The Pirate's Legacy Page 6

  Voices from the crowd. “A lady ran to that house—across the street. She called.”

  “Yeah, a lady called. Should be someone coming any minute now.”

  “Kid gonna be okay?”

  “Doc, what do you think?”

  Kyle ignored the crowd as they peppered him with questions.

  A man with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth dug in his pocket and pulled out a yellow Bic lighter. He handed it to her. “Keep it. I got more.”

  “Thanks.” She looked to the others. “A pen? Anyone?”

  Two ballpoints were offered, but she held out for what he wanted.

  Finally, after what felt like twenty minutes but was really less than two, a woman held one up. She’d dumped her purse onto the pavement and had scattered its contents in the mad scramble to find the pen. Keys, tampons, a pack of Newport Lights, a wallet, and the other detritus hidden in a big purse surrounded her feet, but she smiled as she waved the pen.

  “Here! Its cap is missing—does that matter?”

  Chloe grabbed it. “I don’t think so—thanks!”

  She knelt beside Kyle and held out the items.

  The boy had not moved, not that she could see, except that his head had been tilted back. Her date had a hand on the smooth forehead, and held the child in position.

  He spoke quickly. “Take the guts out of the pen.”

  She stuck a fingernail under the blue cap at the top of the transparent tube and flicked it. The rest slid out when she gave it a good yank. Tossing the ink cartridge onto the ground beside her, she held it out to him.

  He shook his head. “No, hold it for now. I’ll tell you when I need it.” He held up the pocket knife. “The lighter.”

  She lit it with her thumb. He held the blade in the flame, shooting her a look.

  “You okay?”

  Chloe swallowed. She wanted to scream but nodded instead. “You’re not really going to do this, are you?”

  He took the knife out of the flame, wiped it on his trouser leg, and gave her a quick grin. “We’re going to do this.”

  It happened so fast she didn’t have time to think. He stuck the point into the boy’s throat, opening his windpipe. He dropped the knife, stuck his finger into the slit, and reached a bloody hand toward her.

  “Pen.”

  She handed it to him, and seconds later, he’d inserted it into the child’s body. Almost instantly, the boy began to move. Kyle held the pen barrel in place, leaning close to the patient’s face. He made eye contact with the boy.

  “Hey, it’s okay. I’m a doctor, and you’re doing great. Hey, my name is Kyle. We’re going to go to the hospital now. I’m going to ride with you—you’ll never be alone. I’m here, and you’re going to be just fine. No, don’t try to move.”

  They heard sirens. Around them, people began to back up, making room for the help that was finally coming.

  He never looked away from the boy, who had begun to moan.

  “Chloe? You okay to drive?”

  She nodded.

  “Chloe?”

  It was a struggle to find her voice, but she did. “Yes.”

  “Good. You did great, honey. Now, if you wouldn’t mind following us to the hospital. I’ll meet you there, after I get my friend here settled. Think you can do that?”

  A cop pushed the crowd back even further as an ambulance rolled to a stop beside them. The back door opened, and two uniformed men alighted, dragging a gurney.

  “Yes.”

  She started to rise, but his voice stilled her. A glance, just a quick, single-heartbeat look from the child into her eyes, but it was enough.

  “Thank you, honey. You were wonderful.”

  Chapter 11

  Honey. He’d called her honey—not once, but twice. And, she hadn’t realized it until the hum of the car’s engine was the only sound—aside from her pounding heart, that is.

  When the ambulance pulled out, the crowd returned to their cars. Onlookers, their attention taken from the Nightly News or dinner tables, filtered back into their homes. A stretch of cottages dotted the far side of the road overlooking the ocean. Summer people, mostly with children in tow, returned to their rentals. All had a story to tell, and most shook their heads as a policeman retrieved the boy’s Schwinn and stowed it in the trunk of his patrol car.

  Chloe had waited until the ambulance doors slapped shut before hurrying back to the car. She’d wanted to sit for a few minutes, catch her breath, and let her hands stop shaking, but traffic behind her didn’t allow that luxury. So she put the car in gear and began to drive, following the bumper ahead of her with mindless precision.

