Chapter 48
S omething is wrong. I bolt upright. With my heart struggling for each rapid beat, I clutch the blanket to my chest and glance around. The outdoor bed is empty. Bo is gone. Of course he’s gone. It’s almost morning. But it hurts that he left without saying goodbye.
Bo Jackson isn’t for you . I blink back threatening tears. We apologized and reconnected. The slate is wiped clean between us, but the result is the same. I’m alone.
A siren sounds in the distance, further unsettling my thoughts. For a brief moment, I think I’m having some kind of audible hallucination that encapsulates my emotions in the aftermath of losing Bo again. But an unsettled feeling inside me remains.
As I attempt to analyze it, Bo appears. He’s wearing the same cutoff T-shirt and jeans he wore earlier and crashes through a break in the hedges, but he isn’t alone. He’s carrying my unconscious sister in his arms.
“Harmony!” I yell, but she doesn’t respond. I scramble off the bed. My heart races as I go to her. Her eyes are closed, her limbs lax. Water streams from her wet hair, her head lolling on Bo’s arm. “What happened?” I ask him. “What’s wrong with her?”
“What’s the quickest path to the driveway?” He shouts the question to be heard over the ambulance siren. It’s close. It sounds like it’s on the driveway. But who called it?
“Follow me.” I lead the way, practically running. Even carrying Harmony, somehow Bo manages to keep up with me.
“To answer your question, we were swimming,” he explains belatedly, his breaths short.
I glance at him sharply. I can’t believe he went from me to her. He doesn’t look at me. I experience an irrational spark of jealousy. I have no right to be jealous, and I quash the feeling immediately. It’s not important. Harmony is. Icy fear for her grips my heart, making each beat painful.
“She went under too long,” he continues. “When I located her and brought her to the shore, she wasn’t breathing.”
“But she’s breathing now.” With the temperatures dropping overnight, her shallow breaths are barely perceptible but visible. “Wake up, Harmony.” I grab her hand as we reach the driveway. Her skin is wet and ice cold.
The ambulance arrives as we do. The driver and passenger doors fly open. A woman emerges from the driver’s side, and a man from the passenger’s. Everything suddenly moves fast but at the same time, way too slow. The two EMTs come to us and take Harmony from Bo. They place her on a stretcher while we watch. My eyes burn and I offer up a prayer for her to be all right while both paramedics work on her.
“I did CPR on her,” Bo tells the female EMT. “She spat out lake water and gasped for air, but she hasn’t regained consciousness.” He snaps his head my way as I emit a strangled sound.
“Bo,” I sob. I don’t know what to ask for. I only know that I’m terrified, and I need him, need him to wrap his strong arms around me to keep me from falling apart. But he ignores my plea. His expression hard, he rips his gaze away.
“We have an apparent drowning victim,” the woman, who seems to be in charge, says into her shoulder communication device.
Apparent. I shake my head, wanting to deny it. Obviously, Harmony almost drowned but how? She’s a competent swimmer. She used to swim competitively. It doesn’t make any sense.
“We’re at 555 Lakeshore Lane,” the woman goes on. “The victim was identified on the call as Harmony Jinkins by Robert Jackson, who performed CPR on the scene.” While she talks, her colleague waves something under Harmony’s nose then murmurs something to her when she stirs. I move closer, wrapping my arms around myself to ward off the cold. “She’s breathing but unresponsive.”
“How long was she not breathing?” I ask Bo. This is wrong, so terribly wrong.
“A minute maybe.” He doesn’t seem sure and rakes a hand through his brown hair that unlike Harmony’s is strangely dry.
“We’re looking at a possible hypoxemic brain injury.” The woman exchanges a concerned glance with her partner as they wheel Harmony toward the ambulance.
“No.” I shake my head. That’s unacceptable. “She’ll be fine.” I start shivering uncontrollably as they open the bay doors and place Harmony inside. The woman jogs around the vehicle, heading toward the open door on the driver’s side.
“We’re taking her to Seattle General,” the male EMT tells us as he starts to close the rear doors.
“I’m coming.” Without waiting for permission, I reach for the handle to hoist myself up.
“Only one.” The guy waves his hand at Bo. Inside, I look at him and even though only a few feet separate us, he suddenly seems a million miles away. “Family only,” he adds.
“Okay.” Bo nods, then jerks his head to the left as a squad car with the lights on pulls into the driveway. It skids to a stop beside him. For some reason, he doesn’t look surprised by the cops’ arrival. If anything, he appears resigned. I lose sight of him as the male paramedic climbs in and closes the remaining open door.
“Why are the police here?” I ask the male paramedic, but he doesn’t answer as he works on my sister.
I stumble over to one of the bench seats beside her. I sit, but I feel like I’m falling. I don’t understand what has happened. How did Harmony get like this? Why did Bo leave me to go swimming with her? Why are the police involved? My mind scrambles round and round with questions and no answers. As the vehicle moves down our driveway, my spike of energy from the adrenaline wanes. My tremors continue and my teeth chatter. As we exit our property through the gates that someone must have opened, I watch another squad car speed past.
Why are all the police necessary? I add that question to all the others. But I really don’t care what the answer is. I just want Harmony to be okay.