Not Quite Gone Page 8

  “Who’s Doogie Howser?” he asks, poking the snake carefully with a toe.

  “How’d you kill it?” The other doctor’s eyes are huge, and on the snake, not me.

  “I, um, smashed its head. With a rock.”

  They’re going to figure out that’s not true as soon as they get a look at its intact head but there’s nothing I can do about that. Right now, we need someone to figure out what sort of snake it is so we can get Beau some help.

  His earlier pronouncement hits me, and my knees buckle. “Wait, did you say it’s an African snake? What’s it doing in the lowcountry?”

  “Some kind of viper, yeah. I’m not an expert, but it sure doesn’t belong here.”

  “Wait. Did you say a viper?” One of the nurses, a pretty girl who might be around my age, looks thoughtful.

  “Yeah. I mean, I think.”

  “There was a story earlier about one being stolen from the serpentarium on Edisto. I’m pretty sure.”

  “If it’s any sort of African viper, we need to move quickly.” The second doctor, a middle-aged man with graying hair at his temples, pulls his stethoscope from his ears, hanging it around his neck. The concern etched on his face tightens my throat. “I’m going to call the serpentarium and talk to one of their experts. In the meantime, give him as much generic antivenom as we can scrounge up and keep pushing fluids.”

  He leaves the room, and the nurses fly into action, one of them leaving the room. Doogie punches some buttons on the IV machine before following her.

  The second nurse, the one who remembered the news story, uses her elbow to nudge tight brunette curls back toward her bun. “You can stay. No one will notice.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m going to take the snake out to Dr. Shaw in case he needs to send a picture or describe it to the people on Edisto.”

  I nod, vaguely impressed that she gathers it up without freaking out. Then it’s just Beau and me. To my surprise, his eyes are open. Cloudy, but focused enough.

  “Hey,” I say, dropping into the chair beside the bed and snatching his hand to my chest. “You’re looking good.”

  He looks as though he wants to respond but forming words and pushing them out would require too much effort. The look in his eyes, part pain and part resignation, breaks my heart.

  “Hey,” I say again, leaning forward to push his golden-brown hair back off his sweaty forehead. His clammy skin spikes my concern, but the machine showing his vitals promises he’s okay. For now. “They figured out what kind of snake it is and they’re getting you antivenom now. When you say surprise date that’s going to blow my mind, you really go all out, huh?”

  That earns me the hint of a smile before his eyes drop closed again. It hits me then that only family is supposed to be back here, and while I don’t care that I’m breaking the rules, perhaps Beau’s actual family would like to know that he’s in the hospital.

  I have Brick’s number, which Beau insisted be programmed into my phone in case of emergency during the trial, but now I have Cordelia’s, too. Since she’s my boss.

  This is where taking the job out there gets complicated.

  My hands shake as I dial. They’ve been shaking for an hour straight.

  “Yes, Graciela?”

  Trust Beau’s mother to answer the phone in the weirdest way possible. No hello or bothering to sound happy to hear from me. I clear my throat. “I’m terribly sorry to bother you so late, Mrs. Drayton, but I thought you’d want to know that Beau is at Saint Francis Hospital.”

  I swallow hard, trying to calm down.

  “Oh?”

  My body stills, warning bells in my mind screaming. She doesn’t sound surprised. Or concerned. How is that possible?

  “Yes. We were having a picnic earlier tonight and he was bitten by a snake.” I pause, wondering whether to give more information if she doesn’t ask, but in the end, the manners my Grams drilled into my head win out. “It’s not a normal snake, ma’am. It’s an extremely venomous species native to Africa.”

  “He’ll be fine?”

  I swallow again but refuse to entertain any alternative. “They’re working with a local snake preserve to get some antivenom now, but it…it needs to happen fast.”

  “I’ll send Brick over immediately to represent the family. Thank you for calling.” She pauses, seeming to give me an opportunity to speak, then sighs. “Is there anything else?”

  Anything else? Besides the fact that your son is lying in a hospital bed with a bite from a deadly viper that doesn’t belong on this continent? “No.”

