Delia frowned as she studied Lydia. "Where's all this coming from?"
"I don't know." Lydia shook her head. "I shouldn't even be talking about it now. It's just..." She sighed. "Sometimes I feel like I don't belong in this world or the supernatural one."
The door to Daniel's room opened, interrupting their conversation, and a doctor and a nurse came outside, talking to each other in hushed tones. Since they'd wheeled Daniel into the room, Lydia had seen the same doctor going in and out many times, but he'd never spoken to them or even acknowledged them.
Lydia leaned forward, trying to overhear what he might be saying to the nurse, but they spoke too quietly, and what little she picked up was unfamiliar medical jargon that meant nothing to her.
The nurse departed, following an order the doctor had given to her, but he stayed behind, pausing in front of the open door to Daniel's room. As he scribbled something on the patient chart, Delia saw her chance and stood up.
"Excuse me." Delia cautiously took a step toward him, and when the doctor looked up at her, she leaned forward and glanced down at this name tag. "Dr. Rice, is it?"
"Yes?" He turned to face her and lowered the chart, folding it against his chest.
Lydia took this as a good sign, so she hopped up from the chair and went to stand behind her grandma. She peered around her, so she could see into the room to where Daniel lay in the hospital bed. Machines next to him were beeping and humming, with wires running to his chest and temples. An IV ran from his arm to a clear bag, dripping liquid slowly into him. He looked so sad and alone, lying in the room by himself.
"I was just wondering if you'd be able to tell us how Daniel was doing," Delia said.
He eyed her and glanced over at Lydia, who straightened up and stopped staring into Daniel's room. "Who are you?"
"I'm Delia Panning, and this is my granddaughter Lydia," Delia said.
"Hello," Lydia said, smiling politely at him.
"You're not his family, are you?" Dr. Rice asked.
Delia shook her head. "No, we're not. But we found him. We brought him in, and I know there's a whole doctor/patient confidentiality thing, and we don't want any details. We've been waiting here for hours, and all we want is to know if he'll be okay."
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he opened the chart again and looked through it, making a note in the margins.
"Where did you say you found him again?" Dr. Rice asked.
"On the side of the road near the bay," Delia said, going with the story they'd told the nurse and the police earlier. "We think he must've pulled himself out, then just collapsed."
Delia had an unofficial promise with any supernatural element she helped that she wouldn't reveal them to the mortal world, so she couldn't tell anyone else about Aggie. Besides that, she couldn't really explain the unexplainable.
"On the side of the road?" Dr. Rice lifted his eyes from the chart, giving Delia a skeptical look. "Why were you out driving around?"
"Late-night craving for Haagen-Dazs," Delia said. "We were on our way to the convenience store."
"So you're no relation to him?" Dr. Rice asked and closed the chart again. "You don't even really know him?"
"Not that well," Delia admitted.
"Listen, ma'am--"
"Delia," she corrected him for calling her ma'am.
"Delia," Dr. Rice said before continuing. "I appreciate what you did, and it really is honorable that the two of you were good Samaritans like this, but I can't just go handing out information to total strangers."
"We're not total strangers," Lydia interjected.
"I know what you're saying," Delia said. "And I understand privacy and confidentiality more than you know, believe me. But we only want to know that the person we helped tonight is going to make it."
Dr. Rice seemed to consider this, but then he said, "If his mother were here, she could give me consent, but without that..."
"But she's not here," Delia said.
"No, we've been trying to get hold of her but haven't been able to," said Dr. Rice. "After her, the next of kin listed is his brother, who's missing, and his grandparents. We did get hold of them, but they're on vacation and won't be able to get here anytime soon."
"No," Delia said. "We talked to the police earlier after we brought Daniel in, and we told them what we knew. They said they were going to get in touch with her and go back out to the bay to look for his brother."
Dr. Rice nodded, then finally answered her question. "He should be fine."
"He should be?" Delia pressed.
"You said you just wanted to know if he was fine." Dr. Rice gave her a hard look.
