Going Gone Read online

  “And we did. Lots of people were looking for you,” he said.

  She finally managed to open her eyes. Cameron’s face was blurry, as if it was melting. It took her a few moments to realize she was still crying.

  “I hurt.”

  “I know, darlin’, with good reason. You have a concussion, three broken ribs, a buttload of stitches on your leg and you’re fighting pneumonia.”

  “Am I dying?” she asked, then watched his eyes darken and a frown spread across his forehead as he leaned closer.

  “No. You’re getting well and coming back to D.C. with me to live happily ever after.”

  Breath caught in the back of her throat.

  “With you?”

  He ran a finger lightly down the side of her cheek.

  “I had planned to say all this on Valentine’s Day, which happens to be next week, but sometimes plans change. I love you, Laura, more than I thought it was possible to love anyone, and almost losing you just made me more certain of that fact. You have to hang in there, baby.”

  The room was spinning, or maybe it was all in Laura’s head. She grabbed hold of his wrist, trying to stop the motion so she could focus on his voice, but things were turning faster and faster, sucking her down with them.

  “I’m going to pass out,” she mumbled, and proceeded to do exactly that.

  “Sir, visiting hours are over,” a nurse said as she approached the bed.

  Cameron lifted Laura’s hand to his lips.

  “Be strong and get well, sweetheart. I’ll be back,” he promised, and reluctantly walked away.

  * * *

  Time dragged for Cameron as he waited between visits. Exhaustion finally caught up with him as the waiting room cleared out. The quiet washed over him as he changed his chair for the sofa. The soft leather pillowed his body when he turned and stretched out. It was just for a few minutes, he told himself, grateful to be off his feet. But at six feet three inches tall, his long legs had nowhere to go except over the arm of the sofa. He fell asleep with one arm flung over his eyes to keep out the light. He’d set the alarm on his watch, though, and when it went off, his feet hit the floor before his eyes were fully open. He turned and staggered to the bathroom.

  He was still wearing jeans, which had been part of his traveling clothes, but after the first hour in the waiting room he had made a trip out to his car for a fleece jacket to pull over his shirt. The waiting room, like the hospital, bordered on cold, and he was glad for the added layer. The thought of coffee was enticing, but there was no time. He wanted to see Laura again.

  There were others in line with him, waiting for the doors to the ICU to open. Even though they all shared the experience of having loved ones with critical health issues, no one seemed inclined to talk, looking instead at the floors or the walls, anywhere but at each other.

  Cameron was worried. The last time he’d seen her they had put her on oxygen, and she’d slept all the way through his visit. He knew she needed rest to heal, but seeing her motionless and so vulnerable scared him. He needed to reconnect, to hear her voice and see recognition in her eyes, to know she wasn’t getting worse.

  There was a nurse beside her bed when he walked up.

  “Everything okay?” he asked softly.

  The nurse recognized him from prior visits.

  “She’s been crying out in her sleep,” she said, and injected the contents of a syringe into the IV port.

  “What’s that for?” Cameron asked.

  “Antibiotic. Her fever is still high.”

  He frowned. “The wound on her leg was bad. Is it infected?”

  The nurse hesitated. “Doctor Rector usually begins rounds about 7:00 a.m. He’ll be able to answer your questions then.”

  Cameron didn’t push the issue. He knew nurses weren’t free to share medical information about their patients. As soon as the nurse left, he moved closer to the bed.

  Laura moaned as he touched her forehead. Her skin was hot and dry.

  “Shh, shh,” he said softly. “You’re safe, baby, you’re safe.”

  Her lips were moving.

  He leaned closer, caught just enough of what she was saying and sighed. She was still talking about wolves.

  “They’re gone, Laura, they’re gone.”

  She grabbed his arm. “Cameron?”

  He took her hand. She still knew him. Thank God.

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  “Found me?”

  “Yes, we found you. You’re in a hospital in Denver. You are safe, and you will get well.”

  “Stay.”

  “I can’t stay, baby. You’re in ICU. But I’m right outside the door, and I’ll be back when they let me.”

  Her eyes opened. “Cameron?”

  “At your service,” he said.

  “Sarah?”

  “She’s on her way.”

  “Love you,” she said, then closed her eyes.

  She was already out when he answered, but it didn’t matter. He said for himself as much as for her, “I love you, too.”

  The time went all too quickly, and soon he followed the other visitors out. But as they headed for the elevator, he went back to the waiting room alone. He was too wired to go back to sleep, and after digging through his wallet for some singles, he headed for the snack machines.

