Sylvia introduced Mike as the man that saved them. Owen looked abashed but grateful.
Sylvia filled Owen in on how the boat would be sailed home by Jon, and how Mom would be picking them up.
“Can you go home?” she asked.
“I don’t think so,” he told her weakly. “I don’t know.”
The nurse came in to take his vital signs. “Don’t wear him out,” she told Sylvia, “the police have already been here to ask him questions. We’ll let you know when he’s headed up to a floor. A gunshot and a collapsed lung…” she paused and shook her head, “Let him rest,” she nodded at Owen, whose eyes had closed.
Sylvia and Mike exited the emergency room and went back to the waiting room. Mike had given his statement, and now one of the cops offered to give him a ride back to the marina.
“Will you be all right?” he asked Sylvia, concern in his eyes.
“I’ll be fine,” Sylvia said, more bravado, than truth in her voice. “My Mom will be here soon.” She paused, took his hand and looked into his eyes, “I don’t know how or where to begin to thank you.”
Mike told her, “No problem. You have my contact information. Let me know how Owen is doing.”
The policeman was obviously impatient. He looked away but was tapping his foot. Sylvia noticed.
“I will,” she told him, “and thank you, from the bottom of my heart.” She leaned over, and gave him a kiss on the cheek, her emotions threatening to spill over. She turned, blinking, to the policeman, and thanked him as well. Mike and the police left the emergency room.
Sylvia sat down in one of the hard, plastic chairs again. She didn’t know if she had ever felt so alone in her life. A television babbled world news. She dully watched as people with various illnesses and injuries came into the Emergency Room. The background noise became white noise with the occasional faint sirens growing louder and louder as they approached the Emergency Room. The crackling voice over the intercom paging doctors jolted her awake every few minutes. Sylvia sat, not really staring at anything in a trance like a state. She leafed languidly through old, tattered magazines, but did not actually read. Finally, after what seemed like hours, one of the nurses called to her. Owen had been moved to a medical, surgical floor of the hospital. Sylvia hurried up to see him, but the nurses were setting him up with the monitors and machine. She stood outside the door, making sure she didn’t get in the way. Owen was still asleep, and he moaned deeply when they moved him around.
Tears threatened to spill from her eyes again. The stress of the day was catching up with her. When the nurses were done, they asked her if she needed anything, and she asked, quietly, if she could have a blanket. She was so cold, her teeth were nearly chattering. In a few moments, one of the nurses brought her a blanket that was warm.
“This is wonderful!” she told the nurse. “Thank you so much.”
“Let us know if you need anything,” the nurse told her. She offered her a sandwich, coffee, and cold drinks.
Sylvia declined the offer of food and beverages. She was not very hungry. The nurse’s name was Barbara, Sylvia was grateful for her kindness. Barbara left the room and Sylvia pulled the warm blanket more tightly around herself. The stress of the day seemingly caught up with her all at once. She was asleep within seconds. It only seemed a moment later that her mom was shaking her gently.
“Sylvia? Syl? Are you all right?” Mary asked her daughter.
Sylvia felt like she was swimming through thick water. She pulled herself out of the dream she was having, and back to reality.
“Mom?” she asked, faintly.
“Oh, Sylvia!” she said, bending down to give her daughter a half hug.
Tears did spill out this time, just pouring down her cheeks without a sound. Her mom held her. Sylvia couldn’t speak. She looked over at Owen. He was still asleep from the pain medications they had given him. His breathing sounded ragged and odd with the tube sticking out of his chest. There was a suction thing attached to the tube that gave a steady, but strange, whooshing sound as he breathed. It was a little frightening to see and hear.
“Oh, Mom!” Sylvia cried, “I’m so glad you came!” She started crying all over again.
Mary waited until Sylvia calmed down. She handed her the thin tissues, from the box by Owen’s bed, one by one until the tears stopped. Sylvia excused herself to the bathroom where she splashed water on her face. While she was in the bathroom, her mother had pulled up another chair. Sylvia sat back down with a sigh. She pulled the blanket around her again.
“Tell me everything, from the beginning,” her mother told her.
