“Where’s—”
“If you’re asking about the guy who was bleeding, the ambulance went to the hospital with him,” one of them replied. “Professor Berriman went with him.”
“What about—”
“The other one went there, too, but two of the city cops are with him—I ’spect he’ll be sleeping in jail tonight, after what Berriman told us. Are you okay, Professor Gardner? You look kind of pale.”
She looked at the blizzard of papers strewn about her desk and on the floor of her office before the men motioned for her to leave. “I’m okay … better than my office.” She looked once more at the bloodstains then turned. She and Cecelia rushed to her car.
When they arrived at the emergency room, Amanda was told Marcus had been taken into surgery. The nurse at the desk asked a second time if she was a family member.
Cecelia surprised her by forcefully answering for them both. “Yes, we’re family! He brought me Eeyore when I was here. Only family does that,” she insisted, her voice dissolving into noisy sobs, mirroring Amanda’s mood.
A nurse took them to the surgical waiting area. When the doctor finally came out to speak to them, Cecelia had fallen asleep, her head in Amanda’s lap. Her blouse, now stiff with dried blood, bore mute testimony to why she was there.
“I take it you want to know his condition.”
She nodded.
The surgeon sat down next to her. “The knife hit a rib and missed his lung, but went into the liver. We’ve taken care of that and he should be fine, though he’s going to have an interesting scar, and he lost quite a lot of blood.”
“When can we see him?”
“He’s in recovery and will be there for a few hours, until he wakes up. I doubt he’ll be ready for visitors until tomorrow. Why don’t you take your daughter and go home?I’ll leave word at the nurse’s station. You can see him tomorrow.”
Amanda woke Cecelia and took her home. She peeled out of her blouse and put it into the sink to soak. After settling Cecelia in bed, she climbed into the shower and she wept her fears for Marcus, and her anger at Carlton—too long repressed, she now realized—for what he had tried to do to Cecelia and what he had now done to Marcus. She couldn’t seem to stop crying.
Had she waited too long to have Marcus to dinner? Why hadn’t she done that sooner? The water had long since gone cold before her tears finally abated, and she climbed out of the shower. When she huddled under the covers desperate to get warm, she continued to tremble as her mind, like a broken reel, repeatedly replayed what had occurred that day. Late into the night, she finally fell into a troubled sleep.
Long before dawn, Cecelia woke to sounds of weeping. She crept out of bed.
“Stay here, Skipper,” she whispered, and went into her mother’s room.
“Mom, are you okay?”
Cecelia climbed in next to her and listened as her mother cried out in the night and occasionally spoke words she could understand. She put her arm over her mother’s shoulder, as if to shelter her before she pulled up the covers.
“It’s okay, Mom. I’m here.” She fell asleep pressed against her mother’s body.
When her mother woke the next morning, Cecelia stirred. “Are you feeling better now?”
“Yes, Cece. Why do you ask?” Her mother rolled over and stroked her face.
“Last night you woke me up, crying and talking in your sleep—about Sam and me and Marcus, I think. Those were the only words I could understand. Did Marcus die? I hope he didn’t die.”
“No, honey, he didn’t die. In fact, we can see him today. The doctor said so. Do you want to come with me?”
Cecelia’s lips formed a thin line as she gazed into her mother’s face for a long moment. “Did he save you?”
“Yes, he did.”
“I’m glad. If he saved you, then he is a hero.”
Her mother looked at the clock. “That he is. And, if we’re going to be there before anyone else, we need to get dressed quickly.”
Cecelia slipped out of bed and headed to the bathroom. Her mother went downstairs and put together a quick breakfast. The two of them ate, dressed, and prepared to leave for the hospital.
“Wait for me, Mom.” Cecelia hesitated as her mother walked onto the porch. “I have to get my jacket.” She held the front together with one hand, not bothering to zip it up as she walked to the car. Only Marcus, it seemed, could do that.
When they arrived at the hospital, Amanda entered Marcus’s room and kissed his forehead.
He opened his eyes and stared groggily at her. “I feel better—seeing you.”