  Brake lights flashed, but it took almost too long to react. Her foot came down hard on the brakes, and she avoided ramming the chrome with just inches to spare.

  “Danger, danger Will Robinson,” she muttered. When the car ahead moved forward, she followed but as soon as an opening on the shoulder came up, she pulled off. She cut the engine, took a deep breath, and just sat still.

  When she was a kid, she and Uncle Ted watched Lost in Space, a television show about the Robinson family who were stranded on a distant planet. They used their wits to combat every obstacle that came their way, and with the help of their trusty robot always managed to stay alive.

  The robot’s most important duty was to warn of impending danger. Usually the little boy in the family, Will, was with him whenever something was about to go drastically wrong.

  It was the robot’s voice she heard in her head as she nearly collided with the other car.

  “Get a grip.” She inhaled as deeply as her too-tight bra allowed, held the breath, then let it escape past her lips in a slow, steady stream. “So he called me honey. He probably didn’t even realize he did it—shit, he was saving a little boy’s life at the time.”

  A vision of the child, lying on the hard road, filled her mind.

  “Oh, my God.” Chloe crossed her arms, placed them on the steering wheel, and put her head down. The lump in her throat felt big enough to choke her. Then, she recalled seeing Kyle thrust a knife blade into the tender skin at the base of that boy’s throat, and the tears started to fall. “Oh my God.” She wondered if the parents had been called yet. Wondered how awful it must be to send your child out into the world perfectly fine—probably smiling, even—to have him busted up by the grill on a truck.

  She said a quick prayer, not just for the kid but for his parents, as well. It didn’t come without a struggle, the so-called word with the higher power, but at least she tried. For that broken boy, she would do almost anything. Even talk with God.

  Part of her work at the center involved trying to persuade women their children would benefit from their mother’s leaving an abusive relationship. So often, the battered women she counseled claimed to stay for their children’s sakes. They could not—or would not—concede that a single parent family trumped one where the innocent watched their mother being abused.

  Almost before the ink on her diploma dried, she realized that a mother’s love is limitless. Some women would do anything for their children, including being tossed around by the man who fathered those children.

  A few—so very few—were willing to put themselves first, expecting the family dynamic would eventually benefit from a more peaceful environment.

  No mother she’d met had been willing to give up a child in favor of a man. That, the strength of a mother’s love, was what kept her going. Helping the women she met was a small way of making up for the mothers who weren’t loving enough to do what was best for their children.

  The boy’s mother—and hopefully he had a father in the picture—would be at the hospital by now. Kyle would still be busy with his patient so lingering until the wobbliness left her limbs wasn’t a bad idea.

  I might have been a good mother, she thought. One day, I might have made the right decisions for me—and for a child.

  Dwelling on would have, could have, or should haves was futile. Chloe hitched a breath and
sniffed.

  A sharp rapping on the door frame startled her into lifting her head. The window was rolled down, so the face peering into the car was less than a foot away.

  “Miss? Are you okay?”

  The man was old enough to be her grandfather, with more wrinkles than an elephant’s ankle, and dressed in dusty overalls paired with a washed-out navy blue t-shirt. Wiry white hair covered tanned forearms. When he leaned an arm on the door, she caught a whiff of fish.

  Cod, most likely. That’s what was running this week. Last week, too.

  She met his gaze. “I’m fine, thanks.”

  His cornflower-blue eyes were kind. “Now, I’m no rocket scientist, but a pretty young lady, dressed to kill and driving a fancy car wouldn’t be sitting on the side of the road crying if she was fine. Fine is what people who mostly aren’t fine say.”

  She sniffed, wishing for a Kleenex. Not worth looking in her purse, because she never carried tissues. Why bother? She hated crying and wasn’t a big sneezer, so any time she stuck one in her purse it ended up shredded and covered with bits of Life Savers.