So, Sylvia told her. She told her about the weekend’s highs and lows. The docking at Still Pond, how much she loved sailing, the meeting with Scotty, the marina, the inn and the horrific sail home. She rambled. She babbled. Sylvia didn’t think she made any sense, but she kept on talking. Her mother kept quiet, listening to her, and holding onto her hand. Sylvia finally stopped. She was exhausted from her story and from crying. Mary continued to hold her hand. Sylvia slumped in the chair.
“Sylvia?” a weak-voiced Owen called to her.
Sylvia sprang up from her chair and ran to the side of the bed.
“Owen?” she asked him, her voice ragged with emotion and exhaustion. “Owen?” she asked again, “how are you feeling?”
He looked up at her, eyes still heavy with the pain medications they had given him, “With my hands, I think,” he croaked, trying to make a joke.
“Oh, you!” she cried in exasperation, but she peppered his face with butterfly kisses. She moved and accidentally bumped the tube that came from his chest. He groaned.
“Oh! Owen!” she cried, “I’m sorry!”
“It’s okay,” he gasped. “It's all right.”
“Do you remember what happened?” Sylvia asked him.
“I think I remember,” Owen started and took a breath before completing the sentence, “getting shot by someone.”
Sylvia nodded, but could not speak. The few tears she had left streamed down her face. Owen tried to raise a hand to touch her face, but could not. He let his hand sink back to the bed.
“Oh, Sylvia,” he whispered weakly, “don’t cry.”
“I know, I know!” she sobbed, just on the edge of hysteria, “but, I thought I lost you! I don’t know how, or why this ever happened.”
Owen patted her hand.
Sylvia took some deep breaths before telling him, “They said the gunshot went through your shoulder area but punctured your lung. That’s why you have a tube in your chest. You will be all right. The machines are helping you to breathe, right now. But, you will be fine,” she assured him, trying to convince Owen as much as herself.
Owen tried to smile at this, but the pain medications were pulling him back into a sleep state. Another nurse came in to check on Owen. He woke up briefly, barely acknowledging her presence, and went back to sleep almost immediately.
The nurse, Barbara, turned to Sylvia, “Why don’t you get some food and some rest,” she advised.
“I don’t know what to do or where to go,” Sylvia said faintly. “I don’t want to go to North Bay tonight. I don’t want to leave Owen.”
Barbara looked at Mary. “There are some lovely restaurants in Chestertown, why don’t you leave for a little bit. There’s a bed and breakfast, just down the road.”
“But, what about Percy?” Sylvia asked Mary and then turned to Barbara to explain, “Our dog, Percy, is home alone.”
Mary turned to her daughter, “I can call Marian and Jon to take care of Percy, or maybe you can call Carol. We have lots of support. We’ll figure it out.”
Mary turned to Barbara, “Can you recommend anywhere we can stay?”
Barbara grimaced, “Most of the motels have only a few stars on their reviews. As I said, there’s a bed and breakfast within walking distance.”
Mary put her arm around Sylvia before she said, “I think we need someplace nice. This girl has been through a lot in
the last twenty-four hours.”
“Walk out to the desk with me,” Barbara told Mary and Sylvia, “I’ll get the number for you and you can make a reservation before you go. It shouldn’t be booked during the summer and at the beginning of the week.”
They made a reservation, with Sylvia still protesting.
“Sylvia, I am your mother, and I am telling you that you need some food and some rest,” Mary said to Sylvia in a firm voice.
Barbara nodded. “Don’t worry, Sylvia. We’ll take good care of Owen.”
Sylvia nodded a little shakily with tears threatening to spill over again.
Mary led Sylvia to the car. She drove to a nearby discount store and pulled Sylvia inside to get some toiletries, nightgowns for each of them, an outfit for the next day and a small bag to carry it all in. Once they were checked in, her mother took her to a restaurant in town. Sylvia wasn’t hungry at all, but her mother ordered a bottle of wine and some appetizers. Sylvia nibbled disconsolately.
“Why don’t we have this packed up and we can take it up to the bed and breakfast?” her mother suggested. “You are exhausted and we have some additional calls to make.”
Sylvia didn’t protest. It was only a few minutes to the bed and breakfast. Fortunately, her mother talked with the innkeeper, while Sylva hung back. She was overtired. She didn’t want to speak to any more people.
