The Last Hour (Thompson Sisters), Sheehan-Miles, Charles [reading an ebook .txt] 📗

inches tall. He had a haunted look in his eyes as he and his wife walked through the doors, and he walked straight to me and pulled me into a hug.

“I’m so relieved you’re okay, Carrie,” he said. A lump formed in my throat when I realized he smelled like Ray.

I was flooded with relief. At least Michael wasn’t going to be difficult. But Kate gave me a cold look all the same. I broke off from the hug, and rather than even try to approach her, I led them to chairs against the wall and we sat.

“Tell me what’s happening,” she said. “I want to speak to his doctors, too.”

“Right now he’s in emergency surgery,” I said.

She gasped. “Still? The accident was—how many hours ago?”

“Eleven this morning. Mrs. Sherman ... Ray was hurt very badly.” I didn’t want to say it. I didn’t want to tell her just how badly. I didn’t want to repeat what the doctors had told me about his condition or his prognosis.

She stiffened and turned to Michael and said, “I knew we should have taken a flight. What kind of incompetence is this? He’s been in surgery for eight hours?”

“Kate,” Michael said. “Let’s find out the situation before we jump to—”

She cut him off. “No. It’s clear she’s mismanaged this whole situation. If I’d been here my son wouldn’t still be surgery, he’d be recovering. He wouldn’t have been in the accident in the first place if it wasn’t for her.”

I didn’t think. It was just a reaction, and it was instant, but before the words were even completely out of her mouth, I raised my hand and slapped her. Every head in the room turned toward us as I cried out, “How dare you?”

She gasped, rage on her face. Michael grabbed her arm and said, “Kate, please stop. This isn’t helping. I know you’re upset, but Carrie’s his wife.”

“Listen to me, you witch,” I said, my voice in a low hiss. “I know you love him, and I know he’s your son, but he’s my husband, and I won’t have you come in here and speak to me that way. Do you understand me?”

She froze in shock, staring at me with wide eyes. I was shaking with rage I didn’t even know I had.

Shut up. Yes I did (Ray)

“Oh, my God, did she really just do that?” Sarah’s face reflected a mix of shock and delight.

I was standing to Carrie’s right, in between her and my mother, and at that point I’d have done just about anything to really be there, and able to do something. I know Mom was upset. I know she was probably crazy with fear and grief. But did she somehow think Carrie wasn’t? Did she think she could come in here and just dump all that on Carrie?

I shushed Sarah.

My mother swallowed, staring at Carrie, then turned her back on her and walked to the opposite corner of the waiting room. Dad was left standing, facing Carrie, and looking like he wanted to sink into the floor or become invisible like me.

He struggled for a second to say something ... then shook his head and merely muttered, “Sorry, Carrie,” and walked over and stood next to my mom. He leaned close to her, whispering something, and from the fierce expression on her face, she wasn’t happy about whatever it was.

Carrie was breathing heavily, as if an influx of adrenaline had suddenly dumped into her system. Alex and Jessica watched her, concern and shock on their faces. Dylan approached and put a hand on her shoulder and murmured, “Let it roll off, Carrie. She’ll chill eventually, okay?”

Carrie nodded, then sat down again, opposite from Mom. They looked like a couple of boxers, squared off in opposite corners, and I didn’t like that at all. I loved Carrie, and I loved my parents. And sometimes the things people do when they’re afraid or under stress aren’t nearly as attractive or smart or kind as we’d like. And both Carrie and Mom were afraid and stressed.

Of course Mom had made it clear early on that she didn’t care for Carrie. I think I sort of understood why, too. My Mom and Dad had dated a very long time ... years ... before they’d finally settled on marriage. It scared the crap out of her that just a few weeks after coming home from Afghanistan I’d fallen for someone so quickly. It hadn’t helped that at Christmas dinner, I’d told them that not only did I love Carrie, but I intended to marry her as quickly as possible.

“It’s too quick,” my mother had said. “You hardly know this girl.”

“I know her well enough,” I replied.

“You’re too young to be making those kinds of life changing decisions. Especially so soon after…” She couldn’t bring herself to say the term war.

Dad interjected, “He’s older than we were when we got married, Kate. Leave the kid alone.”

Although I didn’t care for being called a kid, I was still grateful for Dad’s support. Really, it had been intolerable that I even had to have this conversation. There I was, twenty-six years old, home from the war, with no place to go other than to my parents’ house. But seriously, what else was I going to do? It hadn’t made a whole lot of sense to make more permanent arrangements until I knew where I’d be going to school in the fall. There had been no doubt in my mind that would be Washington, DC, either at American University or Georgetown. But what if I didn’t get accepted? I didn’t see myself going anywhere far from Carrie. I sure as hell wasn’t planning to go out to Berkeley, or back to Stony Brook for that matter. Which undoubtedly had added to my mother’s anger at Carrie.

I sank into a chair near Carrie, but not close enough to disturb her. I’d learned from that last time I touched her. Sarah was right: my presence, that close,