Sharon Sala - Reunion

Reunion

Book Jacket

REUNION

by

Sharon Sala

This is an interim proof. Chapter headings need to be added (if locations are known).

ISBN 1-55166-487-9

REUNION Copyright C 1999 by Sharon Sala.

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, MIRA Books, 225 Duncan Road Don Mirs, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

MIRA and the Star Colophon are trademarks used under license and registered in Australia, New Zealand, Philippines, United States Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries.

Printed In U.S.A.

it doesnt matter how fast you run to win a race, or how many sacrifices you make to achieve a certain goal. Winning isnt everything. Its finishing what you start that really counts.

This book is dedicated to the tough ones ... to the people who dont know when to quit.

Prologue

Gabriel Donners chest rose and fell with each slow breath he took. The woman beside him paused in her duties to stare in mute fascination as a tiny rivulet of water ran between the bands of muscles across his belly. Just before it fell onto the covers, she leaned across the bed and caught it with the cloth in her hand.

Sorry about that, she said softly, and then dipped her washcloth into the basin at the side of the bed and sloshed it around.

She was a nurse-a professional health care worker who was pulling a double shift this day. Shed spent many long hours on the floor and it would seem that they werent over yet.

With a deft twist, she wrung the excess water from the cloth and then laid it on the side of his cheek, following the contours of his face as she continued to wash him clean.

At the moment of contact, his eyebrows knitted and a muscle twitched along the side of his jaw, but he didnt move or speak. Sometimes she wondered if he ever would again. Her eyes darkened with compassion. Such a magnificent man, and he was so hurt. Shed seen his chart. Shed heard the doctors talking in the halls. They were hedging their bets with this ones recovery, and she under stood why.

She knew the story, and in her occupation, it was all too common. A family ... his family ... had been decimated because someone else had chosen to drink and drive.

A frown ran across her forehead as she scrubbed at the length of one leg and then back up the other. The poor man. It was so sad. Lost in a subconscious world somewhere between life and death, unaware that there had even been an accident, Or that hed survived when his parents had not More than two weeks had passed since hed been admitted to the hospital, and he had yet to come out of this coma. And even though he was virtually motionless, there was something remark ably alive about him.

Part of it was his size. In a way, it was an odd sort of proof that he still existed, if by nothing more than power alone. The hospital bed in which he was lying was one of their largest, and theyd still had to angle him slightly so that his feet would not be Pressing against the foot board. His shoulders were wide, the muscles in his arms and chest impressive. His legs were long and strong, and it took her twenty-five minutes each day to wash and dry all there was of Gabriel Donner.

Her gaze returned to his face-to the short black strands of his hair lying across his forehead. Having already shaved him, she took the washcloth and swiped the hair to one side, doing her best to keep his appearance neat, as well as clean. His eyelashes were thick, and there was a slight cast to the shape of his nose, as if it had once been broken and healed slightly off keel. The cut of his jaw looked as stubborn as the thrust of his chin. His lips were slack, but full and shapely. She could only imagine the life he exuded when awake.

Even after she had finished with his bath, she stood beside his bed, gazing down upon his face. Every now and then his nostrils would flare slightly, reacting to a stimulus only he could sense. Then, with the help of two other nurses, she made up his bed, turning his near-lifeless body to accommodate the fresh linens.

Adjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose, she glanced at the IV, reading the flow and adjusting the drip before gathering up her things to move on. At the door, she Paused and looked back, as if by mere will alone she could wish him awake. But he was as quiet as hed been when she entered. She left, knowing shed done all she could do to make him comfortable. The rest was up to God.

Before cognizance came the voices. Bits and pieces of the life that he had refused to give up. Some of them were indistinct and faint, like a conversation that had come unraveled, leaving nothing but unconnected syllables behind. Some of the voices were close and taunting, reminding him of where hed been and how far it was back to the land of the living.

One particular sound kept replaying in his mind like a video stuck in rewind. It was always the same: one loud shout and then two sharp screams. Sometimes he thought to wonder if hed been the one shouting or screaming. The rest of the sounds were in a jumble, as if someone had tossed a conversation into a blender and then mixed it all up. The words were still there, but they were all out of context.

Shame ... blood ... Lift her ... dead ... Head injury.

Help me ... lost buried. move him ... wont live.

None of it made any sense, but when it was time, he would sort it all out. He had to. It was what kept him alive.

Time Passed, and the voices were still with him, never leaving him alone, never giving him peace. One in Particular would wake him as he slept, invariably with the same, Persistent request for help. His struggles to come back to reality also persisted, if for no other reason than to tell whoever it was that kept talking to do it out Of his Presence. And now there was enough cognizance within Gabriels mind to resent the request.

Why did they keep asking him to help? didnt they know, couldnt they see, that he was in no shape to help anyone? In fact, he was the one who needed help. It was taking everything he had just to come back from where hed been. And God knows it would have been easier for him to quit to give up on life and let himself go. More than Once, hed felt his parents, Presence nearby. Each time hed tried to talk to them, to ask them what was wrong, but they kept leaving before he could speak.

He didnt understand. It was almost as if they didnt want him along. And each time hed been at his weakest, that same Persistent voice would intrude, begging to be found, pleading for help, refusing to let him go.

And so he waited for a sign, listening for the voice that would be strong enough to bring him home.

Roses. He smelled roses. Mother must be here. He struggled to open his eyes, but there was a thick shroud of darkness he couldnt get past. Whats wrong with me? Why cant I wake myself up?

He lay without moving, trying to focus on what he could hear-what he could feel. Someone was laughing, but the shrill cackle seemed distant, as if the sound had been bottled and the bottle had just been uncorked. His arms and legs felt more than immovable, like hed been tied lethargic, although - Restraints were not down. But that made no sense a part of Gabriel Donners world. and as it The awareness of pain Came slowly, did, he realized its presence was old and familiar. That explains it, he thought. Ive been hurt!