Rushing In

Sometimes it feels that life is one big rush. Only when we take the time, can we find what's really important.

It was late and I was tired. I had gotten a delayed start out of Boston and I was eager to reach my house and relax. The last five miles wound around hills and twisting roads. Driving along the dark country road, I rounded a bend and saw a deer bound across the two-lane road and disappear into the woods. I braked and slowed, on the alert for a companion deer. As I passed the spot where the deer had crossed, something appeared at the periphery of my vision.

I drove another hundred yards and decided to stop. That simple action of applying my brakes propelled me into an incredible adventure.

Walking back up the road, I noticed a number of broken branches along the shoulder. I peered down the embankment and my stomach turned. A car was pushed up against a tree at the bottom of about a forty foot slope--one headlight shown against the stand of trees.

After dialing 9-1-1, I started to make my way down. The operator asked about the emergency and I described the scene as I approached.

"Are there injured parties?"

"Can't tell yet, but you'd better send an ambulance. I'm sure someone must be hurt by the looks of the car."

She took down location information and told me to stay on the line. I was now at the car and could see steam coming from the collapsed hood resting against the tree trunk. I made my way over to the driver's side and pulled back.

A thick branch had penetrated the windshield and had pinned the driver back in her seat. I called out and she moaned. She was alive, at least for now. I couldn't see to the passenger side because it was so dark. Holding onto the side of the car, I gingerly made my way around trying to avoid slipping down the rest of the slope. The greatest impact was on the driver's side. The passenger door was ajar, but bent. I pulled and finally opened it enough to see a mass of blond hair and a body slumped forward against the seat belt. The depleted airbag was crumpled in her lap.

Before I did anything, I described to the 9-1-1 operator what I had found. I told her there were two injured persons and they might need more than one ambulance.

"Does the passenger have a pulse?" she asked.

I reached in and slid my hand toward her neck. I pressed two fingers to her carotid artery and felt a slight pulse.

"Yes, I can feel a pulse. Should I try to get her out?"

"Does it look like the car may catch on fire?"

"No, I just see steam from the radiator."

"EMTs will be there soon. Just stand by and keep monitoring her pulse. If it stops, let me know. You may have to extract her and perform CPR. Do you know how to do that?"

I told her I did. I felt the passenger's neck again and the pulse was about the same. This time I noticed my fingers were coated with blood. I told the operator.

"Can you tell where the bleeding is coming from?"

"Not really." I moved the blond hair back from the face and noticed blood running from her nose and some on her forehead. I relayed this information to the operator.

"I can't tell anything else unless I move her head."

"Better wait. Can you hear the siren yet?"

I craned my neck and listened. Other than the creaking noises from the engine, I heard nothing.

"No, nothing yet. Should I go up to the road?"

"Please stay with the victims. I'm sure the responders will see your car and be able to find you. What's the condition of the driver?"

"There's a limb that pierced the windshield and has her pinned. I'm going around to check on her." I used the car for leverage and eased my way to the driver's side.

"Can you hear me?" I asked the young woman. Her answer was soft, but she said she could. "I've called 9-1-1 and help is on the way. Hang in there and we'll get you out."

I heard a weak "thank you". I relayed the information to the 9-1-1 operator and she told me not to try to move the driver. The girl on the other side moaned and I went back to the passenger side.

I looked into the car. The passenger was wearing a long skirt and a short-sleeve blouse. I couldn't tell her age, but she looked to be young by the shape of her body and toned arms. My foot hit something and I looked down to see a purse on the ground. It must have fallen out when I yanked the door open.

I stooped to pick it up and heard her moan again.

"Hell-o, can you hear me?" I asked. "Are you hurt?" I realized that was a stupid question. Of course, she was hurt.

"What's going on?" asked the operator.

"She's making noises," I replied. "Who is?" she asked. "The passenger," I responded.

"Miss, miss, can you hear me?" I spoke to her.

"What happened?" came a weak reply.

"She's talking," I said into my phone.

"You were in a car crash. Help will be here any second."

"Help? Who are you?"

"I'm St. Pierre. Marc St. Pierre. The ambulance is on its way."

The woman had not moved. "St. Pierre. Oh, you mean Saint Peter. No, I don't want to be with you yet. Please, I don't want to die."

