Far Harbor (25 page)

“Kathi’s still alive, but I don’t know her condition. According to Gwen, who called it in, the bastard was hiding in the bushes, shot her once, then took off. The family’s shaken but, thank God, safe.”

He grabbed his Stetson from its wall hook and was out the office door, Dan right behind him.

“Wait.” Iris Johansson held up a hand as they passed her desk. “Another call’s coming in…. There’s been an accident. The subject hit a bicyclist while fleeing the scene of the shooting…. The hit-and-run victim is reported to be John Martin.”

“What?” Dan spun back toward her.

“Just a minute.” She tilted her head, obviously listening to the voice in her headset earphone. Her eyes, as they slid from Jack to Dan, darkened with sympathy. “The suspect is in State Police custody after running off the road on the old highway and hitting a tree…. The deputy on the first accident scene is reporting that the victim doesn’t show any vital signs.”

“Tell him to look harder,” Dan shot back.

“The paramedics have arrived at the scene,” she continued passing on what was coming into her ear. But the information was directed at Dan’s back as he and Jack tore out of the office.

Jack hit the siren before they’d slammed the doors on the Suburban. “Fasten your seat belt,” he barked at his cousin. “The one thing we don’t need is another O’Halloran landing in the ER.”

There’d been a mistake, Dan told himself over and over again as they raced down Harbor street. They had the wrong victim. Or the deputy didn’t know how to check for a pulse.

John couldn’t die now. Not like this. Not after all he’d already survived in his young life. Dan wouldn’t let him.

“He isn’t dead, damn it,” Dan repeated again and again. His words were half curse, half prayer.

Savannah found Dan pacing the floor of the same small room where they’d all spent too many hours waiting for news of Ida.

“Raine called me.” She wrapped her arms around him, held him tight.

“Thank God.” He buried his face in her hair. “I need you.”

“I need you, too.” Strange how those words had ceased to cause that knee-jerk fear. Savannah realized that when your world went spinning out of control, it was a relief—and, as Raine had pointed out, a blessing—to have someone to hold on to. “But we can talk about all that later.”

Dan was trembling. It broke her heart. “What have they told you?” she asked gently.

He took a huge breath and lifted his head so he could meet her gaze. His handsome face was haggard and gray. His flat blue eyes had that thousand-yard stare that a soldier’s might acquire after a horrendous battle.

“Not much. The cop couldn’t find any vitals, but the EMTs brought him back on the way, then lost him again.” He dragged in another gulp of air on a ragged moan. “Since no one’s come in to tell me any different, I’m going to assume he’s alive.”

“Of course he is.” She couldn’t imagine otherwise. “You need to sit down.” She urged him toward one of the orange chairs. “Before you fall down and break that pretty face.” She framed the face, which was anything but pretty at the moment, between her palms.

“I hate this,” he muttered. But as docile as a lamb, he sank onto the chair.

Savannah sat down beside him, his cold hand tight between both of hers. “I know.”

“Christ. If forcing people to wait for news was an Olympic sport, this place would win a goddamn gold medal.”

“I know,” she repeated. “But as you said, in this case, no news is probably good news.” She looked up as Jack came into the room. “Hi.”

“Hi.” His tone was as flat as hers. “They’ve still got John in the crash room. I managed to get a look at him surrounded by people, but one of the nurses kicked me out before I could get a handle on how he was doing. I was thinking about using my badge to pull rank, then decided that if I hung around, I’d just be in the way.”

“That’s good news that they’re still working on him,” Savannah said, her positive tone meant to assure them all. Especially Dan, who was looking like death warmed over himself.

“That’s what I figured,” Jack said.

Dan merely grunted. Then dragged the hand Savannah wasn’t holding down his face.

“Kathi’s going to be all right,” Jack volunteered into the silence that had settled over the room like thick, dreary winter fog. “Fortunately Montgomery was a lousy shot. There was a lot of blood on the scene, but the wound turned out to be superficial. They’re going to keep her overnight, then probably release her in the morning.”

