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Cameron
When I reach the beach house, I find a voicemail from Hattie, who is helping her granddaughter in Seattle. Newborn twins and two older kids. Honestly, I can’t fathom how she has the energy. She needs to talk to me. As much as I want a hot shower and some food, I dial the number Hattie left in the message.
“My dear boy, how are you?”
“Well, Hattie, are you sitting down?” It’s best if she’s not standing when I tell her we nearly lost Shirlene. At least, I hope to God it’s Shirlene I rescued.
“I am. What’s wrong?”
“Shirlene is fine, but she nearly drowned.”
“Oh, good heavens!”
“They’re keeping her in the hospital overnight. Likely, she’ll be released tomorrow.”
“What happened?” Hattie asks.
“I was running errands, and Shirlene must have decided to take a swim. When I got back, something caused me to look out the window, where I saw her body in the surf.”
“Where were the lifeguards?”
“It’s been raining here. No one was out there. When I dragged her to shore, she was unconscious.”
Her voice quivers. “Thank God you saw her.”
“Luckily, a woman jogging on the boardwalk called 911 when she realized I was going into the ocean to rescue someone. After the Rehoboth Beach EMTs loaded Shirlene into the ambulance, I sprinted into the house for the baby and drove to the hospital.”
“Is Shirlene going to be okay?”
“The doctor told me there’s no sign of brain damage.” To avoid alarming her more, I don’t bring up the odd things Shirlene has said.
Hattie exhales. “Have you talked to Shirlene?”
“Only briefly. The doctor was adamant about not upsetting her with questions or stressing her. Apparently, near-drowning survivors can experience emotional issues.”
“Yes, I’ve read about that.” Hattie hesitates. “Cameron, has Shirlene been different in any way?”
“If you mean peculiar, not herself, yes, she has.”
“Oh dear.”
“Hattie, what do you know?”
“Is it from the near drowning?”
“The doctor would have me believe so.”
“Was she herself before she went in the ocean?”
“Withdrawn but that’s all.” I can’t tell Hattie that Shirlene disappeared while in the labyrinth. It might panic her. At times, I think I imagined it. I never discussed it with Shirlene, either, for fear of her reaction to me spying on her with binoculars.
“Shirlene called me and told me something she was considering doing, but I shouldn’t be the one to tell you. You must ask Shirlene as soon as she’s well enough to talk about serious issues.”
My stomach flips. “Hattie, you’re freaking me out. Are you sure you can’t tell me?”
“I’m sorry. It needs to come from Shirlene.”
Once we wrap up the call, I’m left with the problem of when to ask Shirlene to tell me whatever she’s ready to tell me that she already told Hattie. Damn.