A Singular Honeymoon

by Leigh Michaels

  Spence wheeled around. “I told you to sit still!”

  “I was cold,” she complained.

  He scooped her up in his arms. Joe Baxter held the door wide.

  “Your telephone actually works?” Spence said as he put Sharley down on a long couch near the front door.

  “Nope. It’s out because of the ice. Got a CB radio, though. What’s the problem?”

  Sharley could see relief washing across Spence’s face. He sat down abruptly on a big hassock nearby and dropped his face into his hands as he told Joe Baxter what had happened at the cabin.

  Joe’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say a word. He vanished toward the back of the house.

  Sharley groped for Spence’s hand, but she couldn’t reach it, and she was too exhausted to sit up. “It will be all right, now.”

  He wet his lips and tried to smile. “Yeah. It’ll be all right. As soon as the ambulance gets here.”

  That would be a relief, she thought. She wasn’t feeling much better after all. She nodded and put her head down.

  The couch was right next to a big old-fashioned wood stove, and Sharley soon stopped shivering and drifted off again, not into true sleep but a state of half-awareness. She vaguely heard Joe Baxter say the ambulance was on its way, but she didn’t really pay attention; it was too much effort. And though she expected Spence to fuss at her for not staying alert, he didn’t.

  Even the bustle of the paramedics only partially aroused her. She was aware, in a detached way, of them checking her blood pressure and taking her pulse. And she knew perfectly well when they strapped the mask on her face, for it made her feel as if she was smothering, and she fought it until the cool flow of oxygen began to soothe her tormented lungs. She hadn’t realized how much it hurt to breathe, until the pain diminished.

  “Lucky you guys were in the area,” Joe Baxter said.

  The paramedic who was bending over Sharley muttered, “You can say that again.”

  She looked up at Spence, her eyes widening in horror as she realized for the first time just how serious this was.

  He brushed the hair back off her face, away from the mask. “You’ll be fine now, Sharley. They’ll take good care of you.”

  And then, as Sharley watched, unable to move, unable to help, Spence — like a puppet whose strings have been cut — simply folded up and slid to the floor.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Sharley sat up, her head swimming with shock and confusion. The paramedic who was working on her put one hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down on the stretcher. It seemed almost a reflex action; he didn’t even turn his head toward the flurry of activity behind him as the other two paramedics converged on Spence. “Was he in the cabin too?” he asked Sharley.

  Her voice was muffled by the oxygen mask, and she had to make a great effort to enunciate. “Yes. He got me out. Carried me to the car.”

  “Carried you? Damn it. And of course the fool didn’t say anything.” He called over his shoulder, “You’ve got exertion on top of probable carbon monoxide there.”

  “He’ll be all right, won’t he?” Sharley managed.

  “Sure he will. Settle down now and just concentrate on breathing as slowly and deeply as you can.”

  But he was not telling the truth; he was not certain Spence would be all right. Sharley knew that in her bones, and the certainty clarified her mind as nothing else could have. “He hurt himself trying to save me, didn’t he?”

  The paramedic looked directly at her for an instant. “It didn’t do him any good,” he admitted. “But he’s a whole lot bigger than you. He’s got more blood volume, so he can take more than you can.”

  But not that much more, Sharley thought. Even though Spence had been outside for part of the afternoon, he’d been breathing the same poisoned air she had for hours, and like her, slowly growing weaker. No wonder he’d said he couldn’t carry her.

  And then he’d gone ahead and done it anyway. While Sharley had been too far out of her mind even to know what was going on, Spence had managed to hold himself together, get both of them to help, and save their lives....

  At least, she hoped he had managed to save them both.

  It must have been sheer adrenaline that had kept him going, so it wasn’t so surprising that the instant the pressure was off, he had collapsed. If the stress, on top of the carbon monoxide, was what had knocked him out, then he would be all right... wouldn’t he?

  She could twist her head around just far enough to see him from the corner of her eye. His face was flushed and expressionless under the oxygen mask, and his eyes were closed. She watched as they lifted him onto a stretcher; his body was limp.

  One of the other paramedics said, “All right, we’re ready to transport,” and the one bending over Sharley tucked the blanket more tightly around her and checked the straps that held her to the stretcher. Joe Baxter helped to carry her outside.

  It wasn’t a normal ambulance which waited in the roadway, but a helicopter, with engines throbbing and warning lights blinking steadily. Painted on its side was the name of the hospital —a large metropolitan care center known for its emergency services.

  “A helicopter?” she asked weakly.

  The paramedic locked her stretcher in place across from the one where Spence lay. “Yeah. Since the rural roads are still a mess, we got called in to do a routine transport that a ground crew would normally handle. So we were already near the local hospital when they diverted us to pick you up.”

