21. Emery

21

EMERY

“I don’t know, Mom. She’s about to grow out of her pink sparkle boots, but do you think she’d want real cowboy boots?”

“She did show me a pair of purple boots that she really wanted, but those weren’t super practical for the amount of riding she does. Let’s do this: I’ll get the purple boots, and you get the cowboy boots.”

Between work boots, riding boots, and sparkle boots, Stevie was accumulating quite the collection.

“Deal,” I said, bringing the clothes Mom and I had chosen for her to the cash register.

As I ran my card, my phone went off with Rowdy’s notification.

Rowdy: Call me as soon as you get this.

I stitched my brows together and showed Mom the text.

“I’ll grab the clothes, Em. Go outside and call him.”

Sending a wave to the gal who owned the place, I stepped out onto the covered porch. The boutique we’d gone to—Jo’s—was housed in a refurbished nineteenth century cabin, and it was quaint as hell. Hitting the button on my phone, I started pacing as I waited for Rowdy to pick up.

“Emery?”

Fear spiked in my heart at the warble in his voice.

“Yeah, Rowdy. What’s going on?”

“I’m here at the house. Stevie tripped over a nest of killer bees and had a bad reaction to the stings. I had to give her both EpiPens, but she’s breathin’ okay, and they say she’s stable, but Woody, uh—” He choked back a sob. “Woody wrapped her up in his shirt, so he got the worst of it. He passed out and I had to order two ambulances. They just took off.”

My brain stutter-stepped to a halt. “Wait...what? Say that again? Stevie had a reaction to the bee stings?” I asked as Mom walked out onto the porch.

Her brows lifted. “Bee stings?”

I nodded as Rowdy repeated himself.

“She was helping him paint the fence and tripped over an old tire. It pissed off the bees, and they swarmed.”

“Why would the bees be in a tire?” I asked nonsensically. “On the ground?”

“That’s one of the things that makes it’s so easy to get into trouble with those damned things. They don’t always stick to the trees.”

“And she had an adverse reaction?”

Another bitten back sob filtered through the line.

“Rowdy, I need you to pull it together, man. Tell me what happened to Stevie again.”

“It was a very bad reaction. By the time Woody got her to the house, she was blown up like a puffer fish, barely breathing. We talked about the EpiPens, and I remembered that you showed me where they were. I gave her the first round, but it only kinda helped. She could breathe a little, but it still wasn’t good. So I gave her another shot, and that was better. And I was on the phone with 9-1-1. Operator stayed with me until the ambulances showed up. They’re taking them to Christus in San Marcos.”

“They’re in the ambulance now?”

“Yes. They said she looked pretty good, but that they needed to take her in for observation.”

I turned to Mom. “She’s gonna be okay. But she had a terrible reaction to some killer bee stings.” I returned to the call. “And Woody got her out of there?”

Another stifled sob. “He took the brunt of the attack. They were so fucking aggressive, Emery. I?—”

“Wait, you said that he went to the hospital too. What happened to Woody?”

“He had?—”

Rowdy lost his voice.

“It’s okay, Rowd,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm as I walked to Mom’s car.

I’d driven over, so, not thinking, I walked to the driver’s side.

“No, son,” Mom insisted, putting out her hand like I’d seen Stevie do so many times for that damned swear jar. “I’m driving.”

I wiped the tears that’d started to roll down my cheeks and reached into my pocket, handing the keys to her.

“His words went all funny and he passed out,” Rowdy whispered as I reached for the passenger door.

I missed.

“Jesus.”

I got into the massive car as I listened to Rowdy’s staccato breathing. “Took them fifteen minutes to get out here, and it’s gonna be another twenty or so to get them to the emergency room. He never stopped breathing, though. I found some Benadryl caplets and opened them up under his tongue, but it was easily over a hundred stings, so I doubt that did a damned thing.”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

“Thought you had to be allergic to have a bad reaction, but...no. Enough bee stings and?—”

He sniffled and then was lost to his tears all over again, letting out a terrible creaking sound, like he was too horrified to process it.

“He’s alive, though?”

“Yes,” he croaked out. “I wanted to call you before I drove over.”

“Absolutely not, Rowd. We’re gonna pick you up on the way. Don’t you dare try to drive right now.”

He sniffled loudly in my ear. “Okay.”

“Hey, Rowdy?”

Sniff . “Yeah?”

“That thing with the EpiPens?”

“Yeah?”