"I do. That's all I want. But 'should be fine' doesn't sound like a definitive answer to me," Delia said, defending her position. "I should be married to George Clooney, but I'm not."
"I shouldn't be telling you any of this." He let out a deep breath and shook his head. "His hypothermia is under control, and the lacerations on his back and shoulders are stitched up. The issue is head trauma. We won't be able to know the extent of it until after we run a few more tests, but so far, his brain activity seems good.
"So, he should be okay," Dr. Rice reiterated. "But I can't say for sure. He isn't completely out of the woods yet."
Delia smiled at him. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," Dr. Rice said, returning her smile. "Now that your questions have been answered, I need to attend to my other patients."
"By all means," Delia said.
He started to walk away, but Lydia stopped him before he got far.
"Wait," she said, and he turned back to her. "Is it okay if we sit with him?"
"What?" Dr. Rice asked.
"I know strangers aren't supposed to be allowed in patients' rooms, or at least that's what I've heard before," Lydia explained. "But I was wondering if it would be all right if we sat in with Daniel, at least until his mom or somebody comes. I just don't think it's right for him to lie there alone. Somebody should be here when he wakes up."
"Go ahead," Dr. Rice said. "Go on in."
"Thank you," Lydia said.
When she went into his room, at first Lydia just stood at the end of the bed, watching him breathe. They'd shaved the back of Daniel's head so they could tend to the wounds, and the combination of the bright red gash and dark black stitches looked particularly gruesome cutting across the back of his head.
The weird part was that they'd left the front hair long, so his bangs fell across his forehead. His skin was ashen, and again Lydia was struck by how young and innocent he looked in repose. Watching him like that, alone and badly injured, just barely out of boyhood, she thought few things had ever looked more tragic to her.
She might've stayed that way for hours, hovering at the end of the bed, but Delia suggested that she have a seat. Lydia let Delia have the more comfortable stuffed chair, while Lydia brought in a hard plastic one from the hall.
They both sat with him like that for a long time. The nurses would come and go, checking on Daniel, then flitting out. He rarely stirred. Sometimes his eyes fluttered, and occasionally he'd moan, but that was the extent of it.
As time wore on, Delia was growing stiff, so she said she was going to the cafeteria to stretch her legs and get some coffee. She offered to get Lydia something, but Lydia declined the offer.
"How's he doing?" Delia asked when she returned a half hour later.
"The same." Lydia had moved to the more comfortable chair. She was curled up, her knees pulled to her chest, while she watched the stranger sleep.
"Has his mother been in? Or any of his family?" Delia asked, leaning against the wall.
"Nope." Lydia moved so she was sitting up more. "A girl stopped by, though. She said she was in the accident with him."
Shortly after Delia had left, a girl had hobbled into the room. One of her calves had been wrapped in a bandage, and she used a crutch to help her. She hadn't stayed long, and she hadn't said much, mostly just sniffling as she stared at Daniel.
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"What she'd say about it?" Delia asked.
"Not a lot. She mostly just cried and said he saved her life. She said he didn't even want to go on the boat and kept trying to talk his brother out of it, but he wouldn't listen."
"Did she say if they found his brother?" Delia asked.
"No, but I'm not sure if she'd know one way or the other." Lydia looked back at her grandma. "Do you think that's why his mom isn't here?"
"Why?"
"She's out looking for his brother or something?" Lydia asked. "Because I can't imagine why else a mother wouldn't be down here, when her son is lying in the hospital in a condition like this. Somebody should be with him."
"Well, somebody is." Delia smiled warmly at Lydia and sat down in the plastic chair next to her. "You're here."
"It's not the same," Lydia insisted.
"He needs somebody that cares, and you care." Delia reached over, brushing the bangs back on Lydia's forehead. "Earlier you asked if I was worried that you could do what I do, and I've never worried for a second. And this is why."
"This?" Lydia asked.
"Sitting here with a stranger all night, just to make sure he's not alone," Delia said. "You have a sense of responsibility and right and wrong that's vital to doing what I do. What we do."
