Part 3
Maya stood in the doorway of the lab enjoying the view of her team, who worked diligently in their hairnets, lab coats, gloves and masks. In spite of the uncomfortable getups and tortuously long hours she hadn't heard a whisper of a complaint. She felt her chest fill with pride and her heart with affection for each and every one.
Danny turned to see his boss and signaled her over. "Dr. Preston, I think we have a crime victim here."
Maya frowned and looked carefully over the skull that was still intact. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and hit speed dial.
"Frank, we have a homicide among our Katrina victims. I think we'll return this one to your office."
"Sorry about that, Maya. There are rumors that some of the looters were shot and their bodies tossed into the waters. We have found others. Try to ID the remains and send them back to me with a notation as to cause of death. I'd really appreciate it."
"Ok, Frank. . . Later." Maya closed her cell phone and continued with the identification process.
. . .
The team ate lunch in the hospital cafeteria and hurried back to their work. They were still as excited about what they were trying to accomplish as they had been in the beginning.
Samuel brought out victim #3080. The body bag was unusually light and appeared to be empty. He carefully unzipped it and exposed the interior.
"Danny, all we have is bits of bone, part of a mandible and maybe a bit more pieces of the skull. I think it's a small child."
Danny retrieved the remains for tissue samples and DNA, but there was so little left he knew his task would be nearly insurmountable. He didn't want to drop another ID into Dr. Preston's lap, but was too unsure of his own abilities to tackle it himself.
"Dr. Preston. I have a difficult ID. . ."
Maya glared at him. "So . . ."
Danny felt very self-conscious. "It's a child, just bits and pieces of bone and part of a jaw. I'm not qualified to process this one."
"Bring the remains to my station." Maya stated and braced herself for what she knew would be a long and frustrating afternoon.
. . .
"What have you been working on for so long?" Camille inquired after she'd posted all of the day's results into the computer and sent the information on to the Coroner's office in New Orleans.
Maya removed her mask and protective goggles then rubbed her tired eyes. "It's #3080. I have estimated the age based on the lack of 2nd molars at approximately 5 to 6 years old. The only semi-complete facial bone is the mandible. It appears to be rounded, not pointed. Probably the child is a male. There may be enough of a DNA sample in the marrow of the bone and the spongy material of the teeth to process. But, my eyes are crossing."
"I can take over from here." Camille offered.
Maya smiled up into Camille's lovely green eyes. "Thanks. But, you've been at it all day, too."
"Someone back home is praying for their child. If I can give them closure, it's what I need to do." The pretty blonde smiled wanly.
"I understand. You get the samples and I'll prepare the tests." Maya got up and stretched and reset her mask and goggles.
"You got it." Camille retrieved the utensils she needed and got started.
. . .
The women worked until 11 p.m. trying every angle they could to configure the basic structure of the male child's skull. It was an arduous task with mostly chips, pieces and parts. But, based upon the mandible, they were able to decide the dimensions of the jaw and cheeks, but they needed to wait for the results of the DNA tests to finish their re-creation. Race would be a critical piece of the puzzle.
They carefully put the remains in baggies, labeled and set them aside until the DNA results could be obtained.
"I need to get outta here." Camille stated.
"I'll give you a lift home." Maya offered as she retrieved her purse and walked out of the building, her body on auto-drive.
"Take me dancing." Camille said.
Maya thought she'd heard wrong.
"Did you just tell me to take you dancing?" Maya turned toward the smaller woman, a dumbfounded look on her tired face.
"I mean, take me dancing, please."
"Are you out of your mind? We've been working in that lab for nearly 16 hours. And, you want to go dancing?" Maya shook her head and headed for her car.
"No, Maya, don't. . . Please, I need to get away from here. . . not just here. . ." Camille waved her hand toward the hospital. "but, here." She held her hands on her head. "Please."
Maya looked into her friend's eyes. What she saw there pulled at her heart strings. Deep green pools of misery and desperation looked back at her.
The tall, exhausted woman shook her head and resigned herself to an hour of barely breathable air and deafening music. "Ok. But only for an hour."
Camille's face brightened and she impulsively hugged the older woman. "Thank you, thank you."
. . .
Maya was having a wonderful time, in spite of herself. The friends danced every dance as the music pounded in their ears and resonated in their chests. They were hot and sweaty and couldn't hear each other speak, so decided to find a table and have something cold to drink to catch their breaths.
