Finding Hope: A Colorado Veterans Christmas Read online

  “Cy McMullen? I only know one Cy––been trying to get him into the shelter for a while. PTSD keeps him on the street, though. See what you can do for him. Just be careful. Call and let me know how it’s going.”

  “Okay, thanks, Marv. Dex is with me, so I’ll be fine.” I hang up and usher both men toward the front doors. This time Cy doesn’t have the flannel coat all the way on. It’s just draped over his shoulders, probably too painful to put back on.

  “We’re taking the squad car I’ll help him into the back; you sit in the passenger seat. Here’s his bag,” Dex tells me.

  I’m sure he’s just being cautious, trying to make sure we’re safe since we don’t know this guy, but it feels weird putting this injured man in the back of the squad car like a criminal. Once we’re in the car, Dex asks what happened. Cy relays the story and I can’t help but be horrified for him. I remember waking up to that kind of fear and I hate that he felt that.

  “Were they homeless too?” Dex asks.

  “No, too clean, but they were definitely on something. It was like they were just looking for homeless people to beat up. They were going for Ms. Nona when I got their attention.”

  “Is Ms. Nona okay?” Dex asks.

  “You know her?” I ask as I turn back and see Cy’s right eyebrow arched.

  “Yeah, she stays in the area Marv used to. She comes to the shelter sometimes. She and Marv have been friends since he was on the street. Are you sure she got away?”

  Cy nods. “Yeah, she was gone before they finally knocked me out.”

  Dex is quiet for a moment before he calls and reports the situation to the station. As he’s hanging up the phone he turns into the parking lot of the ER and heads for a spot marked for Colorado Springs Police Officers, which is thankfully near the building’s entrance. After we get out of the front of the car, Dex opens the door for Cy and helps him get out as gingerly as possible.

  I swear Cy’s color is gray now and I’m wondering how much blood he’s lost. Even though we’re fairly close to the entrance, I’m a little worried about him passing out so I tell them to wait as I hurry inside and request a wheelchair. Within minutes we’re inside and Dex is talking to the lady at the desk. I see her bat her eyelashes at him and realize he probably gets that a lot. Dex is a seriously hot guy and I bet he’s constantly being flirted with. He seems to ignore it and the next thing I know the receptionist is up and moving to the back. Within a minute, an older nurse is coming through the double doors that lead to the back. “Mr. McMullen,” she calls out.

  “Here,” Cy says.

  “I’m taking you back. Sounds like you’ve had a bad day.” He glances over at me with fear in his eyes and I’m a little surprised that he’s looking to me for comfort since I don’t know him. I’m not sure how it happened, but I’ve suddenly become the person he trusts so I nod my head, urging him to go with the nurse. His good hand continues gripping the wheel of the wheelchair, almost as if he’s planted in place as he stares at me.

  “Do you want me to go with you?” I ask tentatively.

  While his lips twist a little, showing the anxiety he’s feeling, he nods. I don’t have to know him to want to alleviate his fear. I’ve dealt with so much of that emotion in my life that I can almost taste its lingering effects on my tongue. I’ll do anything to keep another human being from feeling it too.

  “Okay,” I agree with Cy. Turning to Dex, I say, “I can catch a cab back to the shelter once we’re through here. Go home to Mari and the kids. I’m not going to leave him here.”

  “Rosie, you can’t stay with someone you don’t know. It’s not safe.”

  I pat his cheek lovingly. Even with his giant body, I’m still not sure how it houses the mammoth heart that he has. My sister, Mari, and I were separated by horrible circumstances when we were young. Dex is the one who reunited us. After he found out the details of my life during my absence from Mari’s, he became very protective. It’s part of the reason I moved back here. It was nice to have someone looking out for me. Since Uriah died, I hadn’t had anyone who really cared enough to watch out for me.

  “I’ll be fine. There’s nothing this guy can do to me with one arm that I can’t get away from. I don’t think he’s a threat anyway. I’ve been good at spotting assholes for a long time now.”

