The Love Season Part 12

"Great," Renata said. She reached over Admitting Nurse's desk in search of a pen. "Can you give me the number, please?"

"Who is this?"

"My name is Renata Knox," she said. "I'm a friend of Sallie, the bartender."

"Do you know Pierre?"

"No," Renata said. "I'm calling because-"

"I can't give you the number."

"But I'm calling because Sallie-"

"Doesn't matter. He doesn't want his number pa.s.sed out. There are too many psycho chicks in this world."

"I'm calling about Sallie Myers? The bartender?" Renata said. "You know her?"

"I know her, but-"

"She had a surfing accident," Renata said. "She's in the hospital."

"She is?"

"She is?"

"But she's okay, right? She's supposed to be in tonight at seven. It's Sat.u.r.day night."

"I promise you, she won't be coming in. She's in the hospital. She's unconscious."

"Dude."

"When you see Pierre, will you tell him?" Renata asked. "Will you tell him to come to the hospital? In fact, will you call him on his cell phone and ask him to come right now, this second? We need his help."

"Sallie's not going to die or anything, is she?"

"No," Renata said. Renata didn't care if she had to donate a lung herself; Sallie was not going to die. "But it's serious, okay? Tell Pierre to come; tell him it's serious."

"Okay," the man said. "Dude."

Renata hung up. She thanked the admitting nurse and returned to her chair. Miles didn't look the least bit curious about her conversation. He looked like he might need to be admitted any second himself. He had lost his tan, and the shivering had turned into convulsions.

Renata picked up the clipboard and delivered the spa.r.s.ely filled-out form to the admitting nurse, who checked it over while sucking on her lower lip.

"No date of birth?" she said.

"Sorry," Renata said. She lowered her voice. "I don't know Sallie very well. I just met her today."

The admitting nurse's mouth formed an O. Her face was sympathetic, though, and Renata felt like she might be able to confess: I told her I'd keep an eye on her. But I didn't. I was up in the dunes cheating on my fiance.

"We called the house where she lives and left a message, but her roommates weren't home. So that's why I just called her boss. I thought maybe he would know more than we do."

At that second, Admitting Nurse's phone rang. She held up a finger to Renata and answered the call, speaking in such a low murmur, it was impossible to hear. Renata turned her back so as not to seem too interested. The skin on her chest was throbbing, but the tops of her thighs had taken the worst of it-they were red and shiny and very hot to the touch. How was she going to explain this hideous sunburn to Cade? How was she going to explain any of this? She raised her head to see a very tall, very dark-skinned black man walk through the automatic door.

Pierre, she thought.

He stopped, surveyed the room, took in the woman breast-feeding, Renata at the desk, and the admitting nurse. Pierre wore tiny rimless gla.s.ses that seemed like toy gla.s.ses on his wide face. He pushed the gla.s.ses up with a long finger and surveyed the scene suspiciously, like maybe this was all a hoax. But then he saw Miles and his shoulders jumped in recognition. He jogged over. Miles, miraculously, stood up and shook Pierre's hand.

"What happened?" Pierre said. His voice had the lilt of a flowery accent. From the Caribbean, Renata thought.

"Hit in the head with her board," Miles said. "She went down and it took a while for someone to find her. She was under for almost three minutes, they think. But she's breathing now. Unconscious, though, and they said maybe brain damage." At this, Miles teared up. Pierre put a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, man, it's okay." "Okay" sounded like "okee."

Renata joined them. "Hi," she said. "I'm Renata. I'm the one who called you."

Pierre and Renata shook hands. Renata watched their two clasped hands, one huge and dark, one skinny and sunburned. Her qualms subsided a bit. Pierre seemed very capable.

"They need her date of birth, her age, stuff like that," Renata said. "And do you know how to reach her parents?"

"I have it all in my files," he said. "At the bar. I have her tax information and her emergency contact. I'll go get it."

