I won’t even pretend that my injuries turned out to be life-threatening.
The bullet went through the oblique muscle of my back, about as favorable an outcome as I could have hoped for. It would keep me off the golf course for a while. And out of the OR.
But I knew I had enough to keep myself occupied for the next couple of weeks.
After the police arrived, Hallie and I were rushed to the Richmond County Medical Center in Augusta, thirty miles away. We both went in the same EMT van, Hallie receiving oxygen and glucose, and Valium intravenously for the shock.
Lying on the adjoining gurney, I held on to her hand the entire trip. Except for the day I first held her in my arms, I don’t think I’ve ever felt a deeper understanding of what it meant to be a father.
We called Liz on the way. Another tearfest. It almost made me feel as if we were a united, happy family again. Past the shoals of jealousy and bitterness that I hoped would never bar our way again.
We told Liz where we were being taken, and Carrie said the FBI would send a plane and fly her up there now, Liz’s choked, grateful voice on the other end barely containing the unstoppable flood of joyous tears that lay behind it. “Thank you, Henry. Thank you …” she kept saying, in a fervent—and reproachless—tone I hadn’t heard from her in years.
There was nothing stronger in this world, no greater driving force, than the urge to protect your child.
We got to the hospital—Hallie to the ER to be stabilized. Me, into surgery.
All they really had to do was clean and irrigate the wound. It took just a little more than an hour.
After recovery they let us share a room. Hallie slept off the Valium. I just lay there watching her. Relishing the sight. I knew the next few days would be hectic. I knew I was in for police interviews and camera crews and maybe even the morning news shows.
Henry Steadman, the “boob dude” of Broward County.
I couldn’t help but laugh.
Every once in a while my mind flashed back to my final sight of Hofer back in the shed. Much as I wanted to despise him, I wasn’t sure I could. Twisted as he was, he was acting as a father too, a desperate one, at least in the beginning. And I wondered, my mind drifting in and out, if the very things I held dear hadn’t been taken from him one by one—his career; his family; his dignity—would he have gone so off-kilter? Would he have just lived out his life? Were there millions of him, teetering on the same isolated precipice where life could go either way, made bitter by life, but trudging on?
There was a knock on our door, and I figured one of the doctors had come to check my wound.
Instead, Carrie came in. Still in the same baby-blue sweatshirt and jeans.
I looked at her and felt a rush of warmth come over me. “Hey.”
“Hey.” She smiled back at me. “Doing better I see.”
“Nothing I can’t patch up later when I’m back at the clinic.” I grinned.
Carrie smiled too. “How’s she doing?” she asked, looking at Hallie.
“She’s doing swell. She’s been through a lot, but she’ll be fine. In the end. You ought to know.” I knew she probably couldn’t wait to get back to her own son.
She nodded. “Guess I do.” She sat down on the edge of my bed. “I’ve talked to the sheriff’s office. They’re sending a team up here to chat with you.”
“Chat, huh?”
“I don’t know if I’m exactly the person to speak for them, but I’m pretty sure you’re in the clear.”
“Whew. Just when I was getting used to dodging bullets.”
“They’re sending Rowley,” Carrie said. “Since you guys seemed to get along so well …”
She gave me a held-back smile, but there was something beautiful in her teasing blue eyes.
“Everyone’s been telling me ‘well done,’” I said. “But the truth is, you’re the one who deserves all that. Not me …”
She pressed her lips together, shrugging it off.
I took her hand. “So thank you. Without you … there’s just simply no way I’d be on Good Morning America Tuesday morning …” Carrie giggled. I looked over at Hallie. “I look at her and I wish I could think of a way.”
“I’ve, uh, actually been giving some thought to getting my eyes done.” She held back a smile again. “Maybe just around the edges. Here …”
“No.” I shook my head. “I don’t advise it. I don’t want you to change one single thing. Carrie …”
“Uh-huh?”
I brushed my hand against her cheek. I don’t know what was in my mind, but I stared into her beautiful blue eyes and probably never felt more gratitude or closeness to anyone in my life.
My voice caught with emotion.
“I just wanted to say … that I wouldn’t be here … Hallie wouldn’t be here …” I didn’t finish the sentence. “Just thanks.”
“I know,” she replied, and put her hand on mine.
We lingered there a moment. Until we both became a little self-conscious.
“I have something for you …” I said, and tried to move, but pain lanced through me. “It’s over there. In my pocket.” I pointed to my pants, folded over a chair.
“I’ll get it.” She went over and reached inside. “Forty dollars!” She widened her eyes in mock appreciation. “You’re sweet!”
“Keep digging. I think there’s another ten in there.”
She laughed, and eventually came out with what I was hoping she would find.
Her husband’s driver’s license.
“It got me into the prison to see Amanda. So I guess, without it, who knows how this thing might have turned out.”
She held it in both hands, nodding a bit wistfully. “I told you he was the most resourceful guy I knew.”
“You did. And I think he’d be proud of his wife.”
Carrie smiled, a little blush coming into her face, and then she opened her purse. She reached for her wallet to put the license back, back from where she had taken it that first time in the car. But then she seemed to hesitate. Instead, she tucked it into the side pocket of the purse. As if she was putting it safely away for keeps.
Not just away, but behind her.
Then she caught me staring at her and gave me a rosy smile.
“I think I’ll keep it where I can never lose it again.” She tapped her chest. “In here.”
“A good spot,” I said, and then we didn’t say anything for a long time.