Edge of the Heat 5 (32 page)

Jerry didn’t allow himself to think. He didn’t allow himself to hope, to grieve, or to fear. He paced, and he existed, and that was the most he could manage for now.

The door opened, and a nurse came in. She held the door and two more nurses pushed Sara’s bed in. Jerry watched her come in, feet first, and when his gaze landed on her face, he stiffened. Her eyes were closed, her face deathly pale and thin, as if she had lost a lot of blood. Wires ran in her nose and under her blankets. She looked impossibly small and frail. Jerry’s heart ached. He pulled on his own hands and waited for the nurses to be done.

He watched the monitor, evaluating her vital signs. Blood pressure was low, pulse high, respirations normal. His hands twitched and jerked, wanting to touch her.

Finally, the nurses plugged in every last wire and positioned the bed just right. “Let her sleep,” one said as they left the room. He nodded and gazed at her face. He touched her hand. It was cold.
Well she can’t run away
, he thought, and two pregnant tears rolled down his cheeks. He wiped them away before they could fall on her face and sat down.

As the night wore on, he dozed lightly in the chair, holding her hand, with his face pressed into her sheets. He roused himself after every short sleep cycle to check her vital signs. They didn’t change.

***

M
orning light streamed through the windows, grazing his eyelids. His eyes opened and took in her vital signs. They looked good, better than last night. Something was different though. Her hand wasn’t in his anymore.

Jerry lifted his head creakily and looked at Sara. She was awake, watching him. Her face was unreadable. Jerry wiped wetness from the corner of his mouth and smiled a tentative smile. “Hi,” he said. He could feel the thick waves of thought and deliberation coming off of her.

“Hi Jerry,” she said without smiling. “We’re alive.”

“We are.”

She looked around the room. “What happened to me?”

“Thorpe shot you 4 times. The vest stopped the bullets, but 3 of your ribs were broken. And the bottom part of your sternum shattered.”

She nodded slowly, like it hurt her to do so. He didn’t see the pain on her face though.

“Where’s Thorpe, and Carruthers?”

“I don’t know. I think the FBI took them.”

“The FBI?”

“Yeah, Craig and Hawk showed up in a helicopter.”

Sara’s face finally registered some emotion. “Your friends showed up?” she whispered. “How did they find us?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten to talk to them yet.”

Sara looked out the window. Jerry took her hand in his. It felt like ice. “I’m tired, Jerry,” she said, not looking at him.

Feeling a million miles away from her, Jerry told her, “you should rest.” His voice cracked on the last word. She was still here, but she still had her mind set on leaving. He read her plan in her eyes. One day, as soon as she could, she was going to pull out her wires and slip out. And he’d never see her again.

Jerry watched her close her eyes. As soon as she got a little strength back he would try. He would try as hard as he could to convince her to stay. But would she listen?

S
ix days later, Sara sat up in her bed and told the nurses she was going to walk. The cautioned her against it. They said it was too soon. They threatened to call the doctor. Sara ignored them and walked, her head held high, no sign of pain on her face.

News trickled in. Carruthers was released on house arrest. Thorpe was in the federal penitentiary. The federal judge refused to grant him bail, based on the horrific video Sara’s collar cam had shot, showing Thorpe’s abhorrent cunning and complete lack of conscience when he shot her, then shot himself and planted the gun on her.

Craig and Hawk were uncovering more of the crimes that Thorpe had committed. What he had done in Mexico was only a very small part of the story of this evil man. The President was doing everything he could to distance himself from both Thorpe and Carruthers. He promised swift justice on the
perpetrators of these crimes against the country
. News of the DCIA leaked out and he also promised a thorough dismantling of the secret agency.

Sara had a fan base. No one knew what she looked like, or even if her name was Sara or Melissa, but the entire world heard her accusations and watched Thorpe's bullets fly towards her over and over on the Internet. Some people were calling for her to take Carruther’s seat in the Senate. Others said she should get to shoot Thorpe now. Still others wanted her to run for president.

Jerry also had fans. His picture was plastered across the news daily. He received 50 letters a day in the hospital addressed to
Hero Fireman
. Most were from women wanting to have his baby.

