The Heiress Of Water_ A Novel Part 17

"A very diplomatic answer, Monica," Claudia persisted. "But is she forgiven?"

Even Will looked uncomfortable. He put the turtles down and pretended to be interested in something he saw in the sand. Monica blanched with anger and chose to remain mute. Everyone fell silent. Bruce coughed. Will cracked his knuckles and Claudia's stomach rumbled.

Finally, Monica pointed at the pen of baby turtles. "Where is the mother?"

"Somewhere at sea, of course," Alma answered.

ALMA LISTENED to Will's story in silence until he came to the part about Yvette's treatment. "She's in danger," Alma said gravely. "That's why I'm here. A man was stung by a cone snail while we were traveling in Mexico, what you read about in to Will's story in silence until he came to the part about Yvette's treatment. "She's in danger," Alma said gravely. "That's why I'm here. A man was stung by a cone snail while we were traveling in Mexico, what you read about in Alternative Healing. Alternative Healing. The extent of his injuries makes it obvious that the cone venom prevented the 'cascade of chemicals' that typically causes as much injury as the blow itself. Also, there wasn't the normal amount of intracranial pressure damage that follows. I was very excited because someone was smart enough to save the cone, but it wasn't the The extent of his injuries makes it obvious that the cone venom prevented the 'cascade of chemicals' that typically causes as much injury as the blow itself. Also, there wasn't the normal amount of intracranial pressure damage that follows. I was very excited because someone was smart enough to save the cone, but it wasn't the furiosus furiosus, it was the exelmaris exelmaris, which is very similar. I began to inject mice with the exelmaris exelmaris venom, but their behavior became bizarre. The synthetic cone toxin Fernanda is using is not based on the venom, but their behavior became bizarre. The synthetic cone toxin Fernanda is using is not based on the furiosus furiosus, although I know they are fond of hinting that it is. It's a copy of the exelmaris exelmaris venom, the same one I used to immobilize that soldier fifteen years ago." venom, the same one I used to immobilize that soldier fifteen years ago."

"They call it furiosus-based furiosus-based in the article," Will said. in the article," Will said.

"That's either a lie, or if we choose to interpret the motivation more kindly-sheer ignorance. In fact, that claim is what tipped me off. The Conus exelmaris Conus exelmaris is similar to the is similar to the furiosus furiosus in a lot of ways. But unlike the in a lot of ways. But unlike the furiosus furiosus, the exelmaris exelmaris produces a variety of adverse effects that can linger on indefinitely. Its ability to stimulate the brain is generally acknowledged, but not at all understood." produces a variety of adverse effects that can linger on indefinitely. Its ability to stimulate the brain is generally acknowledged, but not at all understood."

"It produces aggression?" Will asked.

Alma held up her hand and began to count off her fingers. "Tunnel vision, hallucinations, delirium, paranoia, suicide, and self-mutilation." She held up the other hand. "Another characteristic is that it is much slower to cross the blood-brain barrier than the furiosus furiosus."

"How do you know that a mouse is paranoid?" Bruce asked.

"And how does a mouse commit suicide?" Claudia piped in.

"We know the risks to humans because my team interviewed the spouses or parents of some of the patients who checked out of Caracol," Alma replied. "Two committed suicide, one is suspected. As for the treatment that Dr. Fernanda Mendez is offering, the trials are so preliminary that we don't know what the long-term neurological effects are, but even the short term is looking very bad. I do know, from my research"-she placed a hand on her heart-"that it's best if you get her off SDX-71 immediately. Wait until the substance is reengineered."

"So who wrote the article in Alternative Healing Alternative Healing?" Claudia asked.

"Probably someone on the Borrero payroll," Alma said.

"Do the Borreros and Dr. Mendez know you're hanging around El Salvador?" Claudia asked.

"I think that only Francisca knows. I'm looking for a contact at the health department. I'm preparing a case against its use. But I was having trouble doing it quietly, without giving them the opportunity to switch data, shred doc.u.ments, et cetera. Plus I wasn't planning on having to deal with the whole issue of my ident.i.ty."

"I can do it," Claudia said. "I work for the president." Alma nodded appreciatively and Bruce clapped his hands together.

"I'm going to declare an all-out war with my mother-in-law," Will said. "I've already contacted the U.S. emba.s.sy for legal support to get Yvette home. I discovered the name of the air transport company, but they don't want to honor the leg home without Sylvia's approval, since she's the one who paid for the round-trip. It's almost five thousand dollars each leg."

"Hold on, Will," Alma said, holding up a hand. "I want to make it clear that in spite of all the risks I just told you about, SDX-71 does have the potential to stimulate certain people to emerge from stupor. Five patients already have."

