Her condition had worsened. Because of Dax.
“Room 302, you said?” Dax asked, starting his car. He needed to get to Chattanooga as quickly as possible.
“Yeah. Parkridge Medical Center,” Mr. Reynolds repeated. “You going to see her? Are you supposed to help her cross?”
“No,” Dax said. “I’m not supposed to help her cross-” or he sure hoped he wasn’t “-but I am going to see her.”
“Well, I hope everything goes okay,” he said. “Let us know how she’s doing.”
“I will,” Dax promised, then said goodbye and hung up the phone. Without taking time to second-guess his decision, he pulled out of the hospital parking lot and started toward New Orleans International. If he pushed it, he could be there in forty minutes. Celeste’s life was at stake. Her condition was worsening. What did that mean? And who was with her? Surely she wasn’t alone. Her family would be there, right? Her mother, father and sister. They’d be with her, trying to coax her out of the coma.
He dialed information for the airport numbers. He’d get on the first flight out, to Chattanooga, and to Celeste.
Within fifteen minutes, he’d booked his ticket and had his car soaring in a beeline for the New Orleans airport. He had just enough time to get to the airport, park his car and run to the plane. Security would normally slow him down, but without any luggage or carry-on items, he could make it. He had to get to her before she went to the other side.
Failure wasn’t an option.
16
“PLEASE MAKE SURE your seat is in the upright position and that your seat belt is securely fastened as we prepare for our descent.” The flight attendant’s voice echoed through the cabin.
Dax placed a hand against the cool glass of the window and stared out at the city. Even in the darkness, he could see the dark shadows of mountains surrounding Chattanooga and the grayish clouds that cloaked them all. Smoky Mountains they were called; now he saw why.
A loud click through the PA was followed by the attendant’s voice again. “Local time is 6:30 p.m., and the current temperature is twenty-eight degrees.”
Twenty-eight degrees. Louisiana had been in the mid-seventies. No wonder Celeste had said she didn’t think poinsettias would grow outside. If he’d paid attention, he might have realized that she came from a state with mountains, and cold weather, and probably snow. Definitely not a place where ten-foot poinsettias blanketed the side of a house.
But she’d loved those poinsettias; she’d loved the plantation. If Dax got there in time, and she woke up in the land of the living instead of crossing over, would she want to go back there, with him? And would she want to do more than merely visit?
Would she stay forever?
He thought of those dark eyes, and the way they’d looked when he’d told her he loved her. She didn’t get a chance to respond, but Dax had known she would’ve told him that she felt the same. He could see Celeste beside him, the way Ryan was beside Monique earlier, waiting to receive her first spirit assignment as Celeste Vicknair. She’d get child spirits, like he did, Dax knew. She was good with children. He could see her teaching at one of the local schools, like Nanette, but with younger children. Kindergarten, or first grade. She’d teach the living, and help the ones who’d lost their lives to find their way to their new homes. And the kids would love her, and Dax would love her…always.
If he could keep her on this side.
He exited the plane and darted through the airport, following the signs to the taxis. Then he barreled outside and got in line with a dozen other people who were bundled from head to toe in hats, scarves, gloves, wool coats and boots. They looked at Dax, in his LSU short-sleeved T-shirt and worn jeans, as though he’d lost his mind. And as his body shuddered in the cold, he realized that they were probably right; he’d lost his mind and his heart over Celeste Beauchamp.
“Son, are you okay?” an older man in front of him asked. “Do you-well, do you not own a coat?”
Dax could literally feel the adrenaline pumping through him, the excitement of being this close to Celeste. He’d be with her soon. He was shaking all over-his body’s natural response to the sudden jolt in temperature and his lack of proper clothing-but part of that shivering was due to the sheer shock of realizing that she wasn’t dead, and from hoping that he’d have a chance to keep her from being that way.
“I didn’t pack my coat,” he said honestly, his teeth chattering slightly as he spoke. “I didn’t pack anything. The woman I love was in an accident, and I’m trying to get to her. She’s at Parkridge Medical Center.”
“Goodness, why didn’t you say so?” a woman said at the front of the line. There were no cabs at the curb yet, but one was pulling up, and she hurriedly waved him forward. The driver got out and walked toward her, but she shook her head. “Take him.” She pointed to Dax. “It’s an emergency. He needs to get to Parkridge Medical.”
All of the people in front of Dax nodded their heads approvingly and even patted his back as he moved past them toward the waiting cab. “Good luck, son,” the old man called, and the remainder of the group echoed his sentiment as Dax climbed in.
“Thanks,” he said, his heart filled with emotion, not only for the woman he loved, but for the people so willing to help him get to her.
“Parkridge Medical Center?” the driver asked.
“Yes. Can you tell me how far that is from here? How long will it take us to get there?”
“Fifteen minutes,” he said, then he turned up the heat in the car. “You’re going to freeze here.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Fifteen minutes until he was with Celeste. Dax leaned his head back against the seat, closed his eyes and thanked the powers that be for giving him this chance.
And that’s when he heard it. Faint, but distinct nonetheless. A laugh, no, a giggle. The giggle of a young child. A boy. It’d been a while since he’d had a boy spirit for an assignment; the majority of the children he’d helped lately were girls, but this was most definitely a boy, and while Dax listened, that giggle became louder, as though the child was getting closer…
“No.”
“Something wrong?” the cabbie asked from the front seat, his brown eyes surveying Dax from the mirror. “You’re not the carsick type, are you? Because we’re nearly there.”
“No. I-I just need to make a call. I forgot something, or rather, I forgot about something, at home.” He withdrew his cell phone from his pocket and quickly dialed the plantation.
Nanette answered on the first ring. “Dax? Are you there? Have you seen her?”
He’d called her from the airport and let her know about Celeste. “Yeah, I’m in Chattanooga, but I’m not at the hospital yet, and I need you to check on something for me.”
The cabbie relayed, “Five more minutes.”
“We’re five minutes from the hospital now, but I’ve got a problem.”
“What is it?”
Dax didn’t want to blurt out that he had a ghost on the way, not in front of the cabdriver who seemed to have taken an acute interest in their conversation. Dax could see the guy’s lifted brows in the mirror. “I need you to go to the sitting room and check the tea service for me. I think I may have-left something there.”
The cabbie’s brows furrowed, but he didn’t comment. Nanette, however, did.
“No-you’ve got an assignment?”
“On the way,” Dax said. “I don’t think it’ll be there yet, but it’s coming.”
Nan’s breathing quickened on the other end, and he could hear the sound of her footsteps, as though she was running up the stairs. “Hang on. I’m checking.”
“I usually have a day, but this one seems pretty near, like I might not have so long this time.”