THE HOSPITAL…
23
Being back among civilization was startling.
Overwhelming.
Loud.
Sounds pinged around inside my brain and pressed in on me, making me want to slap my hands over my ears and yell. I was used to the soft sound of crashing beach waves, the singing cadence of cicadas, and the rush of a falling waterfall.
But sitting in a hospital, none of those sounds could be heard. Instead, I was thrust into a spinning world of beeping, laughter, and coughing. The strong smell of antiseptic and bleach burned my nose and the air-conditioner made my fingers stiff with cold.
The bright lights overhead seemed more intrusive than the sun, and I wished for a pair of sunglasses to shield my eyes.
But I had nothing here with me. Except for the suitcase containing Kiki. Everything that survived the crash was left behind on that island.
I wondered what would become of those pirates. The authorities were called. The Coast Guard was notified. There might not be much law out at sea, but I knew those men would pay for their crimes. Maybe not all of them, but at least for what they did to Duke.
Duke.
He pretended to be our friend. He got close to me with the intention of trading me in for his own safety—his own life. It was so dishonorable that it made me sick.
Yet, I couldn’t hate him for it.
He was tortured, abused, robbed of every comfort he’d ever known at the hands of those pirates. He was a victim too. He was only doing what he’d been brainwashed to do, what he thought would get him freedom.
I hoped in death he found the freedom he desperately wanted.
Yes, he was robbed of life, but perhaps being at peace would help make up for that.
It started as a way to survive… but then I realized I couldn’t live with myself if you died.
It was his way of apologizing or telling me he knew what he did was wrong. Perhaps in his effort to tempt me away from Nash, he found himself being the one who was tempted. Maybe we reminded him of the life he used to have. Maybe all the talk of us getting home together gave him a spark of hope he thought he lost.
I would never know for sure.
A doctor in a pair of green scrubs and a stethoscope around his neck entered my little room. He gave me a smile and I did my best to return it. “I hear you’ve had quite an adventure,” he said.
“Is Nash okay?” I asked, not wanting to even act like what we experienced was something out of a movie. It wasn’t.
“The man who was brought in with you?”
I nodded.
“He’s fine. He’s being looked at by another doctor as we speak.”
A little bit of the stiffness in my body lessened. I could handle this place if I knew he was okay.
“I’m just going to take a look at those stitches,” the doctor said, snapping on a pair of white gloves.
His fingers probed through my hair and I gritted my teeth. His touch wasn’t the touch I was used to. It wasn’t familiar; it didn’t feel good. I didn’t really want a stranger to touch me, but I tilted my head down and let the doctor do what he needed to do.
“That’s a nasty gash,” he said. “You’re lucky you’re friend was able to close it up. He even saved your hair.”
I glanced up. “My hair?”
The doctor pulled his hands away and reached for a tray filled with instruments (instruments = torture). “Yes, if you would have come here with that head wound, we would have shaved the hair around it before we stitched it.”
My eyes widened. “Are you going to do that now?”
He laughed. “No need. It’s already healed. I am going to take the stitches out and make sure there are no signs of infection.”
When I didn’t say anything, he picked up a pair of scissors. “You might feel a slight tugging sensation.”
He removed my stitches and then examined the wound. Then he assessed the rest of me, asking me a hundred questions. By the time he was done, I was annoyed and exhausted.
The doctor promised to get my discharge papers and then left the room. I was only too happy to see him go.
Before the door swung closed, Nash slipped inside.
“How’s the head?” he asked, coming up to the table I was sitting on.
“Good as new,” I replied. Suddenly, the noise and the chaos of the hospital didn’t seem so bad.
Gently, he turned my head so he could see the area he stitched. These were the hands I was used too. When he was done looking, he dropped a kiss to the top of my head. “Looks good.”
“Did they say you could go too?”
He nodded.
“Thank goodness. This place is loud.”
He chuckled. “It’s going to get louder,” he warned.
“What do you mean?”
The door opened and my mother and father burst into the room. “Ava! Oh my God, we thought you were dead,” my mother cried.
I sat there in shock. They’d flown all the way from Miami to this hospital in Bermuda?
Nash stepped out of the way just in time to avoid her arms as she crushed me in a bear hug. “Hi, Mom,” I squeaked, returning her hug while struggling to breathe.
“We were so worried for you! What you must have gone through! All alone on that island.”
“I wasn’t completely alone,” I said, pulling away and glancing at Nash.
That earned him a crushing hug. “Oh, are you the one who saved my Ava?”
Dad gave me an apologetic look and then offered me a hug of his own. “Glad to have you back, pumpkin,” he whispered in my ear.
Tears pricked my eyes. “Glad to be back.” I breathed in the familiar scent of him.
“Young man,” my father said to Nash, holding out his hand. Nash took it and they shook.
“Dad, this is Nash. Nash, this is my dad.”
“You the pilot?” my dad asked, eyeing him.
“Yes, sir.”
He made a harrumphing sound and I rolled my eyes. “Dad, Nash kept me alive. He stitched up my head,” I explained, poking at the scar I now sported.
“Stitches!” my mother wailed.
She was dramatic.
She should be on soap operas.
“Yes, Mom. But the doctor says I’m fine.” I gave Nash a look, trying to tell him that I wasn’t about to tell them what else happened on that island.
My mother could do a one-woman show with all that drama.
He seemed to understand and nodded perceptively.
“How did you know we were here?” I asked my father.
“We’ve been in contact with the search and rescue and the Coast Guard from the beginning. When they first saw the smoke flare, they contacted us and we flew out immediately.”