW to pull something like this! If I'd only known I could have helped her. Instead she HAD to do it all on her own, getting herself shot in the process. Stubborn, impossible woman," he grumbled.
Oh dear, his father thought, emitting a heavy sigh. But then, Jarod's words only served to confirm what he'd already demonstrated, dramatically, hours earlier.
* * * *
Immediately following Parker's arrival, the cabin had been in an uproar. Em and James had returned shortly thereafter and barely had time to express shock over the arrival of an unexpected visitor or, rather, visitors. They were immediately sent out again to find Doc Donohue, who had proven himself a trusted family friend since their arrival months earlier, as well as becoming the Major's regular fishing companion before the lake had frozen over for the winter. Jarod had hastily scrawled a list of items for the doctor to bring with him: medical supplies sufficient to turn his room into a makeshift hospital room.
They returned in short order with the doctor, who stood by in stupefied silence as Jarod tended to Miss Parker's wounded shoulder. The Major joined him in stupefaction as he watched his son literally open a vein for the woman who was, by all accounts, his sworn enemy. His son never took his eyes off her as he completed the transfusion, the look on his face as the blood left his body and entered hers something that Charles would never forget.
"We're the same type," Jarod announced, finally awknowledging that there was anyone else in the room as he carefully removed the needle on one end of the tubing from the well in her arm then replaced it with the needle from the IV. "But she's been transfused before - once for a perforated ulcer and once for a.... previous gunshot wound. She may have antibodies."
Raising an eyebrow, the doctor observed, "You'd never know it to look at her but she must be one tough lady."
Removing the needle from his own arm and slapping a piece of gauze over the puncture wound, he replied, "You have no idea," adding, "In addition to the antibiotics, I was planning to administer 50 mg of diphenhydramine hydrocholoride and 200 mg of acetaminophen every four hours to reduce the risk of an immune reaction.
"Yes," the doctor concurred with a nod. "Standard procedure when the match is less than ideal. But something tells me you already knew that."
Jarod shrugged and said, "Yeah, but it never hurts to get a second opinion." Sweeping his hand across her forehead then lifting her wrist to check her pulse he added, "I have no idea how long she was walking around like this. The last thing she needs right now is a complication of any kind."
"Her vitals are stable and her color is already improving. Just monitor her closely and keep her hydrated." The doctor checked the IV bag and continued, "And let the antibiotics and other meds do their job. She sounds like a fighter."
"She is," the Major piped in, stepping forward to place a hand on his son's shoulder.
"Meanwhile," the doctor commented wryly. "I need to be getting back to the clinic soon which, lucky for all of us, closed at noon today. I have to record these supplies and meds without mentioning a gun shot wound which, incidentally gentlemen, I am compelled by law to report to the authorities."
Jarod looked away from his patient and up at the doctor who remarked, "And since I have no intention of doing so, I am betting my career that they will not find out another way."
"Thank you," Jarod offered warmly.
"Your dad knows where to find me if you need me," Dr. Donohue replied with a smile. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I hear there's a little tyke around here somewhere that you'd like me to have a look at." On his way out the door, the doctor stopped, turned and advised,
"Oh, and Jarod, plenty of fluids for you too. It won't do your patient any good if you pass out on her."
* * * *
Recalling the doctor's warning, Charles gently coaxed, "Son, please sit down and have another glass of juice. Miss Parker is stable and resting comfortably. You said yourself that it's a clean wound; the bullet went clear through. And Doc says the boy is in fine shape, very healthy."
"Well, they do raise us healthy, like prized cattle," Jarod sneered then softened, dropped his head and uttered, "I just wish she'd have asked for my help."
Shrugging, his father offered, "Maybe she felt it was something that she had to do herself. He is her flesh and blood, after all. Besides, she did seek your help and she's getting it."
"Look who's up!" Emily chirped as she entered the room with the child in her arms. "Apparently, he sleeps about as much as you do, Jarod."
"Hello there," he said with something approximating a smile for the first time all day. "I can see a resemblance, the way he's looking around, determined not to miss a trick. Just like his sister."
The approximation of a smile blossomed into the genuine article, which wasn't lost on either his father or his sister, who exchanged a look. The child began squirming and, taking the hint, Emily set him down. He immediately teetered over to Jarod, staring up at him with wide eyes.
"Pardon me," he said, crouching down to hold out his hand to the child. "But we haven't been formally introduced. I'm Jarod and I'm an old friend of your sister. We're taking very good care of her and she's going to be fine."
The boy grabbed Jarod's index finger with his pudgy little hand and squeezed it then shook his head no.
"What is it? Are you worried about Miss Parker? I promise, your sister will be fine. She just needs to sleep right now."
"No!" the boy exclaimed, the defiant gleam in his eye again reminding Jarod of the woman in question even though his eyes were a very different color - light brown with flecks of deep green.
"Your sister..."
"No!" the boy repeated then declared, "Ma!"
"Yes," Jarod replied softly with a sweet smile as he stroked his thumb across the child's dimpled knuckles. "I suppose she is, isn't she?"
* * * *
"I'm glad you're here," James whispered, slipping his hand tenderly over hers. "And I hope you're feeling better soon."
He had gladly volunteered to sit with Parker and give Jarod a much- needed break. Even now, injured and unconscious, she was as beautiful as he remembered, this woman who was the first person to ever show him real kindness. He knew she was supposed to be on the opposite side. She worked for THEM after all. And, yet, he never felt anything but warmth when he thought of her. Now she was here and he could finally tell her what he'd been afraid to tell another living soul, even Jarod, for fear that they'd think he were crazy.
"My name is James," he stated softly then his gaze fell to her hand, so small and delicate in relation to his own. He had grown up since their encounter at the Centre; he was a young man now. With a fortifying breath he continued, "Everyone thinks I chose it myself but I didn't. I had a dream and in it this woman came to me. She was beautiful like you. In fact, she looked like you but, somehow, I knew it wasn't you. She called me James and it sounded right so I knew it was my name."
He smiled, leaned forward and pressed his lips to the top of her hand then whispered, "That was your mother, wasn't it?"
"Mama?"
James sprang into an upright position and met her half-open, groggy eyes. He was about to bolt from his chair and tell the others that she was awake but was stopped by the sensation of her hand on his, faintly squeezing.
"Mama gave you your name?" she asked in a soft, raspy voice.
Her voice may have been weak but her eyes were already growing more alert, conveying that single-mindedness Jarod had always complained about. James didn't see anything wrong with it; as far as he was concerned, she was spectacular.
Sitting back in his chair he grinned and replied, "Yes, I believe she did."
# # # #