"But I don't have the sense like you do, Nana," Lydia said. "I'm fascinated by the supernatural world, but I'm not part of it."
Delia laughed softly at that. "Oh, sweetie, you are a part of it. Premonitions don't make you a part of it. You have the aptitude, knowledge, and such a vast understanding of it. But most importantly, you have the heart for it. You have the openness and compassion that both worlds thrive on. You were meant for this."
"You really think so?" Lydia asked.
Delia smiled reassuringly at her granddaughter. "I do. And when I'm gone someday, and you're doing this on your own, I won't have a single worry. You were born for this, and you'll be great at it."
"I hope so."
"I know so," Delia insisted. "I love you, Lydia, and I am so proud of you."
"I love you, too." Lydia smiled, and Delia kissed her on the top of the head.
Lydia offered to switch chairs, but Delia insisted she was fine. Daniel stirred a bit more, and as time went on, he seemed to get more coherent. He began singing fragments of a song to himself in a low, out-of-tune mumble.
When he first started, Lydia had gotten up so she could lean over the bed and try to decipher the song, but she could only get a few words and phrases. "Poor voyager," "weary traveler," and "through the waves" were the only bits she got really clearly. But it didn't sound familiar to either Lydia or Delia.
A few hours later, Daniel's mother finally arrived, saying she'd taken the phone off the hook and didn't know anything was wrong until she checked her messages when she woke up for the day. She seemed a little annoyed with Lydia and Delia's presence, so they left her alone to be with her sleeping son.
7. Six Weeks Later
Lydia parked her car on Main Street across from the Capri Public Library. As soon as she got out, the warm summer air blew over her, and she breathed in deeply, loving the scent of fresh-cut grass mixed with the salty aroma of Anthemusa Bay.
While she enjoyed being at Sundham University, it was a bit farther from the sea than Capri, and she missed the smell of the ocean.
She was about to cross the street when she just happened to glance back at Pearl's Diner. It was a somewhat run-down restaurant but it served delicious food, although Lydia was in no mood to eat. It appeared to be Delia's goal to fatten her up over summer break, and Lydia had already eaten more for breakfast than she normally did in a day.
But it wasn't the food that caught her eye--it was a patron. Pearl's had booths in front of the large windows that faced the library, and sitting in the first booth was Daniel, eating a bowl of soup by himself.
He looked different from how he had when she'd last seen him. His hair was shorter, growing out from where they'd shaved it in the hospital. He appeared thinner too, and his face especially seemed gaunt. Snaking out from under the sleeve of his T-shirt she could see a dark pink tendril of his fresh scars. But he was up moving and eating, so he had to be okay.
Lydia hadn't seen him since the hospital, and she couldn't resist going in to talk to him. She was almost beaming when she walked over to the booth, and he looked rather startled when she sat down across from.
"Daniel, hi. How are you?" Lydia asked cheerily.
"Hi..." Daniel trailed off and gave her a confused smile, and up close she saw the dark circles under his eyes. There was a hollow look to his eyes, almost like he wasn't completely there.
She rested her hand on her chin. "You don't remember me, do you?"
"Sorry. No," he said sheepishly. "Should I?"
"Probably not," Lydia admitted. "The only time we met, you weren't awake that much."
"Okay. Now I'm really confused, and a little scared," he said, but he was still smiling.
"The night of your accident. I took you to the hospital. Well, me and my grandma did."
"That was you?" Daniel asked, and his confusion fell away to awe and gratitude. "Sorry, I never got a chance to thank you. I wanted to, but I never got your names, and then everything was just such a mess afterwards."
"I would imagine," Lydia said. "Don't worry about it."
"You saved my life. Thank you."
She smiled at him and was taken aback by his sincerity. "You're very welcome. You look good. So everything must be going okay?"
"It's pretty good, I guess. Everyone seems really impressed about how well I'm doing." That was what Daniel said, but there was a flatness in his words, like he wasn't really doing all that well.
