Iris Johansen - Star-Spangled Bride

"Will they let me see him?"

He nodded. "I had Dan radio ahead. Our local station manager set it up."

"Thank you. I'm sorry to be so much trouble." She was silent a moment, and when she spoke again it was in a barely audible voice. "It isn't that I owe him. He's… alone, Gabe. He's always been on the fringe. He never let anyone close to him. I lived with him for eighteen years and he never let even me get close. He's so alone."

"Which made you pretty damn alone too."

"I don't think he could help it. Some people can't. I wanted him to love me, but maybe there was something lacking in him." She moistened her lips. "Maybe he didn't have the aptitude. You know, like I can't cook?"

His only answer was the tightening of his hand holding hers.

"I still can't believe this. He never thought he could be hurt. He said he had nine lives…"

They pulled up in front of the hospital a short time later. "Dan, go see Harry Spaulding and set up those arrangements I told you about and then come right back to the hospital," Gabesaid as he helped her out of the car. His grip was a warm support beneath her elbow as they made their way through the lobby to the bank of elevators. "It's room seven-twelve. We'll have to get clearance at the nurses' station before you'll be allowed in."

A few minutes later they were on the seventh floor and moving down the hall toward the nurses' station.

A plump, dark-haired nurse checked the chart. "Your name's on the list, but I'll have to see identification."

"How is he?" Ronnie asked.

"He's unconscious." The nurse handed back their identification. "You'll have to ask the doctor for any further information. He'll be making his rounds in another hour. Follow me." She got up and moved quickly down the corridor on silent white-shod feet.

A uniformed guard stopped them at the door, but at the nurse's nod he permitted Ronnie and Gabe to enter the room.

The room looked like all hospital rooms, sterile and pristine and without character. The scent was also the same-antiseptic and astringent. Only the man lying in the white-sheeted bed was an anomaly. Evan didn't belong here.

He shouldn't be in a hospital; he had nine lives.

"Evan?" she whispered.

He was going to die.

The certainty came to her as she looked at him. She had not believed it until this moment, but she had seen men on the verge of death before and Evan was very close.

Gabe could see it too. His hand tightened on her arm as he felt the shiver that went through her. "Okay?"

She nodded.

He got her the only visitors' chair in the room and set it beside the bed. "Sit down. I'll go get another chair for myself from the nurse."

"No, don't stay. I'll be all right." She sat down, her gaze on Evan's pale face. "Leave me alone with him."

"Are you sure?"

"He's never met you. You're a stranger to him. He was surrounded by strangers all of his life. I don't want him to-" She broke off and steadied her voice. "Wait for me outside."

He nodded and left the room.

She kept vigil all night and was vaguely conscious of Gabe bringing her a pillow, a cup of coffee, sometimes just standing beside her for a moment, his hand on her shoulder to let her know he was there.

It was close to four in the morning when he appeared again at her elbow. "The story has broken. The corridor is a mob scene of reporters." He paused. "And Pilsner's here."

She couldn't worry about Pilsner now. "We expected it, didn't we?"

He nodded. "There's no way I'm going to let him in here, but I thought you ought to know." He looked at Evan's still form. "I didn't want it to come as a shock when you left the room."

He meant when Evan died.

"Has he regained consciousness at all?" Gabe asked.

She shook her head.

"I spoke to the doctor. He may not."

"I don't care. No one is certain how much awareness people have in a coma. He could know I'm here."

Gabe nodded and left the room

Evan stirred a little before dawn. His lids fluttered and then slowly opened and focused on her face. For a moment she thought he didn't recognize her, but then he said, "Mushy… always… were."

"You told me it was one of my failings."

His smile was the sardonic one she knew so well. "Came running… to my… deathbed."

He knew he was going to die. She wouldn't insult him by denying it. She nodded jerkily.

"I… wouldn't have come to… yours."

She swallowed. "I think you would."

He looked at her and a flicker of expression crossed his face. "Maybe…"

He lapsed back into unconsciousness and died a few minutes later.

Maybe.

She sat there looking at him. "You would have come, Evan," she whispered fiercely. "Why couldn't you say it? Blast you, I know you would have come."

The tears she had held back were suddenly flowing down her cheeks as she stood up and walked stiffly to the door.

Gabe.

She had to get to Gabe.

Gabe came to her the minute she appeared in the hall. He took one look at her tear-stained face and enveloped her in his arms. Lord, how she needed him now. Warmth. Safety. Life.

"He's gone?" he asked in a low voice.

She nodded. "A few minutes ago. I can't stop crying. Evan would have hated it…" She was vaguely conscious that the hall was full of people, cameras, lights. She looked over Gabe's shoulder and saw Pilsner standing across the corridor, a uniformed guard by his side. She smiled crookedly. "Hello, Mr. Pilsner. Sorry to keep you waiting."

He nodded. "I'm genuinely sorry that I have to intrude on such an unhappy occasion." He wasn't being untruthful; he was genuinely sympathetic, but it wouldn't keep him from doing what he believed was right.

Gabe thrust a handkerchief into her hand. "Go to the rest room and wash your face with cold water. It will make you feel better. I'll go to the nurses' station and make the arrangements for Evan."

"Cremation," she said. "He hated funerals."

"Let me handle it." He turned her around and gave her a push down the hall. "It's the last door before you reach the turn in the corridor. I'll be here when you get back." He turned to stare challengingly at Pilsner. "I assume that's all right with you?" he asked.

Pilsner hesitated and then nodded to the guard. "Wait outside for her. Keep those reporters out of there and off her back."

That was nice of him, she thought dully as she entered the rest room. He was probably a very kind man when his job wasn't involved, the home type who barbecued for the wife and kids every weekend.

The bathroom was deserted, thank heavens. She passed a row of stalls with half-open doors and stopped at the basins at the end of the room. The mirrors reflected an outer image that looked as bad as she felt inside-tousled hair and red swollen eyes, tear-streaked cheeks. Dammit, whycouldn't she stop crying? She started splashing cold water on her face.

"Ronnie."

She jumped and whirled to see a man coming out of one of the stalls. "Dan!"

"Come on. We haven't got much time." He gestured to an oak door to the left of the basins. "That door connects with the men's rest room. I broke the lock earlier."

"You want me to go into the men's room?"

"The entrance to the men's room is around the corner of the corridor." He pushed her through the door and slammed it behind them, then pulled her past a row of urinals. "Look, I know you're in shock, but just let me lead you. Okay?"

She wasn't capable of doing anything else at the moment.

He glanced cautiously out the door into the corridor and then said, "Come on." He dragged her at a half run down the corridor toward the emergency exit and down the steps to the sixth floor. "We'll take the elevator from this floor. It's faster than the stairs." As he ushered her into the elevator he said. "There's a car waiting outside to take us to the helicopter."