For real this time.

***

Part 23

For those of you who have never been in the body and fender shop, it may be difficult to credit but for the longest time, you don’t know what the hell is going on. You “wake” up and it might be an hour before you have the energy to turn your head. Then, after that arduous effort, you go back to sleep. When you are woken again by a nurse, you might get up the will to ask a question but it’s pretty pointless since you won’t remember the answer and will just ask it again in an hour.

And you hurt, after the fact if you are trying to be witty, you will let people know at cocktail parties that you appreciated the pain since it let you know that you were alive. But while you were going through it, it’s another story entirely. The pain overrides everything, and you try to moan loud enough and long enough for the medical staff might take pity on you and up your dosage of pain killers. Which might dull out the pain at the cost of performing higher brain functions or just send you back to the blissful abandon of sleep.

It was a night, and a day, and most of another night before that pattern ended.

Modern doctors don’t wish to manufacture drug addicts, so while doping a patient into oblivion has a medical use to get them over the roughest patches of recovery soon enough they taper it off until it gets to a more manageable medium between pain, tolerance, and potential for addiction. The first thing I can remember remembering was Glenn Beck on my TV pontificating on some nameless issue that somehow required a large amount of vitriol and a chalkboard. I started pressing as many buttons as I could reach to make the bad man stop and one of them must have been a call button since a nurse appeared shortly afterwards.

“Miss Scott,” she said as she entered and unwrapped a stethoscope from her neck and approached me. “I see you’re awake, how are you feeling?”

“Teee…veee,” I managed to get out after some effort.

“You want to watch some TV,” she asked as she continued checking me about.

“Off…asshole.”

She looked over her shoulder at the screen and then reached for the remote and pressed some button that had obviously just appeared for her.

“I’m sorry, it’s a Republican hospital and that’s one of the default channels.”

“What happened to me?” I said after processing for a few seconds.

“You and another woman were in a car accident. You had the good fortune to do so only five blocks from U.N.M.C., the paramedics had you here and you were in an operating theater less than ten minutes after it happened.”

“Bad?”

“I’ve seen worse, but not many. If you take your rehab seriously you will probably make a full recovery but its best to let the doctors tell you that. Some of them should be in to speak with you soon, about your recovery and… your baby.”

“Baby?... BABY!!!!”

My left arm was resting in traction but my right seemed to be unrestrained. I immediately went to my midsection and felt my baby bump.

It was empty.

“Where?” I asked angrily confused. “What happened? Where is she?”

“The doctors will be in to speak with you shortly,” she said and tried to comfort me by putting a pleasing expression on her face.

“FUCK you and your stupid smile! Where is my baby?”

“Calm down Miss Scott, she is the neonatal intensive care unit.”

“Where, what floor?”

“East wing, on five, three above us, now…WAIT!!” she shouted out when she realized what I was doing.

I yanked my whole left arm out of the tray and pulled the blanket back with my right as I swung my legs drunkenly over the bed and tried to get up only to realize halfway through that one of my legs was encased in a cast and would never support my weight. Already committed I fell out of the bed dragging several of the plastic lines that were attached with me.

“Miss Scott please, you’ll hurt yourself,” she said while trying to help me back up in the bed.

“I have to see my baby,” I said shoving off her help, or trying to anyway. If I was able to go three rounds with an anemic mosquito I might be able to win by technical knockout but this nurse was well out of my bracket for the time being. “Please get me a wheelchair.”

“You need to get back in bed, the baby is being cared for and there is nothing you can do at the moment.”

“Wheelchair!” I shouted back and the sound of my own voice was enough to give me a tearing headache.

“I’m sorry Miss Scott, but I’m not going to get you a wheelchair and neither is any other nurse, now please back in bed.”

I breathed heavily a few times trying to catch my breath from all the exertion then looked dazed in her eyes and said simply, “Then I’ll crawl.”

And preceded to do that.

