Chapter Thirty Nine

 

Scant hours later, we were safe in a hospital in Little Rock. When I awoke the next morning, the first thing I saw was Amber Armstrong's smiling face.

“You okay, Troop?” she said.

“Don't know,” I said. “I haven't tried to move yet.”

“Your doctor says other than a few thousand bruises, contusions, cuts, and lacerations, you'll be fine.”

“What about my head?” I said, wincing as I rubbed the bump on my forehead with my free hand.

“He said of all the patients he has examined you absolutely have the hardest head he's ever seen,” Amber dead panned.

With some difficulty, I sat up in bed. “How are you doing?”

“My muscles are so sore that I have to walk backwards when I climb the stairs. Otherwise I feel great.”

“And Wat and Mary Ann?”

“You saved their lives.”

“You saved all our lives,” I said.

Amber's expression changed to a look of concern. “Caleb and the others took Wat before Sheriff Bonner and the police arrived. Mary Ann is physically fine.”

“Physically?”

“She's in a state of shock and hasn't spoken since the rescue. She just lies in bed staring at the ceiling.”

“Help me out of bed,” I said.

“Tom, no. The doctor says you should stay flat on your back for at least forty-eight hours.”

I pulled back the covers and pivoted my legs off the bed and onto the floor. My face must have looked like the aftermath of a nuclear attack and even Amber winced at the deep cuts on my legs. Seeing her face, I said, “I look worse than I feel.”

“Please get back in bed, Tom.”

“I'm going to see Mary Ann. Will you help me?”

“You're incorrigible.”

Amber put her shoulder beneath my arm and helped me out the door. A nurse offered her assistance but I waved her away. Halfway to Mary Ann's room we passed an open door to a hospital room. I turned and glanced around the room.

“What are you doing?” Amber asked.

“I see something I need.”

Amber held on as I entered without knocking and approached the surprised patient's bed.

“Hi, I'm Tom. This is Amber Armstrong.”

The man in bed smiled weakly, nodding as I shook his hand. The flowers in the room indicated a man with many friends. The bouquet nearest his bed contained a dozen yellow roses.

“I have a friend that loves flowers. It is a little late to visit the florist. Can I borrow one from you?”

“Sure,” he said. “I have a room full.”

“I just need one.”

I took a single rose from the vase. We left the astonished man's room and continued down the hall. Mary Ann's door was half-open and we found her lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, her face white and pasty. John Stewart nodded as we entered.

Pulling away from Amber's grasp, I shuffled to the bed's edge and kissed Mary Ann's forehead. Her face revealed no sign of recognition as I closed her fingers around the yellow rose.

“It's all right, Mary Ann. We're all okay.”

It took a moment for Mary Ann to react but she finally did. Amber and I watched tears appear in her blinking eyes. My own eyes clouded when she grabbed me in a tearful embrace.

Mary Ann's smile relieved my worries as the night nurse shooed us out the door. Amber let me lean on her shoulder as she helped me down the hall. When we reached the lobby, she braced me against the wall and backed away. Her half-averted eyes told me she had something on her mind that she needed to tell me.

“Tom, can you make it on your own?” Amber's body language had prepared me for a shock but her question took me by surprise. All I could manage in reply was a weak grunt. “The University has offered me a teaching position starting next semester. I'm going to take it.”

“I'm thrilled for you.” Seeing her glum expression, I said, “Now tell me what's wrong.”

“You'd make a great detective,” she said. “I've never been much for commitments but two in one year is more than I can handle. It is either you or my poetry. You finished a close second. I'm sorry, Tom.”

Amber let me brace my palms on her shoulders but her muscles stiffened and she resisted my embrace. Her sudden detachment caught me like a direct gut shot.

“I never asked for a commitment,” I said, loosening my grip.

Amber Armstrong, neo-pop poet/police officer, gently freed herself from my grasp and backed away a step. After glancing at the floor behind her a moment she faced me again and smiled. Before walking out of my life she gave my butt a suggestive pat and said, “Troop, you gave us one hell of a ride.”