“That’s something,” Dan said. “What about Montgomery?”

“He was thrown out of the car. Broke his neck on impact and was DOA.”

Dan nodded, satisfied at least about this. “Good.”

No one spoke for another long time. Finally, a nurse appeared in the doorway. Dan jerked when he viewed Mrs. Kellstrom’s blood-stained scrubs. Knowing that it was John’s blood made Savannah want to burst into tears. But she was determined to remain strong for Dan.

“The doctor asked that I talk with you, since he’s on the way to surgery. He wanted you to know that we’ve got John stabilized.” Her steady brown eyes didn’t reveal a thing. “It was touch and go when he first came in. We almost lost him twice, but Dr. Hawthorne refused to let him go. The entire time he was doing CPR, he kept muttering about plastic flowers.”

The name, coupled with the mention of plastic flowers, rang a bell. “His mother has Alzheimer’s,” Savannah said. “John planted a plastic garden for her so she’ll always have flowers.”

“That’s what Dr. Hawthorne said,” the nurse agreed. “I wasn’t surprised, knowing how good John’s been to my Cindy.” She smiled encouragingly at Dan. “He’s a wonderful boy. He’s bound to have built up a lot of credits in heaven.”

“Just so long as he doesn’t end up there anytime soon,” Dan countered. “Why’s he going to surgery?”

“Dr. Hawthorne believes his blood pressure crash was due to internal bleeding. John has multisystem injuries—a broken arm and nose and several fractured ribs. There was no sign of it on the x-ray, but the doctors were worried about a torn lung, so we put in a chest tube.

“Since John kept lapsing in and out of consciousness, Dr. Burke was called for a consult, but the CAT scan didn’t reveal any brain damage, other than some swelling that’s fairly routine in traumas like this.”

“Nothing about this is routine.”

“Of course it’s not to you,” Mrs. Kellstrom agreed with Dan’s gritty assessment. “Dr. Hawthorne suspects that the internal bleeding may be coming from a ruptured spleen,” she continued her report.

“Jesus.” Dan turned from gray to green.

“I wish I had better news. But the doctor’s an excellent surgeon,” she assured them all. “So long as he can stop the bleeding, John’s chances of a full recovery are excellent.”

She skimmed a professional look over Dan’s face, apparently not liking what she saw. “John will probably be in surgery well into the night. Why don’t you go home and get some rest and—”

“No.” Dan shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Neither am I,” Savannah said.

Jack folded his arms. “Me neither.”

The nurse didn’t look at all surprised. “I’ll have the cafeteria send up three dinner trays.”

Savannah suspected that neither Dan nor Jack had any more appetite than she did. But it seemed easier not to argue.

With nothing to do but wait, they hunkered down for the duration.

T
hey were still there in the morning when Dr. Hawthorne finally showed up in the waiting room. His scrubs bore dark blood stains, just as Mrs. Kellstrom’s had last night. His face and eyes looked weary, but not, Dan determined, defeated.

“It was touch and go for a while,” he told them. “But, barring complications, John’s going to be fine. We didn’t have to remove his spleen, his lungs are fine, and at his age, bones heal fast.”

The breath came out of Dan in a slow, relieved whoosh.

“When can I see him?”

“He’s in recovery now. Give him some time to come around, then you’ll probably be able to visit him in the ICU in”—he glanced at his watch—“about an hour.”

“Thank you.” Dan could have kissed him, then decided against embarrassing the man who’d literally brought his nephew back from the dead.

“It was my pleasure.” The doctor, who looked as if he needed sleep as much as the rest of them, managed a smile. “I owed the kid a huge favor for what he did for my mother. I was grateful for the opportunity to pay him back.”

“You sure did that,” Dan said. “In spades.”

“Well,” Jack unfolded himself from the hard plastic chair and stretched. “Now that we’ve survived this latest crisis, I think I’ll go home to my wife and daughter.”

“Good idea.” He hadn’t kissed the doctor, but Dan hugged his cousin. “Thanks for sticking around.”