“Charlie!” the nurse shouted out the door. “Bring the sedative!”

***

I woke up in a different room and judging by the sky out the window it was now morning. The only thing that I was able to move unhindered was my head. Both legs and arms were in restraints, even the injured ones. But at least the Television was on CBS. It appeared to be a double room, and I looked over to the bed nearest the door and it held a woman reading a book who looked very much like my mother’s grandmother. But she had been dead for years.

“Mom?” I asked the other person in the room.

“Katie!” she answered, surprised, as she put down the book. It appeared that the world was nicer to her in general because she was unrestrained and able to get out of her bed. She had to bring an IV stand with her but within seconds she was in the chair by my side and holding my hand that was still tied down. “I’m here sweetie.”

“What happened?” I asked her as I tried to work my tongue around my cotton mouth.

“The was a car ac…well the police are not sure exactly. But we were hit by another car certainly. I’m afraid Tommy’s firebird has been completely totaled. “

“I don’t give a flying FUCK! about the car, where is Mary Margaret?”

“Alive, I was able to get that much out of these… people. But more than that they wouldn’t tell me, officially I am not next of kin. I had to call in your lawyer and from what I gather he traded shamelessly on your name. But he got us in the same room together. I thought it would be helpful for when you woke up. If you promise to behave and listen to your doctors and your mother! I think I can convince them to undo these restrains.”

“Yes Ma’am,” I said sheepishly. “I promise to be a good little girl.”

A few minutes later a nurse came in, a different one I was pleased to note, I’m not sure I could have dealt with the embarrassment otherwise. And soon enough I was able to use the controls to sit me up in bed and take a sip of water from the container left behind on the tray. Now that I had a higher angle I was able to get a better view of the large hospital room and in the corner was one of those industrial sized recliners for family members and a Marine uniform jacket was laying folded across the armrests. I indicated it with my head and looked at my mother questioningly.

“The General took emergency leave when he found out,” she explained. “He actually commandeered an F-18 to get here as quick as possible, when this is all over we shall have to remember to tease him mercilessly about it. The pilot that ferried him looked like he wouldn’t be able to sleep for a week. He’s off to get something to drink now, but should be back soon.”

“Thomas?”

“Tom is… still in Maryland. He doesn’t know yet, the police and hospital of course didn’t know to call him. The General thought it would be pointless to worry him while he was sitting exams until we had definitive news to tell him. We’ll contact him together when we do have news… DeGeas has apparently had your health care proxy for years and he is in conference with your doctors now. Hopefully we will hear something soon about the baby.”

“Mary Margaret,” I said to her.

“Yes… of course,” she said as she leaned over and gave me as much of a hug as could be managed.

“Maggie,” said my father’s deep voice as he came in the room. “I found you your tea but it’s just hot water and a bag. I haven’t had to do my own dog robbing in years but I can head to the house if you tell me where you keep the leaves and… how to make tea.”

“This will be fine James,” she said smiling at him and taking the offered cup.

“How’s our girl?” he asked looking down at me.

“I feel like I could run a marathon,” I said closing my eyes and leaning back. “But that may be the drugs talking, judging by all the gear that is attached to me I think I should hold off on my sportswear sponsorship.”

“Have you been able to scare anything out of the doctors about the baby?” asked my mother.

“Nothing fresh, just that she’s alive for the time being… staying that way is to be determined.”

“Were you able to make any headway into getting us listed for medical power of attorney?”

“Some, but…Katie?” he asked suddenly concerned.

“Sleepy,” I replied and slowly phased out.

…

…

…

***

“… thirteen distinct lacerations and contusions. 121 separate stitches, not a record by the way. Left ulna fractured,” said my doctor as he continued reading off my chart mechanically. “Right tibia the same. Collar bone, and of course the incision from your C-Section...”

