Last Light over Carolina by Mary Alice Monroe

Author:Mary Alice Monroe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 2009-08-31T04:00:00+00:00

10

September 21, 2008, 12:00 p.m.

On board the Miss Carolina

Bud avoided glancing at his injured arm. He wasn’t the queasy type. He could treat the open wounds of his crew at sea and not flinch. Funny how it was different with his own body. But he had to take charge of his own survival.

“If you don’t look, who will?” he demanded of himself.

He turned his head, and small black spots swam again in his eyes. He closed them and took a long breath, steadying himself. Then, gritting his teeth, he lifted his gaze to his injured hand. The ragged tourniquet was soaked in blood, but only a slow ooze dripped to the deck.

He slumped in relief. Good, good, Bud told himself. He might just make it. He tried to clear his head and focus. He knew the body contained eight to twelve pints of blood. And he was a big guy. With a slow rate of blood loss, he calculated he could last several hours yet. He squinted and peered at the sky. Sailors were supposed to be able to tell time by looking at the sun, to search out when the shadows were shortest. Right now, the sun seemed to be at its highest. That meant it was about noon, give or take a half hour. Pretty soon, someone at Coastal Seafood would notice that his order hadn’t been filled. They’d start asking questions. Maybe Pee Dee would show up at the docks. It wouldn’t be long before somebody figured out he was out here alone and overdue. That’d start them worrying.

It could happen, he thought, gaining heart.

Maybe Doc Beckham will even be able to fix my hand when I get back, he thought. Or he’ll send me to the hospital. There’s got to be some specialist at that big medical center in Charleston. The pain in his arm had dulled to a throbbing. It was probably going numb from loss of blood. He remembered again the warnings he’d read about not keeping the tourniquet on too long, lest the limb die. What the hell?—there wasn’t a chance of saving his hand, really. He would have laughed if it weren’t so tragic. Whatever, as long as he made it back alive.

Of course, he didn’t have medical insurance—any kind of insurance, for that matter. They couldn’t afford it. Bud sighed heavily, thinking of Carolina’s bad tooth. If he survived, this would put them under for sure.

He’d just have to pay them whatever, whenever he could, the way he always did. If Carolina couldn’t get her old job back teaching, she could clean houses for the tourists at Pawleys Island. It was good, honest work. One thing for damn sure—she’d never go back to work for Lee Edwards.

They’d had tough times before. They’d make it if Doc could sew up the loose ends of his hand. He thought of Woody. He’d lost a foot and was able to run his trawler. He could, too. He had to work or he’d lose this boat, and Carolina would lose her house.

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