by Regina Doman
“Bear!” Rose cried, recognizing him.
Her brother-in-law looked at her, his face full of sudden light. “Rose!” he cried.
Hearing the name, the woman thrashed in her captor’s arms and recoiled. “My God,” she gasped, bloody and disheveled. “My God.”
Rose didn’t recognize Dr. Prosser, but few people who knew her would have at that moment.
“Where’s Fish?” she cried.
Bear couldn’t point, but he turned, and looked towards the blazing barn. For a moment, Rose’s heart stopped, but then she ran forward to the place where he had looked. As Lear might have stumbled towards his child’s corpse.
There on the ground before the barn doors he lay. He was lying on his side, his back to the inferno. As she came closer to him, she could see his disfigured face, his burned clothes, the ropes brutally tight around him, his one foot disjointed from the other in an ugly way. His eyes were closed, and his face was still, terribly still.
His body was hot. She moved him, dragging him backwards onto cooler ground, then gathered him into her arms. He hadn’t responded when she had touched him.
Now she ran her hands over his shoulders and bruised face, smoothing back his rumpled, unusually dark hair. His cheeks were black with soot, but when she wiped the soot, there was red beneath, and blood.
“Please, God, no,” she whispered with her empty voice, putting her wet cheeks down to his face. “Please, God, let him be alive.”
Vex not his ghost; O, let him pass!
He hates him that would upon the rack of this rough world
Stretch him out longer...
She tried to move him further from the fire, but as she did so, his face suddenly spasmed and he winced in pain but didn’t cry out.
Now she called his name, but there was no further response. She put her hands on his rough cheeks.
“Fish,” she whispered huskily. “You can’t die now. Please.”
The wonder is that he hath endured so long...
His chest rose and he gave a deep sigh that was cut off halfway down, and he coughed slightly.
“Why not?” his voice came wearily. There was a faint smile on his face, but his eyes were still closed.
She laughed at him even as she cried, pressing her fingers into his bound hands. “Please, please, if you love me, don’t die.”
His fingers reached through the ropes and grasped hers, and tightened. His grip was surprisingly strong, but his voice was fainter. “If I love you?”
“You do,” she whispered, brushing aside his hair. “I know you do.”
“...smart girl,” she thought she heard him say, but his voice drifted away, and that was the last he spoke.
25
...And the princess looked at him and declared that she would have him and none other for her husband...
Hers
Shakespeare’s comedies, Rose knew, usually ended with a wedding song and dance, and his tragedies ended with funerals. She wasn’t quite sure how this story would end—as a comedy or a tragedy, or a mixture of both.
They had insisted on admitting her to the hospital. Even though it was further away, they had brought her to the Catholic hospital. She had seen Sister Genevieve again, and the nun had been as good as her own mother, examining her and agreeing with the assertion that Rose remain for observation.
“After all, if you’ve been dosed with alternating quantities of Phenobarbital, Propofol and other drugs for months on end, you’re bound to have some after-effects,” she said gently. “I think your friend Paul was quite right to insist on you being admitted.”
“Oh, I know I’m having to be weaned off the drugs and things, but why do I have to stay in here? I feel fit as a fiddle,” Rose said restlessly. “Particularly compared with Fish. Are you sure he’s going to be okay? The main reason I don’t want any time spent on me is because he needs it so much more.”
“He’s a miracle of survival,” the nun said quietly. “We’re doing everything we can.”
After Sister Genevieve had left, Rose sank back into her hospital bed, looking out the window, her eyes moist. If he didn’t survive, she doubted that her heart would. And she knew that for once, she wasn’t being over-dramatic.
HIS
For a long time, he drifted in nothingness, barely aware of his continued existence. When he did become conscious of it, his first reaction was weary annoyance, and he decided not to pay attention to it.
Too much to do. That is, too much more sleeping to do. He wondered if he had finally given in and taken sleeping pills his doctor kept prescribing. Or perhaps the man had gone over his head and given him a dose when he was unaware. How like the medical profession, he thought. Over-prescribing, playing God, keeping people alive who should have just been allowed to die…or at least to sleep...
I’m not making sense. I should just stop thinking and go back to sleep, he told himself. What, are you still awake? You’re not thinking about that girl again, are you?
Rose. Rose Brier. She must have been the one responsible for this. He was sure it was probably all her fault somehow.
Now he was joking. He hoped she could see that. Smiling, he headed back to unconsciousness.
Hers
“When can I go and see him?” she asked her mother.
Mom, who hadn’t stopped smiling since she had first seen her again, said, tousling her hair, “Soon. I’ll ask the nurse. Oh, it’s so good to hear you talking.”
Rose put a hand to her throat to feel the stitches, where her breathing tube had been removed. “I’m glad to have my voice back too.”
“Not just your voice,” her mother said, her eyes bright.
Rose had to smile herself. It was awkward, because she kept forgetting how long it had been since she had been talking.
The nurse came in just then, and Rose repeated her question.
“As soon as the doctor says you can get up,” the nurse assured her. She was a friendly black girl, a few years older than Rose herself. “Is he your boyfriend?”
