-One More Call

My godfather Bruce hung up the phone from his call to Clarke and got himself ready to go to the hospital to get everything ready.  He knew that word was getting around about dad and that lots of people would be showing up and would need to be managed.  Everybody liked dad.  He was very popular with the staff and always treated all of them with respect and kindness.  Now they would all want to help, he knew, and he wouldn’t deny anyone that.  It is important for people to help their friends.  Not many people get to do that in the direct way that they would.  It was a privilege of the medical profession, and he would get them all involved somehow.  He was sure that they would be able to keep everyone busy tonight.   

Once fully dressed, he got up and stared into the dimly lit room.  He steeled himself for the next call he had to make.  Jim would be in no shape to do it - it had to be him. 

They had to know. 

He went to his study to find his phone book in his desk.  Dianne came in with a fresh cup of coffee for him.  Her eyes were puffy and swollen from crying.  She was really torn up over mom.  He produced the book from a drawer and found a number, then he lifted up the receiver and held it to his cheek with his shoulder, listening to the dial tone, willing his fingers to dial.  He took a deep breath and listened to the tones of the keys as he pushed them.  Beside him Dianne had sat down and taken his other hand.  She wept quietly.

           

In Fullerton California, Uncle Ken woke up to the sound of the phone.  Betty groaned softly a little beside him, but stayed asleep.  Ken reached over and picked up the receiver.  He recognized the voice on the other end, but only vaguely.

            “Uh, Ken, this is Bruce Miller, er, Jim Styner’s partner.” Bruce said.

            Bruce?  Of course, but why was he calling?  He looked at the clock and saw it was a little after 2 AM west coast time.  He was confused and still fuzzy with sleep.

            “What can I do for you, Bruce?” Ken asked groggily.

            Bruce took a deep breath and told him what he knew about our plane and then about mom.  He told them that we had to spend the night in the field. He told him that we were all trying to get to the hospital right then, and still struggling to live. 

Ken listened intently to Bruce’s words and acknowledged them in stunned grunts, distracted by the increasing thud of his pulse in his head.

            “I have to get to the hospital, now.”  Bruce said.  “I’ll be in touch later.”

            Ken thanked him in a muttered voice and hung up the phone. 

He sat silent and motionless for what seemed a long time.  Betty awoke sensing something was wrong and rolled over to look at him sitting there staring into the space of the darkened room. 

            “Who was that,” she asked.  “What’s wrong?”

            Ken turned to face his wife.  He had no idea how to say what he was about to say.  He reached out and took her hand.

 

On the other side of the house my cousin Jeff was awakened from his deep sleep by the awful sound of his mother screaming her sister’s name over and over again.