Chapter Forty-Four

Tom heard beeping and radio static and reached for his portable, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t feel anything, either, and his vision was cockeyed. All he could see was a white ceiling with all kinds of hardware hanging from it. He managed to lift his head enough to see his right arm and hand bulked up with bandages and secured to a board attached to the bed. His left arm had an IV drip going, also secured to a board. Wires for telemetry stuck to his chest. His nose itched.

Hospital, he thought. Hunh.

The right side of his head felt cold when he rubbed it on his pillow. The other side tickled and felt crusty. He turned to the crusty side and saw Marie asleep in a plastic chair next to the bed. He remembered the boat, the flash …

“Jean!” he blurted. His throat felt raw and he didn’t recognize his voice. His head hurt now, and his face felt sunburned.

Marie startled awake and leaned over him, her brow furrowed and her eyes red.

“Hello, Tom.” She gripped his left hand.

His raw throat managed, “Hello, Marie.” He had to swallow and couldn’t. Marie put a straw to his lips and he sucked up fresh, cold, soothing water. He stopped to catch his breath and croaked, “Mark? Is my brother okay?”

“He’s okay,” she said. “He went home the first night. Burns on his arm and hand, cuts on his back. The Coast Guard was right behind you and fished both of you out.”

“Fishkiller?” he rasped.

“Still afloat,” she said. “Coast Guard Auxiliary towed it in.” Marie checked her watch. “Almost seven,” she said. “Mark’s usually here by 7:30.”

Tom let “the first night” and “usually here” sink in.

“How long have I been here?”

“At about 10:30 it’ll be three days,” she said.

“Three days!” Tom struggled to sit up with the IV lines, blood pressure cuff, cardiac monitor leads and his first glimmer of real pain. He fell back in a sweat.

“How long do I have to be here?”

Marie’s gaze didn’t meet his.

“You’re awake, that’s the big thing,” she said. “The doc says he’ll know more when you can talk.”

“Which doc?”

“Doc Rowe,” she said. “He said he ran track against you in high school.”

“Not against me,” Tom said. “Against our team. He ran hurdles. I preferred races without crap in the way.”

Tom felt restless in spite of the pain and worked himself back to a sitting position. The boards attached to his arms made it a struggle, and he panted with the effort. That started coughing in his raw throat.

Marie stuffed extra pillows behind his back. “Sorry, I don’t know how to put the bed up,” she said. “The nurse will get it.”

“When?” He regretted sounding irritated even though he was. If they had anything to give him for all this burning, he was ready.

“They make rounds at seven,” Marie said. “I’ll have to go by ten. We’re having a memorial for Jean and Alice and Odd-Jobs Bill at the park. I’m glad it’s not for you.”

“Me, too,” Tom said. “All three of them? I knew something was screwy. I’m really sorry about Jean and Alice. Bill, too. I had a bad feeling—”

Marie shook her head. “From what I hear, nobody would’ve guessed what was going on out there.”

“I’m paid to guess,” he said, “and paid to guess right. What the hell was going on? Anybody know, yet?”

“No,” she said, “not yet.” She squeezed his good hand too tight. “Stop thinking about it. Concentrate on getting out of here. By the way, Doc Rowe says that when he lets you out you can’t be alone for a few days.”

Tom started to protest. “But I don’t—”

Marie put a finger to her lips to shush him. “That was a hint, Tom. Move in with us while you get better. The kids voted ‘yes.’ Both of them.”

Tom’s heart monitor picked up its beep.

“Jean,” he started, then swallowed hard. He sighed and started again. “Sorry. All I remember when we got to her boat was a flash—two flashes. Between them Jean yelled, ‘Take care of Marie!’ Her last words.”

Neither of them blinked nor breathed for a moment. Tom’s monitor picked up speed again, and he squeezed her hand back.

“Marie?” he wheezed. “Will you marry me?”

Marie teared up and said, “Oh, Tom, you have a head injury. Maybe you’re not in your right mind.”

He smiled and said, “Well, then, this would be your opportunity if you wanted to snag it … me.”

“Okay,” she said, “but no intensive care bedside vows. We’ll have to clean you up first.”

“So ‘okay’ is a ‘yes’?”

Marie kissed his forehead. “Yes, Tom, it’s a ‘yes.’”

Doc Rowe and Nurse Kasey pushed back the curtain, and Kasey winked at Marie, tilted her head towards Tom and raised her eyebrows in a question.

Marie cleared her throat, placed her hands on her belly, looked Tom straight in the eye and said, “Oh, by the way, Tom. That morning sickness wasn’t the garlic.”