The Storm and the Darkness (12 page)

But her eyes had been hard as steel; filled with tears, but not tears of joy. “You killed the only thing I eva loved,” she said. There were never words, not then or ever after, that cut Alex as deeply.

When a woman was that detached from reality, there was only one way for that to be handled. He always prayed it wouldn’t come to that.

These were Alex’s reminders of why he was here, and why, no matter what stood in his way, he could not falter.

For Ana, there was still hope. He just needed to get her away from Finn long enough to show her.

Despite Finn having seldom prayed in his life, he found himself not only praying but begging, pleading, and bargaining. This was not happening. It could not be; he refused to believe it.

It seemed an eternity before Jon reached him, but when he did, Finn could feel his brother’s shock before he was close enough to see it. "Christ," he heard Jon whisper.

Jon’s hands were on his jacket, pushing him away, but he couldn't move. The blood was frozen to her head; so much blood, she looked dead. Jon pushed him again and this time Finn moved, his gaze still fixated on her, unbelieving, terrified.

Jon lifted Ana, his arms supporting her knees and shoulders. Standing up, as he moved Ana higher into his arms, her coat shifted and something dropped from the side pocket. Keys. Finn’s keys.
Oh no
, Finn thought.
She was coming to our house, for me, to give these to me.
Tears burned in his eyes, but there was no time for that. When he looked up, Jon was already heading back to the house, moving as quickly as he could through the deep snow.

Finn pulled himself up out of the snow and ran back to the house, even though he couldn’t see a foot in front of him. His internal sense of direction carried him true, just as it must have done for Jon, because when he reached the back door, it was still wide open and neither Jon, nor Ana, were anywhere to be seen.

He caught his breath and saw that Jon's shoes were off at the bottom of the stairs. Finn flew up the stairs in pursuit, ignoring the muddy prints he left in the wood.

Jon had laid her out on their parents’ bed, and was taking off his own jacket, gloves, scarf, and hat. There was a stark contrast between Finn’s panic and Jon's quiet, methodical, and efficient demeanor. Jon’s face betrayed no emotion other than determination. He looked up at Finn and said calmly, "Help me get her clothes off."

"WHAT?!" Finn stood with hands on his head, panting. "She's likely to freeze to death and you want her clothes off?"

"Finn. Calm down," Jon said. "Help me get her clothes off."

"She's dying. We're gonna kill her, this will kill her, she's gonna die," Finn choked. He was pacing, restless.

Jon slapped Finn across the face. The sound bounced off the walls, the sting intentionally startling. "She is going to
die
if we don't get her out of the
wet
clothes."

"Right," Finn said, dazed. "Right."

Jon was already busy pulling off her jacket and shirt, and Finn worked on her shoes. They weren't even snow boots, just tennis shoes.
Oh, Ana
. By the time his shaking hands unlaced her sneakers, Jon was waiting impatiently to pull off her pants, as he was already done with the rest. "Go draw a warm bath. Quickly. Not hot," he barked at Finn.

Finn fumbled with the knobs on the old porcelain tub, trying not to think any more about what she looked like laying there, or what could happen. He focused on one step at a time. Right knob hot water, left knob cold water.
Plug the drain, test the water. More hot water. Test the water.

Jon was standing in the doorway with Ana lying in his arms, naked and dead to the world. Finn felt a moment of clarity when he saw his brother's arms come around her sides, his fingers just brushing the underside of her naked breast, his other hand resting just under her bottom. Jon's face was all business.

He nudged Finn out of the way, and placed her gently in the bath as Finn stood motionless. "Go get Dad’s medical bag," he said to Finn. “Make sure the stitches kit is in there. If not, find it.” When Finn didn’t move, Jon said, with more force. "
Finnegan. Please
."

It took a moment for Finn to register the request. He had almost forgotten Jon had been trained by their father, and knew most of what he had known. It was easy to forget, when Jon himself refused to acknowledge it. But Jon
was
trained, and Jon had a gift. If anyone could fix her, it would be Jon.