***

“…A piece of debris punctured your womb and struck your baby, . The heart and several other organs were wounded in the trauma. When you arrived in the OR our resident obstetrician detected that the baby was in distress and there was no time to deliver vaginaly…”

***

“… most of it of course will be covered by insurance,” said DeGeas as he gave me my briefing. “But that almost inevitably leaves SOME out and when we are talking major medical, the remainder will likely balloon to the five figures. The state insurance pool you have as a student has a cap on it so there will be some nasty stuff ahead. And while the plan that you have, covers YOU and your delivery, it does not extend to your dependants, and their subsequent care. I’m trying to get you slid into the plan the Scott Company has for its corporate officers and back dating it to the time it took effect but BlueCross BlueShield is being, well, an insurance company about it. It the meantime I’ve told them to do any procedure and run any test and have stood surety for the cost… yes doctor can I help you? I’m in conference with my client…what!...”

***

“…Your daughter took a turn for the worse in the last hour. Doctor Greene wants to go in again assisted by Doctor Gieger our pediatric cardiologist. The operation will likely take six to eight hours. One of the nurses can show you how to bring up the hospital’s intranet and check the status updates. It can be brought up on the television screen right in your room. For now though I need you to sign these consent forms so that we can begin…”

***

“…Mother,” I said turning over to her side of the room frozen. “Since you have both typing hands I would appreciate you doing a small service.”

“Katie,” she said her eyes tearing up. “You don’t have to do this now. You can--”

“Best we do it now, before I pass out again, just open your email and take this down.”

“All right,” she said wiping her eyes of the moisture as I dictated to her.

Dear Thomas,

Mother and I were in a car accident. Our daughter, Mary Margaret, is dead…

***

“We haven’t been able to apprehend or even identify the driver of the other car,” said Captain Mommart of the Omaha Police Departments Traffic division. “Which bothers me a lot, that along with the fact that the car used was stolen earlier that day makes me think this was more than just a hit and run.”

“A ‘hit’ you mean,” I said dispassionately. “And not a hit and run?”

“Possibly, and if I can’t get some forward progress soon I will be turning the case over to major crimes .They are better equipped to handle it. The only thing stopping me from doing it now is timing. From what your lawyer says, the retaking of the Scott Company was acrimonious enough but was done as a complete surprise. This David Nelson he mentioned would only have had about 45 minutes to call it in. It’s only possible if you presuppose a vast well organized criminal conspiracy in this town and we haven’t seen any evidence of that before. Is there anyone else that might want you dead?”

“I can’t think of anyone.”

“I was talking it over with one of the detectives and he brought up the possibility of Mrs. Scott. Your stepmother.”

“Wicked stepmother,” I clarified.

“Just so,” he nodded and tried to give a weak smile at me.

“There is no financial motivation to do so, she already has all the money she would ever get from the Scotts.”

“And who is your heir if something had happened to you?”

“Primarily?” I said to him forlornly. “The public library, though they had not been told beforehand.”

“Well…” he said picking up his uniform hat to leave. “I’ll put them at the bottom of the suspect list for now.”

***
“I have something to tell the both of you,” I said to my parents as we waited alone in our hospital room.

“All right,” my father agreed as he put down his cup of coffee and took my mother’s hand. They both looked somewhat the worse for wear. Mother, of course, from the car impact but my father looked little better. He was able to head out and purchase a few changes of civilian clothes but he didn’t look good in them, somehow he seemed to have lost a couple of inches in the transition. That and the fact that he hadn’t shaved in days made him look a bit like a bum and not a hard charging Marine.

“I don’t want to lose you, I’m not sure I have it in me for another loss,” I spoke to them carefully without even turning my head in their direction.

“Katie, were not going anywhere,” my mother said reassuringly.

“Now maybe, but I’m thinking long term. The baby was one of the only things tying us together, now.”

“Katherine, you--” My father tried saying.

