Wildest Dreams

Lin Su was kneeling on one side of Charlie while two paramedics administered oxygen and managed an IV bag on the other. Charlie was between his mother and the paramedics, eyes closed, fingers twitching a little bit. He looked gray.

Blake tried to stay out of the way for the time being. It was about twenty minutes before the gurney went into the small trailer and came out again with Charlie on it. He appeared to be sleeping; perhaps he’d been sedated. Lin Su followed the gurney outside.

“Is he going to be all right?” Blake asked.

“I think so,” she said. “They’re going to take him to the hospital in Bandon, and if he doesn’t improve right away, they’ll move him to Pacific Hospital, closer to North Bend.”

“Go with him,” Blake said. “I’m going to see if I can close up your trailer. I’ll bring your car and meet you there. Let me see the phones, please?” She dug around in her purse and handed them over. He quickly punched his number into hers and handed it to her. “If his condition or location changes, give me a call, will you? I’ll see you at the hospital as soon as I can get some kind of a lock on this door.”

She looked at him in complete gratitude. Her eyes welled with tears. “Thank you,” she said so softly he barely heard her.

“No crying now,” he said. “It’s going to be all right. Just stay with Charlie.”

Three

Closing up that little trailer turned out to be far less complicated than Blake had expected. The elderly man with the rake informed Blake that he had tools he could loan and together they fixed a padlock onto the mangled door. During that exercise Blake had seen a little bit of the inside of the trailer. It was cozy and compact—a bed that folded out when a table was lifted up, a galley kitchen, a bedroom with a small double bed that took up almost the whole room, a little bath with shower.

Right in the middle of what would serve as kitchen/living room/bedroom, right where he supposed Charlie had collapsed and paramedics tended him, things were messy and awry. The table was pushed up, the bed/bench shoved back, tracks of dirt on the floor, clutter left behind from opening packages of gloves, wipes and syringes. Everything else was shining clean, tidy and spare.

It wasn’t much of a house for a woman and teenage boy. It was so small, leaving little room for belongings. He spied Charlie’s backpack with his laptop in it and scooped it up to take to the hospital with him just in case Charlie didn’t come home that night. It was a mean little shelter in a crappy trailer park and it stung Blake. He didn’t like thinking of Lin Su and Charlie living here when “here” was actually so much better than how Blake and his mother had lived. They’d lived with rats, for God’s sake. Rats and gang members and drug dealers.

He took the backpack and closed up the trailer. By the time he got to the hospital it was growing dark. He walked into the emergency room and asked about Charlie Simmons, and who should walk out of the exam area but Scott Grant, Thunder Point’s doctor.

“Well, hey there,” Scott said, sticking out a hand. “Lin Su said you’d be bringing her car over.”

“And I spotted this,” Blake said, slipping one arm through the backpack strap and presenting his hand for a shake. “How is he?”

“He’s going to be fine but I’m keeping him overnight just to be safe. Besides, he’s weak—an asthma attack takes a lot out of a person. And he was sedated, as well.”

“What happened?” Blake asked. “He was good the last time Lin Su checked with him.”

Scott leaned a hip on the counter. “I haven’t heard the whole story yet, but I think he got chased by some bigger kids from the neighborhood. He said he went to the drugstore to get a refill on his meds. They know him there. But he ran into a problem and got chased all over hell and gone—at least a mile—and he was already struggling a little bit, thus the reason for the refill. Shit like that used to happen to me—I was a little kid in glasses. But I didn’t have asthma. I think going to school in Thunder Point will be easier on him—lot of people to look out for him there. Like Troy. Spencer.”

“Right,” Blake said. “Except they’re not just big kids from the neighborhood. I saw a few of them hanging around, waiting to see what the cops and paramedics did. They’re not your run-of-the-mill bullies. I didn’t see gang colors but I talked to the cop—they’re local hoods, all tatted up, using, holding, selling. The look of longing on their faces might’ve been for the drugs in the paramedics bags. If they chased him I bet they thought he had money in his pocket.”

Scott’s expression darkened. “Is that right?”

Blake lowered his voice and leaned closer to Scott. “It’s a rough neighborhood,” he said quietly. “I grew up around guys like them.”

