“One hundred fifty-five point three-forty.”
“Thanks.”
Someone had made a pallet of blue FBI windbreakers on the floor of the chopper, and they laid Karen on it. Zwick rode up front. Will was thankful for the gesture. He knew the SAC would like nothing better than to grill him for the next eight hours, but the man was demonstrating some decency.
As the chopper tilted forward and beat its way into the sky, Will went forward and contacted the attending physician in the UMC emergency room. He outlined Karen’s case, then requested a trauma surgeon that he knew had not gone to Biloxi for the convention, a crusty old Vietnam vet who knew how to cut and clamp and get the hell out.
When he returned to the cabin, Karen’s eyes were open. She said something he couldn’t hear above the noise of the rotors, so he leaned down to her mouth.
“Family,” she whispered. “Again.”
“We’re a family again!” cried Abby, looking at Will with wide eyes. “That’s what she said!”
“That’s what she said, all right,” he agreed. Suddenly something broke loose in him, and waves of grief and joy rolled through his heart.
“You’re shaking, Daddy,” Abby said.
“I’m okay. It’s been a long day.”
She smiled uncertainly, searching his eyes for the invincible father she had always known, for signs that everything would soon return to normal. Will took her free hand in his, just as she held Karen’s. Together they formed a circle that he vowed would never again be broken. He had made such vows before, usually after seeing some tragic death in the hospital, but eventually the grind of daily existence dulled his awareness of the central truth of life. Chaos was working beneath everything, and death always waited in the wings, watchful as a crow. This time he would not forget how precious was the time he shared with the women who loved him. This time he would keep that knowledge close in his heart.
This time…
