Finding Strength (The Searchers Book 5)

by Ripley Proserpina

  Now, the only movement was his chest as it rose and fell with each breath.

  He looked like hell, but at least he was alive.

  The ride to the hospital had been terrifying, but these moments, between knowing Matisse was alive and not knowing if Nora would survive, were killing him.

  Matisse hadn’t been cognizant of anything, though he’d locked eyes once with Nicole as she hovered over him.

  “He needs to rest,” she said, sniffing. Cai got the sense she was talking to himself. “Rest is the best thing for him.” She glanced over her shoulder and caught him watching her.

  “He needs rest,” he repeated, and she nodded before sitting in the chair she’d pulled close to the side of the bed.

  Seok and Ryan were in the waiting room. It was too small for all of them, and the hospital gave priority to Matisse’s immediate family.

  In a few minutes, Cai would leave and Seok or Ryan would check in. They couldn’t do anything for their friend but be present.

  He’d have questions when he woke up, even if none of them had the answers.

  Guillaume spoke quietly into his cell phone. Every so often, he’d catch a word: accident, drunk driver, head injury.

  Cai shook his head. It was hard to believe that everything had changed so quickly. One second, he was thinking about seafood, and the next, he was faced with the possibility that the woman he loved was dead.

  She might not make it out of surgery alive.

  The breath he took was loud enough Guillaume stared at him, but Cai was past caring. So what if Matisse’s family saw him lose his shit?

  Like thinking about losing it made it happen, his throat closed, and his eyes burned. For a moment, he fought it, but then, he let it out. Tears streamed down his face, though he swiped them away.

  A hand touched his shoulder, and he startled. “He’s going to be okay,” Genevieve said.

  Cai nodded. “I know.” He choked. “But Nora.”

  “She’ll be all right.” Nicole held Matisse’s hand in hers. His knuckles were swollen and red but had stopped bleeding. “She’s strong.”

  She was, but she wasn’t immortal. “If I could just see her.” If he could see her breathing, see the extent of her injuries. “It’s not knowing.”

  “Sometimes not knowing is better,” Guillaume said suddenly, and the bottom dropped out of his stomach. Cai was free-falling and there was nothing to catch him.

  “Gui.” Nicole’s voice was sharp and angry. “Those thoughts stay in your head.”

  Matisse’s father scrubbed his hands down his face. “I’m sorry,” he said. Cai could barely hear him over the roaring in his ears, but Guillaume’s face was red, and when he dropped his hands, he didn’t make eye contact.

  “I’m going to switch.” Cai stood and walked out without another word.

  Seok and Ryan were in the waiting room. They sat next to each other in similar postures, elbows on their knees, eyes on the ground. They didn’t glance up until he stood right in front of them.

  “He woke up for a second,” Cai said. “But fell asleep again.”

  “Good,” Ryan said. The plastic chair creaked as he shifted. “Maybe we’ll know something when he wakes up.”

  Exhaustion bore down on him, and he collapsed into a chair across from his friends. “When does Apollo land?”

  No one answered, and he didn’t have the energy to ask again.

  Seok continued to stare at the ground, almost like he didn’t hear them at all.

  “Seok,” Cai said, but his friend didn’t so much as twitch. “Seok.” He leaned forward and touched his friend’s hand.

  Seok jumped. “What? Is she out?” His dark gaze went over Cai’s shoulder and reflexively, he looked as well.

  No one was there.

  “One of you want to go see Tisse?” Cai asked. He’d stared at the door long enough.

  “I’ll go,” Ryan said. “Anything I need to know?”

  “No,” Cai said. “Well. Maybe. Ignore Guillaume.”

  Ryan stood and wiped his palms on his jeans. “Why?”

  “He’s talking out of his ass,” he replied.

  Seok snorted. “Sounds like Tisse.”

  Yeah. There was definitely a family component to Matisse’s bluntness. The more time he spent with Guillaume, the more he saw the connection. Ironic that the two had such a hard time with each other when they were so similar. Though maybe that was why…

  “I should text Apollo,” Ryan said, almost to himself. He walked away, typing on his phone before disappearing behind the double doors.

