Accidental Encounter

I walked up to her and said, "Sandra?"

Her smile was infectious.

"Yes, I'm Sandra. Are you the police officer who took care of me that night?"

"That would be me. I'm Larry, Larry Hayes."

"Please sit down, Larry. Do you have time for coffee?"

"Yes, I don't go on duty for another hour and a half and the station's only fifteen minutes from here."

Sandra flagged down a waitress and ordered two coffees - cream and sugar for her and just cream for me. As the waitress went to fill our order, Sandra smiled at me again.

"I thought about doing this two weeks ago. That's when they let me come home from the hospital. I couldn't get around very well though, and decided I'd have to wait."

"You really didn't have to do anything. I was just doing my job."

"I know, but I was scared to death that night and you made me feel safe. That's why I had to do this."

"I appreciate this more than you'd think. I don't get thanked very often."

I chuckled.

"That's probably because usually I'm writing somebody a ticket or taking them to jail."

"That's why you were chasing the guy who hit me, isn't it? I read in the paper he was running from the police."

A warning bell went off in my head then. Two years before in a similar accident, the man who'd been hit sued the city. He claimed the officer who was trying to arrest the guy had caused the accident by chasing him, and he wanted payment for loss of wages and also for pain and suffering. The city had won the case, but juries can sometimes be a lot more sympathetic in their thinking. Maybe Sandra was trying to get me to admit I was chasing the guy and that's why she got hit. She didn't seem like the type, though, so I tried to explain.

"I wasn't really chasing him. We don't do that unless it's on the interstate around the city where there's plenty of room to negotiate traffic. I was half a block behind him when he ran the light. I did have my lights and siren on, but that's standard procedure. It's as much to alert other drivers as anything. I had other cars on the way, so we'd have just boxed him in and made him stop if he hadn't run the light."

"He must have had a reason."

"Yeah, he did. He had a bunch of drugs and guns in the car. It was stupid because we'd have caught him anyway, but I guess you don't have to be very smart to be a drug dealer."

Sandra looked at me and smiled.

"You're frowning. I didn't mean to drag our conversation down like that. What do you do when you're not saving women in car accidents or arresting bad guys?"

"Oh, the usual stuff, I guess. I have a boat and I do some fishing in the summer."

"My dad used to take me fishing but I haven't been in ages. I did like it though. Does your wife go with you?"

"No, I don't have a wife."

"A girlfriend then, maybe?"

I shook my head.

"No, no girlfriend either."

Sandra looked at me and grinned.

"You're not gay, are you?"

I laughed.

"No. I'm not gay. I'm just not looking for a woman."

"Why not?"

"Well, I kind of like my life like it is right now. Besides, not many women could live with the fact their husband might not come home from work some day. I've seen too many cops get divorced because of that."

Sandra smiled.

"Maybe you'll find one who can. You never know."

Sandra looked at her watch.

"It's two thirty. I should probably let you go. It'll take me a while to get a cab anyway and there's no sense in you waiting with me."

I'd started to like talking with Sandra and I wasn't ready to stop. After years of dealing with people, it's become relatively easy to figure out what type of person I'm talking to. Sandra seemed to be intelligent, and she was definitely not shy. I liked both things.

"Where do you live? If you're not too far away I have time to drop you off."

"Why would you do that?"

"Well, I always know how things turn out when I give somebody a ticket or arrest them. I don't usually get to see the people I've just helped in some way. It makes me happy to see that you're recovering, and I thought I'd save you cab fare."

Sandra smiled.

"I'd never turn down a chance to save money. I'm spending a fortune on cabs."

Getting Sandra into my car was interesting. I held open the passenger side front door for her but she shook her head.

"I'll never get my cast in there. In a cab, I usually just sit in the back with both legs stretched out."

I closed the front door and opened the rear. Sandra hobbled over until she was facing away from the car and then sat down. She handed me her crutches and then scooted over the seat until she was inside. Then, she lowered her cast to the floor and buckled the harness.

"There. That's what seems to work best."

I put her crutches on the floor, closed the door, and then got in behind the wheel. Sandra gave me the address of her house.