"You're going to be all right," I assured her. I set the phone on the roof and opened the purse. I dug around and found her wallet. Opening it, I used the faint light from my cell to look at her driver's license. "Amelia Dempsey."

I heard the operator's voice from my phone. I picked it up and switched to speaker. "I found her driver's license. It seems her name is Amelia Dempsey." I gave the operator the address on the license. The picture showed a pretty, blond woman who was twenty-two. The operator said they will begin reaching out to family.

"St. Peter, how's Emily? Is she ok?"

"Who's Emily?" I asked.

"My friend. She was driving."

"Well, the EMTs will be here any second and they'll take care of both of you." I called out, "Emily, can you hear me. Emily?"

"So cold," Emily said.

"Hang on, honey, help is coming."

"Saint Peter, will you hold my hand?" Amelia asked. I took her hand.

"You're going to be fine, Amelia. Just hang in there."

"You know my name? Oh, of course, you have to know names. I know I shouldn't say this, but I just don't want to go to heaven yet."

I made the connection. In her confused state, she thought I was "THE" Saint Peter. It would not be worth it at this point to try to explain.

"I understand. I know you're not coming to me for a long time."

"Thank you. Will you pray with us?"

I decided to do what I could to keep her calm and awake.

"Of course."

She began the "Our Father" and, hoping my memory held out, I joined her. When we got to the "deliver us from evil", she stopped. I started on to the "For Thine is...", when I realized she was using the Catholic version, so I stopped. I heard a soft "Amen" from Emily and it gave me hope that she might make it.

"Thank you, Saint Peter, I feel a lot better."

I squeezed her hand.

"If Emily comes to you, please be kind to her. She's a good person."

"Don't worry about Emily," I said. "She's going to be fine. And, I'll look after her."

The operator's voice came through the phone.

"What's going on?"

"Just talking with Amelia. She seems to be doing fine. Her friend's name is Emily and she is still conscious."

I asked the operator to wait while I asked Amelia what Emily's last name was. She said "Johnston" and I relayed that to the operator. Amelia also gave me Emily's parents' name and the town and state where they lived. After I gave that information to the operator, I asked, "What's the deal with the ambulance?"

"Sorry about that," she said. "They went south on County Road instead of north toward you. They're close. You should hear them soon."

In a few seconds I could hear the distant wail of the siren and relayed that to the Operator.

Almost immediately, we were caught in a light.

Amelia squeezed my hand. "I see a bright light. Am I dying?"

I laughed. "If you are, I am, too. I think it's coming from the road." I shielded my eyes and called out.

"County sheriff," came a reply. "Do you need immediate assistance?"

"We have injured persons. When will the ambulance be here?"

"I just heard from dispatch and it's a matter of minutes. If you are all set, I'll stay here to signal them."

I shouted back that I was fine and he should stay up there.

"Saint Peter?"

"Yes, Amelia. The ambulance is almost here."

"I'm embarrassed." I looked at her with her head still tilted down. I tucked her hair back up behind her ear and touched her cheek.

"It's going to be fine, Amelia. Be strong."

"Promise to do my best. But, Saint Peter, I don't know how to say this."

"What's that?"

"I have to pee real bad."

"Then pee, Amelia. It's okay."

"But I don't want to ruin the car or my undies."

I laughed, "Amelia, don't worry about the car. Do it now before all the others arrive."

She reached for my hand again and held tight. I heard her let out a sigh.

"God, oops, I mean gosh that feels better. Guess I'll be needing some clean undies."

I could hear the siren getting closer. "They're almost here, Amelia. You are going to be fine, remember that."

"Don't leave me, St. Peter. I know you have so much to do, but please stay a little longer."

I could see the flashing lights at the top of the hill as the siren died. Two EMTs were making their way down carrying their kits.

"I have to move aside now. But, I'll hang around until you're safe. Take care, Amelia. I'm right here."

"Thank you, Saint Peter."

The first EMT arrived and asked if I was the one who had called it in. I filled him in quickly and told him Amelia's and Emily's names.

