Page 131 of A Scot in the Storm
Abigail closed her eyes briefly because dear God, that was the difference between love and possession, wasn’t it. Love opened its hands even while splitting apart.
The hospital room steadied further around her.
Sam shifted weakly beneath the blankets while machines hummed softly beside him as Abigail caught sight of a paperbacknovel, lying face-down near the bed, with an empty pudding cup balanced precariously on top of it.
A wet laugh escaped before another sob followed hard behind it. Then suddenly the hospital door burst open hard enough to rattle the wall beside it.
Three sunburned guys in hoodies and bright board shorts piled into the room carrying backpacks, towels, and the sort of reckless energy that usually preceded either excellent stories or mild criminal charges.
“Rise and shine, corpse boy,” one of them announced. “The waves are clean.”
Another pointed toward the IV machine.
“You distract the nurse this time. Last time Kyle unplugged the heart monitor and nearly killed an intern.”
“That intern was a mouse.”
“You told him ghosts were real.”
“They ARE real.”
Sam laughed. Actually laughed. The sound cracked straight through Abigail’s chest because for one breathtaking instant he looked startlingly alive again, eyes bright beneath the exhaustion while his friends crowded around the bed with the comfortable irreverence of guys who’d spent a lifetime together.
One of them noticed the tubing.
“Oh absolutely not,” he declared. “We are not taking you surfing dressed like a robot that cleans the aquarium.”
“Hospital chic,” Sam managed weakly.
“It’s upsetting everyone.”
The tallest guy, Noah, maybe, leaned down carefully, adjusting the blankets with surprising gentleness beneath all the joking.
“We’ve got your van.”
Sam looked toward the window where the sun had come out.
“One last wave,” he whispered.
Everything inside Abigail stopped.
The room shifted then, not disappearing exactly, but widening somehow until she could smell saltwater beneath the antiseptic, feel the heat of the sun, and hear the gulls crying somewhere beyond the hospital walls.
And suddenly they weren’t there anymore. The sea stretched endlessly beneath the California beach while the waves rolled clean and glassy beneath a clear blue sky.
Abigail stood breathless inside the tower while the impossible vision unfolded before her, surfboards scattered across pale sand while Sam’s friends helped him slowly toward the water wrapped in blankets, laughter, and love.
Dolphins moved through the surf beyond the break.
Not one, but several. Their dark backs rose smooth and shining through the dawn before disappearing again beneath the waves.
Sam saw them too. His tired face lit with pure boyish wonder.
“No way,” he breathed. “They came back.”
“Told you,” one friend said instantly. “The ocean likes you best.”
“That’s because I’m charming.”