Daily, Jerry tried to catch her eye and he usually failed. He knew she was planning her escape. Sorrow pierced his heart. She would barely speak to him. 

One night, he opened his eyes to find her watching him. Her face was unguarded and he saw the misery in her eyes.
Do or die
, he whispered inside his head.

He walked to her bedside. “Sara, don’t leave me.” He laid out his pain for her to see in his gesture, his touch, his voice, and his eyes.

She peeked at it then looked away. “I’m not leaving.”

“Yes you are, I know it. You’ve already left me in your heart, and in a few days you’re going to sneak out of here and disappear to one of the other cities where you have identities.”

Her throat worked. She didn’t speak.

Jerry held her hand, his pain making his legs weak.

“Sara, can you at least tell me
why
you are going to leave me?”

He watched as shiny tears slipped down her cheeks. He longed to kiss them away.

“Sara why? Please tell me,” he whispered.

She stared at the dark window. After 30 minutes, he returned to his reclining chair. He wasn’t giving up, he told himself. She could still come around, he pleaded in his mind.

His heart sat leaden and heavy in his chest. He waited for morning.

She spoke. “I’m a killer Jerry. You don’t want me.”

Jerry sat. It was out. She couldn’t live with what she had done. Now what could he say to change her mind?

As dawn broke and sadness overflowed the room he finally replied. “I do want you. I want nothing but you. I want you and only you for the rest of my life. I want you, killer or not. I love you, killer or not. I forgive you for everything you can’t forgive yourself for, killer or not. You may see yourself as a killer, but I see your heart. You’ve killed people. I won’t tell you that you killed people for a good reason. Because the fear and pain and anguish they unleashed on the world was so great killing was the only thing that made sense. You know that. But I will tell you that your country has forgiven you. And I will tell you that I personally don’t think there’s anything to forgive. Being a killer does not make you bad, does not make you evil. And it does not make you unlovable. It’s not a life sentence, Sara. Please stay with me. Please.”

He couldn’t look at her while he was talking. He was too scared that coldness in her face would make him lose his nerve, his place. But now he looked. Her face was not cold. It was warm with sunrise and heated with something that looked like hope.

Jerry allowed himself to hope. He watched her face until it relaxed and fell asleep. Then he slept also.

The clunky, old hospital phone rang at 10 a.m. sharp. Jerry picked it up quickly, hoping it didn’t wake Sara. “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Jerry Mansko?” a voice that Jerry couldn’t quite place asked.

“Yes.”

“Hello young man, this is the President. I just wanted to thank you for your service to our country and be the first to tell you that all charges against you have been dropped.”

Jerry’s fingers went numb.
The President? Charges dropped?

“Thank you, Sir,” he managed.

“Is agent Medina there?”

“Uh,” Jerry turned and saw Sara’s alert eyes watching him.

He handed her the phone. “It’s the President.” Movement in the doorway caught his eye. The FBI agent stationed at the door, plus what looked like every nurse on shift were staring in, some with their mouths open.

Sara took the phone. “Hello?”

Jerry watched her face. Emotions marched across it. Surprise, suspicion, disbelief. And one last one. Hope, again.

“Yes sir, thank you, sir.” Sara paused. “I’ll have to think about it, sir.” Another pause. “I’ll do that, Sir.” “OK, thank you. Goodbye.”

She handed the receiver back to Jerry, her eyes wide. She stared out the window. In a far-off voice she said “He wants me to dismantle the DCIA. He says there’s a place on his cabinet for me.”

Jerry tried to take her limp hand. “Even your President forgives you,” he said softly. “Now the only one left to forgive you is yourself.”

***

T
he day passed in a stupefied daze. Jerry didn’t get a chance to speak to Sara until the evening. She had therapy, and a steady stream of well-wishers. That evening, as he waited for her to finish talking to a visiting nurse from a another floor who wanted to know what if the President sounded as strong on the phone as he did on TV, Jerry fell asleep.

A heavy weight on his body pulled him out of a deep sleep. He pushed at it, muttering. It pushed back.

