The Woman He Married (25 page)

“Who’s ready for another?” Patrick broke the silence, holding up a fresh
s’more
.

“I’ll take that one.” Trisha materialized from the darkness and snatched the gooey treat from Patrick, wearing a self-satisfied expression on her face.

Josie felt like someone had knocked the wind out of her lungs watching Trisha take a seat while sending a victorious smirk in her direction. Then, she saw that John had reappeared as well. His shirt was re-buttoned unevenly, his face contrite. When John turned his sullen gaze in Josie’s direction, she quickly looked away, focusing back on the fire while trying not to completely fall apart. With humiliation welling up inside, Josie felt a tear escape from the corner of her eye when Amy wrapped a supportive arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer.

It’s finally happened. Probably only yards from where Josie sat, John was with another woman, and what was worse—everyone knew. Faced with the reality of John’s affair at last, Josie finally allowed herself to wonder,
how long has this been going on?

* * * *

Literally looking guilty as sin, John avoided conversation and eye contact with the other occupants of the jeep. Josie’s shock and dismay was slowly morphing into fury as she watched him navigate the jeep along the winding coastal road back to the resort. Her imagination ran wild, envisioning John working late in his office at the firm, or campaign headquarters. Dark, except for the dim light of his desk lamp, he sat alone, working until something caught his eye. Walking with one foot directly in front of the other, Trisha slinked in, slowly untying the belt of her trench coat, revealing red lacy underwear and fishnet stockings held up by garters, while “Tempted,” by Squeeze, played seductively in the background. Without a thought about his wife or children at home, he…

Josie felt tears burning the corners of her eyes. Not tears of sadness, but of the rage that was slowly building with every moment that passed without confronting him.

How could he?
Right in front of
me?
Why
has he even tried to hide it all this time?

Josie’s hands curled into fists as she resisted the urge to reach over and grab him around the throat, choking him until he confessed everything, before she broke his neck, finishing him off, never to be humiliated by him again.

In front of them an old bus, once painted aqua blue, but now chipped, dented, and scraped, swerved slightly.

John slowed, putting some distance between them.

First
Denton
,
and now John.
Is everyone sleeping with someone else?
Andy and
Lanny
were probably serious when they joked about mistresses and extra rooms yesterday at the golf course.
Rooms.
Josie’s mind spun—something was trying to surface.
The key card from the first night that didn’t open their room?
Why did John have it if it wasn’t theirs? The clerk who acted so strange, what did he know
?
A key to a room, but not to our room.
Of course.
How could I be so blind?

A loud pop like a shotgun blast broke Josie’s concentration. In front of them the bus was swerving to and fro, the back tire spewing smoke. John slammed on the brakes, and Josie could hear the squealing tires of the jeep behind them doing the same.

Completely out of control now the bus swerved erratically. Crossing into the other lane, it slammed into the sand embankment, sending it flying up into the air, flipping over completely, and sliding on its roof before coming to a stop out in the rough.

Josie held her breath as she watched the bus, seemingly in slow motion, fly through the air. Another pop caused her to startle as flames begin flickering up from the engine in the front.

She felt her mind go blank for a moment before reality took over—
there are probably people inside that bus
.

John and Andy brought the jeeps to a screeching halt at the side of the road, everyone gaping, horrified, at the now-burning bus.

Denton
had his phone out. “I’ll call 911,” he announced, jumping from the jeep and pacing anxiously while he dialed.

Josie quickly exited the jeep, headed to the back, and began tossing beach chairs and towels to the ground as she rifled through the contents of the rear compartment.

“Jocelyn, what are you doing?” John was at her side, leaning over to pick up a beach chair.

Josie didn’t look at him.
“Looking for a first-aid kit.”
Pulling out a red box, she strapped it around her neck and under her left arm.

“And just what do you think you’re going to do with that?” John asked, following Josie as she set off across the sand.

“Where the hell does she think she’s going?” Andy asked, jumping out of his jeep.

Denton
finished calling for help, and made eye contact with Josie as she passed, heading for the bus. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He shook his head.

About fifteen yards off the side of the road, smoke was spewing out of the open windows, the tires still spinning. Barely visible in the rough terrain, the bus was illuminated only by the jeep lights and the flames lapping up from the engine. The door at the back of the upturned bus opened and two passengers staggered out, dropping to the ground and coughing.

John grabbed Josie’s arm and spun her around before she could reach them.

“Jocelyn, that bus is going to blow.”

Josie yanked her arm away. “There are people on that bus! We can’t just let them burn!” She and John stared at one another, locked in a battle of wills.

Denton
reached the passengers who’d managed to stumble out and helped them away from danger, then sat them on the ground again. After checking their pulse, he asked them a few questions.

When he finished he looked up and agreed.
“John’s right, Jocelyn.
It’s too dangerous. The emergency workers will be here soon.”

