Jeff Abbott - Distant Blood

Sass, Gretchen, Pop, Philip-the whole room rushed to his side, crowding around him, and Gretchen began screaming out for Deborah to hurry back down. Her voice was like a banshee's to haunt one's dreams. Aubrey's face, slick with vomit, turned toward mine as Sass tried to ease him into a more comfortable position. His pupils were huge, like black holes of death.

The broken cranberry juice glass lay at my feet.

Oh, no.

I leaped toward the couch as Candace stood and, cradling her stomach, folded to the floor. I seized her arms in mine and pulled her close to me. Her skin felt clammy against my hands. The thump of her heart against mine seemed thud-dingly slow.

“I'm sick,” she said, and vomited across my back. I grabbed her and headed for the bar sink, shoving Mutt and Wendy out of the way. I fumbled for a glass of water, forced it down her. She threw it back up, over my fingers, shuddering. Okay, maybe vomiting was better, to get whatever filth was in her system out of her. I shoved my fingers into her mouth, doubling her over the sink, and felt another warm rinse of bile cascade past my hand.

“Get some mustard,” I hollered at Gretchen. “Mix it in water.”

Across the room, I saw Philip stand up from kneeling next to Aubrey, a look of disbelief on his face.

Pop rushed to the bar, holding on to Candace's side. I pulled her head back, mopping at her face, screaming at my father to get Deborah. Candace stared up at the ceiling, as though looking for the entrance. Her breath shook.

“No, no,” she gasped. “Jordy! No!”

“Baby, we'll get help,” I said. “You'll be okay.” I glanced at Pop. “Call 911, and get the boat. We've got to get them to a doctor!”

Pop stumbled for the phone.

“Jordan.” Wendy stood behind me, and she stepped around to support Candace's other side. Wendy's face, usually emotionless, was now crumpled with shock.

“Oh, no,” Candace moaned, her damp fingers squeezing mine numb. Hard cramps doubled her over, and I couldn't see her agonized face. “No. Please, not the baby. Not the baby.”

It was over.

I sat on the floor outside of Candace's room, banished for the moment by Deborah. I could hear quiet noises of movement inside as Deborah tended to her patient. Blood- Candace's and that of our child-slicked my hands and I stared at my reddened, trembling fingers. Outside, the wind continued its angry roar, but it was a mere whisper compared with the rage I felt inside.

I didn't even hear Pop approach and kneel down on the floor next to me. He didn't speak, he just wrapped awkward arms around me, ignoring my bloodied state, and I hugged him back fiercely. I thought tears would come, should come, but I felt empty and barren inside. But Pop's hold was comforting, and he smelled like a dad should, of mint and bourbon and sweat.

After a minute he spoke. “How's she doing?”

I managed to speak, my voice not sounding like my usual raspy drawling baritone. It sounded like the voice of an old man. “The bleeding's stopped. She's resting. She's still showing some effects from the poison, but Deb induced vomiting with warm mustard water and she said she thinks she's going to be okay.” I could hardly make my mouth form the next words. “She was pregnant. And she hadn't told me. Our baby is gone.”

“I am so sorry, son, so very sorry,” Pop whispered into my hair.

“The phones?” I asked.

“Still down. The storm-” He didn't finish his sentence.

“Then a boat. We've got to get her to a hospital-”

“Son.” He pulled away and his blue eyes stared hard into mine. “We can't take a boat out in this mess. It should pass soon, we'll get her and Aubrey more help-”

“I can't just sit here!” I bolted to my feet. “We have to get her help! Deborah can't do everything-” I gestured helplessly toward the shut door.

“You listen to me!” Pop grabbed me and shook me hard. “Jordan. Deb has done everything she can. But we can't call for help right now, and we can't risk taking a boat out in this storm. We could swamp in minutes, and what good is that?” He squeezed my arms. “The phones could be back up at any minute. We'll keep trying, we'll get them help.”

I steadied myself. The last thing Candace needed was me hell-bent and foolish. “How's Aubrey? Deb left Candace for a while to tend to him.”

“Not good. He drank more of the poison than Candace did. But he's holding on. Sass and Gretchen are with him.” Pop's eyes teared, and I realized Aubrey mattered a lot to him.

“Oh, Pop, I'm sorry.” I embraced him. “I know you're worried sick about Aubrey, too. I hope he's okay.”

“Sass-said she hopes Candace is all right.” Pop averted his face. “I know you and Sass haven't gotten along. She's just a tad protective of me.”

“I don't want to talk about her,” I said abruptly. “Okay?”

“Gretchen said she'll be up in a minute, she's worried sick about poor Candace.” Pop tactfully changed subjects. “She'd have been up here, it's just that Sass needed more help with Aubrey-”

“I understand, Pop.” I turned from him and leaned my head against the wall. The door opened and Deborah slipped outside. She looked exhausted, dark bags sagging beneath her eyes. Her hands were clean, but I could see the red tinge of blood still on her knuckles and her unpolished fingernails.

“Deb?” I asked. “Is she going to be okay?”

“She's resting, and the vomiting has stopped. The bleeding hasn't resumed. But I don't know what poison was used, and I don't know what else to do. Just treat the symp- toms as I can.” She leaned against the door. “She needs a doctor, Jordan. Is the phone working yet?”

“No,” I said. “And Pop says it's way too rough to risk a boat right now.”

“A rough boat ride might do more harm,” Deborah said softly.

“Can I go back in now?” I asked.

“Yes. But she needs to rest. She needs someone with her at all times, in case the symptoms worsen.”

Gretchen came down the hall then, looking as weary as the rest of us. Her eyes were reddened from weeping.

“Oh, God,” Pop said. “Aubrey?”

“He's still with us. Sass is asking for you, Deb.” Gretchen leaned against her husband.

“I'll go check on him. One of y'all stay with Candace.” She hurried down the hallway. I watched her leave.

“Pop, stay here a minute, would you?” I turned and went into her room.

One lamp was on, and it cast a harsh light across the pallor of Candace's skin. She breathed slowly, and I saw a thin stream of drool issue from her mouth. I wiped it away with a towel by the bedside. Her eyes lay half-open and I brushed her hair back with my hand. She smelled of vomit. I pulled the sheets back and stared at the towel jammed between her legs. Three more, soaked with blood, lay crumpled in the corner. Deb had been in a hurry. I didn't want to think about what might lie inside. Hands shaking, I picked up the towels and moved them into the bathroom. I didn't want Candace to see them.

She had been poisoned and she'd lost a lot of blood. Her skin was cool and clammy to my touch. I brushed her cheek softly and her eyes opened, her pupils huge and dark, the blue of her irises barely circles around the blacks.

“Baby?” I stroked her face with one hand.

“Daddy?” Her eyes shut again.

“No, sweetheart, it's Jordan. I'm here.”

“Oh.” She exhaled harshly, and another cascade of spit oozed from her lips. I wiped it away. “Is the chickory on yet? You know you gotta drink chickory when you're in New Orleans.”

I grimaced. Whatever substance had nearly killed her also painted illusory pictures in her mind. “No, baby, the coffee's not on yet. I'll go make you some, though.”