The Viking Funeral

Chapter 52

WHEN SHANE CAME to, he was in ICU and it was two weeks later. They told him he'd been in a coma produced by a gunshot wound to the head. Jody's bullet had entered his scalp just above the hairline at the parietal bone and had traveled a scary, improbable path, hugging the subcutaneous connective tissue between his scalp and scull. It cracked the bone over the cerebellum in three places, then exited the back of his head at the base of his neck at something called the lamdoidal suture, without ever entering his brain cavity. Shane had suffered multiple concussions, and his head had to be opened to release the pressure of built-up cerebrospinal fluid inside his skull.

They had kept him sedated for two weeks so he wouldn't thrash around and possibly cause more discharge inside his cranium.

When he finally regained consciousness, nurses and doctors swarmed over him. Shots were given, blood pressure taken, and strict orders posted: NO VISITORS.

The wall opposite his bed in ICU was all glass; he looked up and saw Alexa and Chooch with their noses pressed against the window, like children watching a glassed-off exhibit. He stuck his tongue out at them weakly, and they both waved and laughed.

Later that day, when he woke up again, Alexa was holding his hand.

"Alexa," he whispered. "I… I…"

"Shhh," she said. "I had to raise hell to get in here. If you set off that heart monitor you're hooked to, I'll never get back in again."

"What happened?" Shane asked. The last thing he remembered was sitting in the backyard, telling Chooch he was going to ask Alexa to marry him.

"Jody's dead," Alexa said. "You hit him right between the eyes. Pretty nice shooting for a cop who can barely get weapons-qualified each June."

"No…" Shane said. "Jody… Jody committed suicide two years ago, in the Rampart Division parking lot."

"Jeez, you lost a big piece," she said, looking worried.

"I what?"

She leaned down and kissed him, brushing her lips gently across his. "Maybe it's for the best," she told him.

Eventually, it all returned. Little bits floated back like ugly puzzle pieces drifting in on a brown memory tide.

There were still a few holes in his calendar, but they gradually began to fill, creeping back like ghastly visitors, wandering in the ballroom of his memory until they finally found their correct chairs.

He left the hospital two weeks later, rolled out into the parking lot by a nurse pushing a folding wheelchair. When he stood, he felt twenty feet tall and two inches wide. He teetered precariously before lowering himself into Alexa's car. His scalp had been stitched and bandaged. His neck was already healing. There was an ugly puckered welt there from the gunfight in Maicao. The hole in his thigh was now a pink divot the size of a quarter. All in all, he was damn lucky to be alive.

Chooch was in the backseat and never took his hand off Shane's shoulder, as if letting go, even for a second, might cause some kind of permanent separation.

"We need to set the wedding date." Alexa smiled. "You keep saying you remember asking me, but I think I'd better close the deal while you're still lucid."

"How 'bout this weekend," Shane said. "By this weekend, I'll be kickin' ass." But despite this bravado, he felt light-headed and was forced to lean back against the headrest.

Actually, the date they set was two months later. It was a June fifteenth wedding that took place at the Police Academy Chapel.

The service was small, but importantly attended. There were a dozen cops from his old homicide table, along with their wives, as well as some old partners from Patrol. Of course, Buddy made the trip. No way to freeze him out. Buddy slapped backs and talked retailing.

Chooch was the best man, and Buddy gave the bride away. Because he didn't have anyone else, and because something told him it would mean a lot, Shane asked Tony Filosiani to stand up for him, to be his one and only usher.

They were married at four in the afternoon. The ceremony was short and simple, but the emotions were not. Alexa cried when they exchanged rings. The reception was behind the chapel. After it was over and the guests had left, they lingered outside, smiling as Tony and his wife, Mary, traded guarded looks with Buddy. Shane, Chooch, and Alexa stood on the steps looking out at the San Gabriel Mountains, majestic, almost purple in the bright, smog-free California afternoon.

"Some weddin'. Glad t'be part of it," Tony enthused. "You guys should know, when I'm in a wedding, I make marriages that last. You two got an obligation not to screw up my perfect record, not countin' my sister."

