Date: Tue, 21 Aug 2018 18:03:57 +0000 (UTC) From: Simon8 Mohr Subject: The Schuyler Fortune V:Rose Down, Rose Home-6 This fictional story eventually includes descriptions of sex between adult males. If you are a minor or if this material is illegal where you live, do not read this story. Go away. If this material offends you, do not read it. Go away. Please donate to Nifty to support their efforts to provide these stories. Remember that authors depend on feedback for improvement and encouragement. All rights reserved. The Schuyler Fortune V: Rose Down, Rose Home-6 The Mayor thanked me for what I offered to him over the phone, a wire to cover the expenses of the extra police hours that day in the City. I told him I would rather that my name be left out of it and that he claim credit for the donation. The Schuyler trust had the wire ready within the hour and off to the New York Police Department. When Marcus got home, I gave him the look, the one that says, "I've had it for this day already, I need a hug". Which hug he was kind enough to provide in our shower under warm water right after we soaped each other down and fooled around some. When Rainier landed at Teterboro early that awful morning, the limousines and security vans were parked at the Schuyler hangar. Carol disembarked and walked back and forth in the hangar to stretch and exercise, took a baby aspirin to help prevent leg clots and drank some bottled water. Michael and Marcus hustled up to the Gulfstream and their luggage was loaded while the process of refueling, servicing and provisioning was coming to an end. Carol got back on the jet and strapped in. A new set of rested pilots and another cabin crew had boarded already, and passenger service began immediately. The trust catering department had restocked food, beverage and clean service items along with flowers. Marcus brought the chocolate. Frankfurt gave permission for the landing slot, which they labeled `priority'. Rainier was also given priority at Teterboro Executive airport for departure, as usual, and quickly swept down the wet runway. The jet screamed upward at what seemed to be an impossible angle, engines still warm and eager from the cross-country trip an hour ago. They would get a workout that day. The pilots were directed to a place in the eastbound Atlantic air route for Frankfurt by air traffic controllers, a slot at 41,000 feet with no particular speed limit. At that altitude the weather was clear. The jet-stream helped push them along. Michael was somber, Marcus said little. The tv monitors after takeoff had little more to add to what they already knew. Carol, anxious, wasn't putting up with that. She picked up the telephone in Rainier and asked the operator to connect her to the Secretary of the Air Force. She answered and after a short conversation, Carol realized the Secretary had little more to give her, but she confirmed the arrival of Air Force One at Ramstein Air Base. Michael noted the conversation, the frustration, and acted. He picked up the phone and asked to be connected to another friend from Grinnell College, who had studied language and Political Science, then married a lovely German girl in Europe and now worked for one of Germany's largest industries. Minutes later, Michael had reached his friend, who spoke with the CEO of that company who then called the Chancellor and asked for any courtesy that might be extended from the German government. Telephone numbers for Michael and Carol were left with the Chancellor's office. Deep in the Reichstag in a beautifully appointed formal office, a telephone was lifted, a button pushed, and a voice answered. "Let us see what we might do for Barbara's family. They are inbound, as you know, to Frankfurt. Danke schoën." The conversation was not a request. There was no need for a reply. Carol's next move was a call to the Directors of the Pergamon and Gemäldegalerie Museums in Berlin, both good friends over the years, asking for any help they might extend. The Director at the Pergamon extended his sympathy to Carol and immediately offered his vacation estate for their use in the district of Kaiserslautern not far from Landstuhl. Carol thanked him and accepted his kind offer. At the Gemäldegalerie, the director was out and a message left. Helicopter service was offered by the German government soon after for transportation to the Kaiserslautern estate. She marveled again at German efficiency and ability to cut through red tape. She idly wondered if Washington D.C. had a similar emergency office to do the same for visitors from abroad, using as many agencies as needed. Carol made a note to get back to that idea later. After forcing herself and encouraging her family to eat, they arrived in Frankfurt in cold rain and fog. A short helicopter trip brought them all directly to the estate. She telephoned Barbara again and this time her tired daughter told her that Jack was expected to live but was damaged and not responding normally to sedation. The initial trauma evaluation had taken hours. The Chief of Trauma on the post headed a team, which included not only the excellent Army physicians, psychiatrists, social workers, nurses and many others, but had also included the German Chief of Psychiatric Trauma from Army Hospital Berlin. Vital signs, IV lines, review of his known medical history, a physical exam with a complete head and body MRI in an open unit, head, chest, abdominal and limb x-ray series were done in the stabilization unit. These studies were read as they were finished by the Chief of Radiology. Lab tests including blood type, cross-match for 4 units of whole blood, 4 units fresh frozen plasma, complete CBC and blood chemistries, bleeding and detailed coagulation studies with fibrinogen and FSP baselines were drawn, urinalysis, skin, throat and urine cultures were collected with sensitivities if growth was detected, neurological consultation, psychiatric consultation and both plastic surgery and dermatology consults of his burns were ordered and done immediately. The labs showed no values outside the expected ranges. The neuro and psych consults agreed that neurological shock and mild concussion about summed it up with a