Rose had to smile at her mom. “Not exactly.” She pondered. “Funny, on the one hand, it’s not as serious as that, and on the other hand, it’s far more serious.”
“I see,” the nurse said with a wink at them both. “Well, as far as I know, he hasn’t woken up yet. But he’s got some pretty heavy painkillers they’re giving him.”
“I’m glad,” Rose said. “I don’t really want to talk to him yet, but I do want to see him.”
When the nurse and her mother left, Rose gazed around the room at her personal garden—nearly a half-dozen flower arrangements, most of them roses of various colors. The cards were beside her bed—from the president of Mercy College, from Sacra Cor dorm, from Nanette, from Dr. Morris and family, from Professor Dawson and family, from the various branches of the Kovach family, from Bear and Blanche.
She picked up the vase from her bedside table and inhaled the fragrance of the three rich white roses from her godmothers, Sisters Maria, Carmen, and Therese. Their letter had made her cry with its poignancy. They had been interceding for her for so long, and at last it seemed the disaster that had hung over her had done its worst and passed by. She had already written back to them to thank them for their prayers, but that scarcely touched what they had really done for her, and for Fish.
Once again, she felt a mixture of sadness and pleasure at being alive once again. Life could go on, with its joys and pain coming piece by piece, sometimes together like a flood.
HIS
At last, grudgingly, he consented to wake up. Not that he had much of a choice. Bodies were like that. All at once, they got an idea in them and then there was no stopping them. Reluctantly, he blinked at the world around him, decided he didn’t think much of it, and that he preferred to go away again. He closed his eyes.
Granted, there was nothing particularly attractive about the ICU ward of a hospital, even if you were in perfect health, which he was sure he wasn’t, to put it mildly. After taking in the
tubes, the monitors, and the medical paraphernalia around him, he decided he would rather not know, and forced himself back to sleep. Fortunately, it came again easily.
From time to time, he was aware of people talking around him, but he wasn’t yet interested in other people. He was still dealing with the idea of still being alive, and that was enough of a stretch.
I suppose I’ll just have to get used to it, he told himself. Somehow. Again.
Hers
Finally seeing him, the first shock was his black hair, which she had been told was dyed. With his face so pale, it seemed doubly unnatural.
“He looked quite convincing as a tough,” Kateri had said to her, recounting the story in vivid detail on the second morning of her hospital stay. “Donna did a great job on him. We should have taken a picture.”
The second shock was, of course, the IV and tubes, which surrounded him. But she was glad he was there, still existing, still in the body.
She reached a careful hand in and around the tubes and stroked his bruised face with a finger. He twitched and frowned, but didn’t respond further. Smiling, she sighed and withdrew her hand. Further waiting.
You can’t hurry love
No, you just have to wait.
…I charge you
my daughters,
by the gazelles,
by the hinds of the field,
not to stir up my love,
nor rouse him
until he choose
to awake.
HIS
At some point he became aware of a cool light above and to the right of him. For a long time, it failed to interest him, but at long last he tried to focus on it. He turned his head towards it, and opened his eyes. It was a dim, curtained light—sunlight?
Suddenly he became aware of the rest of his body, and the sensation wasn’t pleasant. While there wasn’t any sharp pain, he became aware that his feet and chest were almost completely immobile. Panicking suddenly, he tried to sit up and discovered his hands, at least, were free. Relieved, he sank back down into what he recognized must be a bed, and lifted up his hands to inspect them. The wrists were chafed, as he had expected, and there were several abrasions, but they moved easily and deftly. He massaged his wrists gratefully, happy that they at least seemed to be in working order. They had served him well.
As for his ankle—he glanced downwards and recognized the bulky shape of a cast. Well, that wasn’t unexpected. He sighed, and became aware of someone else in the room. He looked to the left, and saw a tall, dark-haired figure reading a book. The man looked up at him, and smiled. It was Bear. He looked as though he had aged, but he was smiling.
“Well, little brother, you managed to shock everyone concerned by once again turning up alive.”
“Did I?” Fish asked, feeling his head, which he discovered, had a bandage on the back of it. “How did I manage that?”
“I’m not so sure. A compound fracture on your right ankle, severe bone trauma on the other, three broken ribs, first-degree burns, lung trauma from smoke inhalation, and a pretty good concussion. You’ve also got a black eye, multiple bruises, and quite a few abrasions. So what happened? You told me this would be a simple sting operation, and the worst that could happen to you was a hefty fine. But by the time I made it down, you were soaked with gasoline and being tossed into a blazing barn. You have a knack for making people extremely mad at you, don’t you?”
Fish grinned at his brother’s teasing even as he grimaced at the list of his injuries. “Well, I can’t really blame them. I was, at that moment, a fairly large legal liability for them. They were already burning documents, and the thought occurred to them to add me to the pile.”