“You think Charlie was in real danger?”

Blake raised a brow. “He’s in the hospital.”

“Yeah, there’s that. Think they might’ve beat him up or something if they’d caught up with him?”

“No telling. Maybe. Or they might’ve turned him upside down and shook the money out of his pockets. The paramedics used a crowbar on the trailer door so a neighbor and I bolted a padlock to it but... Listen, I’ve got a couple of spare rooms not in use and I’m leaving town in a couple of weeks for a race. I know the price is right on that trailer, but you think it’s possible there’s something around Thunder Point that might fit Lin Su’s budget that we could...”

“We’ll be fine,” Lin Su said, sneaking up on them and cutting him off. “I’ve been looking. I just haven’t had much time. If Winnie is stable and Charlie is going to school in Thunder Point, I mean to find something closer.”

“Good idea,” Scott said. “If for no other reason than you’re too far away if Charlie needs you. If you wouldn’t take offense, we can get our friends looking.”

“Can we talk more about this later?”

“Absolutely,” Scott said. “But...”

“Until something pops up, we can manage,” she insisted.

“Are you going to spend the night here with Charlie?” Blake asked. “Or would you prefer a guest room? I’m sure Winnie has one but so do I—my trainer doesn’t arrive for another week.”

“I’ll be staying here tonight. He’s being admitted,” Lin Su said. “I’ll find a corner to tuck into in case he needs me. Once Charlie is settled in his room I’ll drive you home.”

“I’ll take him,” Scott said. “I’ll be leaving in another half hour, provided no emergencies come in. Charlie’s stable. I just want to do some charting and look in on him one more time, but with you sitting watch I’m not concerned.”

“I’ll call Grace and let her know that Charlie’s going to be fine and they should call the home health care registry to get a substitute for me for tomorrow.”

“I’ll be ready to go in a little while, Blake,” Scott said. Then he went back behind the counter and got on the computer to write his patient notes.

“Can I have a word with you, please?” Blake asked Lin Su.

“Of course,” she said. “What’s on your mind?”

“Can we step outside for just a moment?” he asked. He swung an arm for her to precede him, leaving no room for discussion.

Right outside and a bit to the left of the emergency room entrance was a small courtyard with concrete benches and some potted plants. There were a couple of trash cans and a perimeter of trees. And, fortuitously, no people at the moment.

He faced her. “Your neighbor and I put a padlock on the door of the trailer. I have the key here with your car keys,” he said. “But you’re going to have a problem locking it from the inside, Lin Su. For that matter, that little padlock isn’t going to keep your possessions safe from some of your neighbors if they...”

“It’s not a fancy neighborhood, Mr. Smiley, but we know our neighbors and keep an eye on one another. Regardless of how it looks, they’re not all bad.”

“Mr. Smiley? We’re back to that, are we? Listen to me—for the most part, the folks in that park are decent and neighborly. Your neighbor helped me secure the trailer. He made a point of telling me he looks out for you and Charlie.”

“We’re completely safe,” she said. “Mr. Chester...”

“Is eighty-four and his weapon is a rake. I’m sure you’re on a budget—raising a teenage son can be a strain on the pocketbook. But there will be rentals in Thunder Point that fit your needs. Given the circumstances, stay at my house for a week or so while you look at available property and...”

“Try not to be offensive, Mr. Smiley. I know we don’t live as well as you but we don’t need charity.”

“For God’s sake, Lin Su, I know more about being poor than you’ll ever learn and I’ve been cursed with more pride than even you. Winnie depends on you and doesn’t want another caregiver. Charlie is going to school in town—it starts in less than a week. I like the kid—he’s amazing, so clearly you are a good mother in every way. Now here are the facts—I have five empty bedrooms next door to your patient. Until you can find your own place, you should take advantage of the invitation for a number of practical reasons. The most important reason is that I saw those thugs who shook Charlie down for the money in his pocket and that could happen again.”

The startled expression on her face made him smile.

“I knew it,” he said. “He was alone, headed for the store. They marked him.”

“Mr. Smiley, I hope you understand that I find this inquisition very embarrassing and have concerns about how my employer might regard me after hearing all this.”