very real risk of posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD) to come. Ordinarily these evaluations would have taken more time to arrange and perhaps longer to wait for results. Barbara told her mother about many calls of concern from heads of state around the world being logged by the Department of State. She had taken a call from ex-chancellor Angela Merkel and King William. She had spoken personally with the King of Morocco briefly who was stunned and still dealing with more trauma at home. Blossom had called and told her to `be strong in Jesus'. And then there was the wait. Barbara, not easily shocked, had to fight to tell herself that life has its ups and downs and to be patient. The President did not value patience as a character trait except as it existed in other people, not herself. Barbara called the next morning and when Carol asked about progress, Barbara became a little vague. She didn't know the exact diagnosis yet (or didn't want it talked about, Carol thought) and wasn't sure when her mom could visit because the doctors hadn't cleared Jack for that. Carol had heard enough. She told Barbara to let her know when she knew more and rang off. Not an hour later, Carol showed up at the hospital and since she hadn't been barred and since the Secret Service knew her very well from her frequent visits to the White House, they passed her in and she walked into Jack's room without any trouble. He was wrapped like a mummy. The First Gentleman moaned, flung himself from side to side and shrieked fragmented cries for help while two burly Army nurses stood close by to prevent any patient self-injury. Jack was unkempt, dressings soiled, with sheets askew, catheter hanging over the side of the bed in plain view, IV bags and lines unlabeled and helter-skelter. Carol was appalled. This wasn't happening to her son-in-law. First Gentleman or no gentleman. She walked out, found Barbara at the nursing station, hugged her, cried some and then took Barbara into a smaller charting room. "We are calling Blossom. He needs some order and stability here first. Then, I'm taking him home to Hillsboro to help me with the roses for a while, away from the Press and the White House, close to world-class psychiatric care. The private psychiatrist near Portland was in Laverne's brother's class and her brother vouches for his abilities and training." "He's been injured in his mind and I can give him all the time he needs to heal. The burns can be treated in Portland. You and the kids can visit anytime you like. We're not putting him in a service hospital, regardless of the politics. He needs home care with TLC and a mother." To her utter surprise, Barbara replied, "It's a plan." Blossom Taneesha Jones, RN, was at home at the Schuyler Museum in New York City when Carol called. She had just slipped into her jeans and top for the day to eat breakfast. "Carol! How's Jack?" "He needs you as soon as possible." "Me?" Blossom asked, "Why me?" "You'll know when you get here," Carol replied, "and know why he needs you." "How soon can I get there?" "I sent Rainier to get you last night." "You were pretty sure of yourself, now, weren't you?" "It lands at Teterboro in a few hours. Can you be ready?" "I was born ready." Carol laughed for the first time in a while and said she didn't doubt it. Blossom hung up, called for a maid and together they packed double-time. She left messages for her son John at his work, left a note in his suite at the Museum asking him to pray for all of them and called the Nursing Star Agency in Brooklyn to take herself off the on-call list. She called the choir director at the church, called to cancel her first date with the church organist who had finally got off the dime about Blossom, left a message for her pastor asking him to pray with the church for her efforts, went online, stopped her mail, and told the museum housekeeper she was going to be gone for some time. Then she knelt again and prayed for strength. She picked up the telephone, asked for the chauffeur staff and ordered a car to Teterboro to meet Rainier. The limousine scheduling secretary, recognizing Blossom's friendly voice, told Blossom she would call her to come down to the front entrance just at the right time to leave to meet the plane's arrival. "I got a call that the jet was coming to pick you up, Mrs. Jones. I took the liberty of ordering a limousine to be at the front door in time to meet Rainier. I'll call you when the car arrives." She also reminded Blossom to have the maid place her luggage in the entrance luggage room for the driver to load and reminded her she would need to take her passport along. She told Blossom she would call AT&T to begin her global service immediately for Germany and read the weather forecast for Germany so warm clothes could be taken if needed. Blossom thanked her. Tired and sleepy all of a sudden, Blossom sat down in a comfortable wingback chair near a sunny window and nodded off, her feet up on a padded eighteenth-century foot stool, her knees covered with a twenty-first-century soft throw from Target. When the soft bell tone rang chair-side, Blossom prayed for Jack and Barbara, for Carol, for her son Marcus, for Michael and for her son John, now left at home to keep the fires burning, so to speak. She also prayed for forgiveness for the irrational act of terror and the crazy persons responsible in a disconnected world. The limousine took Blossom to Teterboro, her bags, wig boxes, and uniforms were loaded, and the pilots and cabin crew welcomed her aboard. Antoine, the weary flight chef, looked askance at her. "Mrs. Jones," he began, "are you going to ask for that five-cup salad again today?" "No," replied Blossom severely, "are you going to keep giving me trouble when I fly your airline?" The chef grinned and told her that he had lamb, fish and sparerib entrees from Cipriani. "You know I don't eat pigs." Blossom smiled. "Jesus ate lamb at Passover at least, so I have permission to eat it, but I don't like it." "What kind of fish?" The chef told her that he had several entrees of fish, including both a cod and a salmon filet, grilled. He offered her a lemon sauce with butter and minced, toasted almonds