  The chill in my voice is no match for the practiced one in hers. She clicks off without saying good-bye. I decide there’s nothing to do but ignore her abhorrent lack of maternal instinct and open the internet browser on my phone instead.

  I look up African vipers and find that most are indigenous to the Gold Coast, or maybe the Slave Coast. The one in my basket is either a gaboon viper—though it would be a small one—or a rhinoceros viper. We’re lucky no one stole or lost a puff adder because Beau apparently wouldn’t have made it to the car before going into cardiac arrest.

  In fact, all the information on these snakes is scary as all get-out. Their venom is intense and certainly kills people every year. It’s also responsible for nerve damage, brain damage, scarring, and loss of limbs…basically I’m never visiting Africa because no. My stomach is in full-on freak-out mode when the older doctor comes back into the room with the curly-haired nurse behind him.

  “Miss…” the doctor starts.

  “Harper.” I shoot to my feet, unsure whether it’s appropriate to shake his hand in this situation but doing it anyway. His palm is dry and steady, passing me the slightest bit of calm.

  “I’m Dr. Shaw. The scientist over at the serpentarium is on his way with antivenom and to take possession of the snake. He’s given us instructions in the meantime.”

  “So Beau’s going to be fine?”

  “He’ll probably have a nasty scar, but he’s going to live. No permanent damage.”

  I sit back down. Collapse, really, since all the taut energy inside me snaps, deflating my body like a balloon. “Thank God.”

  He hesitates, as though deciding whether to say more. “It could have been much worse. Should have been, probably. These snakes are responsible for multiple deaths a year and y’all did not get here terribly fast.”

  I swallow, not wanting to think about it. “Why is he okay, then?”

  “Since the snake has been living in captivity, it’s milked on a regular basis. Its venom stores are very low, so when it bit Mr. Drayton, only a small amount was injected. Its fangs are some of the longest in the world, though, and no doubt packed quite a punch, pain-wise.”

  I nod, wincing at the memory of the agony on Beau’s face when it happened. “What now?”

  “If you could give us about thirty minutes, we’re going to take him up to a room and start the admittance process. You’ll be able to see him again once he’s settled.”

  “What room?”

  “I’ll let you know when I fetch you.”

  “Thank you.”

  He nods, stepping aside and clearly waiting for me to leave. It takes me forever to stand up and I’m not sure whether it’s leaving Beau or facing Brick that’s got me dragging my feet.

  I somehow get moving and head back through the doors toward the emergency waiting area. It’s not very crowded. I find a seat next to a plant and put my back to a wall, exhausted now that it appears everything is going to be fine.

  It’s taking a long time, longer than thirty minutes for them to come to get me, but the nurse at reception will only assure me that everything’s fine, not tell me where he’s gone.

  I flop back down, start to read a book on my phone. It dies. The rapid loss of adrenaline has my eyes slipping closed no matter how hard I fight, but maybe a little catnap wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Beau’s going to need me to sit with him once he’s settled in his room, and
then we’ll have to get him home later.

  The chair’s angles make getting comfortable a challenge, but in the end, it doesn’t matter so much. My head tips back against the wall, my shoulders relax, and I’m seconds away from snoring like someone’s drunk grandfather after Thanksgiving dinner when someone nudges a toe against my shin.

  I crack an eye, thinking that it better be that damned doctor because if anyone else is bothering me, they’re going to catch me pitching a fit.

  It’s not Dr. Shaw. Or a nurse.

  It’s a woman, younger than me, with Beau’s eyes.

  Chapter Seven

  “I’m Birdie. Drayton.”

  I swallow my shock, and wish I didn’t look like a half-dead bird dragged inside by a cat. “Graciela Harper.”

  “I know. I’ve checked your Facebook profile.”

  “That’s a little disconcerting,” I comment, pushing my bangs out of my face and sitting up.

