Smooth Talking Stranger

TWENTY-TWO

In the morning i woke up and went into the main room. There was a protesting squeak beneath my foot. I reached down to pick up Luke's stuffed bunny. Holding the bunny tightly, I sat on the sofa and wept. But it wasn't the good, gusty cry I needed, only a slow anguished drizzle. I took a shower, standing in the hot water for a long time.

I realized that no matter how far away from me Tara was, no matter where she and Luke were or what they did, I would still love them. No one could take that from me.

Tara and I were fellow survivors, responding to our wasteland of a childhood in opposite ways. She feared being alone just as much as I feared not being alone. It was entirely possible that time would prove us both wrong, and the secret of happiness would always elude us. All I knew for certain was that the boundary of isolation was the only thing that had ever kept me safe.

I dressed and put my hair in a ponytail, and I began to fold my clothes in neat piles on the bed.

The phone stayed silent. I guessed that Jack had given up on calling me, which made me perplexed and uneasy. As much as I didn't want to talk about Luke, or how I was feeling, I wanted to know how Jack was. As the local news came on, the weather forecast showed a storm pattern forming in the Gulf. That would make it a bumpy return ride for the Travis brothers, unless they had gotten in front of the system. A half hour after the first report, the tropical depression had been upgraded to a forty-five-mile-per-hour storm.

Worrying, I picked up the phone and called Jack, and got his voice mail. "Hi," I said, when the beep signaled to leave a message. "I'm sorry I didn't answer last night. I was tired, and… well, anyway, I saw the weather report, and I want to make sure you're okay. Please call me."

There was no return call, however. Was Jack mad that I hadn't talked to him the previous night, or was he simply busy trying to get the boat safely to harbor?

When I heard a ring early in the afternoon, I hurried to the phone and picked it up without even checking the ID. "Jack?"

"Ella, it's Haven. I was wondering… by any chance did Jack leave a copy of the float plan with you?"

"No. I don't even know what that is. What does it look like?"

"Nothing fancy, just a couple of pieces of paper. It's basically a description of the boat, and it tells where you're heading, the rig numbers along your course, and what time you expect to get back."

"Can't you just call Jack and ask him?"

"He and Joe aren't answering their cell phones."

"I noticed that. I tried to call Jack earlier because of the weather report, but he didn't pick up. I thought he was probably busy." I hesitated. "Should we be worried?"

"Not really, it's just… I'd like to find out what their exact schedule is.

"I'll go up to his apartment and look for the float plan."

"No, that's okay, I already did that. Hardy's going to call the harbormaster at the marina they left from. They probably left the information with him."

"Okay. Call and let me know, will you?"

"Absolutely."

Haven hung up, and I stood frowning at the receiver in my hand. I reached up and rubbed the back of my neck, which was prickling. I dialed Jack's cell phone again, and his voice mail picked up immediately. "Just checking in again," I said, my voice taut. "Call and let me know how you are."

After watching the weather channel for a few more minutes, I picked up my purse and left the apartment. It felt weird to go out without all the paraphernalia I usually dragged around because of Luke. I went up to Haven and Hardy's apartment, and Haven let me in.

"I'm really getting worried," I told her. "Has anyone gotten hold of Jack or Joe?"

She shook her head. "Hardy's talking to the harbormaster, and they're looking for the float plan. And I talked to Gage, and he said he thought they should have been back by now. But the marina guys said the boat slip is still empty."

"Maybe they just decided to prolong the fishing?"

"Not with the weather. Besides, I know for a fact that Jack was planning to come back early today. He didn't want to leave you alone for too long, after what you went through yesterday."

"I really hope he's okay, so I can kill him when he comes back," I said, and Haven managed a laugh.

"You may have to get in line for that."

Hardy hung up and reached for the TV controller, turning the volume up as another weather report came on. "Hey, Ella," he said absently, his gaze on the TV. Contrary to his usual relaxed charm, Hardy looked troubled, the lines of his face hard and stern. He half-sat on the back of the sofa, his long form tensed as if ready for action.

"What did the harbormaster say?" Haven asked.

His tone was even and reassuring. "They're trying to reach them on the VHF radio. Nothing on 9-that's the distress channel-and no Maydays have come in."

"Is that good?" I asked.

Hardy glanced at me with a slight smile, but a pair of notches had settled between his brows. "No news is good news."