  Knuckling the tears from beneath her eyes, she attempted a smile. “Really, I’m okay. Just a little bit…” She shrugged. “Shaky, I guess.” Pointing a thumb to the roadway behind the car, she added, “There was an accident about a mile back.”

  He nodded. “I know. I was stuck in the traffic. Heard it was a kid, on a bike. I sure hope he’s okay.”

  “My—” Her what? Boyfriend status didn’t come with the first date, especially when the date hadn’t even technically taken place. “I, ah, saw the boy. He was pretty banged up.”

  “Oh, man, that’s not cool. I was afraid it was something bad.” He pulled a pack of Marlboros from the pocket of his overalls, shook one up, and offered it to her. She declined, so he took it for himself and lit it. Blowing a long, thin stream of smoke over his left shoulder, he asked, “Think the little fella’s gonna make it? Or was he crushed too badly? You know, these things are heavy, and a kid? Well, meeting a car on a bike must feel as shitty as a bug smashing a windshield. Man, what a bummer…”

  “I—well, I hear you but I think—I hope, anyway—he’s going to make it. My date is a doctor, and he ran to help.” She swallowed hard, trying to push the squishy noise the boy’s throat made when Kyle opened it with a knife from her head. “This is his car. My date, not the kid’s, obviously. That would be silly, saying the kid was in a car because damn it, if he had been in a car we wouldn’t be talking, would we?”

  The man lifted one bushy white eyebrow when she began to babble. And, knowing she was jabbering didn’t mean she could just instantly stop. The urge to laugh bubbled up inside her—but she pushed it down. Too bad she didn’t smoke cigarettes. It would give her something besides the boy to think about.

  “So, you’re taking your date’s car where?”

  She cleared her throat and tried to keep her voice steady. “The hospital. He went in the ambulance with the boy, so I’m bringing his car.”

  “Not much of a date, is it?” A lop-sided grin as he flicked the butt to the ground.

  “No, it isn’t. And, it’s our first date.” She didn’t know why she added that, but now it was out.

  “Quite a memory-maker, as first dates go. Me and the missus? We had corned beef and cabbage at her aunt’s place, just a couple of miles from here, in Lobster Cove. Our first date, as it was. Not near as memorable as yours, but I hope it works out as well for you and your doctor as it has for me and the missus.”

  “You got married?”

  “Three months after that first date, I asked her to be my wife. The rest, as they say, is history.” He raised the eyebrow again. “In school, I always slept through history. Dull as dirt, that old stuff.”

  He looked so serious she kept a straight face. But when he wiggled his brows, she knew he was waiting for a reaction so she smiled. “Been married long?”

  “Thirty-five years next November. Planning a trip down to Florida, a kind of surprise for the lady who’s put up with my guff all these years.” He scratched his cheek, giving a speculative gaze that she did not try to avoid. “So, think you’re okay to drive now?”

  “I’m fine.” When he opened his mouth, she held up a hand. It was steady. “Really, this time I’m telling the truth. I was just a little shook up before. You know, feeling like I’d seen an accident or something. I’m okay now. Really.”

  He nodded. “Good enough. So, you’re headed to Bar Harbor, then?”

  “I am.” She took another deep breath. “That’s the plan, anyway.”

  “Well, seeing as I’m headed there myself, I’ll follow you up the coast. If you feel like you can’t drive, put your flashers on and pull over. I’ve got your back—oh, I guess we haven’t been introduced, have we?” Sticking a hand in through the open window, he said, “Carl Titchell. Born and bred in the Cove, and at your service.”

  They shook. His hand was calloused but the touch was gentle.

  “Chloe Monroe. The Cove isn’t very big, why haven’t we met before?” When he released her, she put her hand on the ignition key. It was hard to tell how much time had passed since Kyle left for the hospital. She didn’t want him thinking she’d taken his car on a joyride.

  “Hard to say. We have a place just to the south of the village. I guess if you aren’t looking to buy fish, our paths wouldn’t cross.”

  “Well, I’m glad you came up on me now.” She flashed a smile as she turned the key. The car roared to life, so she pressed the gas once for the heck of it. It was just a thrill to hear the big Super Cobra Jet V8 engine—a real change from the Suzuki she was used to. “Thank you.”