  He’s talking to distract me, she thought, and to reassure me — telling me, whether it’s true or not, that Spence really isn’t in such serious condition after all.

  She looked over at the other stretcher. “I’m glad you were here,” she whispered.

  The helicopter lifted off. It felt to Sharley as if it was rocking wildly — or perhaps that was only because her head was still aching. The pain wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been, though, and her mind seemed to be clearing. On the whole, she was feeling much more like her normal self, except when she caught a glimpse of Spence.

  I’m safe, she thought. But what about him? He risked his life for me, and I can’t even thank him, or tell him it will be all right.

  She closed her eyes, and the words of the childhood prayer she had begun to chant earlier came to her mind once more. “Now I lay me down to sleep...” Spence had snapped at her for saying it, and her mind had been so fogged that she hadn’t understood why. Now she knew; the little rhyme went on, “If I should die before I wake...”

  No, she thought fiercely. They wouldn’t let that happen. Not to Spence.

  *****

  In the hospital’s emergency room, it might as well have been high noon instead of — what time was it, anyway? Sharley hadn’t the vaguest idea. It had been dark when Spence had roused her in the cabin. But how long had it taken them to get to the Baxters’ house? How long had they waited for the helicopter?

  Trying to figure it out only made her head hurt worse, so she closed her eyes and lay passively as they worked on her, terribly conscious that in another curtained cubicle nearby Spence lay, probably still unaware of the frantic bustle around him. He hadn’t even moved as they took the stretcher off the helicopter and wheeled it into the hospital. Shouldn’t the oxygen have had some effect by now?

  If only she hadn’t gone to the cabin at all, none of this would have happened. Or at least Spence wouldn’t have exhausted himself in trying to save her, and he’d be all right.

  Though it was more likely he’d be dead. The difficulty of rousing Sharley had warned him; if she hadn’t been there, he might not have realized in time. In any case, there was no point in wishing things undone now.

  And, if she had the power to turn the clock back and do things differently, she wouldn’t begin with the cabin. She’d go farther back, to that Friday afternoon when she had come home from school and gone straight to the gardener’s cottage — and she would turn away at the front door and walk to the main house instead. Sinc
e she wouldn’t have known anything about Wendy, the wedding would have come off on schedule, and she and Spence would be honeymooning in the Bahamas this week instead of gasping for breath in the hospital...

  For a moment, she lost herself in the daydream of sun and sand, perfect harmony, laughter and love. If only she hadn’t walked into the cottage and seen him there with Wendy...

  Sharley crashed back to reality, horrified at how sensible that scenario seemed. What an ostrich you are, she told herself, pretending that danger doesn’t exist if you can’t see it!

  Would she really rather have remained ignorant of Wendy? Even if he had broken off that particular affair completely, it didn’t mean everything would be rosy from now on. A man who wasn’t faithful to his fiancée wasn’t likely to be faithful to his wife, either — no matter how good his intentions. Wendy wouldn’t be the last...

  It isn’t what you think, he had said.

  But was it conceivable that he was telling the truth? And — if Sharley’s interpretation of the incident in the cottage was wrong, what was the truth?

  You either believe in him or you don’t, Sharley reminded herself. There was no halfway measure. She either loved him for what he was, or else she had to admit she had never truly known him at all.

  And what about Spence? Did he love Sharley and treasure her — or was she only a means to an end?

  Tonight in the cabin, he must have realized that he was at risk too, and every bit of exertion increased the danger. But he had worked frantically, without thought of himself, to get her to safety. And the moment Sharley was being taken care of, he had relaxed, as if his job was done and he no longer cared about anything else.

  I do mean something to him, she thought. No one would have blamed him if he’d simply dragged me outside into the fresh air and let me take my chances alongside him. If he has sacrificed himself to save me...

  “We’re going to move you to another room now,” one of the nurses told her.

  Sharley hardly heard.

  If only I could tell him that I understand…

  In the wide hallway, the orderly pushing her stretcher paused to let another patient be moved. Sharley, watching idly, saw a thatch of rumpled dark hair.

  “Spence!” she said, and tried to put her hand out to stop the orderlies who were moving him. It would have been an imperious gesture, like a queen issuing orders to the royal bearers, except that Sharley had forgotten they’d strapped her in.

  So the best she could do was to look at him, as the stretcher slid by. He turned his head, and she saw that his eyes were open. Even though they seemed glazed, with none of their usual brilliance, she gave a tiny sob of relief. He was awake, at least. That was enough to give her hope.

  His forehead wrinkled a little, and he said something. The oxygen mask he wore made it difficult to hear, but Sharley would have sworn he said, “It wasn’t me.”

  Then he was gone. She had not been able to touch him, or tell him that she appreciated what he had done, or even whisper that she loved him.