Shane smiled and nodded. "Yes, sir. That order is accepted."

"Good. And now, I got another little weddin' gift, Shane. I put you in for the MOV and the Police Board approved it. Gonna get the medal at this December's ceremony."

"His-and-her medals." Alexa smiled.

"Once Papa Joe gets outta the hospital, he'll testify." Tony went on: "We're gonna kill this billion-dollar parallel-market scam for good. The Justice Department has already opened their investigation. Without laundries, these drug cartels can't function. We hit 'em where they live-in the pocketbook. The CEOs of the companies laundering this shit are gonna be toast. We brought it to 'em, Shane. You made the difference."

Finally Buddy went back to the hotel to pack. Shane, Alexa, and Chooch slipped away to Venice.

They were glad to be safe at home. They changed out of their wedding costumes and met in the backyard ten minutes later. Shane was in shorts, a T-shirt, and flip-flops. Chooch was in his baggies and saggies, Alexa in a sweatshirt and leggings.

Shane poured them all flutes of cold champagne. They toasted the wedding and stood on their patch of grass, watching the sunset over the blue Pacific a block away.

"Where's the honeymoon?" Chooch asked., grinning.

"How about Aruba?" Alexa said, smiling. "I still have my room key." She dug in her purse and threw it on the glass-top table.

"How about anyplace on earth but there?" Shane said.

"I'll miss you guys while you're gone" Chooch said.

"No, you won't/5 Shane grinned.

"How come?"

"'Cause we're gonna wait till Christmas and you're going with us/' Alexa finished.

"Really? Is that allowed, taking your kid on the honeymoon?"

"From now on, this family stays together," Shane said.

That night Shane lay awake in bed, listening to Alexa sleep beside him… The slow breathing, the warmth of her next to him. They hadn't made love. It was strange not to consummate their marriage on the wedding night, but Alexa had been told by the doctors not to do it for a month, because they wanted to keep his heart rate and blood pressure down until they were sure everything had stopped leaking inside his head. There was one week left on that ridiculous sentence. Shane had argued, but Alexa stood firm. He probably wasn't going to win many arguments with her, or as the Day-Glo Dago would say, "Fugedaboutit."

So instead of sex, he lay on his back, looking at the ceiling, turning his new wedding band around on his finger, reflecting, trying to make sense of all that had happened.

He'd been very close to death. The docs told him that his heart had stopped twice. He'd flown down that heavenly corridor, chasing a column of pure white light. He'd seen all of the people in his life that had mattered: the Deans, Jody, Chooch, and Alexa.

Then he thought of the beautiful chestnut-haired woman whom he had known on sight was his mother.

"I'm sorry," she had said. "It was an accident. I didn't want to leave you."

What kind of accident would take you away from your child, make you leave him at the back door of a hospital? Then suddenly he realized that she had not put him there; she'd died and somebody else had. She'd come to him in a near-death experience and told him that she always loved him… Always wanted him. Shane didn't think that when you had a near-death vision, it included lies.

Whatever caused her disappearance, he now knew it hadn't been her fault. His mother had loved him, and with that realization, a piece of the darkness that had always haunted him finally slipped away.

He closed his eyes and tried to see her again. He could almost create the vision, but not quite. Yet in its place there was a memory of her love… Gentle and pure and full of warmth.

"So what is love, anyway?" Jody had scoffed. "Just a lotta horseshit and a four-letter word. "

Boy, Shane thought, poor Jody. Jody had missed out on everything. Suddenly, Shane felt sorry for him-sorry he couldn't have found a way to fix that.

Jody might not have been able to love Shane, but Shane had loved Jody, and in his memory he still did.

He closed his eyes and wondered if the gift Jody promised to him had been the bullet that took him to the edge but gave him a chance to meet his mother, to feel her warmth, to finally experience her love, if only for a few precious seconds. Seconds that had changed him and taken away his painful darkness.

Before he fell asleep, he decided that was it. That was Jody's gift.

From the very beginning, that must have been God's plan.

*