  Birdie Drayton also has her brother’s nose and dimples, though her hair is coppery instead of honey colored. I spend a few seconds trying to decide if she colors it but if she does, it’s expensive enough not to show. She shrugs like she couldn’t care less what I think and sits down two chairs away.

  “You still waiting on the doctor?”

  I nod and she buries her nose in her BlackBerry, manicured nails clicking away until the sound makes me want to jab hairpins into my eardrums just to make it stop. I grind my teeth to drown her out while thinking that if I had a brother and he had almost lost his life in a freak accident, I sure as hell wouldn’t take his stupid girlfriend’s word for the fact that I couldn’t see him. I’d have marched straight up to that nurse and demanded his room number.

  Then again, I don’t have a brother so maybe I’m wrong. I also did not, thank goodness, have Cordelia Drayton for a mother, so maybe judging Birdie—or even Brick—isn’t fair.

  “What kind of snake did you say it was?” Birdie doesn’t look up, leading me to wonder if maybe she’s been researching this entire time.

  “I don’t know exactly. A viper that’s indigenous to the African coastal regions.” Something about the term Slave Coast tries to trigger a thought but my exhaustion prevents pretty much everything but autopilot. “They said it was either lost or taken from some snake sanctuary on Edisto.”

  “Well, they can expect a goddamn lawsuit first thing in the fucking morning,” she mutters.

  Her language takes me by surprise, not because I never drop a well-timed curse now and again but because it’s so at odds with her obvious breeding. Not that I’m naive enough to think the upper class never has occasion to dirty their mouths, but in public? It’s certainly strange.

  She goes back to ignoring me, but I’m tired of sitting in silence and she’s killed my chance at taking a nap. “So how come you’re here? Your mother said Brick was coming.”

  Birdie—I have no idea whether that’s her real name but it just can’t be—slides a glance my direction. There’s no other way to describe her expression other than appraising. “Brick had a meeting with the Middletons tonight regarding their pending custody case. He always turns his phone off when he’s with important clients.”

  My mouth falls open. I can’t help it. Calm down, Gracie. There’s a chance there are two Middletons involved in custody cases right now.

  Brick might not be representing Amelia’s former in-laws, who are trying to take custody of her unborn child. Even if Beau hadn’t mentioned the friendly history between the families, he surely wouldn’t forget to mention that.

  The memories of us on the porch the other day, the feeling that he kept more secrets than he revealed, nags at me. Confuses me. My confidence lags.

  “What?” Birdie’s eyes are huge, wavering from green to golden brown the way Beau’s do under certain lights. Unlike her brother, Birdie is clearly faking her innocence. “You didn’t know?”

  Two can play this game.

  “Didn’t know what?”

  “That our firm is representing your cousin’s in-laws. It’s really too bad that she’s totally lost her shit in the wake of everything that happened. Understandable, but too bad.”

  Red mist starts to form in front of my eyes while a tiny, barely audible voice in the back of my mind that kind of sort of sounds like Amelia’s advises me not to let yet another member of Beau’s family bait me into making a bad impression. No doubt Birdie has heard all the bad from Brick, and to be honest, my guess is as good as anyone’s when it comes to what Mrs. Drayton actually thinks of me.

  “No, I didn’t know,” is all that comes out of my mouth. My tone could use some work but considering how hard my blood is boiling right now, it’s the best I can do.

  A flicker of disappointment flashes across her face, which gives me no small amount of satisfaction.

  “Miss Harper?” Dr. Shaw distracts me from an impending attempted murder charge.

  I stand up and so does Birdie. We’re about the same height but she’s got boobs I’d start eating shit like hummus or kale to get and, let’s face it, much better fashion sense. The doctor looks back and forth between us as though he’s waiting for an introduction. It takes me a moment to realize he wants to know who she is so he’ll know whether it’s okay to talk about Beau in front of her.

  “This is Beau’s sister, Birdie Drayton.” They shake hands while I try not to scream. “Can I see him?”

  “Oh, yes, of course. I’ll take you to him now.”