  Seok leaned back in the chair, head falling back. He stretched his arms over his head before settling them on the sides and staring straight ahead.

  He didn’t say anything, but that was okay with Cai. He wasn’t really in the mood to talk. His thoughts were jumping between one topic and another but circled back to Nora.

  And the unknown.

  Was there someone they should call? Her mother? The woman had appeared on the news once, when Nora had first moved in, and there was nothing maternal about her. But maybe with Nora hurt… Probably not. It wasn’t like she’d run to the hospital when Nora’d been shot.

  “I missed a call from Apollo,” Seok said.

  Cai glanced at him. He’d shifted, hanging his legs over the side of the chair as he stared at his phone.

  He’d completely forgotten about his. He reached back, but it wasn’t in his pocket. “I don’t know where mine is.”

  Seok brought the phone to his ear. “He’s not answering. Probably in the air.”

  “That’s good,” Cai answered without thinking.

  “What’s good?” Seok asked, but for the life of him, Cai couldn’t remember what he was talking about.

  “I don’t know.”

  8

  Seok

  Seok stared at his phone and the call he’d missed. Apollo was probably in the air, on his way to Biloxi.

  He had a splitting headache. The lights in the hospital were bright but flickered every so often. He’d tried counting them, to time them, but he lost count after ten.

  Dragging his hands through his hair, he sighed. How much longer would he have to wait? He checked his phone again. It had been hours since Nora went to surgery.

  Cai and Ryan were asleep in the chairs across from him, but Seok couldn’t sleep. He didn’t think his friends could either, because they kept waking up.

  They both did it. Their eyes popped open, and they stared around the room before sinking back into the chair. Seok hated the moment awareness came to them. He could see it in their eyes.

  He wished he could sleep and sink into oblivion for a little while. But then he, too, would wake up and have to remember everything all over again.

  The doors swung open, and he blasted out of the chair when the doctor walked into the room. “Ryan. Cai.” Somehow he’d lost his voice, but his friends still heard him. Like they had earlier, they jumped out of their chairs.

  “Nora Leslie?” he asked. The man looked exhausted. Seok studied him. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he didn’t see it.

  “That’s us,” Ryan said, then cleared his throat. “All of us.”

  “She’s resting. I have her in a medically induced coma because of edema.”

  “What’s edema?” Seok asked. The doctor stared at him in confusion, but he wasn’t sure what he’d done.

  Cai cleared his throat. “You spoke Korean,” he said.

  Had he? He hadn’t even noticed, but now that he was aware, the English wouldn’t come to him. The word, edema, it sounded like nonsense to his ears.

  “What’s edema?” Ryan asked, and Seok let out a breath. Thank God his friend knew what he was asking.

  “Her brain is injured, swollen. We’re monitoring closely in case we need to remove a portion of her skull.”

  “Remove her skull?” Ryan asked. God.

  “So she won’t wake up?” Cai asked.

  “Not yet,” the doctor repl
ied. “She’s in the ICU right now. No visitors for a few hours. Does she have family?”

  “We’re her family,” Seok got out. His accent was thick, and he watched the doctor struggle to understand him.

  “We’re her family,” Ryan repeated. “So she has brain swelling, but that will go down, right? And she’ll be fine?”

  The doctor paused before answering. “Her prognosis is guarded. I don’t know. Once the swelling resolves, she could be absolutely fine. But that is a ways off. In the meantime, I suggest you go home and get some rest. She’s not waking up today.”

  “But can we see her?”

  “Go home. Go to bed. When you wake up, you can see her. Let the nurses take care of her for now.” And with that, he left.

  Seok still had a hundred questions. What did “guarded” mean? It didn’t sound positive. It sounded as if her chances for survival were as good as the chances that she wouldn’t survive. His knees gave out, and he sunk into a chair. Was she dying? “Help her,” he whispered.