Finn returned with the bag, and found Jon kneeling next to the tub, gently cleaning Ana’s face with a wet washcloth. Jon had reheated the water, and Finn hoped it wasn't because he had done it wrong to begin with. She was still unconscious, but there was some color back in her face now. She no longer looked...dead.

"She has a pretty serious head wound. Also, I don't know how long she was outside in the cold or what effects that caused.” Jon turned to look at his brother. "Tell me truthfully, how long are we going to be stuck here with this storm?"

"I...I don't know.” Finn was pacing again, and his voice was cracking.

"Finn, calm down and talk to me.
Finn
." He felt Jon’s hand on his leg. "I need you to help me. I need you right now."

Jon had never said he needed him before. It had the calming effect that Jon had hoped for. Finn took a deep breath and said, "It might be awhile. Days, maybe weeks."

Jon lowered his head and sighed. "I can stitch up her head wound. We can feed her, and keep her warm. But I don't know when she will wake up. Hell, I don’t even know what equipment still works...” Jon’s voice trailed off and Finn knew he was thinking of all the things in their father’s medical office. Jon had studiously avoided it for years. “I have no idea how serious her wound actually is."

Finn nodded. He understood what Jon was saying, even if he didn't like it. "You can fix her now, but she might not be okay, is what you're saying. You can do your best, but it still might not be enough…”

"Let's get her dried off and into something warm," Jon said, once again lifting her limp body into his arms. This time Finn didn't hesitate when he stepped toward them and wrapped a towel around her.

Jon sipped his coffee slowly, watching for hints of the sun over the horizon. The snow continued to come down in relentless waves, lasting longer even than Finn had expected. It didn't appear to be slowing down, but Jon could still make out the edge of the sunrise.

The adrenaline from the night hours had worn off, leaving Jon feeling weak, tired, and helpless. The gash in Ana’s head was deep. It was hard to tell for sure, but she seemed to have lost a lot of blood; enough that she might need a transfusion. He knew the equipment was there, and there were two healthy and willing donors in the house, but without knowing her blood type he couldn’t just give her their blood and risk killing her.
 

That he had even entertained attempting a blood transfusion told him how tired he was. He had been awake for almost twenty-four hours now. The early morning had been unbearably exhausting, but he was afraid to sleep. Every hour he had been up to the bedroom to check on Ana, afraid if he didn’t see her chest rise or fall that it would be because he had failed.

They had dressed Ana in their mother’s old flannel pajamas. Finn insisted they put more than one pair on her, but Jon explained that they didn’t want her to overheat, either. She was likely to develop a fever once her body started to stabilize and that could make her worse. Finn had insisted on double pairs of socks, and Jon relented.

Finn was upstairs in the bed with her, holding her, but he wasn’t sleeping any more than Jon was. If Jon was anxious, Finn was far worse. He was watching her breathe vigilantly, worried that she might have a deadly concussion that they couldn’t diagnose in their home; that she might have a brain bleed, or a hemorrhage. Jon wanted to reassure him, but he had the same worries.

Finn had calmed down long enough to get Ana cleaned up, dressed, and settled in bed before he lost it again. He rambled on about keys, and how the whole thing was his fault. Jon insisted he take a valium, and Finn reluctantly complied.

“I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been here. God…if you had stayed later with the McElroy dog, or if we had waited until morning to start the shoveling. Jesus Jon, did this really happen?” The medicine had calmed him, slowing his emotions to a steady stream of guilt and fear.

“You can’t think of the ‘what ifs,’” Jon said. What else could he say? Finn was right, but those things happened every day. Paramedics arriving late to a crash scene; a pedestrian unknowingly walking past someone who can’t cry out for help. This is why he went into medicine. To be the one who could make the difference; to make the seconds that counted count for something. When he was tending to Ana, his awkwardness and anxiousness around her vanished. He was a doctor, at his father’s side, his only concern keeping her safe. As stressful as the night was, it was the first time in a long time Jon felt alive.

Once Ana had been stabilized, Finn had buried his face in his hands and cried. Not tears of the moment, of fear, of anxiousness, but real tears. Jon felt his heart lurch for the only person he really loved.

