Thirty-Five —
Rose to the Rescue

She couldn’t open her eyes, nor her mouth. Everything seemed glued shut, and she was shutting off. Like a light switch. Blanche wanted to laugh at that, but she couldn’t laugh. It wasn’t that funny anyway. It was strange is what it was. She was going away, but she hadn’t packed anything. She didn’t have shoes, or money. She couldn’t feel her clothes. She could hardly feel the ground. It seemed like she was just plain numb, which was fine.

She blinked then. She couldn’t feel, but she could see, even with her eyes shut. Someone stood not ten feet from her. Rose. Blanche tried to talk, but then she didn’t need to.

What are you doing here, Mom?

She didn’t speak, she just stood there and smiled at Blanche, and Blanche tried to smile back but, of course, she couldn’t. She tried to open her eyes again, but she couldn’t see very well, nor could she move her lips.

Rose was wearing a plaid dress, the one Blanche loved. They’d made a chocolate cake together in that old kitchen. The blue one with the red-striped wallpaper. Blanche’s head barely came up to the counter, so her mother lifted her on to a small stool. Rose beat together the sugar and the eggs under the cabinet light, and she was laughing at Blanche with flour on her nose. Rose lifted the orange bowl and swept batter into pans. Rose hugged Blanche, getting flour on her brown canvas smock. She had been finger painting. Blanche wanted to hug her back, but she couldn’t move her arms. She just lay there, watching and waiting for Rose to lift her again, and maybe she would.

It had been so hot in this place, boiling hot, in fact. She was boiling up. That was earlier, but now it was cool, and peaceful. She wanted Rose to talk to her, but she didn’t say anything. She wouldn’t go away either. She stood there looking at Blanche, and as long as she was there, Blanche felt like she couldn’t go away either. She couldn’t just leave her mother standing there, looking at her. She hadn’t seen her in so long. How long was it? She was so glad to see her, and Blanche tried to tell her that, but there didn’t seem to be any need. Rose knew Blanche was happy, and she wasn’t in pain, just cool and peaceful there, lying on the sandy soil, among the purple flowers, waiting.

Blanche wanted to go with Rose. That was it. But Rose didn’t want her to leave the spot. She wanted something else, and Blanche tried to figure out what it was but she couldn’t break through. She couldn’t think what it could be. What could be better than going with Rose? Blanche didn’t know. She couldn’t think anymore either.

She had to be still. And listen.

She couldn’t help hearing it. At first, the sound was far away, and frightening. She couldn’t get away from it. She couldn’t see where it was. She just listened and didn’t move. It wasn’t a hurricane but it was as loud as one. Like a train but rhythmical. In cycles, or circles. Far away, clap, clap, clap. It came nearer. Maybe it would take her and Rose out of this place. It wasn’t pleasant here anyway. She was more than ready to get out of there.

An enormous bird with wings covered the field where she was lying. Its wingspan darkened the area until it was the blackest dream she’d ever had, so dark and deep she just wanted to fall and keep on falling into it. Maybe the bird would scoop her up and save her or fly her around in the dream. But it was loud, the loudest bird. Not the sweet cawing or tweeting, like outside her porch. The bird no longer called sharply. It made a dense, dull sound. Whomp-whomp. A huge mouth that would eat her. Pick her up and carry her off.

Gusts of wind blew over her, and lights flashed on and off behind her eyelids. The dark was gone. The sound of the giant wings was terrifying, and closer. She heard shouting. Rose wouldn’t shout like that.

But, then, Rose smiled, and she was gone.

I

Blanche didn’t open her eyes as she lay in the bed, but that was all right. She could move her arms and legs, and that was something new. She couldn’t do that before; she was glad she could do it now. A familiar voice was yelling in her ear: “Bang!”

She knew that voice. Jack.

“What are you doing here?” The question was almost a whisper, low and gravelly, and she wanted to know why he was yelling. She remembered a field with purple flowers, talking to her mother, and now she was here. And she thought of Haasi, sitting next to her through the dream that had lasted for days.

“You’re in Bradenton Memorial, and you’re alive.” She felt a large thump next to her, she guessed it was on top of the bed. She wasn’t on the ground anymore. She was clean, and the sheets felt smooth. She tried to keep her eyes open, and this time it worked, not very well, but she could see the outline of Jack’s head next to her, pitched forward on the white sheet. He raised his head. He looked terrible, shocked even. His face was puffy and his eyes were rimmed red.

“Jack, you don’t look so hot.”

“Blanche, it’s been almost five days. You almost died. You were so dehydrated; they thought you were a goner. Oh my God, Bang, I’m so glad you’re back. It takes an awful lot… to kill a… Murninghan.”

“That’s a whole book.”

Jack did not appear to be amused. He looked exhausted, but relief crept into his eyes.