I knew nothing about boats. I didn't even know what questions to ask. But I was trying desperately to think of an explanation for why Jack and Joe were missing. "Could the boat just lose all power or something? And at the same time they could coincidentally be out of cell range? "

Hardy nodded. "All kinds of fuck-ups, coincidental and otherwise, can happen on a boat."

"Jack and Joe are really experienced," Haven said. "They know all about safety procedures, and neither of them would take unnecessary chances. I'm sure they're okay." She sounded as if she were trying to convince herself as well as me.

"What if they didn't manage to outrun the weather?" I asked with difficulty.

"It's not a bad storm," she said. "And if they got caught in it, they would just batten down and ride it out." She hunted for her cell phone. "I'm going to call Gage and see if anyone's with Dad."

For the next half hour Haven and Hardy stayed on their cell phones, trying to get information. Liberty had gone to River Oaks to wait with Churchill as events unfolded, while Gage was already heading to the Coast Guard offices in Galena Park. A couple of patrol boats had been sent out from Freeport to find the missing vessel. That was all we heard for a while.

Another half hour passed while we watched the weather channel, and Haven made sandwiches that none of us ate. There was a quality of unreality to the situation, the tension growing exponentially as time passed.

"I wish I was a smoker," Haven said with a brittle laugh, walking around the apartment with jittery energy. "This is one of those times when chain-smoking seems appropriate."

"Oh, no you don't," Hardy murmured, reaching out to catch her wrist. "You got enough bad habits already, honey." He drew her between his thighs as he leaned against the sofa, and she nestled against him.

"Including you," she said, her voice muffled. "You're my worst habit."

"That's right." He combed his fingers through her dark curls, and kissed her head. "And there's no getting over me."

The phone rang, making both Haven and me jump. Still holding his wife in one arm, Hardy picked it up. "Cates here. Gage, how's it going? They found 'em yet?" And then he went very still and silent in a way that made every hair on my body lift. He listened for several moments. My heart thudded heavily, making me light-headed and nauseous. "Got it," Hardy said quietly. "Do they need more choppers? Because if so, I can get as many as… I know. But it's like trying to find two fucking pennies someone dropped in the backyard. I know. Okay, we'll sit tight." He closed the phone.

"What is it?" Haven asked, her small hands gripping his shoulders.

Hardy looked away from her momentarily, his jaw so taut that I could see the strain of a small twitching muscle in his cheek. "They found a debris field," he finally brought himself to say. "And what's left of the boat is submerged."

My mind went blank. I stared at him, wondering if he had just said what I thought he'd said.

"So they're doing a search and rescue?" Haven asked, her face drained of color.

He nodded. "The Coast Guard is sending out a couple of Tupperwolfs-those big orange choppers."

"Debris field," I said dazedly, swallowing against rising nausea. "As in… as in an explosion?"

He nodded. "One of the rigs reported smoke in the distance."

All three of us struggled to take in the news.

I put my hand up to my mouth, breathing against the screen of my fingers. I wondered where Jack was at that very moment, if he was hurt, if he was drowning.

No, don't think about that.

But for a second it felt as if I were drowning, too. I could actually feel the cold black water folding over my head, pushing me down where I couldn't breathe or see or hear.

"Hardy," I said, surprised by how rational I sounded, when there was chaos inside me. "What would cause a boat like that to explode?"

He sounded excessively calm. "Gas leaks, overheated engine, buildup of vapor near fuel tank, exploding battery… When I was working on the rig, I once saw a fishing boat, over a hundred-footer, explode when it ran across a submerged fuel line." He looked down at Haven's face. She was flushed, her mouth twisting as she tried not to cry. "They haven't found bodies," he murmured, pulling her closer. "Let's not assume the worst. They might be in the water waiting for rescue."

"It's rough water," Haven said against his shirt.

"There's a lot of movement out there," he conceded. "According to Gage, the captain who's coordinating the rescue operation is looking at a computer model to figure out where they might have drifted."

"What are the odds that both of them are okay?" I asked unsteadily. "Even if they survived the explosion, is it likely that either of them was wearing a life jacket?"

The question was greeted with a frozen silence. "Not likely," Hardy said eventually. "Possible, though."

I nodded and sat heavily on a nearby chair, my mind buzzing.