to accompany either fish entrée. "I also have steamed carrots, roasted small beets with a lemon-mayonnaise sauce and roasted, smashed baby Yukon gold potatoes with butter." "Thank you, Antoine. I would like the cod and all of the vegetables except carrots, please." The flight attendant dressed her table with linen, tiny orchids, sterling silver flatware, Wedgwood china and Baccarat crystal stemware for her Fiji water then handed her the menu for the flight. "See, we are going to pamper you this time," said the attendant. "It isn't every day that we can honor the `First Nurse". Here are the accompaniments that I have today. Desserts, rolls and all that." "I'm going to be fatter than I already am." Blossom laughed, "who will take care of me in my old age?" Antoine laughed. "Whoever is fortunate enough to get the honor, madam, will have come from the front of a big, long line! What a pity there won't be any chefs in the line." "Right you are, Antoine!" she replied. "No respectable chef would cook for a lacto-ovo vegetarian like me, especially one who, on occasion, cheats and eats fish." "Touché, Madame Jones." The meal was lovely as usual. Blossom didn't drink alcohol or juice. She was addicted to Fiji water and the cabin crew knew it. They made certain Rainier was stocked. There were two people at the trust whose business it was to know the likes and dislikes of each potential passenger on the Gulfstream. In addition to the head flight attendant and the flight chefs, these two men had responsibility for the catering department at the Schuyler trust in Philadelphia. They kept computerized records of passengers and their preferences. The software could instantly tally the food on board, survey vendors and availability of entrees. The computer had catalogued Blossom's eating patterns from all of her flights since her first flight. The jet catering department, as it was known, had Cipriani and a few other good restaurants on speed dial. They had telephone and direct order links to meat and vegetable markets in Manhattan, London, Paris and Singapore primarily and to other jet catering companies at various airports with whom they dealt. In most large cities of the world, there was at least one catering service that met Schuyler quality levels. With that in mind, the three flight chefs who worked Rainier's flights usually took enough food, frozen and otherwise, to make the round trips with `home-made' standards. The catering department had been told, when formed, that the devil was in the details. They were hired with that obsessive trait in mind, that is, the propensity to check and double-check flight food arrangements. Their mission was to serve better food than the best first-class airline in the world and to that end, they had been sent on first-class trips on many airlines on international destinations to make notes about food and service. Their department had been told by Frank Schuyler years back to "get it right the first time." Blissfully unaware of the care and history of the food she was eating, Blossom enjoyed her cod and Yukon potatoes and a part of one beet. After eating two portions of a wonderful tart tatin Antoine had forgotten to mention at first, she congratulated the chef and thanked him for the meal. "It's my pleasure," he replied, "and I know you will need good nutrition and strength to care for the First Gentleman." A short while later, Blossom was kicked back and half-asleep. The flight chef might have been surprised to hear her mumbling. "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills. From whence cometh my help? My help cometh from the Lord which made heaven and earth. He will not suffer thy foot to be moved. He that keepeth thee will not slumber." Psalm 121:1-3 KJV Blossom's flight landed in Frankfurt smoothly. The Gulfstream could have easily managed the landing on autopilot but the experienced pilots on board didn't usually cede their landing skills to a computer. They worked for the Schuyler family, not Air FlyByNight. A waiting helicopter brought Blossom to the estate in Kaiserslautern, where she slept for a few hours, arose, showered and went down to eat. She hugged Marcus and Michael and asked for Carol. Marcus updated her. Carol was still with Barbara at the hospital. Blossom went back upstairs, put on her usual uniform, slipped on a newly-cleaned wig and took one of the limousines to the hospital. She had a little trouble getting past the gate until she said she was here to see Barbara and Jack Schuyler, which promptly attracted the attention of the Secret Service detail who crisply and kindly advised the guard at the gate that his career might depend on opening the gate within the next thirty seconds. He opened it. The limousine sped to the hospital. She stepped out and with her usual stately speed and bearing marched up the front steps. She was directed to the Presidential Suite, hastily put together for the occasion just before Jack and the President arrived. She was informed by the agent at the door that Barbara and Carol could be found in the canteen at the moment. Barbara, standing at full height in her white nurse's uniform, stiff starched white nurse's cap with two black stripes, nursing pin and watch without perfume or cosmetics looked at him and ordered him to open the door. He did. She swept into the room and stopped. Surveying the scene, the two burly nurses struggling with Jack, the disorder, the general untidy room and the decidedly untidy bed with soiled linen, she rolled her eyes. The male nurses in soiled, wrinkled, unmatched, surgery scrubs stopped what they were doing and just stared. "Please leave us now." said Blossom. "Don't come back." Astonished at what they saw and awed by her quiet, steely gaze and their sense of her presence and authority, they left. She approached the bed not touching Jack and folded her arms. "Jack," she said firmly, "that's enough. This is Blossom and I'm here to take care of you for now. The first part of this nightmare is over. Hush now or you will scare Barbara." His thrashing calmed some, although he didn't say anything. "I am not going to touch you now," she said, "and if I need to, I will ask you for permission first."