  “Hey, no problem. We take care of our own here. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He pointed to the brown truck parked behind her. “Remember, I’m right there. Take it slow and easy, and we’ll get you to the doc. No speeding in this Fastback baby—not tonight. You’ve had quite a shock and probably haven’t had dinner yet, so it’s no wonder you need an escort.”

  “Again, thank you.”

  “Again, no problem.” He winked, then turned to walk back to his truck. “It was a pleasure meeting you, miss. When you see the doctor, please tell him a fellow traveler thanks him for taking such good care of humanity. Good karma, that.”

  Chloe waited until she saw him get into his vehicle. He started it, then flashed his headlights. She checked her side mirror, then pulled back onto the road.

  Good karma. The old what-goes-around-comes-around vibe.

  If Kyle was going to be repaid for the deed he did tonight—and all the other good deeds he’d probably done in his career—he was going to benefit greatly.

  Not me, she thought. She clutched the wheel and followed the road, glad there was no one ahead of her. When karma finds me, I’m shit out of luck.

  Chapter 12

  This time, Chloe knew where the Emergency Department was located. She pushed through the huge glass swinging doors and into the lobby, her gaze sweeping the noisy room.

  In one corner, a young woman wearing an apron over her outfit, holding a child whose cheeks were too rosy by far. She cradled the cranky-looking toddler against her breasts, her hand on his forehead as she worried her bottom lip with her teeth.

  A row of green plastic chairs set against the tinted windows held a motley assortment. Bikers, all in black leather, filling the air above them with a cloud of gray cigarette smoke. She caught snippets of their conversation, which wasn’t library-quiet by any means.

  “Damn, but did you see the guy?” A leather strip held the man’s ponytail but could not keep it from whipping across his broad back as he shook his head.

  Another guy slapped a thigh, his palm making a loud smack when it hit the leather chaps covering his Levis. “The cat was airborne.”

  The only woman in the group, also covered from toe to shoulder in black leather, put a hand over her face. “Flying. He was freaking flying, man!”

  “If I live to be a hundred—no,
a freaking thousand—I’ll never forget the way he sailed through the sky.”

  “Sailed.”

  “Through the damn sky.”

  “Like a bird.”

  The chorus of wonder echoed, then broke out in laughter which gained a disapproving glare from the charge nurse seated behind the high counter.

  “A dodo bird, man!”

  “Hell, yeah—a dodo bird is right!”

  The woman peeked out from between her fingers. She wore leather gloves that fit her like a second skin. “More like dodo bird splat—did you see how he landed? How can you assholes be laughing? He cracked his helmet, man.”

  They instantly sobered. Shuffled their feet, the heavy boots scraping over the worn linoleum.

  “She’s right.”

  “Good thing he didn’t crack his skull—”

  “Maybe he did.”

  “My little brother, man—don’t say shit like that…”

  Chloe looked away when one of the men began to cry. His sobbing was worse than their joking had been, stopping nearly all conversation in the crowded space.

  The mother held her child tighter to her chest.

  A man with a bloody handkerchief tied around his hand looked over at the bikers, then down at the floor. Even the charge nurse stopped giving the group disapproving glances, suddenly busy with the papers in front of her.

  When the nurse looked up, Chloe gave her a small smile.

  “Can I help you?” All professional, pushing aside paperwork and holding a pen poised over a clipboard. “You can sign in here—then I’ll need your insurance and personal information on some forms.”

  “No, it’s not necessary.” She dangled the car keys from her index finger and moved closer to the desk.

  “Miss, even if you drove yourself here—which it looks like you did—I still need the forms filled out. Ambulance or walk-in, it’s all the same in the ED.” The nurse snapped the gum in her mouth, pushed the clipboard and pen across the Formica, and shot Chloe an I’m-in-charge look.

  “I just need to see the doctor.”

  Another gum snap. “Look, you fill out the forms, then you see a doctor. Same rules for everybody.”