Page 96 of Boundaries

Melanie and I hugged the boys and then Seth collected Mitchell in his chair. Melanie had driven in her own car and we arranged to meet everyone back at Lamb Hill. Hopefully by the time I got there, my parents would have arrived. I so needed them.

As Mason’s mother and I followed the doctor down the long stark white corridor, my heart was thumping in my chest. Adrenaline was also doing the rounds, circling my guts like a cyclone. I was so afraid of what I would see.

As we entered the small dimly lit room, there were a couple of doctors in there, one on a computer and the other completing a chart. The viewing area was a large glass window which ran across the wall above the desk they were working at.

Taking a deep breath, I turned and glanced into the room which held Mason. A queasy feeling twisted my guts.

A pool of relief filtered into my system as I saw him. He didn’t look as bad as I thought he would have. He looked peaceful almost.

He was laying down on the hospital bed, the section with his upper torso and head was slightly raised. His whole head was heavily bandaged as was his right hand. You couldn’t see his body, as the white hospital sheets covered it. And then there was the machinery.

Yes, there were wires and tubes everywhere. A scary sight, but I wasn’t afraid. They were there to help Mason recover. I forced myself to try and remain positive, he had come out of the operation successfully. It could have been so much worse.

Melanie also appeared relieved but we still squeezed each other’s hand.

Mason’s eyes were closed and he didn’t look his usual self. He was pale, his lips drawn and lifeless looking. My heart squeezed. How I wished I could be in there, stay by his side. I didn’t care how tired I was, I’d stay awake forever if necessary.

That feeling of despair was overpowered by frustration, as after around five minutes we were escorted from the room. Melanie was then given the contact details for the liaison nurse the doctor mentioned and she texted them to Nixon.

On the journey back to the farm, we spoke briefly, but not about Mason and I. Mainly Mitchell’s worsening condition. It all felt a bit forced, considering we had only just met properly for the first time and were strangers.

When we arrived at the farm, everyone was there. There was also a police car. As we’d passed our house, I’d decided not to look. You could still smell the embers in the air.

Mason’s brothers, my family and the police officer were congregated in the large living room. The one I had passed when I’d hightailed it out of there the night of my heatstroke.

My father was speaking with a policeman, but as he saw me, he pulled away and dragged me in for a massive hug. I was met by my mother who joined us, also placing her arms around me. I felt safe and home.

“My darling girl, I’m so sorry. Are you sure you weren’t hurt?” my mother said, pulling away and glancing down at me. She had been crying even before I’d arrived and why wouldn’t she? We had just lost our home.

It was now daytime and no one had slept, apart from Mitchell who had been taken to bed by Boyd when they’d arrived back from the hospital. His sons were so attentive, considering the man put the M in mean.

I was asked if I saw anything suspicious the night of the fire and I remembered that orange van that had been parked close by. They asked me if I had taken a registration number and of course I hadn’t.

Once the police left, Nixon explained that he had the number of the liaison nurse on his phone and he would keep us updated. He then said that we all needed to get some sleep. Nix took control, as he usually did and the funny thing was, no one batted an eyelid. Even my dad nodded thoughtfully in agreement with him.

It was odd really, as I didn’t feel bad for invading the McKenna family’s person space, they were so welcoming. It was almost like we had been friends for years.

Nixon allocated rooms we could all use as they had plenty space, but my mother and I were told we could use Mason’s room.

We lay together, nestled, face to face on top of Mason’s bed with the curtains pulled to block out the sunshine. After a brief discussion about Mason and me, I fought the urge to cry and slept.

Eighteen

From the noise along the corridor of Mason’s house, everyone woke up at varying times. I got ready in the usual way, going through the motions on auto pilot. I took a shower and brushed my teeth with my fingers. My mother had her suitcase from holiday and she gave me fresh underwear, a pair of jeans and a T-shirt to wear. I wondered what clothes had survived in my room, probably not many. I also felt lost without my phone. Betty may have heard by now and would have been worried.

As I lifted the glass of water, I’d brought up the night before, I knocked a book off Mason’s bedside table. My eyes scanned the cover as I retrieved it from the carpet. It appeared Mason was reading a book called Into the Wild by Jon Krakaue, not something I had read and I wondered what it was about. I was sitting on the bed and leaned over to pop it back when a sheet of paper fell out. Possibly a book mark. I bent down and lifted it with my fingers, turning it over.

BOOM! My heart almost stopped, but in a good way. It was a picture of me. What the heck? As my eyes roamed over my image, I realised it was the picture Betty had taken of me on my porch that day. The one that I had recently viewed on the SD card Mason had confiscated and now given back.

So, Mason had printed my picture off and slept with it by his bedside? A wave of happiness lifted my falling spirits. Mason had a picture of me.

Grinning from ear to ear, I tucked it back into the book and set off after my mother who had already left for breakfast or dinner. Due to the time, who knew?

The atmosphere in the house when we went downstairs felt like someone had died which wasn’t helpful. Jenna looked unwell, but luckily Nixon was there fawning over her as usual. I felt a bit annoyed as she drew the attention in the room, something she always did. For me though, this was now about Mason. My mother also joined in the fawning.

I asked if Nixon had heard anything from the hospital but he hadn’t. This news sunk like lead in my stomach, taking my heart down with it.

My father went over to meet with a Chief fireman, who had to complete a full report about the fire. The police and my dad’s architect were also going to be there. Dad moved quickly and didn’t mess around. He had probably already started to rebuild our house in his head. He was responsible for the original layout years ago before I was born.

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