“No. There’s more. The doctors wanted to give you the news—but you should hear this from family. From me. It’s bad, sis.”
Aurora’s breath caught. “You’re not going back to jail, are you? Or Gerald?”
“This isn’t about us. It’s about you.” Dorian took in a deep breath. “You got bent pretty bad,” she said, using the common slang of divers. “The doctors were worried you might have brain damage.”
“Brain damage? But I—”
“Obviously that’s not the case. You’ve suffered no stroke symptoms, no paralysis, and although I’m not a doctor, your memory seems intact to me.”
“It’d be kind of hard to forget the past few weeks. I—” Aurora glanced at her casted leg. “Don’t tell me I’ll never walk again?”
“Your leg will heal fine. The orthopod said it was a clean break.”
“Then what—”
“Sweetheart, you didn’t decompress properly.” Dorian took both of Aurora’s hands in hers. “You hurt your eardrums. Both of them.”
Aurora’s lips parted, but no words came out. She slipped one hand free to touch an ear. No wonder they hurt so much. No wonder they were ringing and Dorian’s voice sounded muffled. I thought it was the cotton in them.
“They’re ruptured badly. One of them is in shreds—completely blown out. It’ll take months to heal—hopefully without holes, but...we don’t know. The doctors think only one of your eardrums will heal intact.”
“I need both. I can’t swim if my ears leak. The last thing I need is saltwater infection.” All divers knew that ruptured eardrums could lead to serious ear and sinus infections, even brain infections and death.
“You’ve probably suffered some mild hearing loss in the good ear, and more in the other. We won’t know how much until later. So far, they’re been able to keep them free of infection, but the prognosis isn’t good.”
The blinding truth suddenly hit her. Aurora finally found her voice. “I had it wrong. It’s not ‘I’ll never walk again.’ It’s ‘I’ll never dive again.’ Isn’t it?”
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
Her head reeling, Aurora leaned back on the pillow and took in a few deep breaths.
“This is my fault—mine and Tanya’s. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
Aurora deliberately gathered her thoughts before responding. She’d hurt her sister once before when she’d abandoned the family. She wouldn’t do it again.
“It’s not your fault, Dori. I chose to exchange myself for Gerald. I made the decision of my own free will—just like I’ve made all my decisions since I left home. Considering we’re alive...I wouldn’t change a thing. Not a single thing.”
Tears filled Dorian’s eyes and spilled over. “Aren’t you listening? Rory, you’ll never be able to dive again. Your eardrums are too damaged. If they heal—and that’s a big if—they’ll rupture every time you go more than a few inches underwater. You may be deaf. I’ve ruined your life—now you’ll leave us again. I don’t want that.”
“Dori, please listen to me. I left home because of me. Me. I didn’t leave because of Mom or Dad or you. I would’ve loved to bring you along. So many times I missed you all, wanted you, wondered about you. But my ship had come in. I couldn’t pass it by, Dorian.” Aurora stroked her sister’s tear-dampened face. “I just couldn’t. Not even for the best sister in the world.”
Dorian stared with awe. “You don’t hate me?”
“Not then. Not now. I only hate all the years we’ve wasted—years without you and Mom and Dad to share my happiness and good times.”
“Good times you’ll never have again,” Dorian sobbed.
“Silly. Of course I will.” Aurora thought of all the good times in the past, thought of her beloved ocean, whose depths she’d never experience again, and still managed to smile. “Dad always said I’d have to pay the piper sometime. Well, a broken ankle and bad ears are a small price to pay for keeping my family alive. I’m a lucky woman. I’ve beaten the odds...” With Jordan’s help.
The next few moments were spent in a healing embrace. Dorian finally drew away, tears streaming down her face. “I should get back in bed before Mom and Dad get here and I catch it good. I should ring for your doctor, too.” Dorian pressed her call bell. “I hope all my blubbering didn’t hurt your ears,” she said as she tenderly covered Aurora.
Aurora settled herself among her pillows and tried to ignore the pain in her ears—and her heart. “I’ll be fine,” she said. Fine, that is, if