"Yeah, but what good is it if she just wakes up to suffer all the more?" Will said. "I question the wisdom of waking up someone who doesn't want to wake up. That's my basic problem with this whole thing."

They all looked at each other, a sudden, unspoken feeling of dread spreading among them. Alma said, "Get them to suspend the injections today, Will. While you handle the logistics of your trip home, I'm going to need someone to record specific medical data on Yvette for a period of twenty-four hours. I also need someone to photocopy her medical stats." She looked at Bruce. "Do you think you could pull it off? You can say it's research for your article."

Bruce considered it, then nodded. "I'll do what I can."

"I'll help," Monica piped in. "But I think they've figured out who we are."

Will shook his head, looked down at the sand. "I'm so glad we found you, Alma. I'm grateful for all of you," he said, suddenly making eye contact with all of them, his voice full of emotion. "I can't imagine dealing with this alone."

Ironically, Will's distress over Yvette's situation was providing Monica with a welcome delay in the long and painful process that lay ahead-of absorbing, understanding, judging, and ultimately choosing how she would feel about her mother. She was just beginning to get her heart and mind around the enormity of what had happened in the last few days. But now Will's mission was top priority, and it had quickly forced them to s.h.i.+ft their focus to the far more urgent matter of protecting Yvette. Monica could tell, by the dramatic s.h.i.+ft in tone of her parents' voices, that they felt the same way. "I don't mean to take away your hope, Will," Alma said. "Depending on the severity of her injuries, the treatment stands a chance of working."

"For how long?" Will asked. "... If she were to 'emerge.' "

"That's the part we don't know. People come in and out of this paranoid state and my lab rats are still affected after a long period. It's like an LSD trip that won't end. There isn't any detox treatment we know of, not yet anyway. It shouldn't be used on humans until we can control it on animals. For Fernanda, Leticia, and Marco to candy-coat the risks, in my opinion, is criminal."

Will was pacing. "Would you be willing to repeat everything you just said to my mother-in-law? I want her to hear this. It's why I'm here and not with my wife right now." He glanced at Monica, but she didn't know how to interpret the look he sent her way. "I don't want to have to rip Yvette out of Sylvia's arms and search the suitcases for the air ambulance contract, but I will, as a last resort. Alma, you're my last hope at changing her mind."

"Why don't we bring Sylvia to the posada posada tonight and have her meet Alma?" Bruce suggested. tonight and have her meet Alma?" Bruce suggested.

"I like the idea of appealing to her in this way," Monica said. "She's a smart lady with good instincts. I think she'll pull back on her own if she hears what my mother has to say."

"Alma, would you be willing to talk to Sylvia?" Bruce said.

"Of course," Alma said, but it sounded more like a question, and she looked at her daughter for the answer, as did everyone else. Suddenly Monica understood that it all came down to whether she would allow Alma into their circle, if she was willing to give her wayward mother an opportunity to redeem herself. Monica remembered Will's arms encircling her own waist the night before, and Yvette, so still and tragic, with yellow, parched lips and no future.

"Mom," Monica said, "can you meet us there tonight?"

THE DRIVER dropped Monica, Alma, and Claudia off at the guesthouse. Will insisted on walking Monica to her room. He rushed her into her room and closed the door behind them, not caring who saw. As she parted her lips to protest, he whispered, "Shhh. It's okay," and embraced her tightly. "Are you okay?" he said into her ear. "You look dazed." dropped Monica, Alma, and Claudia off at the guesthouse. Will insisted on walking Monica to her room. He rushed her into her room and closed the door behind them, not caring who saw. As she parted her lips to protest, he whispered, "Shhh. It's okay," and embraced her tightly. "Are you okay?" he said into her ear. "You look dazed."

She nodded, and when she looked up, he saw dark circles under her eyes. "I just need to sleep for a while."

"Okay. I know." He pulled her to him again and said, "Thank you for asking your mother to come here. I have a feeling that this is all happening a bit too fast, so I thank you from the bottom of my heart." Monica looked up at him, and her chin began to tremble, and it wasn't long before her whole face broke up, and she began to cry. He sat with her on the edge of the bed, not saying anything, just holding her head on his shoulder. He didn't get up when he saw the door handle turn and the door swing open, nor when he saw Bruce's troubled expression as he stood in the doorway watching them.

A few minutes later, Monica kicked them both out, and in the hallway they heard the door lock slide into place behind them. Will asked Bruce to return with him to Caracol to persuade Sylvia to meet with Alma that night. "It works out perfectly" Bruce said. "Remember that you will be sleeping with your wife at the clinic from now on. Sylvia will be coming back here tonight to sleep in your room."