“She’s wide awake.” A nurse stood in the doorway. She called down the hall then walked over to Blanche and picked up her hand. “Welcome back.”

“Where have I been?”

The doctor was there, next to the nurse. The two buzzed hurriedly over Blanche’s chart, and the doctor whisked out the door. Jack hadn’t budged from his spot. He held on to Blanche’s hand. “They drugged you and threw you out in that field. You’ve been delirious or sleeping for almost a week.”

“All right. That’s enough now.” The nurse planted herself between Jack and Blanche. “Don’t you think it’s time for us to get a cup of coffee?” She was addressing Jack, but it didn’t sound like a cozy invitation. She clearly wanted him out of there.

Jack called Cappy, who had been sitting next to Blanche all week. Cap had finally gone home to check on his house, take a shower, and eat something besides cafeteria food. Jack had worried about him. One patient in the hospital was enough.

Liza had been visiting, too, practically begging Blanche to get better, and Peaches came almost every day, bringing croissants and muffins, hoping the aroma would trigger a wake-up call. Many of her neighbors called, sent flowers, dropped by.

Blanche was happy to be back and on the mend, and grateful. She’d been mixed up in the murder investigation and in saving Tuna Street and the whole rest of it. This she remembered. As for her trip in the van that ended in a scrubby stretch of no-man’s-land in the middle of Florida, it was all a vague recollection. It began with that hand reaching out of the passenger’s side and grabbing her. She remembered Haasi’s terrified expression, and the driver talking, and mercifully, that was about the end of it.

Where is Haasi? She lay back and dozed off.

There are the things I heard. I need to tell her to get ready.

She had this yearning to see her, and Rose. If it hadn’t been for them, she’d probably be dead.

I

“Blanche.” Haasi sat in a chair next to the hospital bed. She held Blanche’s hand and patted it. Blanche opened her eyes. She tried to sit up.

“It’s a mess.”

“Yes, but you have started something that needs finishing. We are going to finish it.”

“I’d just like to finish one night’s sleep. Impossible in here. I need to get home.” She started to lean forward and Haasi gently arranged the pillow behind her back. She smiled. The spunk appeared to be returning.

“Yes, you will leave here. That is a very good idea.”

At that, Blanche swung her legs out of the bed and stood up. She wobbled some, one hand on the mattress. “I feel good. I just need some fresh air, and exercise.”

“If you can, practice walking. Some breathing techniques. Exercise, cautiously, like you did before this happened.”

Then Blanche got her bearings. “Haasi, I heard them. They’re planning a major drug drop. A big one.”

“What did you hear?”

“May be connected to Conchita Beach. I heard that goon on the radio, or phone, or something when he was driving me out. He thought he’d knocked me out with a shot of some kind, but I wasn’t completely under.”

“Well. That is a fit. I hear something is happening at the High Tide. Jack and the DEA and Duncan are talking.”

“How do you know all this?” But Blanche knew better than to expect an answer. Haasi smiled.

“I’ll find out more,” she said. Something in the way she said that made Blanche’s spine stiffen. Like a shot of B vitamin, or adrenaline. She could feel her limbs kick in.

“I like the sound of that.”

“I will return with an update.”

“I suppose I could get up and walk out of here.” She paced around the room and back to Haasi.

“Blanche, stay. For now. Get stronger.”

“Murder. Lying and deceit and ruination of the island. The kidnapping.” Blanche’s eyes were bright and cheeks rosy. She did a tentative push-up against the wall, then five more.

Haasi put her hand on Blanche’s shoulder. “Get rest. Promise.”

Blanche reluctantly climbed into bed. How can I be energized and tired at the same time?

But she was exhausted. She’d suffered trauma. No doubt. There had been talk of the effects of “reversible coma” and possible “organ damage,” but the worst worries and predictions proved false. Toxicology tests confirmed that Blanche had been drugged. It was the theory—though a weak one—that the drugs, which were as yet unidentified, had slowed her metabolism and may have been a factor in her survival. If she had tried to move, with no water and no protection beyond where she was left to die, Blanche might have spent what little strength she had and run out of time. Theories went back and forth.

Blanche knew she was just plain lucky. Heaven and earth were on her side. She had stayed alive with the unmistakable intervention of her mother and the girl with shining dark eyes. Rose had stood next to her in that deserted land and did not leave her until help came. She would always believe her mother saved her life by willing her to hang on. Haasi handled logistics on the ground. She’d led that search party directly to the field where they found Blanche. Comatose. The medics began treatment, and the hospital took over right after the helicopter landed on the roof of Bradenton Memorial.

The details were a blur. She floated into half-sleep, still a bit confused by all that had happened. But one thing was certain in the hazy hours. Blanche was not alone.

And now. A drug bust? Blanche opened her eyes. She looked around for Haasi, but she was gone. Blanche stretched her arms and legs, determined to rest up for the wild ride.