"Thank G.o.d," Renata said. "Thank G.o.d you came."

"Don't thank me. I love the girl." He said this simply and sincerely, and Renata was helpless to do anything but nod along in agreement. One hour she had known the woman and she had felt Sallie's pull.

"Excuse me!"

The three of them turned. Admitting Nurse had come out from behind her desk and was approaching in what looked like an official way. Her face said nothing good. "I have something to tell you."

She's dead, Renata thought. The floor under her feet moved and she fell toward the chairs. Pierre caught her arm.

"Whoa!" he said.

"Ms. Myers is being helicoptered to Boston," the admitting nurse said. "She needs help we aren't equipped to give her here."

"Where in Boston?" Pierre said.

"Ma.s.s General."

"Okee," he said. He pulled out his keys. "I'm going to get the information. Her emergency contact. Okee? I'll be back in five."

Miles sank into a chair. "Boston?" he said.

Admitting Nurse repeated herself, using different words. "The care is much better there...the equipment more sophisticated...not even in the same league..."

Renata followed Pierre out the automatic door, but whereas he headed into the parking lot and climbed into a Toyota Land Cruiser, Renata just stood on the hot sidewalk and turned, slowly, in circles.

She heard the helicopter before she saw it-a great roar followed by a hammering. It sounded like machine-gun fire. And then, several seconds later, Renata saw it rising, straight up, as though it were being pulled by an invisible hand. It hovered above the hospital for a few seconds, long enough for Renata to think, Sallie. And then, like a dog following a scent, the helicopter dipped its nose and flew away.

Even with Sallie gone, Renata was hesitant to leave. If she stayed at the hospital, there might be something else she could do. Miles sat slumped in the chair like he was planning on making it his permanent home.

"What should we do?" Renata asked.

"Once Pierre comes back, we'll call her parents," he said. "That's all we can do."

"We could go to Boston. We can be there when she wakes up," Renata said.

"Are you kidding?" Miles said. "Why would you want to do that? You don't even know her."

Renata took the seat next to his and lowered her voice. "She asked me to keep an eye on her," she said. "And I didn't."

Miles crossed his arms over his chest. "Even if you had seen her go down, there was nothing you could have done. You weren't going to be able to find her any faster than the guys who were out there did."

This sounded like an easy answer, but Renata was grateful for it. "You don't think?"

"There was nothing we could have done," Miles said. "And there's nothing we can do now except call her parents."

"Right."

"You should go," he said. "I'll wait for Pierre."

"Go where?" Renata said.

"Back to the house."

"I'll just wait for you," she said.

"I'm not going back there," he said.

"What does that mean?"

"It means I quit."

"What?" Renata said.

Miles had his chin tucked to his chest and wouldn't meet her eyes. "Just go home," he said. "Please."

"How?" Renata said.

"Call your boyfriend," Miles said. Renata had already realized that her love affair with Miles was over, but his words stung nonetheless.

"Fine," Renata said. "Do you have money for the phone?"

He wiggled a finger into the tiny Velcro pocket inside his bathing suit and produced fifty cents. He told her the number of the house.

Renata didn't want to call the house, she was afraid to talk to Cade, she wanted to quit, like Miles, but she had no choice in the matter. She located a bank of phones and made the call.

An unfamiliar voice answered the phone. "Driscoll residence."

Renata paused. Who was it? Then she thought, Nicole. "May I please speak to Cade?" Renata said. "This is Renata calling."

