Tainted Treasure by Jennifer Willis

Author:Jennifer Willis [Willis, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jennifer Willis
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Through the wizardry of Yelp and Google, Max and Audrey located a burger joint within walking distance of the hospital that had fallen under the radar of the storm watchers, whale spotters, and ghost hunters. It was a slog on foot through the sleet and over the slippery pavement, but it was safer than driving, and the arduous journey made my avocado pastrami burger taste that much better as we hunkered down in one of Butch Burger’s red vinyl booths.

Our appetites seemed bottomless at first. Max ordered a second plate of fried asparagus and made quick work of a triple-decker vegetarian club sandwich. Even Audrey, who only picked at her small salad at first, polished off a steaming bowl of chili and a couple of baskets of fresh cornbread. But after such a long day, we were too tired, and maybe too demoralized, for anything more than basic small talk about the weather and the food.

Then it was back to the hospital. After deciding to stay put for the night rather than risking the icy roads, Audrey tried to get some rest in the waiting room chairs, while Max grabbed their satchel and went for a roaming walk through the long corridors. At least Banich was nowhere to be seen.

I paced up and down in front of the critical care nursing station for a couple hours more before a young doctor took pity on me and took me into Jim’s room. I gasped when I saw him, hooked up to machines and with wires and tubes running all over.

The man I’d known as a paragon of strength and principle looked small and helpless. Vials of recently drawn blood sat in a rack on the table at the end of his bed, along with a thick medical chart. This isn’t Oregon City, I repeated silently. Jim hasn’t been shot. But he was sick, and he was lying unconscious in critical care. The only indication that Jim was still alive was the beeping machines.

My heart nearly stopped when I heard a rhythmic click and the rush of air. “He’s on a ventilator?”

“Just to give him some support.” The doctor had a gentle voice and kind eyes. “His vitals are good. You can talk to him, if you want. He might be able to hear you.” The doctor pulled an empty chair over to Jim’s bedside and gave me a small, reassuring smile. He was very good at this. I hoped his profession wouldn’t burn him out too soon.

Then he left, and I was alone with Jim.

I didn’t know what to say. I sat and listened to one machine chirping as it monitored his heart rate, and to another machine breathing for him. The equipment wasn’t as noisy as I’d expected. I reached for Jim’s hand. When his fingers didn’t close around mine, I squeezed harder.

“We never did have that talk.” I laughed and wiped away tears. “A couple of months ago, you said something about forgiving me, as long as I could forgive myself.

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