  “Fine. I’ll go home to change and come back to get you in a little while. Do not leave this place without me, Rosie. Okay?”

  “Promise.” Then I turn and follow Cy and the nurse to the back.

  The nurse leads us to the area marked Bed #3. She helps to transfer him from the wheelchair to the hospital bed and pulls the curtains around us to shield him from the rest of the bustle in the bowels of the emergency room. Once Cy is on the bed, I stand off to the side but still in his line of sight. The nurse puts gloves on and takes all of his vitals.

  “You don’t have a triage room?” I ask, surprised that we didn’t do all of this before we made it back here.

  “The nurse we had for triage called in sick and the agency couldn’t get someone here so we’re on our own until the next shift. It’s not been too bad so far. We’re short-staffed and HR says they’re hiring, but taking their sweet time in doing so.” She turns her attention back to Cy. “How did this happen?”

  “I was attacked with a couple of baseball bats. I’ve been on the lookout since those guys died on the street a few weeks ago, but it’s been quiet lately and I let my guard down. The guys came around the corner making enough noise to give me a couple seconds of warning though.”

  “Where are you hurting besides this arm we’re about to examine?” she asks him, eyeing the stretched plaid shirt.

  “A little bit of everywhere, but I can live with those. It’s the arm that’s the problem. Although my head doesn’t feel good either.”

  “Let’s take a look at the arm.” She shifts over to her cart, removes a pair of scissors to snip the fabric away from around his injury, and he watches her like a hawk. It’s almost as if he’s afraid she’ll use them on him. His Adam’s apple bobs as he studies her every move. When she gets to the most swollen part of the arm she warns him. “This may hurt a little but I have to get this off of here.”

  “Okay,” he whispers, holding very still.

  I gather the hair from my ponytail in my hand, making sure it stays over my right shoulder as I smooth it down with my fingers. It’s a nervous gesture for me, one I learned a long time ago and can’t seem to rid myself of.

  I need to distract him. I already have an idea of what that wound will look like and I don’t want him to look at it until the nurse has a chance to. It’s possible he’ll pass out.

  “Cy, are you a veteran?” I ask, and his eyes flick to mine, leaving the nurse to do her thing. “Is that why you came to our particular shelter? I heard you telling Dex where this happened and you passed a few places that would’ve helped, but instead you came to us.”

  His eyes close briefly and he nods with a raspy, “Yeah. I know Marv from the street. He’s been trying to get me to come in to the shelter since it opened.” The way he glances at the wound being revealed and grimaces, I know he’s hurting.

  “What branch of service were you in?”

  His head twists so he can face me again. “Marines,” he answers without further explanation.

  As soon as the fabric gives way it’s obvious I was correct in my initial assessment. There is bone sticking through the skin and purple bruising, along with blood, surrounding the injury. Judging by the size of his other arm, the swelling is severe. When Cy looks at it his body begins to shake again. Please don’t go into shock, I beg silently.

  “Cy, look here at me. Don’t look at your arm. You’re in a good place where we can get this fixed.”

  His eyes stay fixed on mine as I tell the nurse, “He complained of head pain too. Can you check his head before you call the doctor in?”

  “Can I remove your cap?” I ask him. He nods and I reach up and pull it off. His tangled hair stands
up with it but I don’t see any blood.

  The nurse begins to feel around on his head, her gloved fingers getting caught in some of the knots. “I found a bump. Did you get hit in the head?”

  “I hit a dumpster with my head in the middle of it all and then the ground.”

  “Are you dizzy?”

  “Yeah, a little.”

  “Okay, I’ll let the doctor know. He should be in soon.”

  She slips through the curtain and back out to the nurses’ station while I sit down in the chair next to the side of his bed.

  “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m hurting bad enough that I’m not losing my shit in here, so that’s something. Normally, I can’t be in an enclosed area this small.”

