The Last Hour (Thompson Sisters), Sheehan-Miles, Charles [reading an ebook .txt] 📗
- Author: Sheehan-Miles, Charles
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I wiped a tear absently off my face. I’d been more or less crying continuously since the doctor said those words. Do-not-resuscitate.
Elmore sighed next to me, and said quietly, “Smalls called me about the accident, and ... I thought it best I stay away. All I know is it was serious. What are they telling you?”
I sniffed and said, “They’re telling me Ray’s probably going to die.” Vocalizing those words made me want to curl up and die myself. I pulled my legs up close to my body and leaned against the door.
Elmore said. “I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t even want to come with you now. But ... I know he’d want me too.”
Elmore said, “Yeah, he would. He did the right thing, you know?”
“Yeah, I know,” I said. “But it still hurts like hell.”
He turned the car left on Military Road, into heavier traffic. People going to church and grocery shopping and to visit family and friends and living their lives just the same as they had yesterday. It was shaping up to be a beautiful summer day.
For some reason my mind kept turning to Stephanie Hicks. How she’d cried when handing me the letter. Because he husband was lying, and she knew it. She’d made a choice too, a choice to do the right thing, and I can’t even imagine how painful that must have been.
“That must have been so hard for Stephanie Hicks.”
“I can’t even imagine. And now she’s a widow.”
I sat up in my seat. “What?” I cried.
Elmore shook his head, and then spoke very quietly, very slowly. “Carrie ... Sergeant Hicks was the other driver. The one who hit you. They found a GPS tracker attached to your car.”
I couldn’t see straight. I stared out the window, and everything was blurred with the damn tears that were overflowing my eyes again, and I think I started to hyperventilate. And all I could think was how was she going to be able to live with herself?
I grabbed the door handle and held it tight, trying to get my breathing under control. Then I wrapped my arms around my stomach and took another deep breath, telling myself to get it under control, because I had to walk into that court-martial with my head held high. I had to represent my husband with the same kind of courage he’d shown. I had to do it for him.
It took almost an hour to get to Walter Reed. Elmore pulled the car to a stop in front of the building where we’d spent the week sitting through Ray’s court-martial, and I took a deep breath. I could do this. I had to do this.
Elmore looked at me. “Are you ready?”
I nodded. “Yes,” I said.
We opened the car doors and stepped out into the parking lot. The last time I’d been here, forty-eight hours ago, I’d been sure the pain was over. I’d been sure we’d been through hell and made it through to the other side.
Forty-eight hours ago I had no idea what hell was.
The room was packed with reporters. I heard a murmur of voices as I walked in with Elmore and without Ray. I followed him up to the front of the room, and instead of taking a seat in the front row, behind Ray’s seat, I sat down at the accused’s table.
Captain Cox approached the accused table and said, “Doctor Sherman ... will you accept my condolences?”
I blinked and frowned, and said, “Not yet. It’s not over.”
“Well, then. Here’s to hope. Under normal circumstances regulations don’t allow for holding a session of a court-martial without the accused present. But under the circumstances, we felt it best to wrap this up quickly so you can get back to your life without this hanging over your head.”
“I appreciate that, I guess.”
He sighed and said, “Everyone is here. I’ll let Colonel Martinez know you’ve arrived.”
He walked away. Elmore leaned over and said, “When we start, Captain Cox is going to swear you in. As Ray’s representative.”
“All right,” I said. “Let’s get this over with, so I can get back to the hospital.”
He nodded.
A few minutes later, Cox came back in. He was followed a moment later by Colonel Martinez and the members of the court-martial board, who took their seats at the tables on either side of him.
“The court-martial will come to order,” Martinez said.
Cox faced him and said, “All parties and members and the military judge are present, with one exception, your honor. The accused is currently in the hospital and unconscious. The defense has moved that the court-martial proceed, with the accused’s wife representing him. The trial counsel concurs.”
Martinez looked at me, with pity in his eyes. He said, “Please swear in the representative of the accused.”
Cox approached me and said, “Please stand and raise your right hand.”
I took a breath and stood, meeting his eyes, then raised my hand in the air. I didn’t know what the purpose of this was really. I wasn’t going to be testifying. But if this was how it had to be done, then so be it.
“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?”
“I do.”
“Please state your name and your relationship to the accused.”
I swallowed, and then said, “Carrie Thompson-Sherman. I’m Ray… Sergeant Sherman’s … wife.”
Cox turned around and said, “The representative of the accused has been sworn in, your honor.”
“Very good,” Colonel Martinez said. He turned to the
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