As it turned out, her house was only six blocks from the coffee shop, so I didn't need to hurry. A few minutes later, I pulled into her drive, got out, and opened the door for her.

Watching Sandra get out of my car was more fun than watching her get in. She scooted across the seat again, but this time, her long dress stayed put. As she worked her way over the seat, that dress rode up the slender calf of her bare leg, then the knee, and then the start of her thigh.

Sandra saw me staring and pulled her dress back down.

"Sorry. I keep flashing the cab drivers too. All I can get on over this cast is a dress, and they ride up when I try to slide over the seat."

"That's OK. Give me your hand and I'll help you out."

Sandra stood on her good leg while I pulled her crutches out of my car. Once she had them under her arms, she smiled at me.

"Larry, thank you so much for everything."

"That's what I get paid for. There's no need to thank me."

"You don't get paid for taking me home. I can thank you for that, can't I?"

"OK, I suppose you can thank me for that."

"Can you hold my crutches again for a second? I need to do something."

I'd just taken her crutches when Sandra put her hands on my shoulders and kissed me on the cheek.

She grinned.

"There. Thank you. You can give me my crutches back now."

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That kiss on the cheek made me think about if my life was really like I wanted it to be. I'd lived by myself for a lot of years and I'd gotten used to being alone, but I'd lied to Sandra about women. There had been several over the years.

When I was first out of the academy, some young girls seemed thrilled by the uniform. I dated a few and a couple got to the stage of being serious. Later on, there had been a couple more I'd gladly have lived my life with, but it seemed like something always happened to end the relationship before I got to the point of proposing.

When a cop is at the scene of an accident or a crime, he can't look at his watch and realize it's time to clock out and go home. He stays until the job is done unless he's relieved by another officer. We also don't always have time to call and explain why we're going to be late.

After I showed up two or three hours late for a date, the women decided waiting for a cop to come home and hoping this wasn't the time he wouldn't was something they'd rather not do. We always parted friends, but we still parted. At the age of thirty-three, I decided that's just how life was and stopped looking.

Sandra had brought back the thoughts of having someone to talk with besides other officers. Sandra seemed to like me and she was safe in that she liked me because of what I'd done for her. It wasn't likely we'd ever be closer than friends, but it would be nice to have a friend like her. I pulled one of my business cards from my breast pocket, wrote my personal cell phone number on the back and handed it to her.

"Sandra, there's no use in you calling a cab if you need to go somewhere. If you need to do something, just call the number on the back. I'm usually up by eight in the morning, and I don't have to be to work until three or so."

Sandra grinned.

"I might just take you up on that."

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She did call me three days later and asked if I could take her to the grocery store. Half an hour later, she was sitting in my back seat. At the grocery store, I pushed the shopping cart and pulled things from the shelves as she hobbled along and pointed them out. When we got back to her house, I carried everything inside. Sandra was all thanks.

"Larry, you made this so easy. You wouldn't believe how hard it was when I went by myself. The cab driver would load everything in his trunk and carry it to the door for me, but I had to ride around in one of those scooter things at the store and the baskets don't hold much. I had to go back twice a week. Can I make you a cup of coffee to thank you?"

The next three weeks were about the same. I'd take Sandra to the grocery store and push the cart, then take her home and take everything inside for her. She'd make a pot of coffee and I'd spend half an hour talking with her. I found out she worked in sales for one of the medical supply houses in town. I also found out she'd been married once. She didn't say why she wasn't still married and I didn't ask.

By the sixth week I was looking forward to her trips to the grocery store. After we'd talked a little about her neighbors and mine, she said something that made my heart sink.

"I never asked you to take me to the doctor because my appointments are always after three. I went on Monday and he said he'd take my cast off next week. I'll still have to do some rehab because that leg isn't as strong now, and I still have to get another car, but I won't have to trouble you to take me shopping again for more than another couple weeks or so."

"Taking you shopping isn't any trouble. I was sorta getting to like it."

Sandra smiled.

"You've been so nice about it, but I must be taking you away from something you'd rather be doing."

"No, really, it's not."