“Then we won’t mention it, and if you want to, you can pay rent. But what would be better for me is if you’d just move some things into the loft—a room for you and one for Charlie, your own bathroom. And cook your own food—I’m on a training diet. Ask your friends and neighbors to keep an ear to the ground for available space. No one cares if you live frugally—it’s a virtue. Hell, I haven’t had my own house in my entire life till a few weeks ago—I’m an expert at cutting out the fat and saving money. But after your kid gets hurt because he’s not safe alone there, you have to go to plan B. I’m offering you plan B. Because I like Charlie. You? You get on my nerves. So don’t play the stereo loud.”

She made a small smile. “You don’t like me?” she asked.

“Not that much,” he said. “I like the kid—he’s smart. I like him even more now that I know he’s fighting asthma and an overprotective mother.”

“I should probably question this interest you have in my son,” she said.

“Question your son. He’s an open book, says exactly what’s on his mind. And I knew you for five minutes when I believed you’d covered every subject imaginable with your son—warning him off creeps and predators. Since he was three, I bet.”

He stopped talking for a moment, put his hands in his pockets and looked down. He quietly added, “I work with a lot of kids. Sports training, encouragement, that sort of thing. It’s a well-known fact. It’s very well documented. I didn’t have any of that when I was a kid and I don’t have kids so...” He shrugged.

“So, we about ready to go?” Scott Grant asked, briskly walking out to the courtyard from the hospital. “Lin Su, Charlie is going to his room in about ten minutes. He has responded to medication. I’ll check him in the morning...probably early since I have clinic in town tomorrow. I’ll discharge him then. So? Ready, Blake?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Mr. Smiley? My keys? The backpack?” Lin Su asked.

“Oh. Sure. I’ll talk to you tomorrow sometime. I hope you have a good night.”

“I know the staff here,” she said. “I’ve worked with a lot of them. They’ll fix me up with something.”

* * *

On the drive back to Thunder Point Blake asked Scott how well he knew Lin Su.

“Very well. I’ve worked with her for a couple of years. She specializes in home health care, and in the past two years she’s had three patients in end stage cancer and was assisted by an excellent hospice team. When she didn’t have full-time patients she worked at any one of the local hospitals. She’s an outstanding nurse and her ethics are unimpeachable. I know that she moved from the East Coast to Oregon for Charlie’s health—this is a better area for asthma—and attended nursing college in Oregon when Charlie was small. I think she’s been a licensed RN for about ten years.”

“What about her personal life, home life. Does she date? Have family?”

“Why? Are you interested in Lin Su?”

In fact, he could be, but that wasn’t why he had asked. “I’m concerned about Charlie running into trouble again. Both of them, for that matter. Her neighborhood is overrun by thugs. It seems to be a combination of elderly and real rough characters.”

“She lives in a mobile-home park, do I have that right?” Scott asked.

“Let me ask you something—do you consider yourself her friend?”

“We don’t exactly socialize, if that’s what you mean. But she’s friendly with the Bandon hospital staff and since she’s been in Thunder Point some of the other women, including my wife, have gotten to know her a little more on the social side. I trust her. Yes, I would consider her a friend. What are you getting at?”

“‘Mobile-home park’ is putting a dress on a pig—it’s a dump. It’s not that it’s poor, though it is. It’s the whole landscape—down the street from a bar, a no-tell motel and a convenience store that seems to be a clubhouse for hoods. I’ve offered her a couple of bedrooms while she looks for something closer but she’s very suspicious of me.”

“Why would she be?” Scott asked.

“My own damn fault. I befriended her son and I’m pretty sure I came across as critical of her overprotectiveness. Do you think you can come up with something in Thunder Point that’s cheap but decent? Obviously she’s very proud.”

“We have a sketchy neighborhood or two,” Scott said. “For that matter, we’ve had some pretty severe bullying issues the past couple of years. The school personnel and sheriff’s department are all over it, but I’m just saying—changing neighborhoods doesn’t solve all the problems.”

“It can reduce them by half,” Blake said. “Trust me.”

“So, what is it you think I can do?” Scott asked.

