My heart clutched, and the deep clouds fell away.
“My babies,” I whispered.
“They’re here,” said a low voice. “They wouldn’t leave you.”
I opened my eyes. The room wasn’t as brightly lit as I’d thought, though I couldn’t be sure if the haze blurring my vision was in the air or in my mind. A white ceiling gradually swam into view, then a stainless-steel pole, an IV bag. The bed was comfortable but unfamiliar. There was no telling what time it was.
“Lori?” the voice said.
With an effort I focused my eyes and recognized Damian. He stood at my bedside, gazing down at me and holding my right hand tightly in both of his.
“You’re in Dr. Tighe’s surgery,” he said softly.
“Will and Rob are here, too.”
He stepped back, and I saw on the far side of the stark white room two small cots, two mounds of blankets, and two identical, tousled heads nestled on two pillows.
“They’re not hurt,” Damian assured me. “They insisted on spending the night with you.”
“My brave boys . . .” I murmured.
“They also insisted that I bring you . . . this.” One hand released mine and disappeared from my field of vision. When it reappeared, it was holding Reginald. “Will and Rob told me that this little fellow would help you to get well. I’ll leave him on the bedside table, shall I?”
I smiled lazily while Damian set my pink flannel bunny aside and returned to his original position. It was considerate of him to stand, I thought. It kept me from having to strain my neck to look at him.
Another memory intruded. “Andrew?”
“Dr. Tighe is with him,” Damian informed me.
“He took a nasty blow to the head, but Dr. Tighe is confident that he’ll make a full recovery.”
“Thank heavens.” I drifted for a moment, then frowned in concentration. “Why am I here?”
Damian’s grave expression softened. He reached out to smooth the hair back from my forehead. “You were shot, Lori.You were shot just below your left collarbone. We’ll have matching scars.”
“Just what I’ve always wanted,” I said, with a drugged giggle.
He clasped my hand again. “I knew you’d be pleased.”
“My face?” I was dimly aware that something wasn’t quite right there.
“Nicks and cuts,” Damian explained. “From fragments of flying rock. They’ll heal nicely.”
“No scars?” I said, vaguely disappointed.
“Sorry.” He shrugged apologetically. “You’ll have to settle for the one. Rest now. Your husband is on his way. He’ll be here as soon as the wind subsides. We’ll talk more later.”
“No,” I protested, fighting to stay awake. “Abaddon, on the cliffs—what happened?”
“He was struck by lightning,” Damian replied. “Or perhaps it was the wrath of God. He’s dead in any case. You’ll never have to worry about him again.” A quiet sigh escaped him as he stroked my hand. “It’s supposed to be the other way round, you know. I should be lying where you are, and you should be standing here.”
“I’ll get it right next time,” I promised, and let the inexorable tides of drowsiness sweep me away.
I slipped in and out of sleep for the next twelve hours. Visiting hours at Dr. Tighe’s surgery were apparently quite flexible, because every time I woke up, a different face was hovering over me—Sir Percy, Peter, Cassie, Kate, Elliot, and Pastor Ferguson each put in an appearance. Dr. Tighe, who looked too young to be a practicing physician, showed up at regular intervals to take my pulse and blood pressure, fiddle with my bandages, and hang fresh IV bags.
Rob and Will were always there, sitting cross-legged at the foot of my hospital bed or playing quietly near their cots with their seal pups and their knights. Damian was their constant companion, and Reginald, of course, stayed within arm’s reach. If one or more of them ever left my room, I was unaware of it.
By the time Bill arrived on the island—five hours later, by helicopter—I was strong enough to sit up in bed. Since words couldn’t convey the range or the intensity of our emotions, the first moments he and I spent together, with the boys, were devoted to purely tactile communication. The hugs, kisses, and caresses continued long after Will and Rob, confident in their father’s ability to look after me, allowed Damian to take them back to the castle.
After they were gone, Bill settled himself on the foot of my bed, with his shoes off, a pillow tucked between him and the footrail, and his legs stretched parallel to mine. His gaze shifted restlessly from my face to my bandaged shoulder, as if he were debating with himself whether or not I was well enough to hear what he had to say.
“Bill,” I said, guessing his thoughts, “if you don’t tell me, I’ll die of curiosity, so you may as well get it over with.”
“Patience never was your strong suit.” He smiled, but his eyes were shadowed with melancholy. “It’s an ugly tale, Lori.”