  “Well, there’s nothing behind us, so no one can enter that way, and if we need to exit quickly we can push through the curtains and run down to the emergency exit about six feet to my right.”

  “You noticed that when we came in?”

  I nod. I don’t want to explain to this stranger that for years I was terrified of being trapped in small spaces too, because I’m sure he will ask why and it’s not something I share easily.

  His eyes search mine and then drift over the rest of my face, to my shoulders and back up. He never says a word; he just relaxes back on the bed and stares straight ahead. I know I didn’t take the fear away but at least I made it so he would stay here long enough to get checked out. I will chalk that up to a win.

  The doctor examines him quickly, orders a CT scan and a surgery consult. We wait for what seems like forever until they finally get him in for the X-ray on his arm and the CT scan. Once everything is done the doctor comes back in and explains that they need to do surgery on him now for his arm and keep him for observation for the concussion. It takes some coercion on my part, but Cy finally allows them to administer pain medication, and as he’s falling asleep he mumbles, “Rosie, thank you for taking care of me and staying with me. I’m sorry I crashed your day. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. I always am.”

  Before I can even respond, his eyes have drifted shut and his breathing has leveled out. Cy fell asleep. While I’m contemplating what I should do, Dex opens the curtain quietly and steps inside, his eyes on the sleeping form in the bed.

  “I got the update from the doc. You should come home and sleep. You can check on him tomorrow. He’ll be here at least another day, even if there aren’t any complications during his surgery. The hospital has my number to call if anything changes.”

  One last look at Cy and I nod my head and stand. I have no idea why I’ve given up so much of my day and evening to stay with a total stranger. Not just stay with him, but also try to make him feel comfortable. It doesn’t make any sense.

  3

  Rosie

  What a long freaking night. When I woke up this morning I thought it would be an average day: help at the shelter, stop by to visit Mari and the twins, and finish it by binge-watching Arrow on Netflix. Cy McMullen changed more than just my schedule by stumbling into my life this afternoon, but I’m not sure exactly what it is he changed just yet. I look around me and everything is the same as it was when I left this morning, but in my heart, it’s not.

  Cyrus tapped into something I had locked away a long time ago. The fear I felt from about the time I was 14-years old until I was 25 had been dealt with and locked away from my conscious thoughts. There were no more nightmares, no more urges to save others, no more hollow lonely places in my heart. Intense counseling and Uriah’s kindness—even though he’s been gone a couple of years—are what helped me deal with those feelings.

  Seeing the pain and nervousness in Cy’s eyes brought all those feelings back and I doubt I’ll be able to sleep. Dex dropped me off about two hours ago to get my car at the shelter and I drove home, but in my head, I never left the hospital.

  I pace the walkway in my living room between the couch and the television for a few minutes, trying to decide what to do. I don’t know Cyrus McMullen at all. He could be a serial killer or a rapist or just your average nut job. However, I don’t believe he’s any of those things. I’ve seen the most horrific people that humanity has to offer and they all made me feel black inside from the moment we made eye contact, but not Cy. No, he’s seen a similar hell to my own and I understand him. He doesn’t even have to say it out loud, but it’s obvious we share some of the same fears.

  Screw it. I’m going back. I jog up the stairs to my room to pull on my jeans and red sweater before I grab my coat off the hanger. After I lock up the apartment, I slip my black leather gloves on and head back to the hospital. I’m probably nuts for going to him, but I can’t sleep anyway.

  When I park at the hospital and reach the ER entrance, which is the only one open at this time of night, I notice a man in a wheelchair covered in a blanket and a large bald-headed white guy standing against the wall behind him. The bald man is wearing scrubs under his winter coat, and looks to be shivering as he’s scrolling through his phone. When I get closer I realize it’s Cy sitting outside in the wheelchair, probably freezing to death. That must be an orderly behind him.

  “Rosie,” he says quietly as I approach. His eyes are droopy and his shoulders are sagging like he’s tired.

