Bridge to a Distant Star - Carolyn Williford [129]
“Oh. Well, then.” Baffled, eyebrows raised and eyes wide, Captain Howard looked to Fran and then Michal for a plausible translation of Aubrey’s story. But the expressions on both their faces showed they were equally nonplussed. Fran, wiping at her nose with a tissue, shook her head again—recalling too late the consequence would be pain. “Ouch. I’m sorry, I don’t …” She put a hand to her head, gingerly feeling the bandage there. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what she’s talking about because frankly, I can’t remember anything.”
“Not unexpected with a concussion,” the doctor interjected.
And then nearly in complete unison, they all turned to Michal.
But Michal shook her head too, shrugging. “I remember hanging onto the latch of the escape door at the back of the bus.”
“That explains the bruises on your hands.”
“You were on that bus?” the captain asked, incredulously.
“Yes, in the very back. And I must’ve … must’ve gotten the door open, I guess? Honestly, like Fran, I also don’t remember anything after clutching onto that handle. It’s a total blank.”
The doctor signaled for the captain to wrap up the questioning, but before he could stand, Michal grabbed his arm. “My aunt. Would you please call my aunt? Sarah McHenry. She lives in Fort Myers, but I don’t know her phone number.”
“Don’t worry about a thing, miss. We’ll find out and contact her straight away. For all three of you, we’ll locate family and make those calls as soon as possible.”
Glancing toward Aubrey, he noted her eyes fluttering closed. Michal was also fighting sleep, and Fran looked as though she could drop off at any moment. Captain Howard knelt there, spellbound, simply watching them. Thinking to himself, These are miracles indeed. Two women and a small child. How on earth did they … how could they possibly …?
He waited to make sure his charges were resting comfortably. Listened for the soft sounds of sleep, and left them to the doctor’s care.
Several hours later, Fran woke. Allowing her gaze to wander, she realized she was in a hospital room. After taking in the metal cart at the foot of her bed and the IV still embedded in her arm, she turned to her left. A man and a teenage girl sat in chairs by the window.
The man glanced up, noted Fran had awakened, and instantly stood. “Colleen, go get the nurse, will you?” Fran watched her leave the room and then shifted her gaze back to the man—now standing next to her. “I’m Bill. And you’re Fran? You’re certainly due an explanation why I’m here in your room, first of all.” He gestured toward Aubrey, who was still sound asleep and cuddled next to Fran, her fists tightly clutching Fran’s gown. “Aubrey’s my daughter. And at this point, she clearly doesn’t intend to let go of you.” He smiled, revealing a devotion to the little girl and a boyish charm in his grin.
Just then, the sun broke through a bank of clouds, pouring a ray of bright light through the window which highlighted Fran’s face. She winced at the glare, immediately shielding her eyes. But she heard Bill’s intake of breath, and before he turned to pull down the blinds, she caught the look of astonishment mixed with deep pain etched on his face.
“Is something wrong?” Fran asked.
He put his hands in his pockets and stared down at the floor. “I’m sorry. It’s just that … you have the same unusual eyes as my wife does … did. Same color. And those dark flecks, like glistening gold, I used to tell her. It was like she …” Fran watched him swipe at the wetness on his cheek. “I’m not usually so emo—” He turned away, embarrassed by his weeping.
While sleep had been a temporary escape, Fran felt again the full impact of the knifelike ache for her family. Subconsciously, she tightened her hold on Aubrey. “Neither am I. But we don’t usually have to deal with this type of loss, do we?” she said softly.
Bill shook his head. When he turned to her, his eyes were still glistening, his cheeks coated with tears. “Your husband—?”
“Yes. And my—son.” Her voice broke, saying