He leaned in the car and started talking with Amelia while his partner leaned to attend to Emily from the other side. I felt in the way and moved off to stand at a distance. He and the other EMT discussed trying to extract Amelia. They decided they needed the hydraulic pincers. I saw that a fire engine had now pulled up. Firefighters were making their way down the hill with extinguishers in hand. They surveyed the damage and determined that a fire was not imminent. One called on his walkie-talkie to bring the Jaws of Life. Within minutes they were working to cut away the roof and make room to move Amelia. I could see where they had draped a blanket over Emily and were trying to determine how to free her from the limb that was pinning her. As I turned back to Amelia, I saw that they had placed a brace around her neck.

When Amelia was free of the wreckage, they placed her on a board, secured her head and neck and strapped her tightly. I caught her eye and gave her a thumbs up. She smiled and then closed her eyes.

I recalled the picture of the pretty blond on the driver's license. I hoped the blood-covered face would not carry permanent scars. I watched as they fixed an inflatable boot around her right leg, from ankle to knee. They next rigged a rope to the board. Two deputies on top of the hill started to pull her up as the EMTs and firefighters guided and pushed from the bottom.

A firefighter came down with a chain saw and soon had the limb cut back. They checked Emily and determined they should try to get her out. Carefully, the EMTs and firefighters extracted her, placed her on another board and hauled her up the incline.

I started to crawl back up and realized I still had Amelia's purse looped on my shoulder. By the time I reached the road, Amelia's ambulance had left. I spoke to one of the remaining deputies who were awaiting a helicopter to transport Emily to Boston. I told him about the purse and he suggested I drop it at Cape Cod Hospital and that he didn't have time to deal with it now.

I gave him my name and number, and a statement about seeing the deer. I told him I suspected they swerved to avoid the animal and went over the side. Exhausted, I drove home. I went to sleep thinking about the young woman who thought I was Saint Peter. Not accustomed to praying, I did ask someone whom I hoped might have power to help her and her friend get better.

The next day I worked out of my home office in my Truro house. With many calls back and forth to my law firm in Boston, I resolved a number of issues. By two I called it quits. After a shower and a tuna sandwich, I headed to Cape Cod Hospital to return the purse and see how Amelia was doing.

With little traffic it took me just over an hour to reach Hyannis. When I pulled into the parking lot, I was struck by the sight of several television trucks. At the main entrance a gang of reporters had set up on one side. Security guards were keeping them behind some yellow tape. I thought that maybe some politician was a patient. I made my way to the desk and asked for Amelia's room. The attendant looked at me skeptically.

"Are you with the media?"

"No."

"Are you a member of her family?"

"No."

"Well, her family has restricted visitors to family or people on an approved list. What's your name?"

I was puzzled why a young woman would have so many cautions around her hospital stay. Her name did not ring a bell. I gave the attendant my name and she made a call. While she was on the phone, I held up the purse. I told her I just wanted to return it. The attendant relayed that information. She nodded her head as she listened.

After hanging up, she asked if I would take a seat down the hall and to the right. She explained it would be out of sight of the media who peered through the windows. Things were becoming stranger and I wondered why. I was sitting where the attendant directed when the elevator to my right opened. A tall, black woman emerged and walked directly toward me.

I stood and she stopped a few feet away. She was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. Her hair was cropped close to her perfectly formed head. With smooth skin and arched eyebrows, her face reminded me of a model. She wore pink lipstick and large, gold hoop earrings.

"You're Saint Peter?"

"Actually, Marc St. Pierre," I said. "Amelia sorta thought I was 'the' Saint Peter and I went along with it. I guess it wasn't honest, but it seemed to calm her."

"And, you have her purse?"

I held it up.

She went to reach for it, but I pulled it away. She glared at me.

"Excuse me," I said. "But, I don't know who you are, and I don't know what's going on around here. I just wanted to see that Amelia is doing all right and return her purse. I didn't even mean to keep it. It's just that in all the commotion with the EMTs, I forgot to give it to them. The deputy said I should just take care of it myself."

The woman took a half-step closer. She was an inch or two taller than I was. I was fairly sure she wasn't wearing heels. I could detect a hint of perfume that evoked a decidedly male response from me.

"Are you being straight with me, Mr. St. Pierre?"

"What the hell are you talking about," I replied becoming irritated.

"You don't know who Amelia is?"

"Yeah, Amelia Dempsey. Look, I stumbled across that accident and then tried to help. That's it. So, why don't you tell me who you are and what this is all about."

The woman took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"My name is Coco Connell."