Ten minutes later, Cade pulled up to the emergency room entrance in the family's Range Rover. Renata had spent those minutes trying to piece together a plausible story, but in the end she decided to just tell him the truth, minus the part where she had s.e.x with Miles. Cade got out and opened the pa.s.senger door for Renata, though he didn't speak to her or touch her. She hadn't seen him since the night before-it seemed like years. She was startled by how handsome he was, how upright with his military-school bearing, his perfect posture. He had taken a shower. His hair was damp and freshly combed, and he was wearing one of his beautifully tailored shirts, blue, with a white windowpane pattern. His mouth was a grim line. Renata felt like she had skipped school and now had to face the truant officer, the princ.i.p.al, her father. She was afraid that once she started to speak, she would never stop. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

He pulled out of the hospital parking lot, the only sound in the car the ticking of the turn signal. Cade's window was down; the air felt good. Renata tried to imagine what Action might say in this situation. What are you feeling sorry for? He doesn't own your a.s.s!

In her nervousness, Renata selected exactly the wrong words. "I'm starving."

Cade turned to her with a look on his face like he just could not believe it.

He's not the boss of you, Renata heard Action say. Why is he all of a sudden acting like he's the boss of you?

"Well, I am," Renata said. "I haven't eaten anything all day."

"You ate a banana," he said. His voice was barely above a whisper.

"True," she said. "I ate a banana." She wondered how he knew this. Did Suzanne count her bananas? Did she hunt through the trash for the peel? Was there closed-circuit TV footage that showed Renata throwing the banana and breaking the bud vase? On the road, they pa.s.sed a group of bikers wearing fluorescent yellow T-shirts. Cade slowed down, then stopped at the intersection so the bikers could pa.s.s. Ever the gentleman. He took a left when Renata suspected that home was to the right.

"Where are we going?" she said.

"For a drive," he said. "I'd like you to explain yourself."

Now Renata was the one with the incredulous face. Explain herself? He spoke like he was indeed her father, like he did indeed own her a.s.s. She had to give him something, some reason for her absence, some excuse. She'd had a plan a minute ago, but that was before he pulled up and she had to confront the disappointment on his face. What had her plan been? To tell him the truth? Was she nuts?

"I don't know what you mean," she said.

"That's bulls.h.i.t!" he shouted. The veins in his forehead were popping. Renata had never seen him this angry before, and certainly not at her. In fact, in the ten months of their dating, they'd had only one argument. There was a night when Cade's parents had asked them for Sunday dinner at the apartment on Park Avenue-Cade's aunt and uncle were visiting from California-but Renata decided to go with Action to her parents' house for Chinese food instead. Cade had pleaded, and when Renata turned him down he was exasperated and disappointed; a long conversation about Renata's priorities ensued. But there hadn't been any shouting. "You never showed up at lunch! You left my mother stranded at the yacht club."

Renata nearly laughed. It was impossible to strand Suzanne Driscoll; the woman had three thousand friends.

"So when we got back from our sail, my mother went on and on about how you'd stood her up, how you never showed and never phoned to explain. But she was worried, too, and so we all went home to figure out where Renata was, and Nicole informed us that she pa.s.sed you and Miles on the road in Miles's Saab. She told us it looked like you were going to the beach." He smacked his hands against the inside of the steering wheel so violently that Renata feared the air bag would explode. "How do you think it made me feel to know that my girlfriend, my fiancee, blew off lunch with my mother so she could gallivant around the island with the help?"

The help? Renata could hear Action's voice loud and clear. The Driscolls have servants. They have slaves.

"You went sailing," Renata said. Her voice was calm and even. How this was possible she had no idea, but she was grateful. "I figured you'd be gone all day."

"Not all day," he said. "We were back at two. Two thirty."

"You didn't tell me you were going," she said. "You didn't leave me a note. You just took off."

"Well, I'm sorry," he said, though he didn't sound at all sorry. Renata let the words hang in the air of the car so he could hear his insincerity. "It was important to my father."

"What about what was important to me?" Renata said. "You brought me to Nantucket and then you left me to fend for myself."

"We spent yesterday together," Cade said. "All day yesterday. And it's not like I abandoned you. My mother said she'd take you to lunch."

"You said we were going to the beach. I was looking forward to it. I didn't want to have lunch with your mother."

"Nice," Cade said.