Undertow (24 page)

A water spot grew wide across the note I still held, soon joined by another. Then another. I quickly folded it up before it was ruined by my tears and put it in my pocket, unsure of what else to do with the damning evidence. I didn't care in that moment. All I cared about was the guilt I felt and how much I would have given to have the chance to tell my father that I had been so wrong about him. So very, very wrong. But he was gone, and, though my heart burned from the loss, there was a soothing calm that slowly resonated through my body. I had come and done what I had set out to do when I planned to return.

I had made peace with my father.

Though words went unsaid and apologies unmade, he knew I loved him and he took that with him to his grave. And I knew he loved me too; my mother's note further entrenched that knowledge. As I wept alone over the kitchen table, I did find solace in that.

27

Even though I desperately wanted to, I had no way to leave that night, so I stayed at his house, huddled up on the couch in the living room while I stared out at the clear sky riddled with stars. Sleep overtook me eventually, but I awoke feeling groggy and disoriented, not remembering having fallen asleep at all. The chirping of my cell phone alerted me to the fact that I needed to get back to the airport, as my flight was leaving in only a short time. I happily collected the few things I'd brought with me and made my way out to the rental. Being in that house made me sad. I didn't want to be there any longer.

Shortly before I boarded the plane, I received a text message from a nurse at the hospital. Her words were few, but concise: “He's waking up.” My whole body went numb. I needed to get back there. I didn't want him to wake up alone.

The entire flight was spent with me obsessing over my choice to leave and how much of a dick Dr. Lewis was really proving to be, especially if he'd intentionally done what I suspected. I'd have him up on malpractice charges if that was indeed the case and I could prove it. Regardless, I was just happy that Decker was well enough to be pulled out of the coma and returned to some state of consciousness. I couldn't wait to see those eyes.

* * *

“Decker?” I called softly, taking his hand in mine as I crouched down beside his hospital bed. “Can you hear me? I'm so sorry I wasn't here earlier. I had to go home for a bit, but I'm back now.”

His eyes fluttered in response, trying to open themselves fully, an act that he hadn't achieved in days. I could see that the ceiling light in the room was making it harder for him and immediately sprang up to shut it off. Once that was done, he seemed much more at ease and cracked them open just enough to see. They instantly landed on me.

“Aesa,” he whispered, though not intentionally. His throat was dry and hoarse, not only from the induced coma but also from the smoke damage he had sustained on the boat and the intubation he'd received on the chopper. I reached for the water bottle I'd brought with me and slowly angled his bed up just enough for him to be able to sip some without feeling like he was drowning. Both of us knew all too well what that was like.

“Try to drink this,” I encouraged, holding the bottle up to his mouth. He took a few small swigs to placate me before speaking again.

“Aesa . . . your father . . . ” He fought hard to get the words out, clearly unaware of how long he'd been unconscious. His first thought was of my welfare, wanting to be the one to tell me the horrible news I had already received. Even as the tears rolled down my face, I managed a smile.

“I know,” I whispered back, leaning my face in close to his. “Please don't worry about that now. I'm just so glad you're okay, that you made it.”

“Robbie?”

“He's fine. Brad too, but he's been sent to a special hospital for burn victims. They think he should make a full recovery once he's grafted and healed up.”

“Andy?

I shook my head in negation.

“I'm sorry, Aesa. There was no saving your dad.”

“I know,” I replied, choking on the words. “It's what he would have wanted. He wouldn't have wanted to survive if it meant losing his crew.”

“A true captain to the end.”

I could only nod in agreement, my voice failing me entirely.

“What happened to me?” he asked, trying to look himself over even though blankets still covered the majority of his body.

“I only know what Robbie told me and what I've seen medically, but you nearly bled to death from a leg wound. You nicked your femoral artery,” I said with a pause. “Robbie saved your life.”

“I remember him holding me in the water and yelling something at me, but I kept fading in and out of awareness. After that . . . this is the next thing I remember. Seeing you.”

“It's probably better that way,” I told him, my smile tight in an effort to fight back the tears that came instantly when I remembered what he had looked like that night—covered in blood and half-dead.

“That bad, huh?” he joked, trying to smile against the healing lacerations and bruises on his face. The pain meds they'd given him didn't appear to be strong enough given the grimace that immediately followed. “Well, I guess the good news is that I have a personal physician to render the best care possible for me 24/7 once I get out of here.”

“Which won't be for a while,” I countered, my doctor persona taking over in an instant.

“Yes, ma'am,” he purred, reaching slowly for me. “Any chance you want to show me just how much you've missed me?” His words were playful, but underneath was a tone of seriousness that carried a heavy weight. As worried as I was for him when I saw him wheeled into the ER, I'm sure he was worried that he would never see me again before he lost consciousness, drifting off in the darkness of the Bering Sea. So much drama had bonded us so quickly that his sentiment flowed through me, calling to me to respond to his words before I had a chance to think. My lips drifted towards his and fell upon them softly, reassuring him that I was real and he was alive.

When his intentions exceeded his body's limitations, I put an end to our kiss, pulling away from him as I gently laid a hand on his chest, encouraging him to lay back and rest.

“I can't show you exactly how much just yet,” I said with a wink. “You'll need to get your strength up for that, I'm afraid. Until then, a kiss is all you can have. Doctor's orders.” He sighed, but did as I asked and lay back down against the mattress. “Are you hungry? Do you think you want to try to eat something?” I asked.

“I'm a little tired,” he mumbled, his eyes closing somewhat involuntarily. “I think I might just rest for a bit. Will you stay?”