You need time, Haven had told me, when I'd confided my thoughts about going back to Austin. Give it some time, and you 'll know what to do.

But now there was no time.

There might never be.

If I could only have five minutes with Jack… I would have given years of my life for the chance to tell him how much he meant to me. How much I wanted him. Loved him.

I thought of his dazzling grin, his midnight eyes, the beautiful severity of his face when he was sleeping. The thought of never seeing him again, never feeling the sweetness of his mouth against mine, caused an ache I could hardly bear.

How many hours I'd spent with Jack in silence, resting together, all words restrained by the limits of what my heart would allow. All those chances to be honest with him, and I'd taken none of them.

I loved him, and he might never know.

I understood finally that the thing I should have feared most was not loss, but never loving. The price for safety was the regret I felt at this moment. And yet I would have to live with it for the rest of my life.

"I can't stand waiting here," Haven burst out. "Where can we go? Can we go to the Coast Guard office?"

"If you want to, I'll take you. But there's nothing we can do there except get in the way. Gage will let us know the minute something happens." He paused. "Do you want to go wait with your dad and Liberty?"

Haven nodded decisively. "If I'm going to go crazy waiting, I may as well do it around them."

We started on the drive to River Oaks in Hardy's silver sedan, when we heard the ringtone of his phone. He reached toward the center console where he had stashed it, but Haven snatched it up. "Let me, sweetheart, you're driving." She held the phone up to her ear. "Hi, Gage? What is it? Have you found out anything?" She listened for a few seconds, and her eyes went huge. "Oh my God. I can't believe-which one? They don't know? Shit. Can't someone-yes, okay, we'll be there." She turned to Hardy. " Garner Hospital," she said breathlessly. "They found them, and picked them up, and they're medevacing both of them straight there. One of them seems to be in good condition, but the other-" She broke off as her voice fractured. Tears sprang to her eyes. "Other one's in bad shape," she managed to say.

"Which one?" I heard myself ask, while Hardy maneuvered the car through traffic, his aggressive driving eliciting indignant honks from all around us.

"Gage doesn't know. That's all he could find out. He's calling Liberty so she can bring Dad to Garner."

The hospital, located in the texas medical Center, was named after John Nance Garner, the Texas-born vice president for two terms of Franklin Roosevelt's administration. The 600-bed hospital was home to a top-notch aeromedical service, with the second busiest heliport for a hospital of its size. Garner also had one of the only three level-one trauma centers in Houston.

"Skybridge parking?" Hardy asked as we drove through the huge sprawl of buildings in the medical center. We were passing the thirty-story Memorial Hermann tower sheathed with spandrel glass, one of a multitude of offices and hospitals in the complex.

"No, there's a valet at the main entrance," Haven said, unbuckling her seat belt.

"Hold on, honey, I haven't stopped yet." He glanced over his shoulder at me and saw that I was out of my seat belt, too. " Y'all mind waiting 'til I put the brakes on before you jump out?" he asked ruefully.

As soon as the car was in the hands of the valet, we went through the hospital entrance, both Haven and I hurrying to keep pace with Hardy's long strides. As soon as we gave our names at the information desk, we were directed to go up to the Shock Trauma Center on the second floor. All they could tell us was that the chopper had arrived safely at the heliport, and both patients were in the hands of a trauma resuscitation team. We were ushered into a beige waiting room with a fish tank and a table piled with tattered magazines.

It was unnaturally quiet in the waiting room, except for the drone of a news channel on the small flat-screen TV. I stared blindly at the TV, the words meaning nothing to me. Nothing outside this place had any significance.

Haven seemed unable to sit still. She paced around the waiting room like a tiger in a cage, until Hardy coaxed her to sit beside him. He rubbed her shoulders and murmured to her quietly, until she relaxed and took a few deep breaths, and blotted her eyes surreptitiously on her sleeve.

Gage arrived nearly at the same time Liberty and Churchill did, all three of them looking as haggard and distracted as the rest of us.

Feeling like an interloper in a private family matter, I went to Churchill after Haven had hugged him. "Mr. Travis," I said hesitantly. "I hope you don't mind that I'm here."

Travis seemed older and more fragile than I had seen him on previous occasions. He was facing the possible loss of one or both of his sons. There was nothing I could say.