  “English, Seok,” Ryan said, falling into the chair next to him.

  “The doctor is right.” He didn’t repeat himself in English. His words had been for him and whatever higher power existed in the world. “We should go home and get some sleep. Matisse will need us, and Apollo, when he gets here.”

  “Maybe one of us should wait here,” Cai said. “In case Apollo gets here early.”

  “The plane won’t land early,” Ryan said as he rubbed his eyes. He took his phone out of his pocket and read something. “The flight is on time. With traffic, he’ll be here… probably early morning.”

  “I’ll stay,” Cai said. “The last thing that should happen is he gets here and there’s no one to explain things to him. You guys go to Matisse’s, get some rest. Come back in a couple hours and we’ll switch.”

  Seok nodded, though his stomach clenched at the idea of leaving. It was the smart thing to do. Who knew what kind of state Matisse would wake up in? “Okay.” He stood, locking his knees when his legs felt a little wobbly. “I’ll find Genevieve, get a set of keys, and we’ll go.”

  Ryan stared at the floor while he spoke, but he nodded.

  As he walked away, Seok could hear Ryan and Cai speaking in hushed tones. How had everything gone so wrong?

  9

  Apollo

  10 years old

  It was his birthday. Apollo counted out ten candles he’d found in the junk drawer, laying them out precisely on the countertop.

  Ten years old. Both hands. That’s what Mom had said when he’d turned nine. “I can’t believe this is my last year with a single-digit boy.”

  Apollo sighed. So much changed in a year. In a year, a mom could become a ghost. And a dad could become a stranger. In a year, his pants were too short but too loose around the waist. He could divide and multiply. He could scribble his mother’s initials on his report cards so the teachers thought she’d signed them.

  She hadn’t.

  He wished he had something to stick the candles in. A cake was too much to hope for, but maybe… He found a roll of paper towels and laid them flat on the counter. Using a sharp knife, he stabbed ten holes along the roll and stuck the candles inside.

  Happy birthday to you.

  He flicked the lighter. Ouch! The skin on his thumb was soft, but the flicker on the lighter was all ridges and it hurt. It was also much harder than he thought it’d be. He did it again, and this time it caught. One by one, he lit the candles. Happy birthday, dear Apollo, happy birthday to you.

  The flames flickered. Wax dripped down the sides of the candles, pooling into the holes he’d made in the paper towels. It was funny, before Dad left, he’d done this big shopping trip to Costco. Gotten paper towels and toilet paper. Plastic bags. There was still a ton of it left. But the other things he’d gotten, the big box of granola bars and the double boxes of cereal. All of that was long gone.

  There was a rap at the door, and Apollo blew the candles out quickly. I wish Dad comes home.

  He ran to the door, peering out into the night. The snow was falling, and it got dark early, so it was hard to see more than the snow.

  And the blue flashing lights.

  A policeman?

  They were the helpers, like his dad, so he opened the door. But it wasn’t a policeman. It was a policelady, and another lady. The other one, the regular one, she smiled at him.

  She reminded Apollo of his teacher. Her eyes were tired but kind, and her hair was fluffy and messy. “Hi, Apollo, I’m Officer Larsen and this is Sarah. We just came to check on you and your mom.”

  They had? No one ever checked on them at home. Apollo glanced over his shoulder. The TV was off, and the living room was dark. “My mom is sleeping.”

  “That’s okay,” Officer Larsen said. “She’ll understand.”

  If the police lady said it, it had to be true, so he opened the door wider and let them inside. Their gaze scanned his kitchen, and the lady who looked like his teacher wrinkled her nose. Apollo breathed in. Did it smell funny in here?

  He looked around, trying to see what they saw. At first, he just saw his kitchen, but then it slowly sank in. It was dirty. Apollo didn’t do his dishes. He put them next to the sink like his dad had taught him, and when he ran out of dishes, he just put his food on the table. The garbage was overflowing, though he’d tried to stuff down the wrappers and apple cores and things like that.

