Summer Shadows (46 page)

“Abby, look at me.” Rick took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. She could feel the heat from his large hands through her shirt. “It is
not
your fault.
He
chose to break several laws. You did not make
him do that.” He searched her face. “Do you understand? It’s not your fault.”

Abby sniffed and nodded. “I know, at least up here.” She touched her temple. “But here.” She laid her hand upon her heart. “Here it feels like it is my fault.”

Rick pulled her close and hugged her. His concern, his bulk of body offered her a sense of protection. She wrapped her arms about him and began to sob in reaction to all that had gone before.

“Rick!”

Abby straightened and turned with Rick. Celia stood nearby with Fargo, a piece of rope attached to his collar for a leash. The dog was straining after the paramedics as they carried Marsh to the ambulance. It was all Celia could do to restrain him.

Rick took the rope, and though Fargo still pulled, Rick was a match for his efforts.

“Marsh!” Abby felt her heart wrench. They were taking him away from her. “Wait for me! I have to come along.” She tried to hurry over the sand, but her feet were leaden with fatigue. When the treacherous surface rearranged itself beneath her, she fell to her knees. “Marsh!”

The medics kept walking.

Celia dropped to the sand beside Abby, wrapping her arm about Abby’s waist. “Shush, honey. It’ll be all right.”

Abby turned to Celia, uncaring of the tears wetting her face. “I have to go with him,” she whispered. “I have to. What if …?” She shuddered. She couldn’t finish. The what-if was too terrible to articulate.

“You can’t do anything for Marsh right now, honey,” Celia said. “He needs the hospital, and the faster they get him there, the better. We don’t want to hold them up even for a minute.”

Abby both saw and heard the doors of the ambulance slam shut. The siren whirred once as the vehicle disappeared down the street, red strobe washing the houses as they passed.

“Come on, Abby.” Celia pulled her to her feet. “Let’s get you home and into dry clothes. Fargo needs to go home too. Then Rick and I will take you to the hospital. We’ll make sure you’re there when he wakes up.”

Abby nodded, knowing Celia was right, letting her and Rick lead the way home.
Oh, God, please let him wake up!
Fargo walked
beside them, turning frequently to look at Abby, his brown brows arched in question.

She reached for him, running her hand over his soft fur. “I wish I knew what to tell you, old man. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

When they reached the house, Abby welcomed Celia’s arm around her waist as they climbed the stairs. First there was a quick hot shower to wash the ocean out of her hair, and then warm clothes. They came downstairs to find Rick sitting in Marsh’s Adirondack chair, Fargo resting his head on Rick’s knee, Rick’s fingers fondling the dog’s ears. Abby thought Fargo looked as forlorn as she felt.

“Fargo.” Abby took the dog’s head between her hands. “You are a hero, guy. You saved our lives.” She gave him a great kiss between his eyes. He gave her a great slurp over her entire face. “Marsh’ll be okay, boy. Just you wait and see.”

Fargo whimpered, his confusion and hurt sounding clearly. She fell to her knees, wrapping her arms about him and burying her face in his neck.

“How did he get free to rescue us?” Abby looked up at Rick and Celia though her hands continued to caress Fargo’s head. “I know he was in the house when Marsh and I left to see the meteors.”

“When we got back here after dinner,” Rick said, “he was scratching frantically to get out. He was up on his hind legs, his forepaws clawing the glass. The door was coated with saliva where he had drooled in his desperation. Somehow he knew something was wrong.” Rick gave a solid couple of thumps to Fargo’s chest, and the dog’s tail managed a small wag.

“When Rick opened the door,” Celia continued the story, “Fargo burst out and shot straight off the porch. I’ve never seen anything like it. He hurtled down the beach, barking and snarling and whining.” She shivered. “I hope he never has reason to come after me.”

Rick stood and put the reluctant dog inside the house. Fargo stared out at them, decidedly unhappy. Lauded as a hero one minute, discarded like a chewed-up bone the next. He gave a snort that clouded the glass.