She watched as I suppressed a smile.

"Yes, yes," she said. "I know. A black woman called 'Coco' with a last name that sounds like the fashion designer. What can I say? My parents had a sense of humor. That's my name and I am Rush's personal assistant."

"Rush?"

"Rush Brecq"

"Who's that?" I asked.

"Now, I know you are putting me on," she said, a flash of anger in her eyes.

"Ms. Connell, I have no clue what the hell you're talking about. I don't know Rush, I just wanted to return a purse. If you are somehow connected to Amelia Dempsey, then let's talk about that."

Shaking her head, she pulled out her phone and turned her back. As she spoke softly into it, I did what any man would do. I checked her out.

She wore a purple, fitted blouse. The tailored tan slacks showed off a magnificent rear end. She wore a red belt that accented her narrow waist and made her hips and butt stand out. The blouse indicated a lean upper body. Of course, I had already noticed her front. She did not seem to have a large chest, but her breasts made noticeable mounds behind the satin top. She left two buttons open, but did not reveal any cleavage. As I looked at her feet, I confirmed she wore tan, leather flats.

My inspection ceased as she ended her call and turned back to me. For the first time, she smiled showing even, white teeth. I could almost sense some warmth behind the smile.

"Well, it seems Saint Peter is more than welcome. Follow me."

"Where are we going?"

"We're going to see Rush Brecq. Or, if you prefer, Amelia Dempsey."

The elevator door opened and I followed her in. The alluring aroma I sensed before filled the confined space of the car. If perfume were an aphrodisiac, then this scent was doing its job. We exited on the fifth floor and turned right. I had to hustle to keep pace with her long strides. Arriving at the end of the corridor, she nodded at a security guard sitting outside.

"This is Mr. St. Pierre," she said. "Please add his name to the list." The guard nodded and the woman opened the door to a room.

Inside I saw Amelia sitting in a bed. Her two eyes were nearly closed with swelling and severely discolored. A large bandage covered her nose and I could see a few rows of stiches along her forehead, close to the hairline. One leg was raised and sported a temporary cast.

"Amelia?"

"Oh my god, you're real. Thank you so much. I thought I dreamed the whole thing up."

I smiled and she beckoned me to her side. As I approached, she tried to smile, but a cut at the corner of her mouth made her wince. She held her hand out and I took it in mine.

"Thank you. You may not be Saint Peter, but I think you saved my life."

"I just was lucky enough to find you. I only wanted to comfort you until the pros arrived. I'm really happy that you are..." I couldn't come up with a word for how she looked.

"That I'm held together with tape and wire?'

I laughed and so did she. She then cried at the pain from her lips. She squeezed my hand and I squeezed back.

"Let me introduce myself."

I turned to see a woman standing in the corner. She, too, was tall. With blond hair and blue eyes I immediately recognized a resemblance to the license photo of Amelia. She walked up to me and hugged me. "Thank God, you came by last night. And, thank you for what you did for her." She hugged me tightly and I found my arms around her to return the gesture.

"Belinda Brecq Dempsey," she said.

I nodded. "Sister?"

The woman blushed. "Mother."

"Ah," was the best I could reply.

"Cool, mom, he thinks you're some young hottie."

"I think the concussion is obviously affecting you," said Belinda. She brushed her hand over Amelia's head with obvious affection. Coco stepped to the other side of the bed, next to the IV pole, monitors and other equipment.

"He says he doesn't know who Rush Brecq is."

The three stared at me. I felt like the kid in class who just forgot the name of the first president. So, I shrugged.

"I guess you don't follow modern music," Belinda said.

"Kinda stopped after the 80's killed it," I admitted. "More likely today to listen to jazz or classical. I do like Diana Krall."

"I love her," said Amelia. "We did a gig together last fall." I hope my mouth didn't actually drop open. Who the hell was this kid?

Coco smiled and began to explain.

"Rush Brecq is Amelia's stage name. She is a singer and songwriter. She's won several Grammies, Country Music awards and several other distinctions. She's number one on both the pop and country charts. She is, in short, the hottest person in entertainment today."

As she spoke, I kept moving my head. When she finished, I said, "And I am most assuredly a troglodyte concerning modern culture. I have to say, though, I am very happy to have met Amelia. Maybe someday I might also meet Rush."