As tired as Sylvia was, she didn’t feel like she could sleep. Fragments of thoughts of the day’s events buzzed continually in her brain. Her mother insisted she lay on the bed and she did. She felt too tired to think. She felt too tired to move. In a haze she listened, while her mother called and let Jon, Marian, Carol and Mr. Carter know what had happened. She heard her mother’s voice talking in soothing tones to Phil and Anne. The cadence and tone of her mother’s voice was like a lullaby. It eventually lulled her to sleep.
Sylvia slept dreamlessly for a few hours. But, the peacefulness of dreams left Sylvia, and the nightmares began. Over and over, in her dream, she replayed the scene of Owen getting shot and the blood spilling everywhere. Red lights flashed off and on and on and off. Lights, blood, gunshots replayed over and over in an unending nightmare.
Mary woke up when her daughter began moaning in her sleep. Tears sprang to her eyes as Sylvia mumbled words of angst. Mary could only guess at what Sylvia was dreaming about. It was when she cried out in anger and pain in her sleep, that Mary put her arm around her daughter and whispered, “It’s all right. You’re safe. Owen’s safe,” over and over again until Sylvia settled down again.
It was mid-morning when Sylvia woke up. Sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains at the window. She squinted. Sylvia was confused, not remembering where she was, at first. When the realization hit her, her eyes widened.
“Syl, it’s all right,” Mary told her daughter when she was awake, “I called the hospital and Owen had a peaceful night. When you get dressed, and have breakfast, we can head back to the hospital to see him.”
Her mother had been sitting in a lounge chair next to the window in the room. She got up and sat on the edge of the bed and put her hand on Sylvia’s arm as she spoke.
“What time is it?” Sylvia asked.
“Just after nine-thirty,” her mother told her, “Since its mid-week and they have no other guests, the innkeeper was waiting until you woke up to start breakfast. I’ll just slip downstairs and let her know you’re awake while you get dressed.”
Sylvia lay back a moment to look around the room. She barely remembered crawling into bed last night. It was a lovely place, feminine, but not ‘frou-frou’ as Scotty said over the weekend. She smiled, remembering his face about the ‘frou-frou’ comment. There were lace curtains at the window and lots of pillows, but it was clean, light and airy. She smelled coffee brewing and something baking reminded Sylvia she needed to get up and get ready for the day.
The innkeeper served them coffee, homemade cinnamon rolls, and fresh fruit on the front porch. It was a lovely and relaxing way to start the day. The July heat was beginning to build, but the trees in front of the house shaded them entirely.
After breakfast, Mary went inside to talk to the innkeeper about staying another night. Sylvia stayed on the porch, sipping the last of her coffee and staring blankly at the trees. Their presence gave her some peace, but she was still too roiled up inside to be able to see their auras. What she saw, was something like rain. Sylvia blinked. When she opened her eyes and looked at the sun-drenched landscape again, her vision was almost blurry with the movement. She rubbed her eyes. It reminded her of the time the Green Man gave her extraordinary sight to see auras. She breathed slowly in and out. She thought of the Green Man, wishing for him to come to her, to bring her some comfort.
With a rustle of leaves, there he was. Sylvia flung herself into his arms, locking her arms around him as if she would never let go. He held her tightly while she buried her face in the brocade, leafy fabric on his body and breathed in the spicy, woodsy scent. They didn’t talk. Peacefulness from the Green Man emanated from him and into her. She didn’t speak. Neither did he.
Approaching footsteps caused Sylvia to step back and the Green Man vanished. Her mother and the innkeeper came out to the porch. Disappointment washed over Sylvia.
“Can I get you more coffee?” the innkeeper asked.
Mutely Sylvia nodded and held out her cup for one more splash of java as she softly murmured her thanks. Mary introduced Madeleine.
Madeleine was tall, very tall. She swayed a little as she stood, reminding Sylvia of a giraffe or even more of a lithe dancer. Her gray hair was short and chic and her kind eyes reminded Sylvia of Marian. Madeleine extended her hand and told Sylvia she was sorry to hear about the trouble she and Owen had on the bay. She told Sylvia and Mary she would have a treat for them when they returned that evening, freshly baked, chocolate chip cookies. Mary groaned in delight, thanking her in advance. Sylvia smiled in response.
