“She’s here,” Marty announced as he hurried through the open front door.
Charlie glanced down at Harm and tried to smile. “Taxi’s here, Camp. You ready?”
“Sure” he replied, trying to return his friend’s smile. “Just make sure you guys don’t drop me, okay?”
“Like I’m gonna let anything happen to the guy who signs my checks. You just lie back and take it easy.”
He checked Harm one more time. They’d taken one of Fisher’s large, old fashioned arm chairs from the dining room, laid it on its back and put him in it, securing his arms and legs to the chair’s arms and legs with soft towels. Then they’d tied a bed sheet securely around the whole thing and slid one of the sofa pillows under his head.
Being the largest of them, Chad took his place at Harm’s head, grabbing the chair back on each side just under the arms. Charlie and Marty each took a side, positioning themselves to carry a back and front leg. Elgin walked along side, keeping pressure on the dressing.
On the count, they lifted the chair and started for the dock, winding slowly down the gravel path.
With Paul’s help, they got him on board and settled in the main salon on one of the bench seats under the window. Harm looked up into the silent, star filled sky.
Marty accompanied Paul back to the wheelhouse, watching him for a moment as he fired up the engines and inched away from the dock.
“How long will it take to get to West Shore?”
“An hour maybe. There’ll be a lot of traffic out there tonight.” He glanced at the clock glowing in the dashboard just above his right hand. “Fireworks’ll be starting any time now.”
“What’s the shortest time you’ve ever made the crossing?”
“Forty-three minutes. Four years ago. You made that bet with the loud mouth drunk at The Lodge who called ‘The Monkey’ a scow. Course you were stinking too but it was a hell of a ride.”
“There’s a thousand dollars for every minute you shave off forty-three,” Marty told him calmly. “If you make it under thirty-five, there’ll be an extra ten thousand.”
“Must be a very special friend.”
“She is.”
The pain had relented a little but it didn’t make him feel any better. Harm knew enough first aid to know the numbing effect of shock. They’d managed to slow the blood loss but he could feel a chill settling in, even under the snug blanket that covered him, another sign that he was losing the race.
Beside him, Elgin sat in the chair they’d used as a litter, checking his dressing every few seconds, clutching his hand and trying gamely not to cry. The pain on her beautiful pale face, the silent anguish in those dark eyes hurt worse than the bullet burning in his chest.
“Look,” Chad said, standing behind Elgin and pointing out the window, “the fireworks have started.”
What a lovely way to die, he thought idly. The black sky raining cascades and fountains of red, gold, blue, silver and green, and Elgin close to him. He wished for a wider bench so she could lie down beside him, feel her warm body against him, her soft lips kissing him, murmuring sweet nothings. How wonderful to make love with her just once more…to fill their own private universe with sparklers and streamers and skyrockets.
Chad put his hands on the back of Elgin’s chair, his fingers brushing her shoulders as he gazed out at the fiery display.
He won’t lose any time, Camp thought sourly. Hold her hand through the funeral. Send her flowers and come by “to see how you’re doing.” Long walks in the park, quiet dinners, a friendly shoulder to cry on. She’d be lonely and vulnerable and easy prey for a smooth charmer.
Still, he sighed silently, she was young and beautiful and he didn’t want her shutting herself off and mourning him her whole life. Just a “respectable” period. And certainly not with a two-bit Romeo like Chad Comstock who’d sink to taking advantage of a woman in Elgin’s fragile state.
He squeezed her hand and she looked down at him.
“Are you are all right?” she asked anxiously, her free hand going instantly to his dressing.
With breathing so precious and difficult, he could manage only a little smile and a nod.
Elgin tried to smile back. “We’re almost there,” she told him, trying to sound cheerful. “The old ‘Monkey’s’ fairly flying. I can see the casino lights plain as day. A few more minutes and you’ll be safe in the hospital. Just hang on, Camp. Please, just hang on a little longer.”