“I think you, given your familiarity with the town and your influence with friends and neighbors, can find her something without shaming her in the process. I’d be willing to try but I already offered her space and she didn’t go for it.”

“And I offered to enlist the help of friends in looking around for her and she put me off,” Scott said.

Blake leveled a stare on him. “Do it, anyway.”

* * *

Charlie rested comfortably but Lin Su didn’t. Her heart was heavy and her mind troubled. She had devised the plan to keep him home from Winnie’s and the beach as a punishment for not following her rules. She could justify it, of course—he was coughing and he shouldn’t be around Winnie. But she knew it was manageable, not likely to be a virus and she thought it might cause him to be more careful in the future.

What had Blake meant when he said he knew more about being poor than she would ever learn? Did he have some twisted hope of comforting her by admitting he had come from modest roots? All that statement really meant to her was that he had taken note of their impoverished living conditions. He must certainly wonder—nurses, especially home health care nurses, were well paid. The problem was that Lin Su wasn’t able to work twelve months a year. When she was finished with one patient it might be weeks or months until she had another full-time charge. And in those periods in between, the hospitals weren’t always hiring.

At the end of the day she still did better in home health care than in a clinic or hospital, but it wasn’t enough to pay all the bills and create a family home for herself and Charlie. Charlie had stopped having daytime babysitters only three years ago; babysitting and day care were mighty expensive. She was nearly finished with her college loans and the five-year-old car would be paid for in another year—those two items would add significant cash flow. And the fact that Winnie was providing her a premium health care package worth eight hundred dollars a month was a godsend. Otherwise, Charlie’s one night in the hospital would cost her the earth! The best insurance Lin Su could afford had a high deductible and poor coverage.

In short, no matter how you looked at her finances, money was tight. Yet she made too much money to qualify for assistance. County or state assistance was a double-edged sword—it made her feel ashamed to accept it and deprived when she no longer qualified.

It was on nights like this that she spent wakeful hours thinking about the strange journey her life had taken.

Lin Su’s adoptive parents insisted it was not possible for her to remember her early childhood, but that was merely their denial. She remembered some things vividly. She lived with her mother and several other Vietnamese immigrants in the Bronx in an apartment that was so small they literally slept on top of one another. Lin Su’s mother was born in 1965, the daughter of a Vietnamese woman and an American GI, that’s how she managed entry into the United States when she immigrated. A church sponsored many refugees, Lin Su’s mother among them. Lin Su was born in America, her American father unknown. Lin Su’s mother, Nhuong Ng, moved from a refugee camp to New York. And after three years of that, her health failing, she gave Lin Su into adoption.

But Lin Su remembered her mother. At least snippets of her—young, beautiful, sweet. She remembered playing with other children in their small rooms. She remembered her mother’s singing and crying. There was a swatch of cloth—six inches by nine inches—embroidered with silk thread that Lin Su had clung to, her adoptive parents unable to sneak it away from her. Lotus in spring, her mother called it. Eventually she hid it because she knew they wanted to cut her off from her past. She remembered the day she was taken by the man in the suit to a building and given to her parents. Her new mother, Marilyn, brought a dress for her to leave the building in and shoes that hurt her feet. She remembered crying loudly and her new mother yelling at her to stop, and her voice was so brittle and harsh that not only did she stop crying, she stopped talking altogether for a long time. She remembered she spoke a little English and expanding on it came hard but her new family hired a teacher who visited her—they repeated words, read, wrote, cyphered. She was not allowed to speak Vietnamese. They began to call her Lin Su, though her name was actually Huang Chao. For many years she did not understand—they wanted her to have an Asian name but not Huang. Marilyn said it sounded like a grunt, not a pretty name.

They took her identity. She became Lin Su Simmons.

Then one day she was with her new mother in a store and two old Vietnamese women were whispering about her with her white parents, called her a derogatory name indicating she was an orphan no one would take and her parents had adopted her for status, not for her worth. She thought she was about seven at the time. And without thinking or planning, Lin Su had shot back at them in Vietnamese, My mother is a queen and my father is American, you ugly hag!