He surprised me by reaching out and putting his arms around me. "'Course you should be here, Ella," he said in his gravelly voice. "Jack'll want to see you." He smelled like leather and shaving soap, and there was a faint tinge of cigars… a comforting fatherly smell. He patted my back firmly and let go.

For a while Gage and Hardy talked quietly, mulling over what might have occurred on the boat, what could have gone wrong, all the possible scenarios of what might have happened to Joe and Jack, and all the reasons to hope. The one scenario they didn't discuss was the one most on all of our minds, that one or both of the brothers had been fatally injured.

Haven and I went out into the hallway to stretch our legs and get her some coffee from a vending machine. "You know, Ella," she said hesitantly as we headed back to the waiting room, "even if they both make it, there could be a rough time ahead. We could be talking amputation, or brain damage, or… God, I don't even know. No one would blame you if you decided you couldn't handle it."

"I've already thought of that," I said without hesitation. "I want Jack no matter what shape he's in. Whatever's happened to him, I'll take care of him. I'll stay with him no matter what. It doesn't matter to me, as long as he's alive."

I hadn't meant to distress her, but Haven surprised me by giving a few muffled sobs.

"Haven," I began in contrition, "I'm sorry, I-"

"No." Regaining control, she reached out and took my hand, squeezing tightly. "I'm just glad Jack's found a woman who will stand by him. He's been with a lot of women who wanted him for superficial reasons, but-" She paused to fish a Kleenex from her pocket and blow her nose, "-none of them loved him just for being Jack. And he knew it, and he wanted something more."

"If only I-" I began, but through the open doorway, Haven caught sight of movement in the waiting room. A door on the opposite side had opened, and a doctor came in.

"Oh God," Haven muttered, nearly dropping her coffee as she hurried into the room.

My stomach dropped. I was paralyzed, the fingers of one hand digging into the door frame as I watched the Travis family gather around the doctor. I watched his face, and their faces, trying to divine any reaction. If either of the brothers had died, I thought the doctor would say so immediately. But he was speaking quietly, and no one in the family revealed any emotion other than bleached anxiety.

"Ella."

The sound was so quiet, I barely heard it through the blood-rush in my ears.

I turned to look down the hallway.

A man was coming toward me, his lean form clad in a pair of baggy scrub pants and a loose T-shirt. His arm was bandaged with silver-gray burn wrap. I knew the set of those shoulders, the way he moved.

Jack.

My eyes blurred, and I felt my pulse escalate to a painful throbbing. I began to shake from the effects of trying to encompass too much feeling, too fast.

"Is it you?" I choked.

"Yes. Yes. God, Ella…"

I was breaking down, every breath shattering. I gripped my elbows with my hands, crying harder as Jack drew closer. I couldn't move. I was terrified that I was hallucinating, conjuring an image of what I wanted most, that if I reached out I would find nothing but empty space.

But Jack was there, solid and real, reaching around me with hard, strong arms. The contact with him was electrifying. I flattened against him, unable to get close enough. He murmured as I sobbed against his chest. "Ella… sweetheart, it's all right. Don't cry. Don't…"

But the relief of touching him, being close to him, had caused me to unravel. Not too late. The thought spurred a rush of euphoria. Jack was alive, and whole, and I would take nothing for granted ever again. I fumbled beneath the hem of his T-shirt and found the warm skin of his back. My fingertips encountered the edge of another bandage. He kept his arms firmly around me as if he understood that I needed the confining pressure, the feel of him surrounding me as our bodies relayed silent messages.

Don't let go.

I'm right here.

Tremors kept running along my entire frame. My teeth chattered, making it hard to talk. "I th-thought you might not come back."

Jack's mouth, usually so soft, was rough and chapped against my cheek, his jaw scratchy with bristle. "I'll always come back to you." His voice was hoarse.

I hid my face against his neck, breathing him in. His familiar scent had been obliterated by the antiseptic pungency of antiseptic burn dressings, and heavy saltwater brine. "Where are you hurt?" Sniffling, I reached farther over his back, investigating the extent of the bandage.

His fingers tangled in the smooth, soft locks of my hair. "Just a few burns and scrapes. Nothing to worry about." I felt his cheek tauten with a smile. "All your favorite parts are still there."