“You saved Stevie’s life. You saved my little girl’s life.”

“Nope,” Rowdy said, his voice somehow stronger. “That was all Woody. He was passin’ out and still knew what to do.”

I took several deep breaths. “It’ll be okay,” I repeated, hoping if I said it enough times, it’d be true.

Mom had only ever viewed the speed limit as a suggestion, but she took the twists and turns of the Devil’s Backbone like a goddamned Formula One driver. The Grand Marquis drifted a little as she turned into the drive, but I wasn’t complaining. Rowdy walked out of the house like a zombie as Mom screeched to a halt at the front porch steps. Seconds later, we were back on the road, and Mom was passing cars on the two-lane like they were standing still.

When we got to San Marcos, the ambulances had only beat us by about ten minutes. The lady at the desk told us that both were being worked on, and that we would have to wait. Twenty-three eternal minutes later, we were taken to Stevie’s bedside in the ICU.

“Dad?” Stevie asked as I walked into the room.

I must’ve died a million deaths in this last, horrible hour, and hearing her voice nearly broke me.

She was still a little puffy, and her ponytails were askew, but she looked happy to see us, and that was all I could ask for. I went to her immediately, bending over to hug her as gently as I could. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. That must’ve been so scary.”

She shook her head. “Woody and Rowdy took care of me. I couldn’t breathe at all, and I could barely see, and Woody told me to breathe easy and not to panic, so I didn’t.”

I nodded but couldn’t hide the choked-out sob when I thought about how close to disaster we’d come. “Well, Woody and Rowdy are pretty good friends to have in an emergency.”

“Rowdy stabbed me twice,” she said, sounding so pitiful that I felt bad for laughing.

“That’s not funny,” she whined, then let loose a giggle.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Rowdy said, stepping into the room. “I hated doing that to you. You have to know I hated it. But I ain’t never been more afraid in my life, and I once dropped Woody’s brand-new iPhone into a pile of horsesh...poop.”

“Did he curse?”

“Oh yes. At least ten dollars’ worth.”

She laughed, free and easy like she always did, and several tears rolled down Rowdy’s cheeks as he grabbed her little hand and squeezed it. “I’m just glad all that worked, you know?”

She nodded. “The doctor said I should be able to go home tomorrow, but I don’t want to. The bees...”

I shook my head. “I’m calling the county, and in the meantime, renting us a place.”

Mom finally spoke up. “Absolutely not. Y’all are staying at my house until we get it figured out.” She reached out to Rowdy, hugging him tight. “You, too, son. Now you’re family.”

Rowdy huffed out a watery laugh, swiping at the tears that continued to fall. “Stop making me cry.”

I turned to Dr. Sendero, who’d walked us back, then waited patiently as we worked through our emotional reunion. “What can you tell us?”

“Stevie was lucky that she only had a handful of stings,” the good doctor said. “And the rapid administration of both EpiPens was critical. Given the progression of her allergy, she should start carrying at least one EpiPen on her at all times. Thankfully, she’s a healthy little girl, and we expect a full recovery. We’re only keeping her overnight to monitor for secondary issues with her kidneys or lungs.”

Mom tapped her chin. “This is just a rumor I heard, but I was told that ice cream is outstanding for bee stings.”

Dr. Sendero laughed, then put on her very serious doctor’s face. “Not a rumor, Mrs. McAvoy. That’s a fact.”

“Yesss,” Stevie said, pumping her fist.

“Any word on James Lockwood?” Rowdy asked. “I’m Rowdy Lockwood, his emergency contact.”

Dr. Sendero let out a heavy sigh. “I’ve had a few cases with killer bees, and they always involve lots and lots of stings. His was a particularly bad case, even though he didn’t seem to have more than two or three hundred stings. He’s on the lighter side, though, and since he was carrying her and running, it sped up and intensified the envenomation. He was lucky in that his heart kept pumping and he never stopped breathing.”

“What are they doing now?”

“They’ve got him on a Benadryl drip—which you did a great job of getting him started on—and they should be done with removing the stingers.”

“When will we be able to see him?” Rowdy asked as Mom gave him another hug.

“He’s had a rough go of it, so for now I’d rather only one visitor at a time.”

Rowdy and I exchanged glances.

“You go, Rowdy. I’ll come by later,” I said, my heart splitting in two.

He nodded, then kissed Stevie on the forehead. “I’ll let you know when he’s okay to receive more visitors.”