The hospital is bustling with a swift flow of people and the only difference between the hospital and Christmas crowd for Ashton is here she is face to face with adults; at least the ones lying on gurneys. Desperately holding onto her mother’s purse strap, she skips and jogs to keep up with her until they reach the large desk inside. The nurse receptionist holds up one finger when she sees them, and finishes the call she is on. While her mother speaks with the nurse, Ashton finds herself watching a mother with a baby on her lap. She’s bouncing the girl up and down joyfully while the little girl giggles. Ashton feels a burning in her pants pocket and puts her hand inside to feel it. As she does, the baby begins to choke and the alarmed mother turns the baby over to her tummy and begins to massage her back in a haphazard manner. The nurse behind the desk stands up to rush over to the mother as she points down the hall for Courtney, “Go to where the sign above the door says ‘waiting parents’ and we’ll call you when the doctor is ready.”
As they enter the room with dim lights and a television flashing in the corner, it’s like going to another quieter world. No one is here as Courtney flops into a chair and begins staring at the television set that is on a corner shelf above the chairs. Ashton can tell it is a commercial, even though the silent words scanning the screen happen much too quickly for her to read, because everyone is happy and there’s a phone number at the bottom. Whenever this combination happens, she knows it is people inviting others to spend money so they can be happy doing what they suggest.
As Ashton tries to read the actors lips, in order to determine why they are so happy, Courtney is lost in thought. There had to have been signs she missed, somewhere. The door swings open, allowing some of the rumpus and disorderly noise to enter for a brief moment but Courtney doesn’t flinch. On the other hand, Ashton leaps from her seat and across the room in one bound, “Aunt Chantal!”
“Hey, munchkin!” Chantal exclaims, scooping her up and spinning around once. Ashton’s ponytails bounce up behind her, “You keeping your mommy focused, baby?”
Chantal sets her niece back down, as she receives a nod and smile of appreciation, and takes a seat next to Courtney in the chairs that are all attached together. The two of them have been through rough times, but through all of them, she’s never seen her sister worse off than she is now, including her ugly and tasteless divorce. Her ex brought a whole new meaning to the word ‘divorce’ and made it seem more like a healthy amputation.
Giles enters, scanning the room as if taking inventory, “Wow, not a whole lot to keep a little one entertained, is there?” Ashton giggles and runs over to Chantal, taking the seat next to her, peeking around to get a shy glimpse of Giles. “Perhaps they’re afraid if it’s too fun people will be hanging out here all the time, as if their food couldn’t do it alone.”
“Has the doctor said anything yet?” Chantal frowns at him and pulls Courtney to her shoulder where she can smell the strawberry shampoo her sister has used since they were little girls together.
“No,” she sobs, “Nobody has come in, but we haven’t been here that long.” Chantal squints her eyes at Giles who shrugs his shoulders. He walks to the other side of the room and eyes the magazines for something to read from this decade, besides Woman’s Day.
“You called me nearly an hour ago,” Chantal explains as her sister sits up and looks at her disbelievingly.
“An hour?” her face twists up in confusion.
“Yes, hasn’t it been about an hour, Giles?” she calls to her friend sitting beneath the television where Ashton is showing him something. “Took us nearly half an hour to speak to someone at the front desk.”
“Yes, yes it’s been about an hour,” but he isn’t really listening, “Time flies when you’re having fun.” The women look at each other as what he said was out of context, but they see he’s preoccupied in keeping Ashton entertained.
Although the women’s conversation may seem important, what Ashton is showing him is even more important; a gold compass. He also knows that having that gold compass in the wrong hands right now could be detrimental to humanity, as he knows it. “Can I see what you have?” he quietly asks her barely above a whisper, as he extends his hand, his long fingers seem huge to her.
It’s obvious she is apprehensive at first as she clutches the apparatus between her hands, peering up at him over a turned down chin. “It doesn’t really belong to me, so I…” her eyes search his face, “I’m going to give it to my brother. Did he steal it?”
“No, he didn’t steal it, but he’s the one who had it last, isn’t he?”
“Is he going to get in trouble?” she questions him, but she can tell by the look on his face her big brother is already in a lot of trouble!
Breaking Chase (a novel) 