Standing at the stern of the aging ferry, Jack watched a frenzied formation of seagulls swoop down to snatch bread chunks that had been tossed into the churning wake by a raucous group of tourists.
A product of modest means and an only child, Jack grew up in Fort Lauderdale less than two miles from the beach. As far back as he could remember, he had always loved spending time on the ocean. He preferred sailing catamarans but irrespective of the vessel, he liked being on the water. He enjoyed boating just about as much as he detested flying. Since the moment Mike had offered to send his plane, he had been unable to shake the lingering discomfort of traveling in a small corporate jet.
The ferry trip took just under an hour and, after a short but perilous ride in a taxi held together by daily prayers and superglue, the cab pulled up in front of the general aviation terminal at the Saint Kitts airport. With no assistance from the apathetic driver, Jack retrieved his luggage from the trunk.
Through a heavy cloud of dust kicked up by the fleeing taxi, he saw Mike walking toward him. With peach-fuzz for a beard and cropped brown hair, Mike had barely attained the height of five foot six. His small stature had left him five inches shorter than Jack; a fact Jack had teased him about with regularity since they were teenagers.
With a container of coffee in hand, he gave Jack a firm one-armed hug.
“How’s Tess doing?”
“I checked on her right before we left,” Mike answered with an uneasy half smile. “There’s been no real change overnight.”
Mike took a step toward the plane but Jack put his hand on his shoulder. “How are you doing?”
“Tess was born a Christmas fanatic. The house is decorated like Rockefeller Center and she’s been consumed with planning our yearly holiday party for the past two months,” he answered in a forced but even tone. “A few miles from here, the woman I cherish more than anything in this world is lying comatose in an ICU.” With a darting gaze, he asked, “How do you think I feel?”
Jack nodded a few times, but said nothing.
“I’m sorry, buddy,” Mike said.
Jack gave his best friend a reassuring smile. “No apology necessary.”
Mike managed a quick grin in return and then pointed at the red-and-white Hawker parked on the tarmac. “C’mon, we can talk on the plane.”
Jack studied the eight-passenger aircraft. His slumped shoulders revealed his mounting angst.
“Where’s the rest of it?” he asked.
“Don’t tell me you’re still afraid of flying.”
“I love flying. It’s the crashing part that bothers me.”
Shaking his head, Mike now placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Relax. I have the two best pilots in the business.” Feeling only slightly reassured, Jack reached for his bags. Mike took his arm. “Just leave them. I promise they’ll be in West Palm when we get there.” Mike tapped his lip and asked, “When did you shave the mustache off?”
“Last week.”
“Part of the new image?”
Jack responded by rolling his eyes. They climbed the stairway and stepped aboard. Jack ducked his head as he trailed Mike toward the back of the cabin. “Take that one,” he told him, gesturing at one of the cream-colored leather captain’s chairs. Jack settled in and immediately yanked his seat belt across his lap. Mike looked at him askew, “You’ll be more comfortable if you can still breathe.”
Jack took a brief look around. He had to confess the upscale appointments were nicer than anything in his apartment. His eyes flashed forward when he heard the whoosh of the cabin door being secured by the pilot. Being more accustomed to the glacially slow world of commercial aviation, he was astonished at how quickly things were moving.
The plane taxied out to the active runway and after a brief pause started its takeoff roll. With added power, the low hum of the engines became an earsplitting whine. Sixty seconds later the jet was in a steep climb, leaving the island of Saint Kitts far below. It wasn’t until they leveled off above the clouds that Jack’s pulse slowed to a normal rate.
“Something to drink?” Mike asked.
“No, thanks. I’m good,” he answered, noticing the small slit-like scar over Mike’s eyebrow—an injury he had sustained in high school when Jack accidentally had caught him with an elbow in a heated one-on-one basketball game.
Jack had spent an hour online the previous evening learning as much as he could about the outbreak. From a medical standpoint the information was limited but there was enough to give him a sense of what questions to ask.
“Did you have any clue Tess was ill before you got the call?”
“Hell, Jack. I don’t know. You’re the last person I need to tell what Tess has gone through the last twelve years to get pregnant. Two second trimester miscarriages and traveling for weeks on end seeing every fertility expert in the country.” He lowered his chin. “I…I had no idea anything was wrong.”
Sensing his guilt, Jack said, “If it makes you feel any better, most of the doctors I know have a hard time deciphering between illness and a routine pregnancy. Assume for a minute that Tess wasn’t pregnant, would you say her behavior and mental functions have been normal?”
“She seemed a little…a little confused maybe for the past couple of days, but I thought she was just preoccupied.”
“What was she confused about?”
“She mixed up some of her friends’ names and messed up her daily schedule a few times. I mentioned it to her, but I think I embarrassed her. She kind of blew me off. You know Tess. She never complained about anything and I stupidly didn’t press the issue.”
“Have you guys done any traveling in the last few weeks?”
Mike shook his head and then laced his fingers behind his head.
“Has Tess had any recent flu symptoms, like a cough or a fever or trouble breathing?”
“The Everglades aren’t too far from the house. When we found out she was pregnant, we began taking a walk every evening. We had to stop a week or so ago. She said there was an odor in the air that was making her sick to her stomach and a little short of breath.”
“Did the symptoms go away when you stopped taking the walk?”
“Totally.”
“Is she taking any new medications, homeopathic compounds, herbal remedies—things like that?”
“Christ, Jack,” he said with a corded neck. “There are hundreds of women around the country with this thing. I don’t think this is about Tess’s travel schedule or drinking herbal tea. None of this is fair. Tess is the kindest, gentlest human being in the…” With a pained expression, Mike turned his head and stared out the window.
“I’ve seen countless family members drive themselves crazy looking for justice when it comes to illness. It’s never there.” It crossed Jack’s mind to continue to try and persuade Mike to stop beating himself up, but he knew he’d be shouting at the rain.
Jack’s mind continued to fill with a host of unanswered questions, but he could see Mike needed a break. He knew he could talk himself blue in the face trying to convince him that Tess would recover. But even as kids, their relationship had always been an honest one free of pretense. To blow sunshine in his best friend’s direction would be at the very least transparent and at worst insulting.
In smooth air, the Hawker jetted effortlessly toward South Florida. With a strengthening sense of confidence, Jack lifted the shade and peered out. Below him, a gathering of willowy gray clouds partially obscured the white caps.
Mike had reclined his seat and was still looking out of his window. If asked, Jack would be the first to say that Mike was an intelligent and pragmatic man who hadn’t achieved his success by requiring others to connect the dots for him. Thinking about their conversation, Jack realized two things. The first was that Mike hadn’t asked him if Tess might die. The second was that his failure to do so wasn’t an oversight.