AN HOUR LATER, in the car, Will turned to Bruce and said, "I think you all handled the situation so well. It was really uncomfortable there for a while, with Claudia trying to force Monica into declaring a truce with Alma." in the car, Will turned to Bruce and said, "I think you all handled the situation so well. It was really uncomfortable there for a while, with Claudia trying to force Monica into declaring a truce with Alma."

Bruce nodded. "The moral of the story, my friend, is that a couple must decide early on who's going to mind the home fires."

"But real love is worth pursuing. And what you were pursuing back then wasn't real love. It was infatuation. Right?"

Bruce exhaled and looked out the window. "Love requires having the vision to look beyond today, beyond a pretty face, beyond the rush you get from the chase. It means walking away if she's not good for you, or if you're not good for her." her." He sighed and shook his head. "I should have run screaming the day I met Alma Borrero." He sighed and shook his head. "I should have run screaming the day I met Alma Borrero."

"Hindsight," Will said, hunching his shoulders.

"You know what I've come to believe, Will? That most women seek stability and love, just like you'd expect. But what they really really, secretly want is a someone who inspires them to risk everything."

"Don't we all?"

Bruce considered this for a moment and said, "Yeah. I guess so."

"And it can happen that someone loves you right back," Will said, joining his two index fingers together.

"It's still not that simple," Bruce said gruffly, holding Will's eyes for a moment before going back to staring out the window.

Will resented, pitied, and respected Bruce's point of view all at the same time. This was a man who only knew failure in love, and whose lone success in the wars of the heart was to protect his child. It was what he did best.

WILL WOULD ALWAYS REMEMBER his arrival at Caracol as the most surreal moment of his life. He would remember the crowd gathered at Yvette's bed. The jubilance in Sylvia's voice, the chatter and the tiny brown nuns gathered like munchkins from his arrival at Caracol as the most surreal moment of his life. He would remember the crowd gathered at Yvette's bed. The jubilance in Sylvia's voice, the chatter and the tiny brown nuns gathered like munchkins from The Wizard of Oz The Wizard of Oz around Yvette's bed. They parted for him as he walked into the room. Sylvia prattled on about how miraculous G.o.d was and what heroes the staff had proven to be. Yvette was propped up on pillows, and as Will stepped before her bed, he couldn't believe what he was seeing: her eyes fixed on him and followed him as he moved along the side of her bed. around Yvette's bed. They parted for him as he walked into the room. Sylvia prattled on about how miraculous G.o.d was and what heroes the staff had proven to be. Yvette was propped up on pillows, and as Will stepped before her bed, he couldn't believe what he was seeing: her eyes fixed on him and followed him as he moved along the side of her bed.

Everyone turned and looked at him, and he felt the weight of dozens of brown velvet eyes fall upon him, along with their sudden hush. "Yvette?" he said softly, as if she might possibly be someone else. He took one of her skinny hands. "Yvette?"

"She spoke earlier," Sylvia said from the opposite side of the bed, tickling the underside of her daughter's chin like a baby's. "Say something, honey. Look, your husband is here."

"Where was I going?" she asked.

"You're okay now, Yvette," Will replied in a hoa.r.s.e voice.

"Why was I in such a rush?" She wiggled about, and Will saw that she was restrained by arm straps.

Although he felt joy, he felt a sick bloating in his stomach, a lifting and puffing up of its contents, but he didn't understand why. Something about her eyes seemed so unnatural. "Is she okay? Is there any ... damage?"

"Damage? Of course there's damage," Sylvia said absently.

"She was in a car accident."

"Yvette, do you remember our dog, Chester?" Will said, grasping at some comforting memory of their past. "Do you remember the time we entered him in the Newport dog show and he won a ribbon?"

Yvette rolled her eyes up and smiled. "Yes," she said. Then, the smile suddenly disappeared and she squinted at him. "Tell the ocean to leave me alone." He tried to embrace her but she stiffened, and he got a whiff of the ever-present metallic perfume.

"She keeps complaining about the sound of the waves outside," Sylvia said, smoothing her daughter's hair. "Isn't that odd? Most people find the sound of water soothing."

"Shut up," Yvette spat. "Can't you see I'm in danger?"

In danger of what, baby?" Will pleaded.

"The waves know my name," she said, and looked away.

"They know too much."

Will looked at Sylvia and said, "Let's step into the hall for a moment. Something was tugging at him, something that wasn't allowing him to completely rejoice at what appeared to be a miracle.

In the hallway, Sylvia asked, astonished, "Aren't you happy?"

"Of course," he said. "I just want her thoroughly examined."

