And each scenario left her more confused, worried, and scared for the man she loved with every fiber of her being.
The hospital might not have been able to reach him by cell, but she knew she could. He always responded to her texts, no matter where he was or what he was in the middle of.
Camille: You got a phone call from the hospital. Anything I should be concerned about?
As expected, his text came right on the heels of hers.
Foster: The hospital? Did they say what it was about?
Camille: No. That’s why I was texting you.
She texted him the number, along with the instruction to ask for Patricia, then waited for him to call her back while she continued her chores around the Inn. She figured he’d call within a few minutes, but Camille had stripped all the beds, restocked all the recently washed towels, scrubbed the toilets, washed the mirrors, and bleached the showers with still no word from her husband.
Maybe he hadn’t been able to get ahold of the person he needed to speak with. He could at least send Camille a quick text to let her know he was still waiting to hear back. He knew his wife. He was well aware that just a little information would help put her mind at ease.
Camille shook her head.This wasn’t about her. The hospital hadn’t called for her. They had called for Foster. And he was allowed to have his own personal business. Camille needed to respect that boundary.
She never received a phone call back from him. Not even a text.
Foster appeared in the kitchen later that evening, his face white and mouth set in a line. His silent presence made Camille jump so high, she almost bumped her head on the hood above the stove.
“Foster!” She placed the wooden spoon on the rest. Wiped her hands across her apron. “You scared me.”
He just looked at her like he’d seen a ghost, or worse.
“Now you’rereallyscaring me.” She moved to her husband. “Foster, what’s going on?”
She doubted his legs would keep him up much longer. Everything in him looked like he was about to give way. Guiding him, she led him by his hand to the table where she pulled out a chair for Foster to sit. Then she took a seat right next to him.
“I called the hospital back.”
“And?”
“And they asked that I come in.”
Camille’s throat felt like it was full of sand, scratchy and unbearable. “Did you?”
“Yes. That’s where I’ve been all afternoon.”
“Foster, honey. Is everything okay?”
“No Camille, it’s not.”
That sand turned to fire, Camille’s entire chest burning with panic. “Foster, I need to know what’s going on because my mind is pulling up every worst-case scenario right now.”
“It’s Jim.”
She yanked her chin back. “Your brother?”
“Yes. He was one of the sailors on that boat.”
That didn’t sound right. From what Camille knew, they were wealthy businessmen on this expedition. Not burnt-out druggies.
“Is he okay?” She forced the words out even though she truly wasn’t sure she cared to hear the answer. She knew the havoc Foster’s brother had wreaked on his life. How he’d been responsible for so much of Foster’s heartache, anger, and eventually, apathy. In truth, she honestly didn’t care if hewasn’talright. He was not a factor in their lives anymore.
“He’s not okay,” was all Foster replied.
She took her husband’s hands, those strong, calloused fingers that could still turn tender when they were on her. Butnow, they were cold. Rigid. They gripped onto her like they would never let go.