The chill had become a gnawing cold and there didn’t seem to be enough air getting to his brain. He felt himself slipping away, the edges of his vision growing dark, Elgin’s image as if through a smudged lens.
I love you, he told her softly in his mind. You can be a royal pain in the ass sometimes, but then, so can I. I guess that’s just one of the reasons we belong together. Please don’t cry. I’m not sorry for anything except leaving you. Find someone else and be happy, love. Just remember me sometimes. Good-bye, Darling.
He looked up at her and with a last squeeze, closed his eyes, his head lolling to one side.
“Camp?” She felt his grip loosen. “Camp!”
“Elgin…” Comstock leaned down to her but she ignored him.
“Oh God,” she wailed. “Charlie! Marty!”
“What happened?” Charlie yelled, coming through the salon door followed quickly by Marty.
“I don’t know,” Comstock replied in bewilderment. “We were watching the fireworks and…”
“Charlie!” she screamed. “It’s Camp! Oh God, Charlie, do something!”
Moving her aside, he bent over Harm’s body, lifting his closed eyelids and then checking the pulse in his neck.
“Marty, how soon before we dock?”
“About another five or six minutes. I radioed ahead. There’s an ambulance standing by as soon as we land. Is he…?”
“No, but it’s going to be close. Comstock, find something to put under his feet. We need to raise his legs. Elgin, dig out some more blankets. We have to keep him warm. Marty, we need everything ‘The Monkey’s’ got.” He nodded and the rest of them scattered.
Looking out the window, Charlie could clearly see the marina now, the flashing red light of the ambulance visible among all the other bright lights.
“Stay with me, Camp,” he urged. “We’re almost home.”
What was taking so long?
Elgin glanced at the wall clock for the millionth time. A little past one. A new day. Outside, beyond the waiting room’s huge picture window, the moon had just arrived from beyond the dark ridge of mountains and had begun her leisurely stroll across the black water.
Why didn’t someone come and tell them something?
A full moon, she noted. The Moon Goddess looking for lost souls. But tonight, the lake was empty, nothing but her silver wake to mark her passing.
“Pass by, Moon Goddess, pass by,” she mumbled, the words of a childhood chant coming suddenly to her lips. “You seek those who have gone not those who remain. But know Moon Goddess that we will meet again.
“He’s mine,” Elgin told the Moon Goddess defiantly. “ And you can’t have him. I won’t give him up.”
Chad looked up from the magazine he’d been pretending to read. “Did you say something, Elgin?”
“No,” she sighed, shaking her head and dropping on the sofa beside him. “I can’t stand this waiting…this not knowing.”
Gently, he put his arm around her and pulled him to her so she could nestle against his chest. “I’m sure if anyone can find out what’s going on, it’s Marty. In the meantime, why don’t you try to close your eyes and rest?”
“I can’t. Not until I know…something.”
“All right. How ‘bout I go try and round us up some coffee then? I hear hospital coffee is guaranteed to keep you awake.”
“That would be nice. Thanks.”
He’d just stepped around the corner when Marty re-appeared.
“Oh God, Marty, what’s going on? How is he? Is he all right? What are they doing? What’s taking so long?”
“Good Heavens, Elgin,” he told her putting up his hand. “Get a hold of yourself. I can only answer one question at a time. Now come over here and sit back down.”
“Marty, tell me!”
“He’s in surgery right now. He’s lost a lot of blood and it took longer to stabilize him than they thought before they could operate. While they were getting him ready, I put in a call to an old friend, Leland Carswell. Excellent thoracic surgeon. Up here spending the Fourth making a large donation to the local economy via the casinos. He agreed to consult and the hospital graciously consented to allow him to perform the surgery.”
“How long will it take to do the operation? When will we know something?” she pressed.
“They couldn’t tell me. X-rays and tests can only tell them so much. They won’t know what they’re up against until they actually get into his chest. And there are a myriad of things that could happen once they start. You’ll just have to be patient.”
