As Dana would have guessed, Gloria took Tom’s bait.
“What was on the news that we should have heard?” she asked.
Julia broke in to answer. “It was about the search of Tanisha’s house.” Julia’s hair looked especially red today, a poor match to the peach-colored shirt under her jacket. “They, uh, found incriminating stuff.”
“Heroin,” Elaine said, sounding in the know, holding her cell phone in a position to be answered immediately.
“Nuh-uh,” Tom said, clearly pleased with himself. “Supplies.”
“Supplies?” Gloria asked.
“Medical supplies,” Julia said. “And meds.”
“The ones that were stolen,” Tom added. His thin lips disappeared into his cheeks.
Tanisha had the stolen medical supplies?
Tom licked his lips, his tongue just missing the pimples at the corners of his mouth. It turned Dana’s stomach.
Dana ran her hand across her forehead; her palms were sweaty. She watched the room spin in front of her, as if she were in the middle of the centrifuge in her college biology lab. Flowers, chairs, people, purses all flew out from her. Elaine, Gloria, Matt, Julia, Tom, flung to the edge of her vision. Colors mixed, becoming white; the music faded.
Pass me not, O gentle Savior; hear my humble cry.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The last person who’d passed out in front of me was Matt, early in his cancer treatment program. That ordeal came rushing to my mind as I saw Dana, white as the covers of Elaine’s wedding books, slump to the side, her elbow landing on the arm of the couch, as if she’d made an effort not to fall to the floor.
Julia Strega took over. No one else tried to help, deferring to the expertise of the veteran EMT. Even Tom stepped back, his movements edgy, more nervous than his own emergency services training would dictate. I wondered if his petulance around Dana might be due to some unrequited affection for her.
In the space of a few seconds, Julia had loosened Dana’s clothing, thrown her own jacket over Dana’s upper body, and held Dana’s limp wrist in position to take her pulse. I wondered idly if Valley Med’s owner had driven to the service in an ambulance. Maybe she drove one on her daily errands. I tried picturing the small, wiry woman behind the wheel of a massive, screaming van.
Elaine asked, “Where’s Phil?” in an exasperated whisper, as if her fiance should have been at his adult daughter’s side. Her side, was more likely what she was feeling.
Julia’s words to Dana were inaudible, except for their soothing rhythm. When she stood up to address us, she seemed satisfied with her impromptu patient.
“She’s breathing fine, coming around,” Julia said. “Temporary blackout. She’s probably dehydrated.” Close up, past the red hair, Julia looked my age. I pulled at a strand of my unruly, graying waves and reminded myself that it was possible, if I so desired, to revisit the black hair of my youth.
Matt, who’d left the group when Dana fainted, now handed Julia a bottle of water. “The ambulance is here,” he said.
So Matt had been busy; he hadn’t left the scene from squeamishness as I nearly had. I didn’t often get to see Matt’s emergency skills at work. I allowed myself a pleasant moment, imagining Matt in his uniform days, learning and administering first aid.
Dana was awake enough to try to reject the gurney ride, but by then two middle-aged men—Hutton Funeral Home employees, by their stiff dress and manner—had arrived and reinforced the notion that Dana needed formal medical attention. I saw fears of liability in the wringing of their hands.
In a massive regrouping outside the building, Julia and Elaine (by special concession, Julia said) rode in the ambulance with Dana; Tom was to drive Julia’s car; and Matt would drive himself and me in Elaine’s Saab. We’d all end up at the nearest hospital in San Leandro.
As the red-and-white Valley Med ambulance pulled away, I had a better idea.
“You and Julia came together, right?” I asked Tom.
Tom nodded, bouncing from one foot to the other, his muscular arms waving slightly, in time with his head. A whole-body nod.
“Why don’t I drive you home, Tom? You don’t really need to go to the hospital, do you?” A bright, generous offer from me, followed by a spirited affirmative shake of Tom’s head. “Matt, you can take Julia’s car. I’ll take Tom home in the Saab and then meet you at the hospital.”
Matt’s smirk told me he saw right through my tactic. “Sounds like a plan,” he said, as we exchanged keys.
I couldn’t wait to get to know Tom Stewart better.
I let Tom tell me his life story The only son of a doctor; three older sisters; grew up in rural Arnold, California; award-winning quarterback in high school. He explained how the quarterback had to be very bright, as so many male colleagues had tried to convince me over the years. “Bright” is not playing a game requiring body armor, I’d respond.