As the women enjoyed their wine coolers, the music suddenly changed. Apparently the bar had an oldies hour from midnight to closing at 1 a.m.
Maya grinned at Camille when her favorite old Platters' tune, "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes", wafted over the sound system. She stood and held out a long, elegant hand. "Dance with me?"
Camille found it hard to catch her breath as she stood and floated into the older woman's arms. They moved gracefully across the floor. They both felt it. It was sudden warmth that originated in their hearts and radiated to parts south. Their hands caressed each other's arms and slipped around to the small of their backs and the flare of swaying hips.
Maya gently rubbed her cheek against soft blonde hair and breathed in her scent. Camille pressed her nose into her partner's cleavage and imagined them together.
Their bliss was abruptly disturbed by the comical turn of "I Put a Spell on You", by Nina Simone. Camille gave the object of her desire a coy look as she danced away and beckoned to be followed around the dance floor, getting her friend to laugh out loud at her flirtatious antics.
Maya was about to grab Camille around the waist and insist they leave before they get too carried away when the rhythm of "Rockin Robin", by Robby Day, drew her into a delightfully athletic jitter-bug. She called out to her partner, "Where did you learn to jitter-bug?" But, Camille couldn't hear her over the music.
"What?" Camille yelled back. Her partner gave up and just enjoyed the syncopated movements of the dance.
Camille fell into Maya's arms when the song was over, out of breath and deliriously happy. The older woman nudged her toward the door and they both escaped into the fresh air and quiet of the night.
Maya leaned against the brick wall, bent over at the waist, obviously having trouble catching her breath.
Camille laughed and leaned on the wall next to her. "You're getting old, girl."
"I think you'd better drive. . ." She stopped to take a shaky breath. "mmme to the hospital." Maya straightened up a bit and Camille could see the whiteness of her skin and the sweat pouring off of her face.
"God! Are you all right?" Camille tried to look into pained blue eyes.
Maya rubbed her left arm and grimaced. "I don't think so."
Camille took immediate action. She ran to get the car and backed it all the way down the block to pick up her friend. She jumped out of the car and slipped under Maya's arm to help her to the car. The older woman let out a loud groan and fell to her knees in agony.
"I'll call 911." Camille stated.
"No time. We're closer to the hospital. We'll get their before they do. Help me up." Maya struggled to her feet with Camille's help and slipped into the passenger seat of the car.
Camille dived into the front seat and took off with the emergency lights on.
"My purse. Pills in my purse." Maya stated, pointing to her purse.
Camille dug for the pill bottle. "How many?"
Maya held up one finger and squeezed her eyes shut as she tried not to throw up the meager contents of her stomach.
Camille fumbled with the bottle, spilling most of the contents onto the floor board, but managed to hold onto one and forced it into her friend's mouth. Who proceeded to move it under her tongue.
The younger woman returned her concentration to the road and reached the hospital in less than ten minutes, but it seemed like hours.
She ran into the emergency room, screaming for help and identifying herself and her friend as employees of the hospital.
A nurse hurried to the obviously distressed woman. Camille grabbed her by the shoulders and tried her best to make sense. "Dr. Preston", she pointed toward the car, "heart attack."
The nurse turned to run into an examining room and grabbed a gurney and a frazzled intern, then hurried out to the car to retrieve their patient.
"What can you tell me?" The nurse asked Camille as they helped Maya onto the gurney.
"I can answer your questions." Maya stated through clenched teeth. "Bad heart valves. Call Dr. Joseph Herman. He knows me. No allergies. Take nitroglycerin sublingual and Lasix. Need valve replacement. Need pain meds. Oh God, need to . . ," Before the ailing woman could warn the nurse, she curled onto her side and threw up.
"Contact the cardiologist on call, then call Dr. Herman's service and tell them we have the infamous Dr. Maya Preston. Miss, you'll have to wait outside the curtain." The nurse and intern had been joined by two other people in white uniforms.
"I'm Dr. Camille Geaux." Camille shouted at the nurse.
"Are you her attending physician?" The imposing woman in white demanded.
"No. . . I am a forensic anthropologist. I work . . ." Before Camille could complete her sentence the curtain was pulled shut and she was left to have a seat in the waiting room.
. . .
It was nearly 45 minutes before an older man, unshaven, in a wrinkled lab coat, called her name.
"I'm Camille Geaux. How is Dr. Preston?"