He put his hand on Finn’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go lay down with her. It might help you relax, and I’m sure she will want a familiar face when she wakes up.”

Finn looked up. He was a little boy again. He was the thirteen-year-old who wanted to be a sailor. “Will she? Wake up I mean?”

“Yes,” Jon lied. He honestly couldn’t say when, or if, she would. The brain was a mysterious organ and doctors still had so much to learn about the effect of trauma on a patient.
 
As much as he wanted to comfort Finn, he really needed to be alone. He put his hand on his brother’s shoulder and squeezed. “Go on.”

Finn nodded without another word and went upstairs. When Jon checked on them throughout the night and morning, Finn would be staring at her, one arm propping himself up, the other wrapped protectively around her. Her face was still and unmoving, but her breathing was steady. By some miracle she hadn’t suffered any frostbite so he hoped the worst was over for her.

In a couple of hours, he would need to insert a catheter. He would also need to start her on fluids. If she was still asleep by the evening, he knew he would need to start a feeding tube to get her nutrients. These were all things he remembered how to do; had, in fact, done them many times at his father’s side. He presumed all of the requisite supplies would be easy to find in his father’s office, but he wasn’t ready to go in there. He wanted to enjoy what was left of his quiet morning.

He watched the sun continue to rise-–a hazy orange glow pushing through the blizzard–and thought again of his father. Andrew St. Andrews would have been both proud and ashamed of him last night. Proud of how well he acted under pressure, proud of him saving that girl. Ashamed afresh that Jon gave up his career in medicine.

He never understood
, Jon thought.
No one did, but especially not him
. Jon didn’t need understanding, though. Mostly he just needed to be left alone.

I’m not you
, he had said to his father, when he delivered the news that he had left medicine behind.

No…you’re sure not.

He finished the rest of his coffee and gave another glance outside. When Finn was more alert, he would have to ask him what he thought about the weather; if things were still going to get worse. He laughed to himself that he, a pragmatic man of science, would believe so deeply in his brother’s senses. Explanations notwithstanding, Jon couldn’t deny his brother’s abilities.

As he stood at the sink, fading fast, Jon knew he needed to sleep. Who knew what lay ahead? Who knew how many days or weeks they could be snowed in? The snow was around fourteen inches now, and it wasn’t letting up. They had a patient upstairs who was going to need help under difficult circumstances, made even more complicated if he was not alert and able to function properly.
Just two hours
, he told himself.
Then I’ll go in and get the equipment
.

He climbed up the stairs, stopping at the door of his parents’ old bedroom. Finn still lay wrapped around Ana, but his eyes were closed now and he was snoring softly. Jon added another blanket on top of them, checked her breathing and vitals once more, and then let them sleep. Finn would want Jon to wake him up, but they both needed sleep.

Jon closed all of the doors, and placed his slippers at the side of his bed. Just before succumbing to his exhaustion, he reflected how much life was about to change for all of them.

Ana had called every night since arriving in Maine. Even if the conversation was limited to, “Hi and goodnight,” she still called. One evening she had lost track of time and called him at past one…but she had still called. And now it had been several days since Nicolas last heard from her. He knew that something had gone wrong.

On exactly the fourth day since he had heard from her, Oz stopped by unexpectedly.

Oz was by himself, which Nicolas found odd, given how rarely Oz left Adrienne alone. Oz was perpetually terrified of Adrienne having a breakdown of some kind that might result in her running away again. Adrienne had not been the same since losing her memory years ago. Nicolas’ gut told him she never would be. While Nicolas accepted she would never be the same, he wondered what Oz would have done differently if there weren’t two children in the equation. P
robably nothing
, he thought.
Old boy loves nothing more than to feed his tireless hero complex
.

Nicolas cared for his half-sister, but he respected Oz for having the patience and love to deal with her utterly broken spirit, because he could not.
 

“And to what do we owe this extraordinary pleasure?” Nicolas asked with an exaggerated bow.

“Do I need a reason to stop by?” Oz ignored him, brushing past with a distracted look.