Nora Roberts: Best Laid Plans

Cody opened his eyes. "Yeah."

"He made a full confession." Nathan waited while Cody lit a cigarette. The ashtray was already littered with them. "He admitted to substituting materials, the payoffs, the bribes. He claims he was drunk and in a state of panic after you and Abra confronted him. He made the call to arrange the arson with some kind of crazed idea that no one would be able to prove anything against him if the project was destroyed."

"Didn't he think there would be an investigation?" Cody expelled a quick stream of smoke. "Did he think we'd all just keep quiet about it?"

"Obviously he didn't think."

"No." Too drained even for anger, Cody stared across the room, where Jessie dozed on Barlow's shoulder. "And because he didn't think, Abra was almost killed. Even now she could be-" He couldn't say it. He couldn't even think it.

"He's going to spend a lot of years paying for it."

"No matter how many," Cody murmured, "no matter how much, it won't be enough."

"Still up and around, Mr. Johnson?" The young resident walked in, looking as though he'd slept in a packing crate. "I'm Dr. Mitchell," he explained to Nathan. "I patched your friend up, oh-" he glanced at his watch "-about eight hours ago." He looked back at Cody. "Hasn't anybody chained you to a bed yet?"

"No."

Mitchell sat and stretched out his legs. "I pulled a double shift, but I still don't feel as bad as you look."

"Thanks."

"That was a free medical opinion. I ran into Dr. Bost up in the lab." He looked longingly at Cody's cigarette, reminded himself he was a doctor and subdued the urge to ask for one. "He was just finishing up with the results of Miss Wilson's tests."

Cody said nothing, could say nothing. Very slowly he leaned forward and crushed out the cigarette.

"It looks good, Mr. Johnson."

His mouth was dry, too dry. He couldn't find the saliva to swallow. "Are you telling me she's all right?"

"We're moving her from critical to guarded condition. The scan and the X rays don't indicate brain damage. She's got one whopper of a concussion, to couch things in unprofessional terms. Bost should be down in a few minutes to give you the details, but I thought you could use a little good news. She came to briefly," he continued when Cody remained silent. "She recited her name and address, remembered who was President and asked for you."

"Where is she?"

"It's going to be a little while before you can see her. She's sedated."

"That's her mother." Cody rubbed a hand over his face. "Her mother's sitting over there. Will you tell her? I've got to take a walk."

"I've got a bed with your name on it," Mitchell said, rising with Cody. "The best way to stay close to your lady is to check into our little hotel. I can recommend the chicken surprise."

"I'll keep that in mind." Cody found his way out and walked.

Abra wanted to open her eyes. She could hear things, but the sounds ran through her mind like water. There was no pain. She felt as though she were floating, mind and body, inches off the ground.

She remembered. If she forced her mind to focus, she remembered. There was the sun shooting in red-and-gold fingers through the dome, and a sense of contentment, of purpose. Then came the fear.

Had she screamed for him? She thought she had, but that had been before that horrible noise had thundered around her. There was another memory, but it was unclear and dreamlike. She had gone flying- Something like a hot, invisible hand had scooped her up and hurled her through the air. Then there had been nothing.

Where was he?

She thought, was almost certain, that he'd been with her. Had she spoken to him, or was that a dream, too? It seemed to her that she'd opened her eyes and seen him sitting beside her. There had been a bandage on his face, and his face had been drawn and pale. They'd spoken. Hadn't they spoken? With the drugs clouding her mind, she struggled to remember and was frustrated.

Jessie. Her mother had been there, too. She'd been crying.

Then there were strangers' faces. They'd peered down at her, shone lights in her eyes, asked her foolish questions. Did she know her name? Of course she knew her name. She was Abra Wilson and she wanted to know what was happening to her.

Maybe she was dead.

She'd lost track of time, but so had Cody. He'd spend every minute he'd be permitted to, and as many more as he could fight for, beside her. Two days had crawled by. She'd been conscious off and on, but the medication had kept her drowsy and often incoherent.

By the third day he could see that she was struggling to focus.

"I can't stay awake." For the first time he heard petulance in her voice, and he was cheered by it. Until now she had accepted everything without complaint. "What are they giving me?"

"Something to help you rest."

"I don't want any more." She turned her head so that she could look at him. "Tell them not to give me any more."

"You need to rest."

"I need to think." Annoyed, she tried to shift. She saw the cast on her arm and fought to remember. It was broken. They'd told her it was broken. There was a cast on her leg, too. She'd been confused at first, wondering if she'd been in a car accident. But it was becoming easier to remember now.

"The buildings. They're gone."

"They don't matter." He pressed his lips to her fingers. "You gave me a scare, Red."

"I know." She was beginning to feel now. Whenever she was awake for this long she began to feel. The pain reassured her. "You're hurt."

"Couple of scrapes. You're having pain." He was up immediately. "I'll get the nurse."

"I don't want any more medicine."

Patiently he leaned over and kissed her just below the bruise on her cheekbone. "Baby, I can't stand to watch you hurt."

"Kiss me again." She lifted a hand to his cheek. "It feels better when you do."

"Excuse me." The nurse bustled in, all business. "It's time for the doctor to examine you now, Miss Wilson." She shot Cody a look. He'd given her more than his share of aggravation over the past few days. "You'll have to wait outside."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'm not taking any more medication," he heard Abra say. "If you've got any needles on you, you'd better lose them."

For the first time in days, he laughed. She was coming back.

In another week she was frantic to get out. The night nurse caught her trying to hobble into the corridor. Cody ignored her pleas to smuggle her into the elevators. The doctor scotched her compromise suggestion of outpatient care.

Abra found herself trapped, her arm covered with plaster, her leg in a cast to the knee. She'd gone through phases of anger and self-pity. Now she was just bored. Miserably bored.

When she awoke from a nap she'd taken in self-defense, she saw a woman in her room. She was small and obviously pregnant and had a wild mop of red hair. As Abra looked, she shifted around the arrangements of flowers and plants.

"Hello."

"Hi." Jackie turned and beamed a smile. "So you're awake. Now Cody's going to yell at me because I chased him downstairs to the cafeteria. He's gone from lean to skinny in a week. He'll be gaunt in another couple of days." She walked over to the bed and made herself comfortable beside it. "So how are you feeling?"

"Pretty good." It was easy to smile. "Who are you?"

"Oh, sorry. I'm Jack. Nathan's wife?" She glanced around. "Even with the flowers, hospitals are depressing, aren't they? Bored?"

"Stiff. It's nice of you to come, though."

"Cody's family. That makes you family, too."

Abra glanced toward the doorway. "How is he?"

"He gets better as you get better. We were worried about both of you for a while."

Abra glanced back and studied Jackie's face. She'd had a lot of time to study faces in the last week. This one was friendly and-thank God-cheerful. She'd spoken of Cody as family, and Abra was certain she'd meant it.