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Twenty-Three
Luke entered, his arm wrapped around Martha Reynolds, and a new hush fell over the waiting room. Her worry was etched into every line of her face. Olivia knew and hated the anguish she must be feeling.
With a heavy sigh, she approached Martha, enveloping her in a tight embrace. Martha clung to Olivia. Charlotte joined them, her presence a silent but steadfast support.
Martha's eyes searched Olivia's face, a silent plea for answers lingering in their depths. Olivia took a deep breath, steeling herself to deliver the news in the gentlest way possible. She held Martha's hands in hers, offering what comfort she could.
Olivia began softly, her voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside her. “All we know is Jackson was injured in the consumer club fire. The medical staff is evaluating him.” She chose her words carefully, sparing Martha the harrowing details of Jackson's condition for now.
Martha's grip tightened on Olivia's hands, her eyes brimming with tears as she searched for reassurance. Olivia squeezed her hands gently, offering a silent promise to be there for her every step of the way.
Her voice filled with compassion, Olivia murmured, “We're all here for you. And I promise you, we'll find out what happened. We won't rest until we have answers.”
Martha nodded, a mixture of gratitude and anguish on her face. In that moment, Olivia understood the weight of her responsibility, not only to Jackson but to his mother and the others who were affected. She would do whatever it took to support the families of the dead or injured, and to uncover the truth behind the fire that had threatened to tear their lives apart.
Charlotte Everhart joined her daughter and Martha. “I’m so sorry to see you here again.” She offered Martha some tissues. “Come sit.” She took the woman’s hand and led her to an open seat.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Sophie returned to the room. Her presence was met with a collective intake of breath as families looked for a bit of information about their loved one. She rounded the room giving updates about the patients she was caring for. Then she made her way to Olivia and Charlotte.
“Mrs. Reynolds,” she made the assumption the older woman between them was Jackson’s mom. “I’m Dr. Sophie Everhart. I’m treating your son.”
“Hello, Sophie. I remember you as a little girl in a green butterfly dress.” She smiled. “How’s Jackson?”
Sophie crouched down to be at eye level with Martha. “He arrived in very critical condition. We are going to try to get the carbon monoxide out of his system by putting him in a hyperbaric chamber. But before we do, you can see him.”
Martha was a pillar of strength. She turned to Charlotte. “I never thought I’d have to go through this again.”
Charlotte nodded. “The people who say God gives you only what you can handle are liars. I’ll be here when you come out.”
Olivia’s backbone straightened. She returned to her usual cool demeanor. Twenty years didn’t make a difference. Pain was pain.
Martha turned toward the doctor. “Dr. Everhart, I want Liv to see Jackson too.”
“That’s fine. Follow me,” her sister said.
Martha held on to Olivia as they were escorted into the trauma room. Jackson lay in the bed, connected to multiple machines and monitors, his skin ghostly pale, his face wrapped in white bandages covering burns. His nose and lips were still a sooty black.
His mother stood beside him, her voice quivering with emotion, “Please, Jackson, you have to get better. For me, for Liv—for all of us. We need you, baby boy. Please fight.”
Martha's plea for Jackson's recovery resonated deeply within the somber walls of the trauma room, her words raw with a mother's love and desperation.
As Martha took a moment to gather herself, Olivia stepped forward, her voice remaining steady. “Jackson,” she began, her words a whispered plea, laced with love and longing. “It's Livvy. I love you.”
In that minute, Olivia poured her heart out. “Turk is helping take care of everyone.” Her voice quivered slightly as she made promises to him. “Jackson, I'll be here for your mom. I'll watch over her like she's my own.”
She swatted at her tears, her resolve faltering. “And I won't stop fighting until I find the person responsible for this,” she declared. “I'll leave no stone unturned, Jackson. I swear it.”
Taking a deep breath, Olivia's gaze softened as she spoke her final words to him, “But, Jackson, if... if the fight gets too hard, if it becomes too much... you need to do what's right for you. We'll understand, Jackson. We'll all understand.” She kissed his cheek.
Martha kissed his hand. She and Olivia watched the medical team wheel him from the room.
“We’ll get him into the chamber. I'm hoping the hyperbaric treatment will help raise his oxygen levels. It's an intensive treatment, but it could make a difference.”
Martha wrung her hands. “What is it exactly?”
“It involves breathing pure oxygen in a pressurized room, which helps increase the oxygen carried in the blood and speeds up healing,” Sophie explained. “It’s going to be a lot of waiting. I wish I could tell you more.”
“Does he have other injuries?” Martha asked.