  There would be time later for that, she told herself. She couldn’t let herself think anything else.

  It wasn’t me... What on earth could he mean?

  *****

  Martin reached the hospital in the small hours of the morning. Sharley happened to be awake, having her vital signs checked and another vial of blood drawn, so the nurse let him come in for a few minutes. He stood quietly beside the bed, just looking at Sharley.

  She blinked at him in surprise. “How did you get here?”

  “Joe Baxter got a message to me. I phoned the hospital right away, and they said you were doing fine, but…” Even in the dim light she could see the shine of tears in his eyes.

  Sharley didn’t think she could handle it if Martin broke down. “I meant the ice and everything.”

  “Oh. The main highways are in fairly good condition now. It’s only the side roads that are still bad.”

  “So you drove up here in the middle of the night?” She let a half-scolding note creep into her voice, and she was rewarded with a tiny smile.

  “Had to make sure my girl was all right, didn’t I? Damn it, Sharley, I didn’t know what to think when I got Joe’s message that you’d been airlifted out of the cabin. I thought it was just a garbled-up third-hand report — that Spence had an accident and somebody got confused. Then when I found out it really was you — even though I had no idea you were there in the first place...”

  “I’m sorry about that.” Sharley pushed the button which raised the head of the bed. “I should have told you I wasn’t going to the resort.”

  “Would have saved a bit of trouble, I’d say.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “Or did you and Spence get things straightened out?”

  “You never stop hoping, do you, Uncle Martin?” She reached for the glass of ice water on her bedside table. “No, we didn’t. Have you seen him?”

  “Not yet.” He held the glass while she pulled the oxygen mask away from her face for a moment.

  The cold water tasted good, and Sharley took a long drink. “Is Charlotte upset with me?”

  “For vanishing like that? I don’t know that I’d call her upset. She’s worried, of course.”

  “She didn’t come with you, did she?”

  Martin shook his head. “She thought she’d better not risk going out till daylight, so Libby will bring her up.”

  “That’s good.” Sharley rearranged the mask and settled back against her pillows. “There isn’t any sense in her sitting here at all hours anyway.”

  “Sharley, I’m most awfully sorry.” Martin twisted the brim of his hat between his hands. “It’s my fault. All of it. I’ve caused you nothing but trouble, my dear.” His voice trembled, and for the first time Sharley could remember, he looked every year of his age.

  She patted his sleeve reassuringly. “It was an accident. You mustn’t blame yourself.”

  The nurse leaned in. “I think that’s long enough, Mr. Hudson. Miss Collins needs her rest.”

  “And so do you, Uncle Martin. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He gave her a long sad look, as if he was memorizing every inch of her face, then nodded and turned toward the door.

  The nurse added, “I checked on Mr. Greenfield’s condition, Mr. Hudson. He’s doing much better after his hyperbaric oxygen treatment, but he’s still in the intensive care unit, and the doctor says no visitors until tomorrow at least.”

  Sharley sat up. “Hyper — what’s that?”

  “Oxygen under pressure.” The nurse’s tone was warm and reassuring. “It’s a fairly standard treatment to force the carbon monoxide out of the blood faster. Just relax and get some sleep, now.”

  Sharley bit her lip and sagged against her pillows. Cut it out, she told herself. She had known in her heart Spence was far worse off than she was, because he had taken so long to wake up. But having her intuition confirmed by a medical authority gave the fact an uncomfortable reality.

  She lay there quietly, more wide awake than she had been in almost a full day. In the distance she could hear the wail of a siren as an ambulance delivered a patient to the emergency room far below her window.

  Spence was doing much better now. She would hang onto that knowledge. And tomorrow, when he was allowed visitors, she would go and see him, thank him for saving her life, and ask him what he had meant by those few words in the emergency room hallway.

  It wasn’t me, he had said. Had he been talking about the scene at the gardener’s cottage? But that was ridiculous. It was impossible she could have been mistaken; she had been in the same room. It wasn’t as if she had seen a figure in the distance — a figure that could have been confused with someone else.

  What was he asking her to believe — that she’d been hallucinating when she thought she saw him with Wendy in his arms? Or that he had a double hidden away somewhere, a twin no one in Hammond’s Point had ever heard of?

  You’re having delusions now, Sharley told herself, goi
ng to these lengths to try to find an explanation! Maybe he had been talking about something else altogether.

  She would simply wait till morning, and as soon as her doctor checked her over and released her, she would go and confront Spence.

  *****

  But morning did not bring what Sharley had expected. Instead of having a simple, cheerful chat with her doctor, followed by instructions for her home care and orders for her release, she was wheeled down to the neurological department for what the doctor called a complete battery of tests.