The Sea Taketh (Alex Singer) (27 page)

             
“Alex, I know this is hard,” Gramps says. “But we need you to be strong. The FBI is still looking for the man who took you.”

             
“Thomas, this should wait,” one of the doctors says.

             
“A man broke into my home, stole my granddaughter, and shot her!” Gramps yells. “I won’t rest until he’s behind bars!  Valuable time has already been lost.”

             
I take a deep breath and calm myself. Gramps is right, finding my kidnapper should be our top priority. I feel braver than I should with the anti-anxiety medicine in my system and protected by Christian’s arms.

“Get someone in here,” I whisper, trying to steady my breathing. “I will only tell it once.”

              With Gramps and Christian for support, I recount the kidnapping in great detail. Gramps holds tightly to the bars on my bed until his knuckles turn white. With a stone-like face, Christian appears to be unfazed until the FBI agents leave. He pulls out his phone and begins speaking in angry, rapid Danish as he steps into the hall.

             
Unsure of everything which has occurred, I ask Gramps, “Who found me?”

             
“Christian did,” he answers, putting my oxygen mask back on my face. “When I discovered my smashed window, and you gone, I called him first and the police second. I knew if anyone could find you, it would be the Pedersens. Thankfully I was right. A couple more seconds and we would have lost you. Christian had to perform CPR, and you flat-lined in the ambulance.”

He begins sniffling. I weakly squeeze his hand

              “How long have I been here?” I ask.

             
“Almost a week,” he wipes his nose. “You had severe hypothermia and lost a lot of blood. They had to life-flight you here, slowly warm you, and give you numerous blood transfusions. Your surgeries went well, and we thought you were out of the woods until you got the fever. A piece of the cloth from the swimsuit you were wearing went in with the bullet, infecting the wound on your hip. You have been very sick.”

             
“How long do I have to stay here?”

             
“They’re thinking another week.”

Just then the door opens. A pimpled and gangly teenage boy runs into the room, fo
llowed by a couple police officers.

             
“Alex, I love you!” the boy shouts as he’s pulled from the room.

             
“Sorry, Miss Singer,” says one of the officers as he closes the door.

             
“Damn it!” Gramps swears. “They’re getting more brazen!”

             
People start yelling outside the door. I recognize Christian’s voice in the mix. His words aren’t discernible, but I know he’s really upset.

             
“I better go see what’s going on.” Gramps goes out the door.

             
My injuries and medications have made me groggy. I lay my head on my pillow. My stomach growls loudly. With everything that’s been happening, I didn’t realize how hungry I am until this moment of calm. I see a package of saltine crackers among some of Gramps things on his chair a few steps from my bed. Not wanting to cause trouble for anyone, I put down the railing and carefully slide my legs over the edge of the bed. I hold onto the bed as I put my unhurt left leg on the floor. Finding that it can hold my weight, I slowly put down the other. The pain is excruciating. I lose my balance. Flailing my arms; I take down an IV stand with me. We fall, making a loud commotion, and spilling liquid all over the floor.

             
The door flies open.

             
“Alexandra!” Christian runs to me.

             
“I’m fine, just very clumsy.” I put a fake smile on my face as my entire right side is throbbing.

He gently picks me up and puts me back in the be
d. He readjusts my oxygen mask.

“You’re not clumsy. You’re wounded,” he says movin
g the hair out of my eyes. “Why were you out of bed?”

             
I point to the saltine crackers. The corners of his lips turn downward. He pushes the call button for the nurse.

             
“I wish I would have thought of that,” I force a smile, laying my head back on my pillow.

             
A nurse knocks as she walks into the room.

“Yes?” she asks.

              “Miss Singer just fell on the floor and knocked down the IV stand. You will want to put it in her report, and she will need her wounds checked.  Furthermore, she hasn’t had anything to eat since she woke,” Christian says. “Please have a meal brought to her.”

             
The nurse gasps and quickly checks my wounds. I avoid looking at them, knowing how terrible they feel. A member of the hospital staff quickly cleans up the IV mess before Christian and I are left alone.

             
“You need to stay in this bed. You could have been seriously injured.” Christian frowns.

             
“I thought I could do it myself, it was just a few steps away,” I respond.

             
“You always think that. You have to let people help you.”

             
“That’s hard for me.”

             
“You get it from Thomas.” He chuckles faintly.

             
I take his hand in mine, and remove his glove. I intertwine my fingers with his.

“Christian, I don’t care anymore,” I whisper.

              “Care about what?” he asks, putting his forehead to mine.

             
“All the things that were getting in the way of us, they were just excuses.” I wipe tears off my face. “I tried to push you away because I was scared. I can’t be scared anymore. I almost died, and the whole time I was so mad at myself for not spending time with you while I had the chance. I’m so sorry! Please forgive me and give me another chance.”

Fact #10 is irrelevant; I can no longer stay away from Christian.

              He gently kisses my forehead. “That is the best news I’ve heard in five hundred years! Our fates were intertwined the moment we met,” he says. “And I already told you that I would wait indefinitely for you.”

