Death by Chocolate

words, “Hurts... can’t breathe.”
    “Are you choking?”
    She shook her head no and
pointed to her chest. Her purple complexion had changed to an ashen gray and
rivulets of sweat streamed down her face.
    “Just try to relax and take
deep breaths,” Savannah told her as she continued to remove her upper clothes.
Beneath the blouse was a tightly laced long-line bra—a constricting foundation
for the genteel-lady costume.
    Savannah fumbled with the
laces for a moment, then had them free. ‘There you go, now breathe slowly. Like
this—in.... fill up your tummy... and slowly out. Come on. You’ll be okay. An
ambulance will be here in just a minute or two. Everything’s going to be okay.”
    But Savannah knew it wasn’t
going to be okay. More than once she had held a dying person in her arms. She
knew the look.
    Eleanor’s eyes locked with
hers for a moment, and she saw that Eleanor knew, too.
    “Tell Gilly....” she said,
barely whispering the words. ‘Tell Louise....”
    “Yes, of course.” Savannah
lowered her back onto the floor. Someone handed her a bunch of towels and she
shoved them under Eleanor’s head. Then she grasped both of her hands tightly.
“What do you want me to tell Gilly and Louise?”
    “That I love....” She
gasped and shivered. Savannah squeezed her hands and prayed that an ambulance
with paramedics might appear out of thin air. But although it seemed far
longer, less than a minute had passed since Tammy had made the call.
    “I understand, Eleanor,”
she told her, leaning forward, her face close to the woman’s. “I’ll tell them
you love them.”
    Tears flooded Eleanor’s
eyes and she choked back a sob. “I do. Really.”
    “I know, sweetie, I know.
I’ll tell them, I promise. You just rest now.”
    Savannah’s words seemed to
have a soothing effect, because the hands that were gripping hers relaxed, and
Eleanor’s face took on a peaceful expression.
    “Not.... so... bad,” the
woman whispered. “Not so bad.... now.”
    As though from far away, Savannah
could hear someone—she thought it was Kaitlin—asking, “What can we do?”
    “Send somebody out to the
main road to make sure the ambulance gets in the gates,” Savannah replied.
“Bring them in here as soon as they arrive.”
    She looked up and saw that
it was Kaitlin leaning over them, her face stricken as she stared down at
Eleanor.
    “Is she....?” Kaitlin
nudged Savannah’s shoulder. “Is she going to....?”
    Savannah didn’t want her to
say the words aloud. Maybe if nobody actually said it—
    “Just tell them to hurry.”
Savannah emphasized the urgency of her message with her eyes and the gravity in
her voice. Her own pulse was racing, her hands shaking. Her legs felt like
jelly.
    Kaitlin nodded. “I will.
I’ll make sure they understand.” Then she disappeared.
    Savannah released one of
Eleanor’s hands and placed her fingertips to the woman’s jugular vein. She felt
a pulse there, but it was faint and erratic. Eleanor’s breaths were more even
than before, but shallow. Her eyes were closing.
    “Wake up, darlin’,”
Savannah said, gently jostling her. “Keep those eyes open for me. Look right up
here at me, okay? Help’s going to be here any second now. Just relax.”
    Tammy knelt beside them on
the floor and reached out to pull the hot, heavy wig off Eleanor’s head. Her
own hair was matted to her scalp, and she looked like a ewe who had been badly
shorn.
    “Her pulse?” Tammy
whispered.
    “Thin. Thready.”
    Savannah looked up at the
crew members who stood around them, watching, saying absolutely nothing, frozen
by fear and uncertainty. The silence in the studio was deadly, the air thick
with dread.
    “Did they give you an ETA?”
Savannah asked.
    “Seven minutes,” Tammy
replied.
    “Okay, that was about two
minutes ago. Five more to g°-”
    She reached down and wiped
the sweat off Eleanor’s face, but Eleanor’s open eyes had ceased to focus. She
stared over Savannah’s shoulder, seeing nothing.
    Savannah put her fingertips
to her throat again. “No pulse,” she said.
    Tammy bent over and placed
her ear to her nose. “No breath.”
    “CPR,” Savannah said, positioning
herself over Eleanor, her hands on her chest. “Let’s go.”
    “Savannah,” Tammy said,
“she’s dead.”
    “No. She’s not dead.... not
until she’s pronounced. Do what I tell you, girl! Tilt her head back, pinch off
her nose and blow after five! Here we go: one, two three,