“So I gathered,” Bear said. “Well, not all the timing was off. I went to Graceton Hall but on the way in, I was stopped by a blond girl who told me to get over to the barn and find you. So I drove out to the Brier’s old place and found the barn on fire. I saw them throwing you in and managed to jump in and get you out before that Prosser woman tackled me. Then she thought that maybe tackling me hadn’t been such a good idea, but I wasn’t about to let her go. So I kept after her until the police showed up a short time later. Which was good for you, as I wasn’t able to do much more for you except toss you on the grass and put out the flames by shoving you around.”
“Yes, I remember it wasn’t that pleasant getting rescued,” Fish winced at the memory. “If I weren’t so indebted to you for showing up in the first place, I very well might have sent you part of my doctor’s bill.” He noticed then that Bear’s hands were bandaged. “Sorry. That last joke was in bad taste, apparently.”
Bear chuckled, flexing his big hands. “Minor burns, nothing compared to your injuries. Don’t sweat it. I’m just glad you’re alive.”
“How is Rose?” The normal talk with his brother had snapped him back fully into reality, and he remembered everything that had seemed disjointed or senseless for the past few days. Including Rose.
“She’s fine. That antidote—or whatever it was you got—worked: she survived the poisoning and she’s in the hospital right now for observation. Highly impatient and anxious to see you, I might add.”
He had to smile, even through the emotions that came over him abruptly. “I’d like to see her too,” he said, “when it’s time.”
“Look, I don’t want to tire you. The doctor said you really should be resting. She didn’t even want me to discuss your injuries with you, but I know you’d rather know.”
“That’s right,” he said, although he was exhausted again. “Well, I’m glad it worked. I wasn’t sure if it would. It’s like a miracle.”
“A lot of it happened because of you. I’m proud of you for taking it on.”
“Well, I had to save Rose, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, I guess you did, didn’t you?” Bear looked at him with understanding. “Just like you had to be the one to investigate Father Raymond’s death. It was a calling, wasn’t it?”
“I guess so,” Fish murmured. “Didn’t Father say that was one of the tests of a genuine call from God—if you started to do it and circumstances yielded to you, the job was meant for you?”
“That’s right,” Bear said.
“But I still owe you my life—again.” Fish tried to move himself, found he couldn’t and tried to relax into sleep again. “So why were you looking for me in the first place? Some wild intuition?”
“No,” And here Bear beamed with pleasure. “I just wanted to let you know that Benedict Michael had been born, and that Blanche wanted me to tell you he was named after you.”
“No kidding!” Fish stared, stupefied.
“Yep. Blanche and Ben are both doing fine. She can’t wait to come down and see you and Rose.”
“That’s terrific,” Fish blinked, and his eyelids refused stubbornly to remain open again.
“Well, I should let you get some rest. You need it.”
“Yeah,” Fish said, and was asleep almost instantly.
Hers
“Fish, are you still asleep?” she asked.
The young man who was still among the most frustrating persons she had ever known didn’t respond. Sighing, she put her hand on her chin and leaned over him, gazing at him.
He was looking better. His skin was a more normal color. The nurse had said he still hadn’t eaten anything, but probably would sometime today. If only they could get that awful black dye out of his hair. She missed his usual jumble of brown hair acutely.
Day. It was so good to see daylight. She still hadn’t tired of it—all the many shapes and colors, the sharp lines and fine details one could see when it was present. Now her eyes traveled slowly over his slightly altered profile and complexion—his nose seemed to be broken, and there was a dark bruise over his eye. Perhaps right now no one would describe him as handsome, except herself.
But then again, I am incorrigible, she reminded herself.
She sighed deeply, and humming her usual tune, a bit forlornly, turned back to her
room.
I keep waiting.
I keep on waiting.
But it’s not easy.
No, it’s not easy.
But love will come, she told herself. I know he will come.
HIS
He woke up next to the sound of muffled whispers all around him, and tensed unconsciously.
“You’ve done it now—you’ve woken him up,” Alex’s voice said.
Now he opened his eyes, blinking, and saw six faces looking at him. Donna, Kateri, James, Alex, Leroy, and Paul.
“Uh—hi,” Alex said. “How was your sleep?”
“I was enjoying it,” Fish said, swallowing his weary yawn.
“They only let us in here because we promised before God that we wouldn’t wake you,” Paul said.
“Foolish promise to make, if you couldn’t keep it,” Fish said. “Hi Donna, Hi Kateri.”
“Hello, Fish,” Kateri said, a broad smile on her face, coming forward and giving him a tender kiss on the cheek. She was wearing a long yellow dress with tiny blue flowers on it, her braids were wrapped with purple and blue thread, and she had a sunny, contented look on her face. She touched his cast gently. “How is your foot?”
“That’s right, pick an injury, any injury, and ask me about it,” Fish tried to sit up a bit more. “I will be a walking conversation piece for months—once I get around to walking again. Where’s Rose?”
“Also napping, actually,” Kateri said. “We didn’t wake her up.”
“We just wanted to see how you were recovering,” said Alex, who had some significant facial injuries of his own.
“It’s just as well you woke me up. I’ve been waiting for someone to tell me what happened at your end,” Fish said. “I see you guys all look a little worse for wear.”