Abby spent the trip to the hospital wedged between Rick and
Celia, trying still to get warm. She struggled to beat back her panic, but if she was this hypothermic, what about Marsh? And how did his body temperature complicate his injury?

Abby let her head rest against Celia’s shoulder. “I’m so scared.”

Celia swallowed. “I know, honey. Me too.”

“If he dies, I don’t know what I’ll do.” Abby paused a minute to swallow the threatening tears. “This is worse than Sam. I haven’t even known Marsh long, and already losing him would be worse than losing Sam. Oh, God, please!” Her voice broke on the last word.

Celia stroked Abby’s hair. “Shh. It’ll be all right.”

“I love him so much. And he loves me. He said so.”

They spent the rest of the trip in silence. When they arrived, Rick drove directly to the emergency room. Abby and Celia climbed out and hurried inside.

“Marsh Winslow,” Abby told the woman at the desk.

“He’s being treated now.”

“Can I see him? Please?”

The woman looked dubious. “Let me check.” She slipped through a door at the back of her cubicle, returning a few minutes later. “I’m sorry. Let me take you to the surgical waiting area.”

“Not until I talk to somebody.” She could be stubborn if she had to. She could lie down on the floor and kick and scream if she had to. “I need to talk to somebody.”

The woman heard Abby’s implacable desperation and excused herself again.

“We’ll wait right here until someone comes,” Rick assured Abby, slipping a comforting arm across her shoulders.

Abby blinked at his kindness. “You need to see him too. You love him too.”

Rick cleared his throat. “Yeah, I do.” His voice was rough.

After what seemed forever to Abby, a nurse in green scrubs came into the emergency waiting room. She smiled at Abby and Celia and did a double take when she saw Rick.

“How is he?” Abby demanded, having no patience for any Duke Beldon nonsense.

“When the paramedics brought him in he was in shock from blood loss and hypothermia, to say nothing of the bullet wound. We’re warming him and giving him packed RBOs.”

“What?” Rick asked.

The nurse smiled. “Blood. We’ve also cleaned the area around the wound where cavitation occurred.” Seeing their blank expressions she explained, “When the bullet entered, the tissue expanded, then collapsed on itself. It sucked in clothing and other debris, in this case sand. Further debridement will be necessary during surgery. We’re waiting now for a surgeon to come in. As soon as one arrives, it’s up to the operating room for Mr. Winslow. Would you like to sit with him until we move him?”

“All of us,” Abby said.

The nurse nodded. “I’m sure we can find three chairs.”

She led them back into the emergency room, to a cubicle closed off by curtains. Marsh lay on a table, pale, unmoving, blood and saline flowing into his arm. A warming blanket lay over him.

“Can he hear us?” Abby asked the nurse, who shrugged an I-don’t-know. “Can you hear me, Marsh?” She brushed back his hair, stiff and sticky with salt water, and kissed his forehead. When he made no response, she sighed and took her seat. She reached under the blanket for his hand and squeezed it. She looked at Rick and Celia and shook her head. No response. It was a good thing the monitors behind him kept up their steady record of his vital signs, or she’d have been in agony.

The three sat in the uncomfortable plastic chairs they were given. Mostly they sat in silence, staring at Marsh’s unconscious form. Every so often, Abby leaned forward and spoke, telling him what a hero Fargo had been and how Sean Schofield was the villain of the piece. Several times Rick stood and leaned over Marsh, talking quietly about
Shadows at Noon
. Other times, Rick prayed aloud. After one joint vocal amen from the three of them, Abby froze. “I think he squeezed my hand!”

When Marsh was whisked away, they were shown to the surgical waiting room where time dragged and anxiety thrived.

Oh, God, please!

Abby was eating a stale doughnut and downing her third Coke when Vivian deMarco walked into the room.

“Vivian!” Abby stared in astonishment. “What a surprise.”

Vivian looked terrible, something Abby would never have
thought possible. Her eyes were red from crying and had dark circles beneath them. Her uncombed hair was pulled back, caught carelessly with a rubber band that made little knotted clumps stick out. She wore a wrinkled T-shirt that must belong to Rocco if size was any indication, baggy jeans, and plastic flip-flops.

