The Edge

cheek.

    "You've never been Mac to me. I'm so thirsty." I quickly poured water from the carafe into the small glass on the table beside her bed and held her up while she sipped. I wiped the water off her chin when she finished drinking. She cleared her throat, swallowed a couple of times, and said, "When you first walked through that door I couldn't believe it. You were real, unlike all the others. To have you here was wonderful. I felt so alone."

    I wasn't really surprised that she'd seen me, that she'd heard every word I'd said, seen the expressions on my face. Actually she could have told me what I'd eaten for breakfast, that she'd tasted it right along with me, and I wouldn't have doubted her for a moment. I said only, "I was real? Unlike the others? What do you mean exactly?"

    "Oh, yes," she said, and managed a small smile. "You were very real. The others weren't. Everyone else who came in here was a white shadowy thing, but not you, Ford, not you. You were all here. You touched my hand and I felt warmth. Thank you."

    I wasn't surprised, but I did wonder if I hadn't gone off the deep end after the car bomb in Tunisia. Psychic communication with my sister? I wondered what the FBI profilers would say about that.

    I heard shouting and running feet. Two nurses and a doctor all tried to squeeze through the doorway and into the room at the same time. I nearly laughed, remembering the Three Stooges.

    Things quickly degenerated from there.

    Dr. Sam Coates had a 1930s black pencil-thin mustache and a bald head. He said, "We'll be running lots more tests, but given how she appears now, I'm just about ready to say she's pulled through this with no physical or mental deficit." He sounded all cool and professional, but I could tell he was pleased beyond anything, the nurses too. They were hopping about beside him, nodding, smiling, looking ready to burst into song, probably the "Hallelujah" chorus. Dr. Coates continued, gesticulating with his hands, unable, I guess, to keep himself quiet, just like the nurses. "It really is a miracle, you know, Mr. Mac-Dougal. No other way to say it. A miracle and we were all here to witness it. I've seen this complete recovery before with a drug overdose, but not after a head trauma. I'd begun to believe she wouldn't wake up."

    He stuck out his hand and I obligingly shook it. I was grateful to all of them. Jilly's room was filled with people. Maggie and Paul had arrived not fifteen minutes before. I watched Dr. Coates shake Paul's hand. He nodded to Laura Scott and said to Maggie, "Sheriff. Now, I suggest all of you go home. Mrs. Bartlett will sleep soundly until morning. Go home."

    "But what if she doesn't wake up again?" I asked, terrified when I'd seen Jilly close her eyes, her head falling to the side.

    "Not to worry," Dr. Coates said. "Trust me on this. A coma's like a nightmare. Once you wake up, it's over. Memories of the nightmare or the coma might remain but it rarely comes back. Really."

    Maggie said, "You're wrong about that, Doctor. Nightmares do come back."

    Dr. Coates just shrugged. "Sorry, I'll have to dig up another analogy."

    "It's still great news," Maggie said, and shook his hand again. She said to Laura, "Why don't you come home with me? It's pretty late."

    "No, thank you, Sheriff," Laura said. "My cat needs his medication. Also I have to work tomorrow." She walked to Paul, and I wondered if she was going to hit him. But she didn't. She just frowned at him for a moment, then stepped back. I watched her walk out of the room. I was right behind her. I said over my shoulder to the doctor, "I'll be back in a moment."

    I waited until Paul and Maggie were out of hearing distance, then I gave Laura's hand a tug and stopped her. I pulled her over to a window. "You said you weren't sleeping with Paul. Either you are a remarkable actress and liar, or you're really not sleeping with him."

    "I'm a decent actress and liar when I have to be. One more time, Mac. I didn't sleep with Paul. I can't imagine sleeping with Paul."

    I believed her and that raised more questions.

    "Ask Paul."

    "Yes, I will." I forced myself to walk away from her. I stopped to look out the window at the cloud-strewn dead sky. A stand of spruce stood beside the parking lot, thick leaves rustling. The wind was rising. It was pitch-black out there.

    I heard her walking toward me. I could feel her. She vibrated with life. I wondered what she'd feel like if I touched her, really touched