"At least she's here," Sylvia said, pointing at her temple. "We can work on the rest later."

Maybe she was right, Will thought. Maybe the rest of her was going to be okay. The strange hostility might just be an initial stage, some kind of reentry shock. Sylvia shuffled back into the room because they could both hear that Yvette had just insulted one of the nuns. "Back in a moment," she said.

Will went in search of Dr. Mendez. She was finis.h.i.+ng up with another patient, and so he headed back to Yvette's room. He ducked into the chapel for the first time, dropping to his knees on the kneeler and pressing his palms together in prayer and supplication. He simply gave thanks for Yvette's emergence and asked for the strength to handle whatever was to come.

In the silence of the chapel, Will tried to remember if he ever did know where Yvette had been headed on the day of her accident, and why she had been in such a rush. Nothing came to him, and eventually he gave up, figuring that it was irrelevant. He was happy that, at the very least, she had been set free from her terrible limbo. As worried as he was about what Alma had said, he still felt a great softening toward Dr. Mendez and her staff. Maybe the old nanny's suggestion was right on the mark-maybe Alma was tras.h.i.+ng the program out of envy.

His thoughts drifted over to Monica. In the last forty-eight hours, his feelings for her seemed to have grown exponentially, expanding across his heart to unwieldy proportions, filling him with hope, strength, and dread at losing her. He was sure of himself in this area, he didn't feel guilt or regret. His marriage to Yvette had been irrevocably altered by the accident, and even though she had recovered some of her faculties, she would never be the same. He had already lived for two years of his life without her, and because of it he wasn't the same person either. He looked down at his left hand, flattened against his right palm. Circling the fourth finger was a band of pale skin where his ring had been. It seemed to glow in the dim light of the chapel.

He felt both fear and a great sweep of relief when the decision came to him: he would sell the house and his prized sailboat to finance whatever was needed for Yvette's subsequent therapy. He would give up Tuesdays and work seven days a week. He would enable a new beginning for Yvette: his own version of the tunneled heart carved in the snow, Me ato Me ato returning to returning to Te amo Te amo, at last, duty returning to love, even if it was an entirely different kind of love this time around.

Then, a question presented itself as if it had been spoken by the varnished wood figure of Jesus hanging from the cross before him. What if Yvette's spirit hadn't been released as he'd believed all along? What if her wifely love for him remained intact within her new consciousness? Will squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger.

Will felt Bruce's heavy hand on his back, and Will was surprised to see the man kneel down next to him, bow his head, close his eyes, and put his hands together in prayer. "I've never put much stock in religion," Bruce whispered out of the side of his mouth. "But today I'm willing to give it a try."

AN HOUR LATER, Yvette was unreactive again. Will ordered the staff to suspend any other treatments, and Sylvia flew into a tirade about her maternal rights. Bruce managed to convince her to come with him to the Yvette was unreactive again. Will ordered the staff to suspend any other treatments, and Sylvia flew into a tirade about her maternal rights. Bruce managed to convince her to come with him to the posada posada to meet Alma, but Will was so angry he had to ride in a separate car. to meet Alma, but Will was so angry he had to ride in a separate car. This is it This is it, he decided. To h.e.l.l with Sylvia To h.e.l.l with Sylvia.

A mere two and a half hours had pa.s.sed since Will had arrived at Caracol. Monica had slept for an hour and later claimed to have fallen into a precipitous slumber that had restored her with some of the energy needed to make it through the day. In the time before the men arrived, the two women had been alone and had begun the long and emotionally exhaustive climb, piecing together the shattered tableau of their lives. So difficult was that first hour alone together that they immediately welcomed the interruption of Will, Bruce, and Sylvia's arrival. Will summoned Claudia, who had been watching the soap opera in the kitchen with the innkeeper, and asked the three women to sit down.

No one expected the news they brought. Claudia's mouth was frozen in the shape of an o o, and Alma alternated between nodding and shaking her head. Monica sprang to her feet and hugged Sylvia, and then Will, even her father. "I told you prayer works," she said to her father, and everyone unfroze and shared two more rounds of hugs and cheers for Will and Sylvia. "Down deep I must have been a bit skeptical myself," Sylvia confessed.

After a moment, the mood darkened when Will told them that Yvette had slipped back into stupor in only an hour. Alma pulled Sylvia aside and got down to business. Sylvia listened to Alma's warnings, interrupting her to defend the treatment on each point. "I don't care if she has a completely different personality," Sylvia said, smiling. "My love for Yvette is unconditional. She can be whoever she wants to be, and I still want her here with me-alive, awake, able to speak and respond. I'm determined now more than ever to leave her under their care."