He opened his eyes. Sara was straddling him in the chair, the tiny grin he loved so much prominent on her face. She tried to lean down to him but caught her breath in pain. He scrambled into a sitting position quickly.

She leaned forward and kissed him full on the mouth. “Jerry, I want to tell you something.”

His breath quickened.
She wasn’t leaving?

She kissed around to his ear, her hair tickling his cheek.

“I love you,” she whispered. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Jerry caught her face in his hands and her mouth with his mouth. Sometimes word just weren’t needed.

T
hree weeks later, they were finally allowed to leave the Los Angeles area. They rented a car and drove to Jerry’s home in Westwood Harbor.

Sara walked over the threshold of his house curiously. There was so much she didn’t know about Jerry. But she knew he was kind, and funny, and thoughtful, and handsome, and courageous. That seemed like enough for now.

She pulled him to his bedroom, wanting mostly to sleep. They’d had a long day in the FBI office and then drove for several hours. But they hadn’t been intimate since she’d been shot, and her body called out for his.

Jerry undressed her carefully, always mindful of her healing ribs. Her chest, stomach, and even breasts were a faded, sickly orange. She knew in time that would fade. Jerry found her pajamas and tucked her into bed. He wanted to air out his house and check his month’s worth of mail. She pulled at him, wanting him to stay with her.

He climbed into bed with her, spooning her gently. Sara rubbed against him, now thinking sleep could wait a few more minutes. She did some quick math in her head and realized that she wasn’t safe from getting pregnant if they had sex. Suddenly, she didn’t know how she felt about that. It wasn’t a given to her anymore that she didn’t want to get pregnant.

She felt Jerry’s body respond to her. He stripped off his clothes quickly and held her again. She turned over and looked him in the eye. “Jerry, we’ve had sex a dozen times, maybe more, without protection. You aren’t ... fixed are you?”

Shock registered on his face. “No, I’m not.” His brow furrowed. “I guess I just never even thought of it. That’s strange, I’m usually very careful about that.” His eyes went wide as he played back what he had said. “Um, I mean, I didn’t—” She laughed and cut him off. “Relax, I know you’ve had girlfriends before.”

She kissed him lightly and said “I know you probably aren’t ready for babies right now, and it’s that dangerous time for me, so do you have any protection?”

He sat up on his elbow and looked at her. “How do you feel about babies?”

She thought about it. “I don’t know really. I’ve just always thought that babies were something I’d never have, you know? I would love to have kids but it always felt like more of a dream to me. Something that could never happen for me.” She dropped her eyes. He kissed the tip of her nose. She looked back at him shyly. “If you ever think you’re ready for babies let me know, I might be ready for them too.”

Jerry pushed above her on his arms and stared into her eyes as he entered her slowly, deliciously. Softly he told her, “I’m going to make all your dreams come true Sara, you just have to tell me what they are.”

***

S
ara woke up to birds singing outside the window. She curled her fingers around her belly and snuggled against the warmth of Jerry’s back. She hadn’t forgiven herself yet, but she was learning to live with her past. For herself, for Jerry, and maybe someday for their child, she could do it.

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Epilogue

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S
ara got up silently and padded to the kitchen. Her phone was ringing. It was Emma. Wondering why Emma would be calling her, she picked it up. “Hi Emma.”

“Sara, I know you just got home, and I’m so sorry to call you and bother you, but we need your help.” Panic played in Emma’s voice. She sounded close to tears.

“Calm down Emma, what’s going on?”

Emma took a deep breath. “Lionel found mine and Vivian’s brother. He’s a Gunnery Sergeant in the Marine Corp. We tracked him down a few days ago. He’s stationed in Afghanistan. He’s—” Emma broke off, and the phone dropped to the floor. She picked it back up again.

“Do you have a TV? Just turn on the news.”

Sara crossed to the TV and rifled through the channels until she found CNN. A picture of a dark-haired, blue-eyed man splashed across the screen.

Sara read the headline: “Gunnery Sergeant John Taylor taken hostage in Farbalkh. Hostage-takers demand release of prisoners in Guantanamo or they promise public execution”

Sara examined the pictures of the hooded man that followed, her skilled eyes looking already looking for clues.