Page 8 of On Dry Land

“Hey, Dryden,” Oliver says. I step back, giving the nurses enough room to pass me and exit the room. Oliver struggles to push himself into a more seated position until Nils reaches over and places a quelling hand on his shoulder, silently asking him to stay where he’s at.

“Feeling okay?” I ask quietly, closing the door and blocking out the noise from the busy hallway. I don’t want an audience. This will be uncomfortable enough as it is.

“Great. Yeah, fine. No problems. Ready to go home. Maybe today,” Oliver says hopefully. Nils catches my eye again, shaking his head slightly. Ah. No chance of going home today, then.

“How are you?” Oliver continues, his voice a little slurred but nonetheless strong enough to make me relax a little bit. I’d been half expecting to find him on death’s door and am relieved to see he’s at least well enough to be chatty. “Is the Maiden okay? Did you get her towed in? Is Cody fine? You’re okay?”

Curling my fingers around the rail of his bed, I lean my weight on it.

“We’re fine. Boat is fine.” Dead on land, but intact, so I keep my complaints to myself. Uncomfortable, I look Oliver over—what I can see of him, anyway, beneath the hospital gown and blankets. I wanted visual confirmation that he was okay, and now that I’ve gotten it, I don’t know what else to say.

“Do you want to sit down?” Oliver offers, like he’s a host at a dinner party and not a patient in a care unit. “Something to drink? I think we have some water and crackers. Do you like saltines? There’s a coffee machine down the hallway, right, Nils?”

“Yes, actually, if you wouldn’t mind whipping me up a latte,” I request dryly. Nils snorts softly, mouth pinched in a way that looks slightly humorous. Oliver grins sheepishly. He never seems to take my sarcasm to heart.

“You can sit down,” he repeats as though he can’t help himself.

“I won’t stay long. I just wanted to stop by and make sure you were okay.” I clear my throat, discomfort making it hard to maintain eye contact with him. I should probably pat his shoulder or hold his hand or something. Judging by the vast array of floral arrangements along the windowsill, the very least I should have done was bring the man a flower.

“That’s nice of you,” Oliver tells me, always happy with whatever I can give. My fingers loosen just a bit, the cool metal no longer biting into my palms. “What’s your plan for the Maiden? Are you going to try and recover the lost traps again? Maybe Shiloh and Nils can help.”

I glance over at Nils in time to see a look on his face that tells me he’ll be doing nothing at all that can’t take place in this room for as long as Oliver is here.

“I’ll figure it out.” My shoulders tense once more, thinking about how little time is left before the season starts. Those lost traps are probably lost for good, and even though it’s the tags that are the real loss, the gone equipment burns me just as much. But the real issue right now is getting the Maiden Seas checked over and repaired. I’ve got barely a month before she needs to be seaworthy for the high season, and even less if I consider the traps I already have set and need to be hauled in the meantime.

“We can help,” Oliver offers.

“Can you? Don’t have enough problems of your own, you’d like to adopt mine, too?”

Oliver laughs but stops suddenly and grimaces as though it hurt. I take a small step back from the bedside but don’t retreat too far when he looks pained by this as well. I have worked very, very hard not to let anyone in this town get too close. I don’t know how this man managed it anyway.

“Sorry about this, Oliver,” I say quietly, embarrassed by the words and how hard it is to say them, still ashamed that I’d needed to call for help at all, and angry that someone had gotten hurt when they’d come. Frustrated that so few things seem to be going right lately, and annoyed at myself for letting it all get to me. I will handle it, and everything will be fine. Life will go on. It always does.

“Hey, don’t be sorry,” Oliver replies immediately, frowning, big blue eyes a little glassy. He shifts, flinching again, and Nils rises to his feet, reaching for a button on the wall to call a nurse. “Everything’s fine, right, Nils? That’s what the doctor said. Things happen. You don’t have to be sorry.”

I nod, stepping away from the bed as one of the young nurses from earlier strides into the room with a smile on her face, reaching to turn off the call light. She touches Oliver’s shoulder the way I probably should have been, offering comfort as her eyes scan his vital signs on the monitor.

“Feeling okay?” she asks.

“Fine!” Oliver replies sunnily. Nils shakes his head, so he amends, “Just a little sore.”

Badging into the computer, the nurse opens up his chart. I move further away and avert my gaze, not wanting to inadvertently peek at his medical information nor make it seem like I’m looking. Finding myself at the foot of the bed and the only useless person in the room, I touch my fingertips to the top of Oliver’s foot. He glances at me, cheeks a little red as though embarrassed about the trouble he’s putting everyone through.

“Leaving?” he asks.

“I’ll check back in,” I promise, stomach squirming with discomfort. This is too many emotions for me in a day. Oliver smiles, though, happy with the promise.

“Thanks for coming. I’m glad you and Cody are okay. I was worried about you.”

Nodding, I squeeze his ankle in what I hope comes across as a kind, comforting gesture, even though it feels abnormal to me. Only Oliver would worry about others while in the hospital for a medical emergency himself.

The sky, once I’m leaving the hospital, is slate gray, the clouds fat and heavy with what looks like snow. We’ve had a hell of a winter this year, and it doesn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon. And indeed, when I’m a short five miles into my drive home, sleet begins falling. Looks like we’re in for an ice storm. Lovely. The perfect addition to an already shit week. I wonder about the man with the backpack and whether he’ll find decent shelter for the night.

Chapter Five

SPENCER

Ifollow the pretty Porsche man’s instructions, heading in the direction of the diner and lucking out when I see a sign for a trailhead. Veering that way, I follow the signs until I reach the starting point for the Mermaid Basin Loop. As there usually is, a large stone building sits next to a wooden map of the trail, erected near the far end of the parking lot. Public restrooms near trailheads are usually open year-round and, depending on the place, are sometimes better maintained than gas station ones.