The women ducked and ran. Marilyn Simmons was mortified and one of her older sisters, a blonde and biological Simmons daughter, laughed hysterically at their mother’s outrage.

Her birth mother had told her, My father is American and your father is American and these men have failed us. Her heritage was lost, but for the scrap of embroidered cloth and two faux-gold coins given to Nhuong by her father.

Lin Su had two sisters—Leigh was ten years older and Karyn was fourteen years older. Since Lin Su was three when she joined that family in their rich Boston home, that made her sisters thirteen and seventeen. They attended boarding school and from the time Lin Su arrived until she departed at the age of eighteen her sisters were merely visitors. Later, Lin Su would attend the same boarding school, a prestigious academy located in the Adirondacks. There were family holidays together, Karyn’s wedding after her graduation from Bryn Mawr, some trips they all took together. But there were also holidays that her parents were abroad or in the islands and Lin Su stayed at school, one of very few students abandoned while most others spent Thanksgiving or Christmas with their families.

She never bonded with her sisters, unsurprisingly. She had liked them, however. She looked up to them and envied their blond hair and amazing style. Lin Su had friends at school—she was quite popular and very smart. But her older sisters were chic and had fabulous taste. They were also complete opposites. Karyn married a man from a rich banking family, divorced him when she was thirty and married a richer man from a more elite family. She had two children she mothered in much the same way Marilyn had mothered—with a nanny. Leigh had not yet married by the time Lin Su left the family, but she had graduated college, done a tour with the Peace Corps and traveled quite a bit. Lin Su often wondered if either of them ever came home to Boston and said, “What? What do you mean she’s pregnant and gone?” But then why would they? They had given no indication they loved her.

It was her senior year at the academy that she began dating Jacob Westermann. Jake was a big, sexy athlete and she adored him. She went with some of her girlfriends to his rugby matches at a neighboring boy’s academy; they went to each other’s dances; they made love on the sly in any private place they could find. He had been her first.

And her last.

Her parents were very firm—she was to terminate the pregnancy and go to college as planned. She had already been accepted by Bryn Mawr, her mother’s alma mater, and Harvard. Her parents’ charity had extended itself to its limit. They were not supporting her while she raised a child with no father. To her shock and horror, Mrs. Westermann was of like mind. These two upper-class women who spent so many hours drumming up money for good causes from crack babies to animal rights would not acknowledge Lin Su and Jake’s baby. Jake was little help. God, I’m sorry—I was careful. I’ll get you some money. You can take care of it.

She had no option but to leave. She looked for work anywhere and finally was hired in a dry cleaning/laundry shop. The owner was Chinese and rented her a room in the back of his house—a converted garage. She worked by day and went to cosmetology school by night and then found a Vietnamese nail shop where she was grudgingly accepted, though her language skills were rusty at best. In retrospect she realized she took that route to spite her parents—she went back to her roots and before Charlie was born she had polished her language skills. Her uppity parents had no idea how women like her, immigrants from a war-torn country, struggled to acclimate in this complicated country.

Though she worked very hard she still had to accept the charity of those people who would help her. She relied on social services and free women’s clinics for medical care for herself and her baby, shared what seemed like a million apartments with other nail technicians, hoarded her money like a miser, shared child care and transportation. By the time Charlie was three she had socked away enough savings to get to a place better for all his allergies and asthma—she moved to Eugene. She worked and went to school, studying nursing, and when Charlie was six she had a degree and a decent job in a hospital. Charlie was getting allergy shots, and while they still struggled with viruses because of his weakened immune system, he fared well. When he was in school, he excelled.

And here she was, sitting at his bedside, asking herself if she’d been the cause of this latest asthma attack. She could do a little better than that shitty trailer park. They were both at risk there, though they’d been lucky so far. Charlie was an expert at avoiding trouble and keeping the door locked. But she lived in fear. Some of those hoodlums in their neighborhood could turn that little fifth wheel on its side if they wanted to. It might be safer to live in the car, except they needed a kitchen, a bathroom with shower, a food source.

She would not leave Charlie home alone again. She would bring him to Winnie’s and make sure they were kept apart as long as Charlie had a cough, even if that cough was benign. And she’d get about the business of finding better lodging. At once.