Hutch winced as Nancy finished suturing his leg and then proceeded to bandage it. He’d finally agreed to have his leg attended to after Dr. Tompkins had reported that Starsky was resting comfortably and had even allowed Hutch a brief visit. Hutch had sighed in relief when the doctor said Starsky’s condition was serious but nothing life threatening. Starsky’s cracked ribs and pneumonia would be taken care of with antibiotics, painkillers, and rest. Plenty of rest.
During Hutch’s visit, Starsky had remained asleep, oxygen easing the sounds of his breathing. His bandaged head had been turned to the right, away from Hutch, but even from where he stood, he’d seen the color returning to Starsky’s face. Touching Starsky’s hand and seeing him resting comfortably had been enough for Hutch, at least until Nancy was finished fixing his leg.
Patting Hutch on the knee, Nancy said, “You’re all set, Detective. The doctor will write you a prescription for some antibiotics. I’m going in search of some crutches for you. You should stay off that leg and ankle as much as possible.” Hutch nodded in understanding and watched the blonde nurse leave.
After waiting several minutes, Hutch decided it was time to check on Starsky again. Carefully sliding off the examination table, he pulled up his jeans under the hospital gown Nancy had given him. Then, walking over and slowly opening the door, he checked both directions in case she was returning. He didn’t need another scolding. Hallway clear, he stiffly started down the corridor toward Starsky’s room.
“Hutch!”
Chagrined, Hutch stopped and turned, surprised when it wasn’t Nancy, but Brit with a young man at her side. Something about him was vaguely familiar. “Brit…”
“I need to talk to you, Hutch,” Brit said, obviously uneasy.
“What’s wrong?” Hutch asked, concerned.
“Hutch, this is Rick.” As Hutch extended his hand in greeting, he studied the tall brunet standing uncomfortably in front of him. “Hi, Rick. Pleased to meet you.”
At Rick’s grunted greeting, Hutch turned back toward Brit. “What’s up?”
“Rick and I’ve been talking.” Brit stopped to take a deep breath, then, continuing tenuously, she asked. “Hutch, you know how you said it was a red pickup behind us?” At Hutch’s nod, Brit studied her boots and said softly, “Rick drives a red pickup.”
Hutch stared at Rick, his eyes becoming cold steel. Reaching out and tightly grabbing Rick’s parka, Hutch threw him into the wall. “Where in the hell do you get off—”
“Hutch! Stop!” Brit’s anxious voice and her arms tightly wrapped around his right arm, stopped Hutch before he connected with Rick’s face.
“Give me a chance to explain!” Rick responded angrily, pushing Hutch’s restraining arms away.
His eyes cold and penetrating, Hutch stared at the man in front of him, his left arm balancing menacingly on the wall next to Rick’s shoulder, blocking any escape. Keeping his voice deadly, Hutch warned, “It better be good.”
Flinching under the ice cold blue eyes trained on him, Rick explained, “I went to the coffee shop hoping to talk…to talk to Brit. To tell her I wanted her to stay.” Glancing at Brit, Rick continued, “To tell her…I love her.” The tall blond in front of him hadn’t moved, with the light blue eyes boring into him. Rick swallowed before continuing. “When I got there, I sat at the counter to try and work up enough nerve to go over and talk with her. Next thing I knew, your partner was talking to Brit and I watched what was happening. When Brit left with you, I was furious. She said she was going to an audition.” Looking sheepish, Rick admitted, “I thought she’d been lying to me and that she had a new boyfriend. When you left, I decided to follow.” Hutch hadn’t relaxed his stance, and Rick hurried to apologize. “I just wanted to scare you a little. I…I didn’t want anyone to get hurt. Really, I didn’t. You have to believe me, Detective.”
“You could have killed all three of us! My partner—” Hutch, his anger barely controlled, pointed down the hall toward Starsky’s room. “My partner is lying in that hospital room because of you!”
“I know and I’m sorry. I only wanted to scare you to make you stop. If it makes you feel better, after I bumped your car I lost control and I spun out. I hit a construction barricade and then a tree. I was knocked out for a while, but when I regained consciousness I went down the side looking for you. But the snow had already covered your tire tracks. So I climbed back to the top to find help. It took a while before anyone came by and I could get a ride…you have to believe me.”
“Hutch.” Turning at the sound of Brit’s voice, Hutch felt her hand on his arm. “I’m really sorry. I feel like it’s all my fault.”
Seeing the tears in Brit’s eyes, Hutch felt his anger dissipate and softened his stance. Brit had put herself at risk helping him and Starsky. Sighing, Hutch said, “Go home. Both of you. It’s been a long night.”
Brit kissed Hutch on the cheek and then turned to leave with Rick.
“Detective Hutchinson! What are you doing out here?” Recognizing Nancy’s voice, Hutch realized his quest to visit Starsky had been halted—at least momentarily.