“I had to come.” She looked at Abby and began to sob.

Abby reached for her and held her, sharing a bewildered look with Celia and Rick. She would never have thought Vivian cared that much. “He’ll be all right.” Abby led Vivian to the sofa. “It’s okay.”

Vivian sank into her seat. “I’m so sorry.”

“Aren’t we all.” Rick ran a hand back and forth over the nape of his neck.

Abby watched Vivian and in that instant knew she wasn’t talking about Marsh. “What are you sorry about?”

“Sean. I believed him.” Her face turned ashen, then red. “He used me. He played on my jealousy, and I was too stupid to see what he was doing.” She swiped at her tears with a shaking hand. “ ‘Just think of how dangerous it is to have an unstable woman with a psychiatric record like hers in charge of our children.’ That’s what he told me. He made me feel so important, like he trusted me enough to confide something important, you know? ‘Imagine what she could do to sweet kids like Walker and Jordan,’ he said.”

Abby nodded. She now knew what was coming, and she finally understood what Rocco had been talking about as she and Marsh left last evening. She didn’t interrupt Vivian though. She knew the woman needed to talk. That was why she had come, unkempt and disconsolate, in the very early hours of a summer morning.

Vivian searched through her pockets for a tissue. When it was obvious she would find none, Abby held out one of several boxes placed around the waiting room. Vivian took a handful and blew her nose. Then she continued with her story.

“When I told Sean you needed to be stopped, he asked how would I recommend stopping you. Like I was smart and I would know the answer. I didn’t, of course, so I asked him what he would suggest. Maybe a letter, he said, written to a person’s boss telling her how unqualified or dangerous the person in question was. ‘Why don’t you do that?’ he said, and the next thing I knew, I did. And then I wrote the one that I knew was a lie.”

Rick spoke for the first time since Vivian began her confession. “You know that slander is against the law? Abby could make things very tough for you.”

Vivian paled again but said nothing, merely nodded, wide-eyed.

“Mrs. Winslow?” a woman called from the doorway.

Abby knew the woman meant her. She rose.

“Mr. Winslow is fine. The surgeon is finishing up now. Then it’s into recovery. He should be back in his room in an hour or two.”

Abby grabbed the nearby chair back to hold herself up as relief turned her legs suddenly nerveless.
Thank You, Father!

“Do you wish to wait?” the woman asked.

Abby, Rick, Celia, and Vivian nodded as one.

The woman smiled. “The cafeteria will be open in an hour for breakfast. Maybe you can eat and then see Mr. Winslow. He’ll be in Room 215.”

Everyone nodded again. The woman turned away, and for a moment those in the waiting room were quiet. Then Rick gave a great wah-hoo! and swung first Celia, then Abby around in great circles. Laughing and crying at the same time, Abby hugged Celia. Rick grabbed the hands of both women and said, “Father, we thank You for Your great mercy and kindness!”

“Amen!” yelled Abby, kissing both Rick and Celia on the cheek. Then she spotted Vivian, lost and forlorn, sitting on the sofa. As Abby walked to her, Vivian gave a tentative smile. “I’m glad Marsh is going to be all right.”

Abby nodded. “Thanks.”

“I sent a note, you know.”

Abby was confused. “You just said you sent two.”

“I mean another one. I told them that what I wrote before was all lies. I told them I was sorry. I said you were nice and wonderful and they were lucky to have you.” Vivian was all earnestness and yearning to be believed.

“What made you decide to write that?”

Vivian looked at her clasped hands. “You saved Walker’s life.”

“Ah.”

Vivian looked up, tears once again streaming. “How could I say such things against you when you saved my baby? I’m sorry, Abby. I even signed my name.”

She twisted her tissues into a rope. “Can you forgive me?”

Abby felt so relieved over the good news about Marsh that she would forgive anyone anything, but she held her tongue for a moment. Absolution too quickly given can seem too easy.

“Rocco forgave me,” Vivian said, like this fact would make Abby more inclined to do the same. “I told him what I did, and he told me he loved me.”