  “He’s doing okay?” I fret as we follow him down the hall and onto the elevator. My anxiety decreased after the good news earlier but it’s not going away until I see him with my own two eyes. And touch him a lot, too.

  “He’s awake but pretty groggy. He’s going to need some follow-up as far as the scarring, but otherwise we’ll let him go home tomorrow as long as there aren’t any complications overnight.” He pauses outside a door in a hallway that looks like all the others. “Here you are.”

  “Thanks,” I tell him over my shoulder, my gaze already locked on Beau’s. My heart pounds, potent relief making my eyes tear up again as I bounce onto the side of the bed and bury my face in his neck. “You smell like hospital,” I mumble into his skin.

  Beau’s chuckle is weak, but the way it vibrates through me makes us both feel alive. “Note to self: do not buy the hospital-scented cologne next time no matter how hard the sell.”

  His body goes rigid a moment later. I don’t have to sit up to know his sister has come into the room but I do anyway, because cuddling in front of her feels awkward. My eyes travel between them, trying without success to read the silent exchange between siblings, wishing not for the first time that my mother hadn’t stopped with me.

  “Birdie.”

  “Beauregard. Mother sent me to make sure you hadn’t died.”

  “So you’d be on hand to execute my will if I had? Very practical.”

  Birdie rolls her eyes, sitting primly on the edge of the chair on her brother’s other side. “Don’t be maudlin. I’m quite glad you’ve survived your incident. My workload is on the heavy side at the moment.”

  Her slight smile and the almost-amused shake of his head are the only indications that the two of them could possibly be kidding around. Beau’s fingers find mine on top of the blankets but it’s not long before my discomfort—not to mention the surety that they’d have continued talking if I weren’t here—gets to me.

  I give him a squeeze and stand up. “I’m going to get a water from the vending machine. Does anyone else want anything?”

  “I’ll take a diet soda. Do you need a dollar?” Birdie’s sweet, fake smile returns but this time, after hearing the two of them “joke,” it makes me wonder if she’s waiting for the same from me.

  I’m way too tired to figure it out. “No, I’ve got it. Beau?”

  “Cheetos? I’m starving.”

  “Beauregard, for goodness’ sakes. Those things are basically orange-dusted nuclear waste.”

  “They’re comfort food, w
hat can I say?”

  I find it hard to believe Mrs. Drayton ever comforted these two, with Cheetos or anything else, but bite my tongue. “I’ll check with the nurse and bring you a bag if she says okay. Just this once.”

  Birdie startles at the wink I throw her direction on my way out of the room, which puts the slightest bit of bounce back in my step.

  The nurse at the end of the hall says it’s fine for Beau to have a snack and points me toward the vending machines, which are down at the end of a second hallway, just outside another waiting area that looks as though it doubles as a break room for the staff.

  The soda, water, and two bags of chips—for some reason those Cool Ranch Doritos call to me like a siren—eat all the cash in my wallet. I slink back down the hall, stopping when the sound of Beau’s and Birdie’s hushed voices spill through the cracked-open door. It feels a little slimy, to eavesdrop, but it’s worked for me too many times to let that stop me now.

  “It’s not my fault you don’t tell your girlfriend things you should,” Birdie says, the slightest bit of apology threaded through her defensive tone.

  “Gee, Bird, I can’t imagine why telling her that my family is trying to destroy hers didn’t come so easily. Not all of us are made of metal and gears.”

  “Funny, big brother, but these are your issues, not mine. I honestly thought after everything that happened with Lucy you’d be more purposeful about being honest in your relationships.” There’s a pause. Even from the hallway, I can feel the oxygen suck out of the room.

  Or maybe it’s just sucked out of me.

  “You haven’t told her about that, either?” Birdie’s tone turns sad, now. “Oh, Beauregard. Mother thinks you really like this one. Perhaps if she knew this she wouldn’t be quite so concerned.”

  My heart is somewhere around my colon when movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention. I leap, unsure if I’m being busted or it’s just a nurse coming to check in, but it turns out to be neither—it’s the ghost of little Nan Robbins.