far mouth corners twitched. Twenty years younger than Carol, Melissa periodically fended off the older sister’s habit for mothering. Father, accused behind his back of robbing the cradle, married Melissa’s mother after his first wife died leaving him a widower with three children—Carol and two brothers. If one only considered Father and Melissa’s mom, she qualified as an only child, but hadn’t been made to feel that way. No family member ever added the word “half” before any sibling reference.
“You need anything?” Carol asked. Reddish eye circles and collapsed cheeks dominated her sister’s face.
“Swallowed better at dinner.” Melissa rolled left to face Carol. “Is Father okay? Keep asking and no one admits to know anything. This is the best trauma hospital in Boulder Isle, right?” Tube from the I.V. fluid bag inserted after Mark left restricted lifting the left arm. A right hand finger scratched her nose. The requested painkiller flowed with the I.V. saline solution to tranquilize throat pain and to lessen anxiety.
Carol ambled to the window and raised the shade. No light entered. Melissa wondered why Carol took forever to answer. “A helicopter flew Dad to a university burn unit last night. He … was hurt real bad.” Carol hid her face from Melissa’s turned head and gazed out the room’s singular window into darkness, its lower panel frosted white to add privacy to the first floor room.
“Why wouldn’t anyone tell me?” Melissa’s nose itched.
“I suppose not to worry you. Dad’s a fighter, but there’s little hope.”
“Oh! Omigawd!” Again on her back, Melissa’s arm yanked the I.V. tube taut. Her right hand pressed both lips to smother the pain cry induced by a shifting needle. Carol faced her exposing cheek tears. “How? What happened?”
“A burning ceiling beam … crashed down on him … and others ... so I was told. Fortunately he stumbled sideways, his walker on top of him. A friend said the walker deflected the beam.”
Melissa kept a hand to her mouth. She wanted to rub eyes, but the doctor warned against it. “Father’s always had the luck of the Irish.”
“What about you? You should feel darn awful lucky you got out.”
“And you?” Melissa asked.
“Fortunate to be in the chapel trying to locate a box of pledge cards left on a pew. Couldn’t get back into the ballroom against the crush of people. It was horrible. Hope you haven’t turned on the TV.” Melissa shook head no. “Good. Don’t. Ghastly pictures. Fire killed fourteen people. Another dozen or so, hanging on by God’s mercy. Area hospitals jam-packed. The radio news estimated a hundred nursed non-life-threatening injuries. Many with extensive burns or broken bones. Lucky ones have plain ol’ bumps and bruises suffered in the fire’s panicky stampede.” Carol moved from the room’s window to the hallway door. She gazed past the doorjamb for several seconds as if she expected someone.
“What about The Abbey?” Melissa’s whisper scratchy.
“Gone. But don’t fret about it.” Her sister gazed to the ceiling. “Only a building, wood, stone, and glass.”
“It’s more ... more than a building.” Adrenaline surged through Melissa’s veins. “It’s Father’s dream. A dream he struggled to realize all these years.” Hoarseness deepened her voice. “The chapel ... a pampered child to him. He agonized when birds crashed into the stained glass windows. Remember when separated carpet seams underneath the last row of pews unglued him. For Father ... we’ll rebuild.” She kicked both feet up and hard to loosen the tucked in sheet restricting movement. “Please check the closet. See if I have clothes.”
Carol peeked behind the closet door. “Nothing here. Did a fireman strip you to examine for injury?” Melissa, exhausted, let out a raspy cough. Her heart gladdened taking in Carol’s elfish grin. A knuckle cracked when Melissa stretched and flexed the left hand.
Carol’s flippant comment regenerated Melissa’s vague introduction recollection and a blinding spotlight. Then darkness, smoke, and strong, slightly calloused hands gripped like a vise. If they removed clothes, she’d no present recall. “Don’t know.” She paused for a deep breath. “We’ll have to powder and dust the back of my legs for fingerprints. What do you say? You started this.” Carol spoke not a word, lifted hands, palms up at the waist. “Line up the entire Boulder Isle Fire Department and all male EMTs. Enough.” Melissa inhaled, exhaled in painful spurts. “Can’t talk.” She scribbled a note on a nightstand pad for Carol to pick up clean underwear and sweats.
Carol closed the closet door and pocketed the note. “Sure. Need a key. Stopped to feed your dog and obviously found the house locked.”
“Omigawd, my purse!” Melissa stroked throat. A painful cough cleared mucus and left the throat momentarily tingling. She wrote a second note stating Gala night purse had been left at the rear of The Abbey stage.
“What purse?” Carol gazed again at the hallway and back at her sister.
Melissa tore off pad sheet to write: “BE&D.” Lined the abbreviation out and wrote: “Black, pearl studs.” She motioned for Carol to bend close to her. Melissa’s voice cracked, “Fake eight-inch rock in garden. Key’s inside.”
Carol stood upright. “I’ll find it. Be back tomorrow with clothes.”
The nurse entered to turn out all lights, except a nightlight. Melissa gazed at the ceiling. Dear Lord, shine your protective light over my father. Heavenly Father, safeguard all your faithful...
* * *
Sunday afternoon a cheerier Carol stood in Melissa’s hospital room doorway with a brown grocery bag to announce, “Brought your clothes.” Before Carol could open the closet door, a knock on the room’s doorjamb interrupted the two sisters. Carol waved one hand’s fingers forward as a signal.
Overjoyed to see her two best friends, Sarah and Alice, Melissa felt chin and cheek pain as she tried to stretch mouth into smile. At the gala, Sarah, directing parking lot traffic, should’ve been outside at time of explosion. Melissa didn’t remember where Alice might have been. Today, a dark-blue, cloth sling held Alice’s casted right forearm snug below breasts.
“You doing okay?” Sarah asked.
“Better. Say, Alice, what happened?” Melissa asked, ignoring throat.
Alice edged closer to Melissa’s headboard. Sarah, attracted to a leafy flowering violet, exposed her back to Melissa to read the attached get-well card.
“Nothing serious,” Alice explained. “Fractured a bone. I was in, you know, the basement storeroom. A terrible boom and I fell to the concrete when the posts and ceiling shook. You know the stairs; well, scrambled up them to the vestibule. Then these two guys elbowed their way, you know, through a gap in the crowd. Plowed straight into me. Knocked me down. That’s when this terrific stabbing pain. My forearm, you know, hit the floor first.” Alice rubbed the exterior sling cloth. “Laying on the tile, saw, you know, an upside down lady in a black dress, wildly swinging arms, head dangling.”
“You saw what!” Melissa’s throat constricted to barely allow a whisper. She grimaced while heart muscles pounded against her rib cage. “Describe.” She coughed. “The carrying person, who was it?” With adrenaline pulsing, she stared at Alice. “Tell me! ... Please! ... Who or what he looked like.” Melissa strained to raise her head and let it flop back onto the pillow.
“You