“John’s family,” Jack said simply, as if that explained everything. Which, Dan thought, it did. “So are you.” Jack bent and kissed Savannah’s cheek. Then left them alone.

Savannah turned toward Dan. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

His eyes were exhausted, but the life, the warmth, was back. So was his color. The stubble of beard was sexy, Savannah decided. Actually, everything about Dan was sexy. That was only one of the many reasons she’d fallen in love with him.

“
You’re
the one who went away.” Now that things were looking up, Savannah allowed herself a slight sulk about that.

“And thought of you every damn minute. Besides, you’re the one who said you needed some time alone,” he reminded her. “The one who equated loving me with weakness.”

“I was wrong.” It irked a little. But she’d get over it. They’d get over it together. “So sue me.”

“I’d rather kiss you.”

He skimmed his palms over her shoulders, down her arms. When his fingers encircled her wrists she viewed the flash of male satisfaction in his eyes and suspected he’d felt her pulse rate jump.

“I’d rather you kiss me, too.”

The kiss was long and sweet and satisfying.

“That was nice.” She rubbed her cheek against his roughened jaw.

“I can do better,” he promised. “Later.”

“I’m going to hold you to it.” She tilted her head back and smiled. “Later.”

Savannah wanted to tell him all about Lucy, about the journal and the candles, but that could wait. After all, they were going to have a lifetime together.

“My grandmother’s always had a saying I’ve been thinking a lot about lately,” she revealed. “Carpe diem…. Seize the carp.”

He smiled back. “Wise woman, your grandmother.”

“I’ve always thought so. I’ve also come to realize how there are no guarantees in life. That we can lose the ones we love in the blink of an eye.”

“I’ve noticed the same thing.”

“So, in the interest of not wasting any more time, do you still want to marry me?”

His smile widened to that bold, buccaneer’s grin Savannah knew would always have the power to thrill her. “Sweetheart, I thought you’d never ask.”

The Far Harbor lighthouse stood atop the cliff, looking like a dowager dressed in her best jewels. A rare snow had fallen the night before, spreading a white cloak over the ground that sparkled like diamond-studded velvet in the winter sunshine.

The fragrant evergreen boughs John had draped across the top of the lantern room windows added an even more festive note to this special day.

They’d decided that since Dan’s house was larger and had more room for the growing family they planned, they’d live there. Savannah would continue to use the first floor of the lighthouse as her office. They’d also agreed that the lantern room she’d loved from the first would be a perfect romantic hideaway.

Dan had grumbled a bit, but had helped her temporarily move the bed out to allow for the gathering of O’Hallorans and Lindstroms who’d come together to celebrate the forging of another link between the families.

John, his grin broad in his still bruised face, seemed to revel in his role as his uncle’s best man. Despite having been released from the hospital only two days earlier, he’d insisted on creating Savannah’s bouquet. The arrangement of white roses and holly was more precious to her than emeralds.

Ida had arrived on Henry’s arm, leaning on her Christmas gift—a polished wooden cane on which he’d carved the universal symbol of her profession, the coiled snakes of a caduceus.

As she exchanged vows with Dan, Savannah thought how Lucy had pledged the same promise right here in the Far Harbor lighthouse. She hadn’t felt the ghost’s presence since the day she’d read the last journal entry; she and Dan had decided that, having succeeded in revealing the truth about her death, Lucy’s spirit had finally been freed to join with that of her beloved husband’s.

Savannah had also been relieved when Doris Anderson, president of the Coldwater Cove historical society, had contacted a fellow history buff in San Francisco who’d unearthed a newspaper article revealing that Hannah had remarried a prosperous local banker. She had more children and lived a long and apparently happy life.

Proving again, Savannah had thought, the power of hope over experience.

The words they’d chosen were simple. Traditional. Timeless.

To love. To honor. To cherish.

When her lips touched Dan’s in their first kiss as man and wife, Savannah knew that her heart—and the Far Harbor lighthouse—had led her to exactly where she belonged.

Here, among her family, with the man she would love until the end of forever, Savannah was finally home.