"No, we're not," Will said, his fists clenched at his side. "I draw the line here, Sylvia. We're taking her home within forty-eight hours. The entire Neurology Department at Yale is on alert and is anxious to examine her the minute we arrive back in New Haven."

"You'll take her over my dead body," Sylvia said.

"Fine, then we'll pick out your coffin in the morning," Will said. "I'm not s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g around here, Sylvia, she's going home."

Alma put her arm around Sylvia. "Sylvia, we're going to shut Fernanda down. Her supposed sponsor, BioSource of London, is completely phony, invented for credibility. The Borreros are are BioSource, and the cover will allow them to slink away with the family name unscathed if need be. You got your awakening, now go home. Yvette should be monitored constantly while she's conscious, and she will be again, have no doubt. But she is a danger to herself, especially immediately after a dose. Three of the ten patients who have been through this program appear to have committed suicide." BioSource, and the cover will allow them to slink away with the family name unscathed if need be. You got your awakening, now go home. Yvette should be monitored constantly while she's conscious, and she will be again, have no doubt. But she is a danger to herself, especially immediately after a dose. Three of the ten patients who have been through this program appear to have committed suicide."

Monica asked, looking around the room, "Who's with Yvette now?"

"A nurse," Sylvia said. "They were going to take her out to the sunning deck so she could get some sunlight before the sun goes down. They said she needs to produce some vitamin D."

SO THIS IS IT, Monica thought, as she watched Will pace the floor, his face alive with plans to rescue his wife. Monica thought, as she watched Will pace the floor, his face alive with plans to rescue his wife. I'm finally in love with someone. Really, really in love. Unfortunately, my only reward is to know that it's possible. But I have to fulfill my promise to myself. So in secret, loving sadness, I give him back to you, Yvette I'm finally in love with someone. Really, really in love. Unfortunately, my only reward is to know that it's possible. But I have to fulfill my promise to myself. So in secret, loving sadness, I give him back to you, Yvette.

chapter 20 THE GIFT.

Yvette watched the nurse fill the syringe with clear liquid from a small brown gla.s.s bottle. The lumbar punctures still hurt, and Yvette blinked back tears as the nurse plunged the needle into her spine.

When she had finished, the woman put Yvette into a wheelchair. Yvette marveled at the concept of mobility; of seeing something other than the same high, closed window with frosted gla.s.s from the position of her bed. The woman rolled her out of the room without saying where she was taking her. Yvette saw that other people were lying about in beds, some with eyes open, others with eyes closed, but all of them silent and still.

The nurse took her beyond a set of gates, across a stretch of hard-packed sand, and parked her chair on a wide patio facing the sea. Now she could see a dark beach, strange and desolate as a surrealist painting. The sound of the waves was as soothing as a heartbeat, and she closed her eyes to better listen. The nurse was called away by someone a distance behind them. A few moments pa.s.sed, and Yvette felt her soul rushed with the drumming of water folding upon itself, of sheets of white foam being stretched and pulled back and elongated until the waves were spread clear and thin as hot gla.s.s.

Tch-ch-cht.

Yvette opened her eyes but saw no one. She was having difficulty seeing. Everything appeared as if she were looking through a tube of rolled-up paper.

Tch- ch- cht.

She rotated her neck left and right. Her muscles were still too weak with atrophy to lift her head and get a good look at the source of the sound. Suddenly, the range of her conical vision filled with the face of a small girl. She had a basket balanced on her head. She was spectacularly beautiful, with caramel skin and big, honey-colored eyes: an angel in a dirty and ripped dress. The girl dropped her basket and tiptoed toward Yvette, looking to the left and the right before she smiled.

The little girl reached into her basket and plucked out a tiny chick, absurdly dyed cotton-candy pink, and placed it on Yvette's lap. Yvette looked at the chick's tiny, s.h.i.+ny eyes, its upturned beak, and willed her hand to move across her lap and stroke it. Its fur was so soft that Yvette could hardly believe it. The little girl stepped closer and spilled a handful of feed onto Yvette's lap, and Yvette watched as the chick picked it up in his beak, tilted his head back, and swallowed the tiny pellets. She felt the delicate weight of the bird moving about on her thighs. Yvette began to laugh with the delight of a child, marveling at the sensory proof that she was very much alive. The little girl laughed with her and looked extremely pleased. "You can keep it," she said in Spanish.

Suddenly, Yvette had an overwhelming desire to pull this child into her lap and comb her sun-split hair, teach her to read and write, and love her forever. Yvette looked down at the chick on her lap. It was finis.h.i.+ng the last of the corn pellets. "It's time, Yvette," the little girl said in Spanish.