š ›
“Hu-u-t-ch…”
The sound was soft and drowsy, but it woke Hutch instantly. Seeing Starsky awakening, Hutch was instantly at his side, his crutches forgotten against the bed. “Easy. You’re in the hospital, Starsk.” Hutch pushed away a few errant curls from Starsky’s forehead and frowned, still feeling the fever’s heat. The doctor had said it would start going down soon, but it wasn’t happening fast enough to suit him. “Don’t move around too much. The doc says you’ve got a couple of cracked ribs and a mild concussion. To top it off, you have pneumonia as well. Not that I’m surprised, considering how you were dressed.”
“Feel terrible,” Starsky whispered, as he looked at Hutch through half open lids. Brow furrowed, he tentatively began moving his legs, then his arms. It wasn’t until he tried to sit up a little that a cry of pain escaped.
“I said take it easy,” Hutch scolded, resting his hand on Starsky’s shoulder to restrain him. But Starsky sank back onto the bed, already exhausted. “I’ll raise the bed.” Hutch walked to the end of the bed and bent down to turn the handle, raising the bed slightly.
Seeing the crutches leaning against the bed, Starsky thoughtfully watched Hutch return before asking, “Aren’t ya supposed to use those?”
Feeling his face blush, Hutch retorted, “They gave me pain pills; the leg’s fine.”
But, as Hutch sank thankfully into the chair next to the bed, Starsky knew Hutch was lying. “Go get some sleep. I’ll be fine.”
“In a bit,” Hutch agreed, watching Starsky close his eyes.
Starsky lay there, the events of the last twenty-four hours blurring and blending into his dreams, until he finally broke the silence. “Is Christmas over?”
“Nope, still Christmas Eve.”
“Terrific.” Starsky yawned. “Wouldn’t wanna miss Christmas.”
“You won’t miss it.” Hutch smiled and shook his head, amazed that Starsky, the tough street cop, injured and lying in the hospital would still look forward to Christmas.
Starsky frowned. “This is gonna sound pretty funny, Hutch…”
“What’s that?”
“I was dreamin’, I guess.”
“What about?”
“Well.” Starsky studied his feet poking up at the end of the bed, wiggling them around rather than looking at Hutch. “I dreamt …”
“Yeah?” Hutch prodded, beginning to grow impatient, as Starsky hesitated again.
Starsky cleared his throat and rushed through the next few words. “That I got to ride in Santa’s sleigh.”
At Hutch’s laughter, Starsky blushed and turned away.
“Starsk…” Hutch, struggling to get his laughter under control, moved next to the bed. Starsky turned to look at him apprehensively, and Hutch continued, “St. Nick gave us a ride to the hospital.”
“You’re makin’ fun,” Starsky growled, growing angry.
Hutch rushed to reassure his partner. “I’m not, honest. Do you remember Brit leaving for help?” At Starsky’s nod, Hutch continued, “She came back with Nicholas Barnes. Remember him? White hair, beard, red and black plaid coat?” Seeing Starsky’s hesitant look, Hutch went on. “He gave us a ride in his sleigh. The roads were snowed under and it was the only way into town. He brought us here.”
Starsky silently absorbed Hutch’s explanation and then asked, indignantly, “What does that hafta do with Santa?”
“The folks around here refer to Mr. Barnes as St. Nick.” Hutch raised an eyebrow, expectantly.
“So you mean…”
“‘St. Nick’ gave you a ride to the hospital in his sleigh.” Hutch grinned as comprehension stole across Starsky’s face.
Starsky grinned in relief. Suddenly his face became serious. “I’m sorry, Hutch.”
“Sorry? You’ve got nothin’ to be sorry about. It was my—”
“Sorry, ya didn’t get the present you wanted.”
“Present?” Hutch asked, confused.
“Sleepin’ for twenty four hours,” Starsky reminded him, groggily.
“You’re the one who needs to sleep. I’ll sit here a little longer, while Nancy finds me a place to stay.”
“Nancy cute?” Starsky asked, as he closed his eyes and sank deeper into the pillow. It was only a matter of minutes before he was sound asleep.
“You’re in no shape to care.” Hutch chuckled softly, walking over to the window. Staring through the slats of the closed blinds, Hutch was surprised to see the morning sun. Its bright rays revealing a town, covered in glistening snow, coming awake.
Content that Starsky was resting comfortably, Hutch decided it was time to listen to his own tired body. Cupping his cold hands, he blew on them and then slid them into his jean pockets. Feeling something deep in his right pocket, Hutch pulled it out and turned toward the wastebasket. Looking down, Hutch realized it was the foil star he’d stuck in his pocket. Smoothing it out, Hutch smiled, remembering the tiny tree at the cabin decorated with foil ornaments and Dixie cups.
Walking over to be sure Starsky was sleeping peacefully, Hutch brushed back a few unruly curls on Starsky’s forehead and whispered, “Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of time to celebrate Christmas. As for me—I’ve already got the only present I want.”
As he opened the door to leave, Hutch glanced back one last time. Reassured that Starsky was still sleeping soundly, he pulled the door closed behind him, leaving the foil star hanging from the IV stand, dancing in its breeze.