"So you're healing up okay?" Lydia asked, trying to find out the truth.
"Yeah." He nodded. "I have to go in for another surgery, but they say it's minor, so..."
"Minor is better than major," Lydia said.
He stared down at the cup of clam chowder in front of him, stirring it absently. "I used to come here with John all the time. This is the first time I've been back since he..."
"I'm sorry about your brother," Lydia said gravely. "I went to school with him, and I didn't know him that well, but he seemed like a nice guy."
John's body had turned up a week after the accident, caught in an old fishing net at the bottom of the bay. Lydia had been back at college by then, but Delia had called and told her about it. The police believed that he'd been knocked unconscious in the accident and drowned.
The funeral was a few days later, and Lydia thought about going to it. She and John had been in the same grade, but they'd run with vastly different crowds. It wasn't until Delia told her about the funeral notice that Lydia had put it together that the John Morgan she knew was Daniel's older brother. Her only real connection to him was Daniel, and Daniel didn't even remember her.
"It's not true what they're saying about him," Daniel said, lifting his head so his forlorn hazel eyes met hers. "In the paper, after the accident, they called John a drunk and said he partied all the time. And it's not true."
"Okay," Lydia said, because she wasn't sure how else to respond. The John she knew in high school had been a partier, and the police report in the paper said he'd been drinking the night of the accident, but she wasn't about to contradict Daniel. Not now.
"I mean, he was drunk that night." Daniel leaned back in the booth and rubbed his temple. "And he was drunk more often than he should've been. But that's not all he was, and that's not who he used to be."
"Who was he?" Lydia asked gently, encouraging Daniel to let out some of the things he was clearly keeping bottled up inside.
"He was funny, and he was really generous, and he just wanted everyone to be happy." His jaw was set, and Lydia thought Daniel was trying not to cry. "My old man left a couple years ago, but before he did, he used to drink all the time. He used to beat on my mom, but when he started coming after me, John would stand up to him. John would take
it so I didn't have to.
"My dad was a mean drunk, but John wasn't like that." Daniel shook his head. "John was just trying to have fun. He just drank to escape when things got hard, and I know that it wasn't the right way to do things. And I told John."
He wiped at his eye and leaned forward on the table. "I told him he shouldn't drink so much. That night, when we went out to the boat, I told him not to, but he didn't listen. And he was my older brother. What was I supposed to do?"
Daniel looked at Lydia then with tears standing in his eyes. The anguish in his face was overwhelming. He so desperately needed the answers to his questions, to find some absolution for his brother's mistakes, and for himself for being unable to save John.
"You did everything you could." Lydia reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "You did everything right. Your brother was a good guy, but he made a mistake that night, and that's not your fault. And one mistake doesn't make him a bad person."
"Sorry." Daniel sniffled, then pulled his hand back, looking embarrassed by his display of emotion. "I just wish I remembered what happened better that night. So much of it is missing."
"Maybe I can help," Lydia said. "What do you remember?"
She made the offer before she thought about it, but now that she had, she wondered if it was such a good idea. She wanted to help him, but parts of the night felt like a blur to her, too. The only thing she remembered with real clarity was being at the hospital with him. She didn't even know why she'd woken up in the middle of the night anymore.
"I remember getting on the boat and then being out on the water. I was talking to Mackenzie," Daniel said. "Then...the next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital with my mom and her telling me what happened.
"I've pieced together a couple things from talking to Mackenzie--she was one of the girls on the boat that night," Daniel explained. "She and her friend swam back to shore, while I stayed out looking for John, but I don't remember any of that. The boat must've hit me, but I don't know how or when.
"And I guess I never found John, so I swam back to shore somehow." He shook his head. "But that doesn't feel right to me. I never would've left, not until I found John. I would've drowned out there before I gave up."
"Maybe someone helped you," Lydia suggested, and something about that idea made her head tingle, as if deep down she knew she'd gotten it right. "We found you on the side of the road, but who's to say another person hadn't taken you that far, then run to get help? They probably just never came forward."
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