  “Cy, why are you out here? You’ll freeze in that gown, even with the blanket.”

  The pain that moves across his features twists my stomach into huge ugly knots and he doesn’t speak.

  “You don’t like being inside, do you?”

  His eyebrow rises at my perceptiveness and he shakes his head slowly.

  “I sit down on the curb next to his wheelchair and confess. “I was the same way once. Terrified to be in a room with a closed door, especially if it didn’t have windows or if the windows were too small. I didn’t like to be covered up because I felt trapped and couldn’t be in the dark for any reason. I get it. They aren’t going to let you stay out here, though. You’re freezing their employee to death and this isn’t good for you, even if you’re used to it. You need rest to heal.”

  His eyes find mine and hold for a long time, neither of us speaking, but both of us understanding that his fear has him paralyzed.

  “Do you think you can trust me for one night?”

  He holds my gaze for a very long time before he finally nods.

  “Let’s go back in and I’ll sit with you through the night and keep watch. I won’t let anyone near you unless you’re awake to consent. You have my word.”

  A battle wages behind his eyes about it, but he doesn’t say anything. It’s probably been a long time since someone had his back in a way he could trust, but I think he somehow knows what I’m saying is true. Finally, he nods. A cloud of vapor slips into the night as he exhales, reminding me how cold it really is. We need to get inside.

  The orderly is watching us closely so I finally call to him. “Hey, he’s ready to go in, but I’m going with him.”

  “Visiting hours are over. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

  “If you don’t want to stand out here all night and freeze your junk off, you’ll let me sit in the room with my friend.” He looks between us a few times and finally relents. I can tell he’s not happy standing out here.

  “You can take it up with Nurse Freemont. She calls the shots,” he tells me with a smug smile, like he knows I’ll get thrown out.

  “I’ll be sure to do that,” I tell him, certain I’m about to get what I want.

  I walk next to the wheelchair while the orderly pushes him. We all stay silent as we allow our various body parts to thaw. Reaching the room, I help Cyrus into bed as I await the nurse. When I cover him up, an old-school nurse with a nasty scowl enters the room.

  “May we talk outside, please?” I request and brush past her. She follows and crosses her arms over her chest, ready to tell me to get out once we’re out in the hallway.

  “Listen, I understand better than anyone why there are specific visiting hours. I’m an RN myself with two years
of floor experience. My friend in there is homeless. I’m not sure what drove him to that but I do know he’s terrified of being trapped somewhere, locked up and vulnerable while he sleeps. If you let me stay, I promise to sit quietly and just act as his guard so he can sleep a little more soundly. Otherwise, it’s possible he’ll try to stay outside all night or even worse, return to the street before he’s physically ready.”

  “We can give him something to help him sleep.”

  “You can offer, but I bet a million bucks he won’t take it. That would leave him vulnerable and incapacitated. Just let me stay. You can have me thrown out or arrested if I don’t hold up my end of the bargain, but I can’t leave him here scared and in pain. I already tried and I had to come back. Please.” I plead with her, praying there is an ounce of compassion in her grumpy old pocket.

  “Fine. If I offer and he won’t take the medication, then you can stay. If he takes it, then you go home and come back during visiting hours.”

  Before she can turn away I stick out my hand, offering to shake. “I’m Rosanna Rossi. Thank you for understanding.” I don’t really think she understands, but I’m not above butt-kissing to get what I want.

  “Jo Freemont.” Reluctantly, she shakes my hand and then returns to the room. I stand quietly while she offers him sleeping medication and as I predicted he declines. She turns to me. “Keep it quiet. He needs his rest,” she commands before marching out the door.

  Cyrus’s eyes are wide in disbelief. “You’re able to stay?”

  “Yeah, I just have to be quiet. No parties, no marching band practice,” I joke, praying that I get a least a lip twitch from him. I don’t think he’s smiled in a long time. I’m rewarded when little crinkles appear at the corners of his eyes and his cheeks lift in a slight smile.