Page 7 of A Rose of Steel
The Roble Belles were the booster club for Roble High School’s football team. Four of their five members were sixty-five and older. Flannery Poole, the youngest, was in her late fifties.
“Get whoever you need. Do what you think is best,” I said, surveying the crowd, coming up with a plan to move them in my head. “I’ll work my way to the front, moving people out the way so I can direct the paramedics to the back.”
“What if your doctor needs you?” she asked and pointed toward Alex.
“He…He’s notmydoctor,” I said, stumbling over my words, even though I had just called him that. I closed my eyes momentarily and shook my head. “I already said, if Alex needs me, Auntie, send someone for me. I’ll just be in the front.”
I stepped down from the gazebo, people instinctively moving aside to let me pass, their questioning eyes searching mine for answers. I saw anxious tears flowing when it should have been champagne. I nodded and put on the funeral face my auntie had taught me after I’d come to live with her and became part of her business. It was one I had continued to use often with families during the identification process as a Cook County medical examiner.
I made my way down the long and wide drive, asking people to clear a way for the paramedics, saying “not yet,” when asked had they arrived yet, and keeping an ear open for word whether Alex needed me to relieve him. As I moved through the crowd, I was able to match some faces to the voices I’d heard.
Jorianne, the weeping bride, was surrounded by her bridesmaids and comforted by Mr. Dreadlocked Groomsman. Sitting beside her, he held her hand and directed others to give her more tissue from a box Marilee was holding. I scanned the anxious faces and her sister, Piper, was nowhere in sight.
The other groomsman stood guard over Mrs. Hackett. Oversized and solid, he had a ruddy complexion, arms that stuck out to his sides, unable to make them flush with his muscular body. His red-tinged eyes were blue, and his hair cut so short he looked nearly bald.
Delores Hackett, who I remembered from one of Auntie’s many club meetings, although I hadn’t seen her in a while, looked unsettled in the white folding chair. Sobs somewhat subsided, she sat shoulders slumped, the heel of her foot tapping to her racing apprehension. She swiped her nose and dabbed at her eyes with a balled up, overused tissue.
I backtracked. “May I?” I said to Marilee and pointed to the tissue box.
“Sure,” she said and held the box out toward me.
I plucked out three and walked over to Mrs. Hackett. The groomsman reacted to my arrival, standing up straight, shoulders back, he seemed on alert, ready to pounce if I’d come to disturb. But as soon as I got close, Mrs. Hackett grabbed me.
“Is Bumper going to be okay?” she asked. Her eyes pleading.
I knew better than to give any definite answers.
“Dr. Hale is one of the best doctors I know.”
“I remember you, though it’s been so long. Babet’s niece. You’re a doctor, right?” she asked.
“I am,” I said and handed her the tissues. I didn’t add what kind of doctor I was.
“His asthma just started acting up in the last couple of days,” she said. “I don’t know what triggered it. He hadn’t shown any sign of it for so long. At least the past few years. I thought he’d outgrown it.”
“Nerves,” the groomsman offered.
Mrs. Hackett glanced at him. “Maybe Boone is right. Bumper was so nervous about all of this.” She dipped her head toward the scene. “It was a lot.”
“Getting married makes everyone nervous,” I said and gave her an unfettered smile.
“He’s going into his third year at the University of Southern California, you know,” she said. “USC star football player, and star student, just like in high school.” She nodded firmly. “Then Jori came with her news...” She started pulling the tissue I’d had given her apart, shredding them into pieces. “And her mother insisted…”
“I see,” I said, then a polite pause before I continued, changing the subject. “I’m heading out front to look for the ambulance.” I didn’t want to get involved in blame pointing. “We’re going to get him to the hospital just as soon as we can.”
“Good.” Her gaze drifted and she started rocking from side to side.
“Okay,” I said and looked up at the groomsman, the one Mrs. Hackett had called Boone. “I’m going to go.” He gave me a nod.
“If you see his father, will you send him back?” Mrs. Hackett said, coming back to reality and stopping me before I stood up.
“His father?”
“I called Mr. Hackett,” Boone said as way of an explanation to me. “He’s on his way.”
“Okay,” I said.
“I hope he makes it before the ambulance gets here,” Mrs. Hackett said. “He didn’t want to come to the…” her voice trailed off.