  He sniffed, but he didn’t smell anything except the way his house normally smelled. Now the lady was watching him, but she was trying not to look around. She wanted to. Apollo could tell. Every so often, her gaze would leave him and dart around the kitchen.

  “When did you last eat?” Officer Larsen asked him.

  He thought back. Well. It was Saturday, so he ate at school. Lunch. “At school.”

  She frowned, and Apollo wished he could take it back. He’d said something wrong. “I’m sorry.”

  Officer Larsen knelt next to him. Her eyes were kind, too, and she was a lot younger than Apollo had thought. In her uniform, looming above him, she seemed older and stern. But when she got down to his level, she looked like one of the teenagers that rode his bus. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. You wait here with Miss Sarah, and I’m gonna check on your mom.”

  “Okay,” Apollo said.

  The officer stood, glancing at the other lady before she went into the living room.

  “It’s your birthday, huh?” Miss Sarah asked.

  “Yes,” Apollo answered. “I’m ten.”

  Sarah laughed and held up her hands. “Both hands!”

  Apollo liked her voice and smiled. In the living room, he heard his mom groan, and he bit his lip nervously. Hopefully, the officer would help her. Mom was really tired, and Apollo wasn’t sure why she wasn’t waking up much anymore. He never saw her eat, and he never saw her leave. She might have, during the day when he was at school. Sometimes he found bags from the pharmacy and the wrappers from candy, never the actual candy.

  Officer Larsen’s radio blared something. The voice was so loud and staticky that Apollo couldn’t make it out. He did hear her ask for a bus, though. Huh. A bus was coming to their house. Maybe it was a city bus. Maybe Miss Sarah and Officer Larsen would go with them on the bus to the grocery store. Probably not Officer Larsen. She already had a car.

  Officer Larsen poked her head into the kitchen. “We’re set.”

  Miss Sarah nodded. “Apollo, I’m going to be taking you to your grandma’s house. You’re going to stay there until your dad gets home.”

  Before the calendar had run out, Apollo had three months until Dad got home. Now, it was January, and Dad was supposed to be home in a few weeks. He’d never stayed at his grandma’s house that long before.

  “Just a day or so,” Miss Sarah was saying. He’d missed something.

  “What’s a day or so?” he asked.

  “Until your dad gets home.”

  A bubble of happiness and excitement welled inside him. H
e could barely contain it. His dad was coming home! “A day?”

  Miss Sarah smiled back at him. “Yup. Let’s go upstairs and pack some clothes and a few toys, okay?”

  Apollo raced ahead of her then raced back and grabbed her hand. “Come on. I can’t reach the bags.”

  She laughed as she walked after him but paused next to the paper towel roll. “So what was this?”

  Apollo smiled at her. “Something to stick the candles in. A pretend cake.”

  10

  Apollo

  Present Day

  The lights of Biloxi’s airport were blinding after the dim interior of the airplane. He didn’t know why, but as soon as the plane took off, they went out. He sat, wide-awake, for four hours. He’d tried to stay occupied, but mostly what he’d been doing was searching the news in Mississippi for information about the accident. No one had gotten back to him, and it was killing him.

  All he could imagine was landing, racing to the hospital, and finding out someone was dead.

  It wouldn’t be the first time it happened.

  Another part, the stupid, optimistic part, was imagining another scenario. Apollo tried to shut that part of his brain down, but he couldn’t help it. He saw Nora in his mind. She had a cast on her wrist, and maybe a bruise on her face, but she was fine.

  And she laughed when she saw him, hugging his neck tightly. “I’m fine, Apollo.”

  He wasn’t that lucky; he knew that wasn’t what was going to happen.

  What was he supposed to do? Enjoy the last few minutes he had where he still had hope that Nora and Matisse were perfectly fine? The lump in his throat and rock in his stomach told him that wasn’t going to happen either.

  Outside, a wall of warm, muggy air hit him. It was so different than the icy conditions he’d left. He was still in his workout clothes and that turned out to be a good thing. If he was dressed for Brownington, he’d collapse from heat stroke.