“Oh Marty, this is all my fault,” she cried. “Everything. Cissy and that homeless man and Pete Fowler and Jim and now Camp. All my fault.” Overwhelmed, Elgin dissolved into hysterical sobs, her body shaking with the force of her grief.
Marty wrapped her in his arms and let the emotions flow.
Chad arrived carrying two white Styrofoam cups. Seeing Elgin, he set the cups down and almost ran over to where they were sitting.
“What’s wrong?” he yelped. “Is it Harm? Has something happened?”
“No. He’s in surgery right now. We won’t know anything until they’re done. I’m afraid this is everything just catching up with Elgin at once. It’s been a most eventful Fourth of July.”
Comstock sighed. “You can say that again.”
“Look, Chad, it’s late. Since we won’t be returning to Spirit Cove tonight…or rather, this morning, I’ve taken the liberty of making overnight arrangements at the Crystal Pines. They’re sending a car, which will pick you up in front of the main lobby in a few minutes. They can provide you with anything you may want or need. Simply tell them to put it on my bill. Tomorrow I’ll call our friend on the coast, explain why you were detained and set up another meeting.”
“Thanks, Marty.”
“Don’t mention it. Just go along and get some sleep. See if you can find Mr. Simons. I think he went downstairs to get some privacy and contact Mr. Harm’s office.”
For several minutes after he left, Marty held Elgin as she cried. Finally, the tears subsided and the shaking stopped. Pulling out his handkerchief, he handed it to her.
“Are you quite finished?” he asked her.
Elgin nodded, wiping her eyes.
“Good. Now you can also stop all this bullshit about everything being your fault.” The unexpectedly sharp tone of his voice brought her head up in surprise.
“But…?”
“No ‘buts’ about it,” he continued firmly. “This is most assuredly not you’re fault. If we’re going to affix blame here, let’s lay it squarely where it belongs, on Jim Fisher. All of this ugliness and violence is the result, solely, of his sick, twisted delusions.”
He shook his head. “Make no mistake about it; you are as much a victim of his insanity as anyone else his viciousness has touched. This…this obsession of his has been brewing and fermenting since you were a child. It sickened and rotted and killed him as certainly as any cancer. Even now, from the grave, he’s reaching out and trying to hurt you by making you feel guilty…excusing or minimizing his evil by somehow making it ‘your fault.’
“Well Fisher’s done enough damage. I refuse either to let him do any more or to allow him to escape even the tiniest shred of responsibility for the horrors he’s perpetrated. You have far and away more important things to think about than a heinous old man and his demented fantasies.”
“Such as?”
“Well…well for one thing, your wedding.”
“My what?” she cried in disbelief.
“Your wedding,” Van Scoyk repeated calmly. “I doubt seriously that a man who would put himself between the woman he loved and an armed, homicidal maniac will flinch at marriage.” His face softened and he smiled at her.
“Of course, being both a sentimental old fool and an incurable buttinsky, I’ll no doubt end up taking over the whole wedding in the worst, most annoying, meddlesome fashion you can imagine but you’ll forgive me when you see what a masterpiece I turn out.
“Now, preparation-wise, you and Harm can’t even think about anything sooner than spring although knowing you two, you’ll no doubt move in together as soon as he’s out of the hospital. Speaking for myself, I don’t think there’s anything more beautiful than a church wedding and that little chapel in Spirit Cove…the one that overlooks the lake…would be perfect. And of course, the reception at my house.
“I mean, unless you’re going to have one of those huge, showy things where you invite three hundred of your closest friends. In that case, we can have it in one of those wedding places in West Shore and we can rent out a banquet room and which I think would be extremely tacky for someone of my extraordinary good taste.