  * * *

  Sarah Doyle was holding Cameron’s last text close to her heart, counting on its truth.

  Laura in ICU. I spoke to her. She knew me. Injuries severe, not life threatening. Worried about pneumonia. I’m in ICU waiting room.

  Laura was all the family she had, and if she lost her, she would be as alone in the world as a person could be.

  By the time her plane landed in Denver it was well past midnight, and the ground was dusted with snow. She caught a cab to the hospital and then texted Cameron to let him know she was on the ground, but he didn’t answer. She glanced at the time. One in the morning. He was probably in the ICU with Laura.

  Her eyes burned from the bouts of crying she couldn’t seem to stop, and she caught a glimpse of herself in the cab window as they passed through the city.

  Both sisters were blondes, and while the family resemblance was noticeable in their features, she was older and taller. Laura’s chosen path in life had gone nonprofit and led her to the Red Cross, while Sarah had gone the corporate route. And oddly enough, as Laura’s personal life had heated up, so had Sarah’s career; something she had yet to share.

  The ride to the hospital was long, and the heater blasting in the front of the cab never quite raised the temperature in the backseat high enough to keep her comfortable. Even though the cranberry wool slacks and gray sweater she was wearing were warm, and her winter coat was good protection from the cold, she was shaking.

  She paid the driver upon arrival, grabbed her bag and got out on the run.

  * * *

  Cameron was kicked back on the sofa checking his messages. The pretzels he was eating were all he’d had since dinner, along with the can of Pepsi at his elbow. Wade and his wife, Jo, had sent a text earlier wishing Laura well. He smiled, thankful for good friends. He was still scanning messages when he got a text from Tate. It was after three in the morning in D.C. That guy kept seriously late hours. He began to read.

  How’s Laura?

  Cameron popped another pretzel in his mouth and then answered.

  Fighting infection and pneumonia.

  So sorry. Nola sends her love. Keep us in the loop.

  Will do and thanks.

  He left the other messages for later, finished off the pretzels and washed them down with the last of the Pepsi. He was tossing away the trash when Sarah Doyle walked in.

  The moment she saw him, she dropped her bag and started crying. Second
s later she was in his arms.

  Cameron patted her on the back as he gave her a hug.

  “It’s going to be okay, honey. She’s alive, and that’s a damn miracle in itself.”

  Sarah grabbed his wrist. “Is it bad? Tell me the truth. Did she get worse? I’ve been scared through this whole freaking trip, afraid I wouldn’t get here in time, and at the same time, afraid to get here and learn the whole truth.”

  “Come sit,” Cameron said, and filled her in on the extent of Laura’s injuries, then glanced at the clock. “The next visitation is at 2:00 a.m. You take it.”

  When he suggested visiting Laura, she almost panicked, afraid of what she would see.

  “We can’t go in together?”

  “They do allow two visitors at a time, but I’ve been in several times already. She asked about you, and her attention span is brief, so having two of us there will only be confusing. You go alone, and once you see her, you’ll feel better, I promise.”

  Sarah smiled through tears. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to our family. I hope you plan on staying around for a very long time.”

  Cameron managed a lopsided grin. “It’s definitely my plan, but Laura has the last word on that, doesn’t she?”

  “You’re a shoo-in,” Sarah said.

  “Want some coffee, or something to eat?” Cameron asked, using the mundane question to hide how moved he was by her words.

  “Coffee would be wonderful.”

  “Black, right?”

  “Yes, please.”

  He got up for another trip to the snack machines, and came back with coffee and a bag of M&M’s.

  “I seem to remember this is a favorite in the candy dishes at your house,” he said.

  “Thank you so much,” she said, took a quick sip of the coffee and then tore into the candy and popped a couple in her mouth.

  Cameron answered a new text, giving Sarah some space while she ate.

  When the candy was gone, she settled back with the coffee, holding it between her palms as welcome warmth.

  “Cameron?”

  He dropped the phone in his pocket and looked up.

  “Was it bad at the crash site?” she asked.

  He grimaced. “Yes, and you need to know two things. There were wolves trying to get into the wreckage, probably from day one. She’s still dreaming about them.”

  Sarah clasped a hand over her mouth, too horrified to speak.

  “The other thing is that she saved her own life. She managed to tend to her injuries with next to no supplies and kept herself warm enough not to succumb to hypothermia. She is one tough, amazing woman, and I am in awe.”

  Sarah was crying all over again. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “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.