Owen was sitting up and looking brighter when they arrived at the hospital. He was hoping he could be released the next day. Mary left the hospital, shortly after dropping off Sylvia, to pick up some more clothes for Sylvia, Owen and herself. Sylvia noticed the hospital floor had a rhythm to it. She could see this from her vantage point in Owen’s room, and when she assisted Owen with a walk down the hall, to the nurses’ station and back, trailing his IV pole.
The morning was busy with the ins and outs of the nursing staff and various medical personnel checking on Owen. She had Owen call his parents. She knew her mom had called Anne and Phil last night, but thought Anne would want to hear her son’s voice. Phil was teaching a summer class, but Anne insisted on driving to Marian’s to stay for a few days. Sylvia could hear a catch in her voice through the phone. Later, Sylvia called Carol and caught her up on what had happened and talked to her about the upcoming Bay Days. It only seemed a short time had passed when Mary came back to pick up Sylvia to take her to lunch.
They drove to nearby downtown Chestertown. Sylvia and Gwen had often haunted a small café where they had signature coffee drinks, homemade pastries, and hearty sandwiches. The restaurant was sparsely filled. It wasn’t long before they had their sandwiches and drinks. They sat in what was once a large window in a store and let the sunshine pour in on them. It felt good. Sylvia closed her eyes for a moment.
“Are you all right?” Mary asked her daughter.
Sylvia nodded, not opening her eyes. “I’m weary, I think,” she answered her mother. “It’s all still so jumbled around. I can’t seem to get a straight thought. I keep asking myself, ‘why.’” Sylvia opened her eyes. I’ll be happy to go home,” she admitted honestly.
“I’m hoping that will be tomorrow,” Mary told her. “Owen is looking well. Also, I wanted to let you know that I asked Anne to stay in the guest room and not at Marian’s. She’s so anxious about Owen and we can tag team taking care of him and you can get back to Thurmont.
Thurmont, Bay Days, this was not a good week for Sylvia to be away fro
m the job. But, it couldn’t be helped. Sylvia nodded in agreement with her mother’s statement.
“I’m going to need to talk to Carol,” she told her mother.
Mary nodded, “I know,” she said.
But, Sylvia couldn’t bring herself to dial Carol’s number. Instead, she hid behind a cheery text that they were hoping Owen would be released tomorrow and that Sylvia would return to Thurmont on Thursday. Carol’s response was a smiley face, but no other words. Sylvia was a little puzzled, but brushed it off, knowing that Carol was likely very, very busy, doing work on Bay Days and other work that Sylvia was responsible for. She would need to make it up to her somehow.
They returned to the hospital and received word that Owen would definitely be released the next day. While Mary and Sylvia had been at lunch, the chest tube had been removed. Owen had been given additional pain medication. Now he was sleepy. Sylvia gave Owen a light kiss on the cheek and promised to see him in the morning to take him home.
Mary took Sylvia back to the bed and breakfast for the warm chocolate chip cookies Madeleine had promised them that morning. Still weary, she asked her mom to get sandwiches or pizza for dinner, rather than going out. Her mom complied and went out to get dinner. Sylvia wandered the campus about one hundred yards from the bed and breakfast. Memories of her years at Washington College flooded her as she strolled around the grounds. Her phone buzzed. It was her mom asking where she was. Briefly, Sylvia told her where she was and she would be back in a minute.
Mary had picked up sandwiches and a bottle of Sylvia’s favorite wine. She had dinner set in the dining room when Sylvia walked in.
“Looks good,” Sylvia commented at the sandwiches on the table. She picked up her glass of wine and held it aloft in a toast. “To this nightmare being over soon,” she said to Mary.
Mary clinked her glass and nodded. “Here! Here!” she agreed and drank to the toast.
Chapter 21
“Once you choose hope, anything is possible.” Christopher Reeve
Sylvia was never so glad to head home in her life. Finally discharged from the hospital, late in the morning, Owen fell asleep just minutes after climbing carefully into the car. Sylvia and her mom chatted quietly as they drove north on Route 213 towards Deerton. The July heat and humidity was in full force. Heat seemed to rise from the fields of corn and soybeans along the road.
The Blossoming: The Third book in The Green Man Series Page 15