We were both quiet for a moment. I realized he was trembling, too. "I love you, Jack," I said, and that started a whole new rush of tears, because I was so unholy glad to be able to say it to him. "I thought it was too late… I thought you'd never know, because I was a coward, and I'm so-"

"I knew." Jack sounded shaken. He drew back to look down at me with glittering bloodshot eyes.

"You did?" I sniffled.

He nodded. "I figured I couldn't love you as much as I do, without you feeling something for me, too." He kissed me roughly, the contact between our mouths too hard for pleasure.

I put my fingers to Jack's bristled jaw and eased his face away to look at him. He was battered and scraped and sun-scorched. I couldn't begin to imagine how dehydrated he was. I pointed an unsteady finger at the waiting room. "Your family's in there. Why are you in the hallway?" My bewildered gaze swept down his body to his bare feet. "They're… they're letting you walk around like this?"

Jack shook his head. "They parked me in a room around the corner to wait for a couple more tests. I asked if anyone had told you I was okay, and nobody knew for sure. So I came to find you."

"You just left when you're supposed to be having more tests?"

"I had to find you." His voice was quiet but unyielding.

My hands fluttered over him. "Let's go back… you may have internal bleeding-"

Jack didn't budge. "I'm fine. They already did a CT, and it was clean. They want to do an MRI just to be sure."

"What about Joe?"

A shadow crossed Jack's face. Suddenly he looked young and anxious. "They won't tell me. He wasn't doing well, Ella. He could hardly breathe. He was at the wheel when the engine exploded… he may be really fucked up."

"This is a world-class hospital with the best doctors and the best equipment," I said, one of my hands settling carefully on his cheek. "They'll fix him. They'll do whatever they have to. But… was he burned badly?"

He shook his head. "The only reason I got singed a little was because I had to push through some burning debris to find him."

"Oh, Jack…" I wanted to hear everything he'd been through, every detail. I wanted to comfort him in every way possible. But there would be time for that later. "The doctor was talking to your family in the waiting room. Let's find out what he said." I gave him a threatening glance. "And then you're going back for the MRI. They're probably looking for you right now."

"They can wait." Jack slid an arm around my shoulder. "You should see the redheaded nurse who was wheeling me around. Bossiest woman I ever met."

We went into the waiting room. "Hey," I said in a wobbly voice. "Look who I found."

Jack was immediately surrounded by his family, Haven reaching him first. I stood back, still breathless, my heartbeat galvanized.

There were no wisecracks as Jack embraced his sister and Liberty. He turned to his father and hugged him, his eyes glittering as he saw the runnel of a tear down Churchill's leathery cheek.

"You okay?" Churchill asked in a rusted voice.

"Yeah, Dad."

"Good." And Churchill touched his son's face with a sort of gentle cuffing pat.

Jack's jaw quivered, and he cleared his throat roughly. He seemed relieved to turn to Hardy, with whom he exchanged a manly half-hug back-pat.

Gage was last, taking Jack by the shoulders and surveying him intently. "You look like shit," he commented.

"Fuck you," Jack said, and they embraced each other roughly, the two dark heads close together. Jack gave him a few forceful thumps on the back, but Gage, mindful of his brother's condition, was far gentler.

Jack swayed a little and was immediately pushed in a chair.

"He's dehydrated," I said, going to the water dispenser in the corner and filling up a paper cup.

"Why aren't you on an IV?" Churchill demanded, hovering over him.

Jack showed him his hand, where an IV needle was still inserted and anchored with tape. "They used a fourteen-gauge needle, and it feels like a six-penny nail was shoved into my vein. So I asked them for something smaller."

"Pussy," Gage said affectionately, rubbing the top of Jack's rough, salt-stiffened hair.

"How's Joe?" Jack asked, taking the water from me and drinking it in a few gulps.

They all exchanged glances-not a good sign-and Gage answered carefully. "The doctor said Joe has a concussion and a mild case of blast lung injury. It may take a while for the lungs to get back to speed, maybe up to a year. But it could have been a lot worse. Joe's in respiratory distress and has borderline hypoxia-so they're treating him with supplemental high-flow oxygen. He'll be spending some serious time in ICU. And he can hear out of one ear, but not the other. At some point a specialist will tell us if the hearing loss is permanent."

"That's okay," Jack said. "Joe never listens anyway."