“Of course,” I replied, pulling a chair up behind me so I could be closer to him. “They'll have to drag me out if they want me to go.”

“Good,” he uttered quietly, taking my hand in his. “I'm not letting go.”

28

Decker's recovery went far more quickly than expected, but I wasn't surprised. The same fortitude that made him an amazing crabber pushed him through the pain of healing and rehab at an alarming pace. Only a week after he woke up, he was released from the hospital under the expressed understanding that he would be staying with me. I wouldn't have had it any other way.

I was still in the hotel suite, which made for somewhat tight living quarters, but we easily made do. He was mobile, but still fatigued easily and spent a fair amount of time on the couch doing what leg exercises he could from a seated position. At night we shared a bed together, though it wasn't nearly as sexy as it sounded. His leg would still swell a bit after a long day of exercise and walking around, so I'd prop it up and do my best not to bump into it during the night. Sex was off the menu for the time being.

Luckily for us, we found that just getting to spend time together was enough, learning more and more about one another as we co-habitated. Our bond had been quickly forged, so it seemed strange to learn some of the more trivial things about him after the fact, but they made me smile nonetheless. I learned that he loved the color green, had an odd fascination with the circus, and never ate anything deep fried because the smell alone was enough to turn his Bering-Sea-withstanding stomach. I in turn let him in on the little secret that I never wore red because it reminded me of blood (which was an irony he just couldn't wrap his head around), that I graduated first in my medical school class, and that I liked to stay up all night when the moon was full and listen to the world's reaction to it. Lunar cycles made people and animals behave strangely, as did many other things.

I hated leaving him to go work my shifts at the ER, but he dismissed my resentment, citing that many a wounded man needed my help; I just wasn't allowed to fall in love with any of them and bring them home. He demanded a corner on that market, and I let him have it willingly.

We spent our days like that at first, just learning the minutiae of each other while in non-life-threatening situations. I searched for apartments during my breaks at the hospital, hoping to find something that would accommodate us both easily. I wanted to surprise him with it so I could see his reaction. We hadn't discussed our plans at all beyond him getting well and me getting along better with my superiors in the ER. The slack I'd been cut had long since disappeared, and I needed to perform at the top of my game if I wanted to have any chance at saving face. I had my work cut out for me, indeed.

Having just come home from the night shift, I was tired but elated, knowing that I'd found an amazing place for us to rent, and I couldn't wait to get inside to show him the listing. When I entered the suite, he was on the phone, a pen in his hand that he was using to quickly scribble information down onto the hotel notepad. I waited for him to finish, wanting his full attention for my announcement, but when I started to put the pieces of his one-sided conversation together, my enthusiasm quickly fell by the wayside.

“When would you need me?” he said, his eyes still fixed on the paper before him. “Just this season, or . . . ?” I listened intently as he mumbled a few affirmative responses while the person on the other end fed him more important details about what I feared was going to happen.

Decker was going back to the Bering Sea.

“Okay,” he agreed, my heart sinking further into my stomach as he did. “I'll make arrangements. Talk to you soon.” He hung up and tossed his phone down onto the notepad he'd been so studiously writing on then looked up to me. I did my best to shield my feelings from him, hoping that, for once, my efforts would not be in vain.

“Who was that?” I asked casually, hoping to maintain that tone throughout his explanation.

“Robbie,” he replied tentatively. “He was asked to captain a boat—one of the smaller vessels in the fleet. The skipper is sick with prostate cancer. Doctors won't let him go out, so he asked Robbie to take over for him until he's well enough to return. Seems they need another deckhand too.”

“Oh. When would you start?”

“Opie season for starters, but they'll need me beyond that too. As long as Robbie is there, I would be there.”

“That starts pretty soon,” I pointed out. “Are you sure you're up to it? I'm concerned your leg might be an issue.”

“Robbie is going to put me on the hydraulics so I don't have to do too much heavy lifting or throwing, and it'll keep me from having to climb the stack.”

“What about the ice? You know how heavy it builds up on the boats during Opie season!”

“I'll help out with that, but ice removal shouldn't bother my leg much. It'll be okay, Aesa. Please don't worry.”

Don't worry,
I thought to myself, wondering how he could even begin to say that to me.

“I have to, Decker. You're not talking to some girl who knows nothing about the trade. You're talking to me, someone who grew up in it. I know what happens on those boats to people not at one hundred percent. It's not good.”

“And that won't be me,” he protested, standing cautiously before coming toward me. His limp was barely visible. “Robbie is setting me up in the best possible way to keep me safe, and I'm getting stronger every day.”

“But that's not good enough for a crab boat and you know it. As for Robbie, you're going to trust someone dumb enough to captain a crab boat with a broken arm?”

“Listen,” he said softly, running his hand down the side of my face. “You're worried; I understand that. But I need you to understand that this is a demon I need to face. I love this job, Aesa, and I won't let what happened scare me away from it. I find peace out there. I know you can't make sense of that, but I do. I'm a bit uneasy about doing this, but I know it needs to be done, and I do trust Robbie. He's been fishing for ten years now. I've watched your father teach him everything he could ever need to know to run a boat. He's solid as a skipper, Aesa. We're going to be fine.”

I wanted to believe his words—truly, I did—but I couldn't, and my heart, which had sunk into the depths of my abdomen, broke a little before I had time to reinforce it as I'd always done. For that fleeting moment, my face showed the true sorrow I felt, then I forced a smile, feigning bravery and support. He leaned in and kissed me softly for my efforts.

“I think you need this too, Aesa,” he continued, speaking softly against my lips. “You need to see that not all is lost when it seems that way. Your life is not all about loss.”