by S. L. LUCK
Sarah smacked Dan’s arm. “Whatever happened to ‘health should be your number one priority’? So much for walking the talk.” Dan shrugged.
“Anyway, it’s not like you can go back to work the second you’re out of here,” Huxley told him. “You’re going to need weeks to recover, possibly a few months. You take it easy for that long, and I’ll book the tickets to Reno myself.”
“Ever hear the joke about squeezing money from a doctor?” Dan said, but the punchline was heard only by Jessica, for that was when a gurney carrying Sylvia Baker was wheeled down the hallway past Dan’s door.
Jessica said, “You all look like you saw a ghost.”
A ghost wouldn’t have turned his insides to mush or made his recovering shoulder hurt with memory, Huxley thought, but didn’t dare share this in front of Jessica. “If Jesse hadn’t found her when he did, that woman would have been a ghost,” he said, and they all looked at Jesse.
In the aftermath of the madness, and with emergency services yet to arrive, Dak assumed command and sent his sons to the water to recover Ed and to look for any signs of Sylvia. So it was Jesse who found the devil-woman, curled up in a fetal position, with her toes and her bottom in the shallow water of the opposing shore, peacefully asleep. His father’s teachings that all life has value overrode the temptation to leave the woman there and let her drown. He reluctantly hoisted her small body onto a stray sign floating nearby and brought her to the pavilion where police cars and ambulances were arriving. In the proceeding days, he learned that she had been diagnosed with a brain injury so severe that she would require around-the-clock care for the rest of her life, however long that would be, and it was obvious to Jesse that they were all as conflicted as he was.
He said, “I’m just glad it’s over,” and squeezed Sarah’s hand. They continued this way, secretly recalling Annabelle’s terrific power, and Jessica pretended not to notice their shared awe.
While secrets were being kept in the hospital, Father Bonner and Father Pauliuk were each returning from exhausting meetings with their archbishops, where both men shared their riverside experiences in full. It was Father Bonner who, having also been granted forgiveness for performing a major exorcism without permission, now carried a tray of coffee and a box of donuts into Father Pauliuk’s Anglican parish.
“Thought you could use some company,” he said, and put the donuts on the desk.
“You’re one of God’s miracles, you know that, Alistair?” Robert said, retrieving a coffee.
“He puts me where I am needed. How did it go?”
“The Lord is my strength,” Robert said. Alistair nodded and they let silence wash over them as they ate.
After a time, Alistair said, “What day is the funeral?”
“Day after tomorrow. I know the passage of a soul to heaven should be a time for celebration, Alistair, I know this in my soul; and I know Ed longed to reunite with his wife, but I must admit this one is difficult for me.”
Alistair nodded sympathetically. “That’s what makes us human, and that is okay, Robert. Can I offer any assistance?”
“Dan tells me the pizza near your parish is pretty good.”
“Another miracle,” Alistair Bonner replied, and they relaxed in the consolation of small wonders.
43
Over the soft white sand of Barbados’ Carlisle Bay beach, William Cheever padded barefoot with three strawberry daiquiris toward the white umbrella under which Susan and Anabelle lounged. It was the dead of winter back in Canada and the Cheevers were happy to escape the punishing cold. His Irish skin a little crispy from an application of expired sunscreen, William winced when his shirt slid across back as he leaned to deliver their drinks, but he smiled with gratitude that his daughter was still alive. He sipped his daiquiri, still unable to forget the helplessness he’d felt when he was trapped in that cop car while a hell of a freak storm almost killed his only child.
In hindsight, he was glad he hadn’t seen any of it, for he suspected those nightmares would have been much worse. At least he could sleep believing Anabelle was tucked safely under the art installation with the Elders like she told him.
As far as Anabelle was concerned, William saw that the longer they spent on the island, the more she seemed to relax, even enjoy herself. Of course he wished her swimsuit covered more than just the essentials, but William expanded with fatherly defense each time a potential suitor went leaping away.
Behind her sunglasses, meanwhile, Anabelle let her father enjoy his superiority while her fingers twitched.
Thank you for reading my work. If you enjoyed the story, please consider leaving a review online at your favorite store.
Connect with me at:
www.authorsluck.com
Twitter: @Author_SLuck
Instagram: @authorsluck