Gage grinned briefly, but sobered as he stared at his younger brother. "He's going in for surgery right now, for internal bleeding."

"Where?"

"Abdomen, mostly."

Jack swallowed hard. "How bad?"

''We don't know."

"Shit." Wearily Jack rubbed his face with both hands. "I was afraid of that."

"Before they corral you again," Liberty said, "can you tell us what happened,Jack?"

Jack gestured for me to come to him, and he pulled me into his warm side as he spoke. It had been a clear morning, he said. Fishing had been decent, and they had gotten an early start back to the marina. But on the way they'd seen a huge brown seaweed mat, about an acre in size. The mat had formed its own ecosystem with algae, barnacles, and small fish, all living amid the accumulated driftwood and mermaid purses.

Figuring there was good fishing around or under the mat, the brothers had killed the engine and glided up to the seaweed. In just a few minutes Jack had hooked a Dorado, the rod nearly doubling and the reel screaming off a bunch of line as the acrobatic fish took off. It leapt from the water, revealing itself to be a five-footer, a monster, and Jack had followed around the boat to keep the line from catching. He had shouted to Joe to start the boat and go toward the fish, otherwise it would gain too much line. And just as he started to reel it in, Joe had started the engine and there had been an explosion.

Jack fell silent at that point, blinking as he struggled to recall what had happened next.

Hardy murmured, "Sounds like a buildup of fumes."

Jack nodded slowly. "Maybe the bilge blower cut out? Hell knows with all that electronic crap… anyway, I don't remember anything about the explosion. All of a sudden I was in the water, and there was debris everywhere, and the boat had turned into a fireball. I started looking for Joe." He looked agitated, his words coming in choppy bursts. "He'd grabbed on to a floating cooler-remember the orange one you got me, Gage-so I looked over him. I was afraid he'd gotten a leg blown off or something-and he was all in one piece, thank God. But he'd gotten one hell of a knock on his head, and he was struggling. I got hold of him and told him to relax, and I towed him to a safer distance from the boat."

"And the weather came in," Churchill prompted.

Jack nodded. "Wind picked up, water got rough, and we were getting pushed away from the boat. I tried to stay with it, but it took too much energy. So I just held on to Joe, and the cooler, and I swore I wouldn't let go no matter how long it took for someone to find us."

"Was Joe conscious?" I asked.

"Yeah, but we didn't talk much. The waves were too rough, and Joe was having a hard time breathing." Jack worked up a rueful smile. "The first thing he said to me was, 'Guess we lost that Dorado?' " He paused as everyone chuckled. "And later on he asked if we should worry about sharks and I said I didn't think so, since it was still shrimp season and most of the sharks go offshore to pick off throwbacks." A stark, endless hesitation. He swallowed hard. "After we'd waited a while, I could tell Joe was getting worse. He told me he didn't think he was going to make it. And I said-" His voice broke, and he dropped his head, unable to finish.

"You can tell us later," I whispered, putting my hand on his back, while Haven handed him a wad of Kleenex. It was too much, making him relive it so soon.

"Thanks," Jack said gruffly after a minute, blowing his nose and letting out a sigh.

"Here you are." A strident, accusatory voice came from the doorway, and we all looked up to behold a stout, redhaired nurse with a ruddy complexion, pushing an empty wheelchair into the waiting room. "Mr. Travis, why did you run off like that? I've been looking for you.'

"I took a break," Jack said sheepishly.

The nurse scowled. "That's the last break you'll get for a while- you're getting a new IV needle put in, and you're going for your MRI, and I may think up some extra tests to pay you back for scaring me half to death. Disappearing like that…"

"I completely agree," I said, urging Jack to stand. "Take him. And keep an eye on him."

Jack shot me a narrow-eyed glance over his shoulder as he shuffled to the wheelchair.

The nurse stared incredulously at his scrub pants and T-shirt. "Where did you get those?" she demanded.

"Not telling," he muttered.

"Mr. Travis, you need to stay in your hospital gown until we're finished with all your tests."

"Bet you'd like that," Jack retorted, "me wandering bare-assed around the hospital."

"With all the backsides I've seen, Mr. Travis, I doubt I'd be impressed."

"I don't know," he said reflectively, easing into the wheelchair. "Mine's pretty good."

The nurse wheeled him around and pushed him through the doorway while they began to trade insults.