             
There’s a knock on the door and the nurse walks in with a food tray. Christian quickly pulls away his hand and puts it under my pillow.

             
“Doctor Holms wants you to start slowly. Another tray will be brought to you for dinner.”

She puts the tray on a small table before leaving.

              Christian puts on his glove and takes off the lid.

“What in the world is that?” he asks, looking at the food.

              The meal looks like it has been put through a food processer, but I’m so hungry I don’t care. I remove my oxygen mask, pick up my spoon, and tear into a bowl of green Jello. It soothes my swollen tongue.

             
Christian pulls out his phone and dials. “Jen, I’m going to need you to smuggle some real food in to Alexandra,” he says, grimacing at my meal. “Yes. Goodbye.” He hangs up the phone.

             
“Where are Henrik and Sven?” I ask between bites of Jello.

             
“Outside the door.” He begins poking some sort of meat dish with a fork. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that there have been some problems with security.”

             
The door opens and Gramps walks into the room. “Christian, I would like to speak with you, outside,” he says.

             
“Of course,” he says as he stands. He points to a few of the dishes on my tray. “Don’t eat those. I think I saw them move.”

             
“I want to know what you two old ladies are talking about.” I put down my spoon.

             
“It’s nothing for you to worry about,” Gramps says too quickly. I know him well enough to know that they are up to something.

             
“Spill it,” I say as I cross my arms.

             
“Thomas and I have simply been discussing what accommodations need to be made to ensure your safety and provide you with the best situation for your recovery,” Christian says.

             
“And?”

             
“And I think we need to go with Christian’s plan,” Gramps says.

             
“I’ll be back in a moment,” he says.

He is on his phone talking in Danish before closing the door behind him.

              “Gramps, what’s going on?” I ask.

             
“You’re going to find out eventually, anyway.” Gramps sits on a chair next to the bed and takes my hand. He clears his throat before beginning. “When you disappeared, the police didn’t have anything to go on so they began reading your fan mail. I thought that fan mail was supposed to be nice, but a lot of terrible things have been written to you. When the police saw how many letters were threatening, the case was turned over to the FBI. They have spent the past week checking up on these nut jobs and there are several, not counting the monster who shot you. It’s not safe for you here.”

             
“I don’t understand?”

             
“Alexandra, I want you and Thomas to go to Denmark with me,” Christian interrupts as he returns to the room.

             
“You will go with him tonight, and I will follow,” Gramps interjects. “I need to stay to help the FBI.  I will join you as soon as I can. ”

             
“I should be here helping, too,” I say more bravely than I feel.

             
“No!” they choir.

             
Christian sits on the bed, next to me.

“Alexandra, this is for the best. It will give you time to recuperate. I will help you catch up on your homework, and you can heal.”

“Maggie has even agreed to allow Jen to go with you,” Gramps interrupts. “You will have a lot of fun. I’ll be there in a couple weeks, and we’ll all spend Christmas together in Denmark.”

             
I sniffle and wipe tears from my eyes.

             
“Are you upset?” Christian asks.

             
“No,” I whimper. “My leg is really hurting.”

             
Gramps rings for the nurse, and I’m given some painkillers.

             
“Jen will be here any second,” Christian says after the nurse leaves.

             
Sure enough, the door opens and Jen walks in followed by Sven and Henrik.

             
“How are you feeling?” she asks.

             
“Terrible,” I answer.

             
“This should make you feel a little better.” She hands me a paper bag.

             
I open it to find some sushi. I scarf it down, barely taking time to taste it. Then Christian puts the oxygen mask back on me as I close my eyes. Within seconds, I am asleep.

*     *     *

Already wearing thick pajamas and boots, Jen also wraps me in a thick quilt, places the oxygen tubes in my nose, and puts a wool cap on my head. She pushes my wheelchair and oxygen tank into the hallway. Gramps, the Pedersens, and scores of FBI agents are waiting. Gramps is talking to Dr. Holms.

             
“We understand your worry, but this is better for Alex,” Gramps says.

             
“Taking her out of the hospital after she has been so ill isn’t better for her!”

             
“How can she possibly heal here when everyone is so preoccupied with security?” Sven asks. “She fell on the floor because your staff is overwhelmed. We will be taking her. Thomas has already checked her out.”

             
“I haven’t released her,” the doctor says.

             
“The law is clear on this point. A doctor is waiting for her in the car,” Sven continues. “She isn’t being sent home without treatment, but simply transferred to another doctor’s care.”

             
“I should call child welfare!”

             
“Feel free,” Henrik shrugs his shoulders. “The bill has been paid and the paperwork has been signed. We know that you’re only trying to do the job you do so well, but this is really better for Alex. Thank you for all you have done. Enjoy the holidays.”

             
Christian takes my hand as Jen pushes me down the hall, flanked by Henrik and Sven. Gramps follows us with the FBI agents. I shiver as I’m pushed into the cold, dark night. An enormous limo is waiting behind the hospital. The door opens and a brown-haired woman steps out. She wears gloves like the Pedersens.