“NO! listen, I know its going to sound crazy. But please do me the favor of checking with Thomas for his response first before you try sending me to the rubber room. Back in the summer…”

“Yes,” my mother prompted.

“Jessica and I… I’m really…”

‘Your son Tommy’ I wanted to say to them.

“I’m really glad you’re here for me, to help me get through this,” I said, chickening out.

“Why would we think you’re crazy for saying that?” my mother asked confused.

“No reason,” I said laying back in my bed, and pressing the button for another self administered dose of pain killer.

My father took pity on my mumbling bumbling attempts at explaining things and handing me a folded newspaper. “You made the front page today Katherine. If I had known I was going to be visiting Royalty's bedchamber I would have had my uniform cleaned and pressed.”

I took the offered paper cautiously and began reading from the 24 point headline.

THE RETURN OF THE SCOTT?

By William Kelley

Most of you are probably not used to reading my stuff on the front page. And you’re only doing it now because the events of the last few days have crossed so many genres of this paper's interest that a veritable fist fight was waged over who was going to do it. Business? Midlands? Crime? But I dusted off that old Pulitzer prize I won, damn thing has to be of some use, as a blunt instrument if nothing else, and so a has been old feature writer is now telling you this tale.

Earlier this year, our city welcomed back our wayward daughter, Jessica Scott, who sources at the University of Nebraska at Omaha say prefers to be called “Katherine”, her middle name. The name was bestowed upon her in honor of her Grandmother Katherine Anne Scott one of the last true great Dames of the previous age who died in 1996. Our newest Katie returns fresh from the prestigious Phillips Exeter Academy of New Hampshire. The school proper doesn’t answer questions from a lowly Omaha newspaper but I was able to get in contact with several of her instructors and they all related that she was tops in all her classes. An honor to her ancestors.

Two of them were also pleased to relate, in the deliciously scandalous tones of those New England puritans. That she was forced to abandon her plans for military service and education at the United States Naval Academy because she had fallen pregnant and had returned to Omaha in disgrace. Well, their disgrace but our good fortune! The Scott has returned! Many of you will not understand the significance, perhaps being a new immigrant to our economically stable city or having grown to adulthood without a Scott in residence. Well young adults probably don’t read newspapers anyway, but you new people need to remedy a hole in your education.

The Scotts came to Omaha shortly after the Civil War and, with two picks and a shovel, built an empire, rivaling any other of our great families. The last time we had an accurate appraisal the Scott Company was valued at 3 billion dollars. But it could have been 300 billion or even more if the Scotts hadn’t engaged in an almost un-American activity of giving away vast swaths of their fortune, and locally, not scattered to the four winds like most philanthropists. If you’ve been sick in Omaha, you might have received treatment in a Scott hospital, seen a show? It might have been in a Scott theater. Katherine’s father, Martin was often referred to as “The Prince of the City,” and that is where our story turns into a sort dark fairy tale for our young princess.

Americans, being without an indigenous royalty are ridiculously eager to manufacture our own for a supposed republic. The Kennedys, the Rockefellers, the Hearsts. We simple Nebraskans though, never really went in for the gaudy, glamorous excesses of those east coast fortunes. Our royalty were not oilmen, or landed aristocracy, or even newspapermen! but simple engineers, down in the dirt and mud, and more likely to be digging out a humble sewer than building a glittering skyscraper.

And then the Scott fell, and orphaned his daughter, leaving her in the hands of her stepmother, which is almost a requirement in fairytales, who quickly lost or spent her ward's cash inheritance which also seems to be a requirement. The company remained intact, but out of her control. As the conditions of the company’s partnership agreement required the partner to be a working engineer something most eight year old girls have trouble with. Katherine was sent away into exile, those donations suddenly stopped and every year the number of people employed in the area by the Scott Company grew fewer and fewer...