"She's not doing well. I'm Joe Herman, Maya's cardiologist. Not a rewarding job to have. Maya suffers from advanced aortic stenosis. Do you know what that is?"
Camille gave him a blank look and shook her head.
"The aortic valve in her heart is calcifying, restricting the blood flow. She's known about this condition at least since her father died of the same condition. She should have had a valve replacement a year ago, but she refused. Frankly, I don't think she cared if she lived or died then. Hopefully, we can change her mind. If she doesn't have the valve replacement within the next 12 hours, the chances of survival are bleak."
"What if she has the surgery?" Camille held her breath.
"Honestly, I can't be certain until I get in there. I feel reasonably certain, however, that she is strong enough to survive the surgery, barring complications. She'll need physical rehabilitation for some weeks. I'll see if her insurance will cover a rehab, in-patient facility."
"No." Camille blurted.
"No?"
"I mean. I'll take care of her at her home . . . if she'll let me."
"Excellent. Now all we have to do is convince the good doctor to have the procedure. Shall we?" The older physician gave a gallant sweep of his arm toward the cubicle containing the resting patient.
. . .
The nurse who'd been hovering over the patient, monitoring her blood pressure, IV's and urine output, moved aside so the doctor and the small blonde could speak to her more privately.
Camille moistened a cloth then gently wiped her friend's sweaty brow. Maya's eyelids fluttered as she attempted to focus her deep blue eyes on the vision before her.
"Hi there, Twinkle-toes." Camille smiled at her friend.
Maya licked her dry lips and Camille lightly patted them with the damp cloth.
"How are you feeling, doctor?" Dr. Herman asked.
Dr. Preston tried to clear the cobwebs of the pain medication. "Better."
"Good. Now that we've gotten past the pleasantries how about we discuss your little heart valve problem." Dr. Herman took off his stethoscope and listened to his patient's heart sounds. "It's not getting any better Maya. You need a valve replacement and you need it now."
Maya looked back and forth between her physician and her friend.
"Maya, Dr. Herman has filled me in. I didn't know how sick you are or I would never have demanded you take me dancing." Camille's eyes burned with unshed tears.
"Not your fault." Maya whispered and squeezed the distressed little woman's hand.
"Are you going to consent to the surgery you need to get better?" Camille asked with a worried look on her face.
"I don't know.."
"If you don't, Dr. Herman says you'll die . . . maybe tonight." She paused to get her emotions under control. "Please, Maya, have the surgery. I need you." Her voice caught as she gave into her tears.
"You don't need me, Camille. You are just as good as me at your job. You might even be better."
"I'm not talking about the damn job. I mean
I need you. You care for me. I know you do. I couldn't be wrong about this. Please, I've lost my family too. You're all I have.
Please, don't leave me alone. . ." Camille held her friend's hand to her lips and kissed it. "Please, Maya, I love you."
Maya lay there taking in all that Camille was saying while her own emotions became clear to her. For the first time since Katrina she wanted to live. That night she felt real joy, maybe even love. . ."
"I don't know . . ." Maya was trying to wrap her weary mind around her situation and how her life was about to change.
"Do it. Don't be afraid. I'll be here. I'll take care of you until you are strong again." Camille was hopeful.
"Then what?" Maya sighed. She'd be alone again. So, why put her self through it.
"Then, we start making a life together. . . if you're willing to give us a chance. . . I am."
Maya looked deeply into tear-filled eyes. "You are?" She squinted to focus her blurry vision.
Camille smiled and nodded her head. "Yeah. I am. How about you?"
Maya realized she really wanted to give them a try but feared what she'd have to go through to have a chance at the life Camille offered. Tears sprung to her eyes and the fear shone through.
"I'm scared." She whispered.
"I know. Trust me, Maya. We can do it . . . together." Camille leaned over and kissed her love's lips.
"Where do I sign?" Maya tried to lighten the mood.
"I'll have the nurse bring you the consent forms." Dr. Herman stated.
"And, a DNR." Maya demanded.
"What's that?" Camille looked between her love and the physician.
Dr. Herman nodded his head. "It means "Do Not Resuscitate." If we are not able to save Maya, intact, we must not use extraordinary means to prolong her suffering."
Camille choked on the sudden lump in her throat. "Is that really necessary?"
Maya looked her straight in the eye. "It is to me. No DNR . . . No consent forms."
"Then, let's get those forms and the DNR." Dr. Herman instructed the nurse and she quickly exited the room.
To Be Continued in part 4 of IDENTITY
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