“There’s nothing to say, but you needed to understand what she’s been through before you go in there. Her two coworkers died, as did the pilot.”
Sarah nodded. “Yes, I know and I agree. I’m just overwhelmed by everything.”
“Believe me, I understand,” Cameron said.
“I need to go wash off the tears and fix my face before I go in. Excuse me for a few minutes.”
“Good plan,” he said, and settled back onto the sofa.
When it was time, he walked Sarah to the area where she needed to wait.
“I’ll be in the waiting room when you come back.”
“Thanks,” she said, and went inside with the others as he walked away.
Sarah paused at the nurses’ desk for her sister’s location before moving past the other patients. She kept her eyes on the floor in front of her without looking at the people within.
She was scared; this holding area between life and death impacted so many others besides the patients themselves. Sooner or later they would leave, some breathing and some not, the latter leaving their families behind to deal with their grief. The common thread among all of them was the number of machines keeping them alive.
When she finally saw Laura she stumbled, then caught herself and kept walking until she was at the bed, pausing a moment to look her fill.
The dried blood staining the bandage on Laura’s scalp was a macabre reminder of what she had endured. The bruises on her face and neck were in coordinating shades of red and purple, and her raspy breathing under the oxygen mask made Sarah anxious. That would be from the pneumonia.
She knew about the stitches in Laura’s leg and the broken ribs, but after learning what her sister had gone through, she wondered if the scars that would last the longest would be the ones that remained unseen.
Aware that her time would be brief, she touched her sister first, then leaned closer and lowered her voice.
“Laura? Honey? It’s me, Sarah. Can you hear me?”
Laura’s eyelids fluttered.
Sarah spoke again.
“I’m here, Laura. Cameron is in the waiting room.”
It seemed Cameron was the magic word. Laura’s eyelids fluttered again, and then she opened them and saw her sister’s face.
“Sarah.”
Sarah cupped Laura’s cheek, then leaned down and kissed her.
“Yes, little sister, I’m here. Are you in pain?”
Laura sighed, winced, then blinked.
“Hurts.”
“I’m so sorry, honey, but you’re going to be okay.”
Laura fumbled for her sister’s hand, needing the contact to give her strength.
“Oh, Sarah, they died...they all died,” she whispered, and then choked on a sob.
“I know, honey, but that’s not your fault.”
Laura’s eyelids felt too heavy to keep open. She let them drop, then suddenly she remembered old horror and they flew open. Her gaze locked on Sarah’s face.
“There were wolves.”
Sarah tightened her hold on her sister’s hand, trying to find a way to ground her in the reality of the present, instead of the past.
“I know, honey. Cameron told me.”
Laura looked toward the exit.
“Cameron?”
“He’s still here. He’s in the waiting room.”
“Love him,” Laura whispered.
“I know you do, sweetheart. He loves you, too.”
“I want to go home,” Laura said.
Sarah smiled. “And you will, when you’re well.”
“Thought I’d never see you again,” Laura said.
In spite of Sarah’s determination not to cry, tears filled her eyes.
“Yes, well, I had the same fear when I first heard the news, but we’ve been blessed.”
“Best sister ever,” Laura said softly. Her eyelids drooped and then closed.
Sarah’s heart was full. She let Laura sleep, knowing rest was the thing she needed most. She said a brief prayer for her healing and left the ICU with the other visitors when time was up.
This time when she walked into the waiting room, there was purpose in her step. She was thankful for Cameron’s presence.
“She looked better than I expected. She knew me and talked to me. It was such a relief.”
Cameron relaxed, glad to know Laura hadn’t taken a turn for the worse.
“I know what you mean.”
“I have something to tell you,” she said. “It’s about the reason I was in Canada. I was interviewing for a new opening in my company.”
“Oh, yeah? How did it go?” he asked.
“I got the job.”
Cameron grinned. “That’s great news, Sarah. What will you be doing that’s different from what you do now?”
“For starters, I’ll be director of operations and living in London. I’m supposed to be in residence within the month. I already told them I’d do it before I found out about the crash. Now I don’t—”
Cameron held up a hand. “Stop right there. You have to know I’m going to be there for Laura in every way. This sounds like the job of a lifetime. Don’t let misplaced guilt sideline you, okay?”
She got teary all over again, but she was smiling.
“You are seriously the best thing that’s ever happened to Laura. I hope you know that.”
“It works both ways,” he said, and then looked away so she wouldn’t see his tears.
The next time visiting hour rolled around, they went in together, but as time passed, the stress of travel and worry finally pulled Sarah under, and now she was asleep on the sofa, leaving Cameron back in a chair. People came and went inside the waiting room, but he paid them no mind. He slept sitting up, and by seven in the morning, they were both awake and waiting for Laura’s doctor to make rounds.
Lake Chapala, Mexico
Hot pink jacaranda blooms in the courtyard between the retirement condos drooped in the hot afternoon sun. The teal-blue water in the shared pool was motionless. A red-and-white-striped life preserver was stalled near the middle of the pool, like an off-center belly button. It was siesta, a time to sleep through the hottest hours of the day, giving the aging residents a much-needed respite.
Hershel Inman and his wife, Louise, had always planned to retire to this place. But fate had changed their plans. When Louise died, so had Hershel’s dreams. In a way, he’d died, too, because when he finally moved into the retirement center, it was as retired businessman Paul Leibowitz. After years of enacting his own version of retribution, he’d finally done what he needed to and let go.
He liked condo living and puttering about in the little courtyard just outside his breakfast room. He liked the huge jacaranda blossoms and often floated one in a crystal bowl on his dining room table. He liked to think it gave his condo a feminine touch, something sadly lacking in his life.
He continued the slow process of having scar tissue removed, scheduling yet another surgery in Guadalajara only after he’d sufficiently healed from the previous one.