"Well, I'm happy you feel that way, but it's time I started being independent again. Having to rely on someone is something I've never had to do before and I don't like it. Can you understand that?"

I did understand. I didn't like it, but I did understand. If the shoe had been on the other foot, I'd have been doing everything I could to get back control of my life.

I nodded.

"I do. Just remember if you need me, all you have to do is call."

Sandra did get her cast off the next week, and a week later I took her shopping for another car. She found one she liked and could afford with the insurance money from the accident. She drove herself home that day. I drove back to my own house and moped around until the start of my shift.

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Three days later, I was driving my normal patrol route and had just merged into the right lane of a four-lane parkway that runs through the city. I saw a car about half a mile ahead sitting in the breakdown lane with the emergency lights flashing. I flipped on my lights and pulled in behind the car. When I got out of the patrol car to find out the problem, two cars whizzed past in the inside lane. It was about five thirty. The downtown office workers were heading out to the suburbs for the evening and they couldn't get there fast enough.

One would think a patrol car sitting in the breakdown lane with all the blue and white lights flashing would tell drivers to slow down and change lanes. Evidently the guy in the pickup truck was in a hurry and didn't think he needed to. As I walked up beside the car, the guy inside yelled, "Look out." A second later, the pickup clipped me and sent me rolling down the highway.

Things went black on me for a few seconds. When I woke up, it hurt to breathe, and when I say it hurt, I mean breathing brought tears to my eyes. The guy in the car ran up to me then.

"I called 911. I think you should probably not move until they get here."

It wasn't like I could move anyway, so I did just as he said. I saw the guy standing beside his car and waving at the oncoming traffic to get them to change lanes. After that, I blacked out again.

I woke up that time in the EMT truck on the way to the hospital. I recognized Jamie, a cute little blonde EMT I'd worked with before. She was smiling at me.

"Hi Larry. It's good to have you awake again. I hate it when my dates go to sleep on me...well, not on me, on me, but you know what I mean."

It still hurt to breathe, and when I inhaled enough I could talk, I gasped. Jamie patted my arm.

"Just take small breaths. It won't hurt as much that way."

"How bad?"

Jamie's face turned serious.

"Nothing that'll probably kill you, but I think you have at least some broken ribs and a broken leg. You'll be fine, but you won't be chasing anybody for a few months. Now, just lay still. We're only a block away from St. Mary's."

I found out St. Mary's has a great ER. It was painful being bounced around on the gurney when they wheeled me from the EMT's truck into an examining room, but once I was there, they were all business.

A male nurse cut off my uniform so the doctor could examine me. In the background I heard another nurse calling out my vitals.

"Pulse -- eighty five, BP -- one thirty over seventy."

Jamie had explained what she'd found when she examined me, so the doctor started feeling my chest.

"Breathe in as deep as you can."

I tried, but the stabbing pain in my right side made me gasp. The doctor carefully felt over my ribs.

"Again, please."

I breathed in again. It hurt just as bad that time. The doctor stopped pressing on my ribs then.

"Eight and ten are broken. I think six is just cracked. Once we take a look at your leg, we'll send you for an MRI to make sure that's all that happened. You don't have any implants, a pacemaker, or anything metal in you, do you?"

I said only the fillings in my teeth.

"Good. Now let's look at that leg."

I suppose it was because my chest hurt so bad I hadn't thought much about my leg hurting. As soon as the doctor touched it, the pain hit me. He stopped touching my leg.

"I think the femur is broken, but we'll do an X-ray to make sure. I'll give you something for the pain so you'll be able to lie still. It won't kill it because I can't inhibit your breathing, but it'll make it a little more bearable."

Six hours later, I came to in a recovery room. It didn't hurt quite as much to breathe for some reason. My leg hurt like a bitch. A few minutes later, a nurse walked into the room.

"You're awake. Good. You just lie still, OK? I'll be right back with your meds."

She came back with a paper cup of water in one hand and a little paper cup with three pills in the other. She smiled when I swallowed the pills.

"These are as strong as the doctor could prescribe without giving you an opiate. They're stronger than what you'd buy at the drugstore, and they'll do a better job with the pain."