“And I have the most absolutely perfect gown,” he gushed, now completely caught up in the scenario. “A sort of soft bone color, satin with antique lace and a high collar and puffy long sleeves and absolutely scads of seed pearls and the most gorgeous six-foot train and matching veil. Of course, it will probably have to be altered across the bust…”
“Excuse me, Marty,” Elgin interrupted, “but…you have a wedding gown?”
“It was my mother’s” he explained stiffly, “and if you don’t get your dirty little writer’s mind out of the gutter, you’ll end up being married in the desert by a man in cowboy boots and hat while a man dressed in a white rhinestone and sequin jumpsuit sings ‘Jail House Rock’ in the background.
“And besides, I look absolutely ghastly in pastels.”
Elgin giggled and Marty embraced her.
“I’m glad to see you haven’t forgotten how to smile completely. Now, rather than drink that crankcase oil they laughingly refer to as coffee in this place, I’m going to order us some nice Irish Crème and a tray of snacks from this marvelous little place I know in town.”
“Marty, it’s almost two a.m. What kind of a place would have Irish Crème coffee and snacks at this hour? And that would deliver on top of that?”
“A very expensive, very private gentlemen’s club,” he answered. “Members only but open ‘round the clock. Just another perk of being obscenely rich.”
Pulling out his cell phone, Marty had just begun to dial when the doors opened and a tall man about sixty, wearing surgical garb entered. Immediately, they both stood up.
“Lee,” Marty greeted him warmly, “this is the lady I was telling you about. Elgin Collier, Leland Carswell.”
“Miss Collier.” He put out a soft, surprisingly strong hand to her.
“How’s Camp?” she asked anxiously.
“A little rocky, but I think he’ll be just fine.”
Euphoria rolled over Elgin and she grabbed Marty, kissing him full on the mouth. “Oh thank you, Dr. Carswell,” she breathed, feeling a new round of tears…happy ones…well up.
“Don’t thank me. I’ve rarely had a patient with such a tenacious will to live. With the severity of his injuries and the blood loss…well, I’m not that good a doctor.”
“When can I see him?”
“Oh, not until tomorrow at least. Or more precisely, later today. He’ll be in recovery until we’re sure he’s stable enough to move and then to ICU. This is a good hospital, but I’d feel better if he could be transferred to some place with a more specialized chest unit.”
“I’ve made arrangements for him to be taken by helicopter to St. Francis as soon as he’s cleared to travel,” Marty assured him. “It’s one of the best places around and in his home city.”
“Good. Good. Well, I’m beat. Gonna call it a night. Suggest you do the same. Don’t expect any problems but you never know. I’ve left my pager number in case there’s a change during the night and I’m just down at Colton’s. Can be back here double quick.”
“Thanks, Lee.”
“Yes, well don’t thank me ‘til you get my bill. Should just about cover my losses at the crap table. Don’t know how you managed to get me operating privileges on such short notice, Marty and knowing you, I’m not even going to ask. Good night.”
“Well, Elgin my dear, I guess we’ll pass on the coffee and snacks. I’m exhausted and I’m sure you are too. I’ll call the Crystal Pines and have them send a car.”
“You go on, Marty. I want to stay here. In case.”
“Absolutely not. You can’t see him and even if something did happen, you couldn’t do anything but get in the way. And if you spend the night on one of these orthopedic disasters masquerading as a sofa, you’ll be too crippled and disfigured to walk, much less…anything more strenuous when you do get to visit. So, it’s off to bed we go. Separately, of course.”
“By the way,” she asked as they walked toward the elevator, “you said the hospital ‘graciously consented’ to allowing Dr. Carswell to operate.”
“Yes.”
“So, how much does ‘graciously consented’ run these days?”
“Good God, Elgin,” Marty sighed. “You have the most foul, suspicious mind.”
“How much, Marty? A new wing?”
“You’re the one who’s in love with him,” he sniffed disdainfully, “not me. For you, a new wing. For him, just a new dialysis machine, which I’d been planning on donating anyway so it’s no big deal. Now can we get out of here? I’m absolutely famished.”