And then on Monday, a now adult Katherine, and her team of lawyers stormed the gates of her father’s castle and retook the Scott Company. Reports are vague and contradictory and will be related in depth later in our business section. What is not in dispute however, is that Katherine has asserted her voting rights and resumed control as majority owner. The new Chief Operating Officer Bernard DeGeas was not available for comment but then DeGeas has had a busy week.

Because on the very day of her triumphant return, the very hour! She and her unnamed driver were struck down in a suspicious automobile accident. Both are listed in guarded condition at the University of Nebraska Medical Center, where Katherine delivered the newest Scott by caesarian section. The child is in critical condition and the baby’s fate is still uncertain as the article goes to press. The OPD has released only a short official press release but this reporter's sources in the police department reveal that street conditions were adequate, visibility was clear, and the car that struck her was stolen, the driver of which has not been found…

It doesn’t take a Holmes or an Hercule Poirot to detect the skullduggery about, particularly coupled with the many still unanswered questions surrounding her father’s death. Many have benefited during Katherine’s minority, and would be wary to give up such riches. But regardless of who is ultimately responsible, be it a lone madman, a cabal of shady businessmen or fate herself, they have failed. Katherine lives, and is likely to keep doing so. And given the legendary temper her family is known to have vented when their ire is drawn, her enemies would be advised to change their status in her eyes as soon as possible.

It is unknown what lies in the future for Katherine, if she will resume her family’s philanthropic endeavors, or if she will rebuild her company. What is known is that she has been handed a cruel hand of cards of late and she and her child should be in all our thoughts and prayers.

The World Herald is minority owned by the Scott Company. Editorial control remains with the World Herald board.

Contact the writer at 402-555-2896 or [email protected]

“Ha,” I said tossing the paper back on the tray. “I was starting to get worried about that article until the last line. They are just trying to butter up the new boss!”

“Not entirely,” said the General smiling warmly. “You and your family seem to have built up quite a bit of goodwill in the city. It reminds me of how they used to write about the Marine Corps before things all started to go to shit in the Middle East.”

“Goodwill huh, that and five bucks will get me a cup of coffee.”

“Five bucks! Since when?” he asked offended.

“You need to get out more General,” I said chuckling a bit despite myself and my black mood.

“I’m going to make some arrangement to have guards put on you,” he said looking sad at the implications.

“How do you figure on doing that?” I asked tiredly. “The DoD is not going to give a tinker’s damn over what happens to me. I’m not technically a member of your family, remember, and the attack, if real, was not related to your position.”

“I’ll find a way Katie, don’t you worry about that.”

“James! Katie look,” said my mother pointing at the television monitor in our room.

SCOTT, M.M.----------------- OUT OF SURGERY/ IN RECOVERY

My father bolted out of his chair and strode out the door to shout at the nurses’ station.

“Get that damn doctor down here ASAP! And if he takes his time to check his stock portfolio on the way down I’m going to start his retirement early.”
　

***
　
They didn’t let me hold my baby, even if she was able to be disconnected from all her tubes and wires I was in no fit state to take her in my arms. A nurse pushed my wheelchair up against the incubator and I was able to stare at her. She looked like some mad science experiment gone wrong. More machine now than girl. Ugly as sin, only the occasional patch of skin was showing through all the attachments and bandages and that skin was a sickly red color. She was bald, and what little wisps of hair she had were actually falling out in front of me, a little blonde strand of it being blown away by the slight discharge from the respirator. Her legs were pointed at what seemed an impossibly odd angle, and the blue veins over her little body bulged out freakishly.

She was beautiful.

“Mother,” I said turning to her in her own wheelchair. “When we get back to the room I want you to delete that email we prepared for Thomas. I never want to see it again… it’s late enough now that he should be out of class and I can call him with the news.”

“Oh Katie, I never even wrote it. I was too nervous, I just made random typing noise on the keyboard while you dictated. It seemed too much like it was tempting the fates to write that letter ahead of time. And we didn’t need it after all…SHE’S GOING TO LIVE!!”