The water with the pills had fixed my dry throat a little, but my voice was still a croak. After looking at the X-ray of my leg, the doctor had told me he was going to put a rod in the bone to hold it in position. I wanted to know for sure.

"What did they do?"

She smiled.

"The surgeon will be in to explain that in a couple more hours, but he put a rod in your femur to keep everything aligned."

"What about my ribs?"

"You have three broken ribs, but they'll heal on their own. You just have to keep breathing as deeply as you can. The doctor will be in this afternoon to tell you about that."

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That first day seemed to go on forever. I did sleep some, but the pain in my chest kept waking me up. I got more pills to swallow and that helped. I also talked with both the surgeon who worked on my leg and the doctor who'd seen me in the ER.

The ER doctor explained that he couldn't do anything for my ribs except leave them alone. If he'd wrapped them or restricted their movement, it would have relieved the pain a little, but there would be a risk of me developing pneumonia or some other lung problem. He told me the pain would gradually go away.

The surgeon's explanation was better in one way and worse in another. The rod in my leg was screwed in place and I'd have it for the rest of my life. The good part was I'd probably be able to use that leg sooner than if I'd just had a cast. The bad part was it would probably take me six months to heal. I'd have to start walking with a walker at first so I didn't put much of my weight on that leg. After some physical therapy and some time with the walker and then crutches, I'd still be using a cane for a couple of months.

A little after noon, they put me on a gurney and took me to a regular room. The man in the other bed was about seventy and had undergone a hip replacement. He didn't seem to be in much pain and was happy as a lark. I wasn't happy and it hurt to breathe. We didn't talk much because I didn't want to talk to anybody. I told the nurse who brought my dinner that I didn't want any visitors.

I'm not sure how he talked his way in, but Bert Johnson, the Shift Captain, came in a little after I'd eaten what the hospital called dinner. He brought me a card signed by all the officers who worked the three to eleven shift and the news they'd caught the guy who hit me.

"The guy you were trying to help got the last three numbers off the license plate. Julie searched the database for all license plates with those numbers and found three pickups. His was the second one we checked out. He had his truck at a body shop getting the right fender straightened out and repainted.

"He said he didn't see the police car or you and thought he'd hit a dog or something. When we pointed out your engine was running and all your lights were flashing when we got there, and that the guy you were trying to help got his license number, he finally owned up. He's looking at six months in jail, a thousand dollar fine, and he'll probably lose his license.

"Oh, by the way, there's a woman downstairs that wants to see you. Apparently the desk told her you weren't receiving visitors. When I walked in, she saw my uniform and asked if I was here to see you. I said I was. She said you'd recognize her name and might let her come up. It's Sandra Owens. If you want to see her, I'll tell the girl at the desk."

I hadn't really wanted to see anybody for a while because I don't like people feeling sorry for me. When I thought about Sandra, though, I knew she might understand that feeling.

"Yes, tell them I'd like to see her."

After telling me to do what the doctor told me to so I could get back to work, Bert left. Sandra came up about ten minutes later. She was smiling when she walked up to the side of the bed.

"I know this is a stupid question, but how are you feeling?"

"Well, it hurts to breathe and my leg hurts almost as much. Other than that, I'm fine, pretty bored but fine."

"I read about your accident in the paper. It didn't say how badly you were hurt, only that you were hit by a truck. What did happen?"

I went through a brief explanation of that night and told Sandra I had three broken ribs and about the rod in my leg. She frowned.

"No wonder it hurts to breathe. I don't know about broken ribs, but I do know about a broken leg, remember? It'll get better in a couple days or so. Are they giving you any pain medication?"

"Yeah, basically some stuff that's like you'd buy for a muscle ache only stronger, or so the nurse told me."

"That's what they gave me too. It helps a lot."

I had to ask the question that had been bugging me since Bert said she was downstairs.

"Sandra, how did you find me."

She grinned.

"I told you I work in medical supply sales, didn't I? I know most of the desk people in the local hospitals and doctor's offices because I make sales calls to them. I just started calling hospitals until I found you were in St. Mary's."

"Why would any hospital give you that information? They're not supposed to."