Wimps!
Josie spun back around and headed for the bus on her own. When she reached the back door, she turned to see John standing back, running his anxious fingers through his hair.

She switched on a flashlight, took a deep breath, and climbed into the smoky interior.

Inside, Josie could barely see through the smoke as she shone the flashlight over bodies, some stirring, some still, along with luggage that looked to have taken a few turns in the dryer. The inside of her nose and throat burned as she resisted inhaling the smoke. Her eyes began to water. When she felt something close weakly around her ankle, she pointed the light on her feet and saw a tiny hand reaching out to her.

With the small child in her arms, Josie stumbled over scattered belongings as she headed toward the dim lights of the jeeps. Outside, John rushed to the smoke-filled doorway and helped her over the threshold. He looked down at the bundle she was carrying. So did Josie. The girl’s eyes were closed, but she was coughing weakly—at least she was breathing.

Looking to be about the age of four, she had dark skin and black curls falling over her face and shoulders. When Josie met John’s gaze, recognition formed in his eyes, and she knew what he was thinking—
Beth
.

Taking the little girl from Josie and handing her over to
Denton
, John shouted, “We’ve got to get those people off that bus,
now!”

“Hold on. Let me go in.”
Denton
had the girl on the ground. She was sitting up and a woman now exiting the bus on her own rushed over, taking the girl in her arms, repeating, “Mi
Hija
,” over and over.

“I can tell which ones we can help and which ones we can’t, to save time,”
Denton
said. Josie and John looked at him uneasily, the gravity of the situation now sinking in.

“Josie and I’ll go in and send the ones that are alive back out,”
Denton
said. “Ya’ll stay out here; move everyone away from the bus.”
Denton
turned to Josie. “You ready?”

“Yes,” she said, but inside her body quaked. While she didn’t want to go back in, she couldn’t just stand back and watch, hoping the emergency workers made it in time.

Back inside, the smoke had thinned. The passengers, mostly Hispanic-looking, but some Caribbean, stirred slowly as
Denton
checked for injuries the best he could. Josie’s heartbeat assaulted her ears while she tried unsuccessfully to steady her shaking hands.

One at a time, the passengers filed out, hobbling and moaning, some on their own, others being helped by
Denton
or herself.
John and the others shuffled the survivors away from the bus and closer to the road.

“Go! Go!”
Denton
’s frantic voice was commanding as he exited the bus, holding a lifeless man by the shoulders. Josie had his feet. Laying him down on the ground,
Denton
tilted the man’s head back and leaned over, checking his airway.

“He’s not breathing.”

Pressing two fingers to his neck, he said, “No pulse.” Then, looking down at Josie, he asked, “You know CPR?”

Josie nodded her head. She knew it, but hadn’t ever used it. Positioning his hands on the man’s chest, he started counting off while Josie moved up to the man’s head, ready to administer breaths.

When
Denton
got to fifteen, Josie leaned down and gave the man two long breaths.

“A little harder, I don’t think his chest’s
rising
enough,”
Denton
said, starting compressions again.

After moving through three cycles of fifteen compressions and two breaths,
Denton
and Josie switched places. With his fingers to the man’s throat,
Denton
said, “A little harder, I can barely feel his pulse.” Josie responded by increasing her effort.

Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, while her arms and shoulder muscles ached from the compressions as she attempted to pump his heart. While
Denton
performed the breaths she pushed her sleeves up, knowing that CPR could only do so much. The man needed a defibrillator.

Come on, breathe!

After a few more cycles, they were both getting tired and ready to give up, but a woman, sitting off to the side, rocking and crying while fingering her rosary beads, kept them motivated. When Josie leaned down to administer two more breaths, miraculously, the man coughed up into her face, and Josie jumped back, falling onto the ground.
Denton
rolled the man over onto his side.

Two emergency vehicles, sirens blaring, finally made an appearance on the road.

Another small explosion erupted from the engine of the bus, and the flames moved to the front tires.

“Get everybody back!” John yelled, coming over to help Josie up from the ground. “Good work,” he complimented, smiling at her.

With everyone at a safe distance from the burning bus, Denton, Josie, John, and Patrick donned latex gloves from the first-aid kits and helped the paramedics clean wounds and bandage, while Amy and Andy handed out water bottles. Running on adrenaline now, Josie could feel her pulse beating against her throat as she knelt in the cold dark sand and pressed a blood-soaked piece of gauze firmly to the head of an old black man with a massive wound. The bleeding had stopped but the paramedic had asked Josie to keep applying pressure while he ran back to the ambulance for more supplies. A cool breeze whipped up from the ocean, chilling her moist skin and causing goose bumps to form on her bare legs and forearms.

“Please, you help me?” a little Caribbean woman, bandaged and waiting to be transported to the hospital, repeated again and again in broken English. But Josie couldn’t release the pressure she was holding on the man’s head. With everyone engaged in one task or another, she looked around for someone who could help.