The Blackstone Chronicles - By John Saul Page 0,83
glanced at Rebecca, then turned his attention back to Martha. Leaning forward, he took her hands in his. “Mrs. Ward? Can you hear me?”
Martha seemed to gather herself together, taking a deep breath and straightening in the plastic chair on which she was perched. “Of course I can hear you. And I’m telling you what happened. God has punished Andrea for her sin.”
The deputy’s frown deepened. “Her sin?”
“She killed her child,” Martha said, her voice strong now, and carrying throughout the waiting room. “And God has stricken her down.”
The deputy sheriff cast a questioning glance at Rebecca.
“Andrea had an abortion,” she explained. “Aunt Martha didn’t approve of it, and—”
Martha drew up still straighter, and now her eyes fixed angrily on her niece. “God didn’t approve,” she declared. “God judges, not I. All I can do is pray for the soul of the child she murdered.” Her fingers tightened once more on her beads. “We shall pray. We shall—”
Before she could finish, the door separating the waiting room from the emergency room opened and a nurse appeared. Spotting Rebecca, she hurried over and knelt down. “Your cousin’s awake, and she’s asking to see you,” she said.
“Me?” Rebecca asked, her voice puzzled. “Shouldn’t Aunt Martha—”
“It’s you she’s asking for, Rebecca,” the nurse said.
“How is she?” Steve Driver asked, rising to his feet. “Is she going to make it?”
“We don’t know,” the nurse said quickly. “She has third-degree burns on most of her body.” She shook her head. “She must be in terrible pain.” She turned back to Rebecca. “But she’s awake, and she’s asking for you. It’s going to be very difficult for you, but—”
“It’s all right,” Rebecca assured her. “It can’t be nearly as bad for me as it is for Andrea.”
She followed the nurse through the double doors and into the emergency treatment room. Andrea was lying on an examining table. There was a large bottle attached to the IV that the medic had put in her arm while she was still in the ambulance, and there was another tube in her nose. Dr. Margolis and two of the medics were carefully picking what looked like dead skin from Andrea’s body, but as she drew closer to the bed, Rebecca realized it wasn’t skin at all, but the remains of the nylon nightgown Andrea had been wearing when the fire broke out. Rebecca winced as one of the medics lifted a scrap of the material loose, taking a small patch of burned skin as well.
“I—I’m lucky,” Andrea breathed, her voice barely audible. “I can’t feel it yet.”
Rebecca started to reach out to take her cousin’s hand, stopping herself just in time. “Thank God you’re still alive,” Rebecca whispered. “And you’re going to be all right.”
She saw a barely perceptible shake of her cousin’s head. “I don’t think so,” Andrea whispered. “I just—” She fell silent, winced as she tried to take a breath, then managed to utter a few more words. “My fault,” she breathed. “Fell asleep with … cigarette. Dumb, huh?”
“It’s all right, Andrea,” Rebecca told her. “It wasn’t your fault. It was an accident.”
“No accident,” Andrea whispered. “Mother said—” “It doesn’t matter what Aunt Martha said,” Rebecca told her. “The only thing that matters is that you’re alive, and you’re going to get well.”
For a long time Andrea said nothing, and Rebecca thought she must have gone to sleep. Then she spoke one more time. “The dragon,” she breathed. “Don’t let—”
Rebecca leaned forward, straining to hear what her cousin was saying. Andrea struggled, then her charred lips worked again. “M-Mother,” she whispered. “Don’t—” But before she could finish, the sedatives that had been added to the IV took hold and Andrea drifted into unconsciousness. She lay so still that finally Rebecca looked up at the nurse.
“What happened? Did she—”
“She’s asleep,” the nurse said. “If you’d like to go back to the waiting room …”
Rebecca shook her head, her eyes never leaving Andrea’s ruined face. “Can’t I stay here?” she asked. “What if she wakes up again? If I’m here, maybe she won’t be so frightened.”
The nurse hesitated, then indicated a chair close to the door. “Of course you can stay with her, Rebecca,” she said. As Rebecca lowered herself into the chair, the nurse went back to work, helping the medics and Dr. Margolis clean the worst of Andrea’s wounds and treat them with Silvadene ointment to try to prevent infection.
Rebecca, feeling utterly helpless, could only watch in silence.
Oliver Metcalf stood up and stretched, then stepped outside to