Title: Dangling Participles; Part II of the Mistaken Identity Series

Chapter 34: This is a Vacation?

Authors: Rabid Raccoons

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

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The flight to Bangor was remarkably smooth. Don had to admit, the medical transport staff of AirMedTrans was well trained and very attentive. Still, the flight took nearly 4 hours, and the drive to Bar Harbor was nearly an hour, in the ambulance that AirMedTrans had provided for ground transportation. By the time they made it to the ferry, it was near dinnertime, and they were hungry and tired. In spite of that, Ana was enchanted by the town, its quaint streets, the eclectic mix of shops and cafés. The ambulance took them to the walkway to the ferry and let them out; trying to cut down the distance that Charlie would need to travel on his crutches.

They unloaded luggage, which was not a large task; none of them had packed much in the way of clothes for the trip to Kansas City. Even with the clothes that Don and Ana had picked up for them while Charlie was in the hospital, their bags were few. Don looked at his watch and then took a quick glance at the ferry schedule. "Better hurry – the next one leaves in 20 minutes. If we don't catch that, it's over a two-hour wait."

Ana looked back up the street toward the shops, longingly. "It would not be the end of the world if we had to stay," she said. "We could eat dinner, perhaps a little shopping…"

Don murmured in her ear. "We'll come back for a day, just the two of us." He looked at Charlie, who was crutching ahead of them, carefully trying to navigate the distance to the ferry ticket booth. "It's been a long day already, and we still have to get him out to the island."

Charlie stopped so suddenly that Don almost ran into the back of him. "I'm fine," he said, with a quick, disdainful backward glance. "If you want to stay; then stay."

Ana shot Don an uncertain glance, and then spoke soothingly. "No, of course not – we will have plenty of time here. Don is right; it will be something better to do when we have the whole day for it."

"I'm not an invalid," Charlie muttered crossly, as if to continue the argument, but he put his head down and started crutching again.

Don wisely didn't point out the fact that he was indeed an invalid, at least temporarily, and instead stepped up to the window to purchase the ferry tickets. Between Don and Ana and Alan, they managed the luggage. Don's arms were still too sore to grip anything, but he could handle straps on his shoulders, and Ana carried her bag, and Alan carried his and Charlie's. Lugging their burdens, trailing Charlie, they maneuvered down the long walkway to the ferry. Alan came puffing up behind them, a sparkle in his eyes and a grin on his face.

"This was just the ticket," he crowed. "Just look at this place, it's beautiful!" He set a bag down and waved an arm enthusiastically toward the harbor, stretching in front of them, framed by the coastline, rimmed with rocks and pine forest. "I can see why you liked this place, Charlie."

Charlie's frown relaxed a little, and he looked around as if just noticing his surroundings for the first time. "Yeah, it is nice," he said, a bit wistfully. His eyes fell on Don and Ana, who had moved up to the front of the ferry and stood looking out over the railing, and he pulled his eyes away, his face closing again.

Alan followed his gaze, and gave Charlie a calculating glance. "Come on, let's go up and join them," he said.

Charlie shrugged, with feigned indifference. "That's okay," he said. "I'll just sit here. Go ahead."

"Nonsense," said Alan heartily. "Why should they hog the view? Let's go."

Charlie rolled his eyes a little, but began to crutch his way to the back of the boat. Honestly, he was exhausted, his leg was throbbing, and the less he had to move the better. And just as honestly, he didn't want to be anywhere near his brother and Ana; he felt uncomfortably like an intruder. The whole idea of the trip was beginning to rankle; it had started out as a family trip, and Ana's presence had changed the whole dynamic, at least for him. He reminded himself that it had been his idea to invite her, and tried to push down the thought; his brother deserved someone in his life, he told himself. 'Get over it,' he muttered to himself, almost angrily, but in spite of the self-admonition, he felt a little hollow inside.

As he lowered himself onto the bench-like seat with shaking arms, the boat lurched a little, and he plunked in his seat with a thump, as his father, Ana and Don scrambled for seats of their own. Alan was fishing in his pockets with a look of consternation on his face. "I can't find my Dramamine," he said. "I had it on the plane…"

Charlie and Don exchanged a wide-eyed glance. Ana took in the gaze, her brow furrowing prettily in confusion at Alan's panicked expression. "Surely it will not be so bad," she said soothingly. "This boat is big and solid; I can barely feel the movement of the water."

"Barely being a relative term," said Charlie, as a small swell produced the faintest tilt, and Alan turned pale. "When it comes to Dad, 'any' is a problem."

Don turned in his seat and murmured to Charlie. "Ten bucks he doesn't make it a hundred feet from the dock."

"Forget it," Charlie shot back. He grinned, his first smile of the day, but it faded as Don looked away toward Ana, and Charlie realized that coincidentally, it was the first thing that Don had said to him all day – at the least the first thing meant for his ears alone.

Alan shot to his feet suddenly, and lurched for a seat on the other side of the boat, startling another couple that was coming forward to take the view. They froze, wide-eyed in fear at the green apparition staggering their way, and the man hastily took his partner's arm and retreated, just as Alan reached the other side.

"Wise move, mister" said Don, grinning a little, but shaking his head in sympathy as Alan leaned over the side, panting. He glanced at Ana, and stood, holding out a hand to help her up. "Maybe we should go for a walk, leave the poor guy in peace. I'm sure he doesn't want an audience – at least not one that includes a pretty girl."

Ana dimpled, but her eyes fell on Charlie, who had grown silent, his face inscrutable; his eyes fixed on his father. "Charlie, perhaps you should come back also. You are looking tired." She shot Don a mischievous glance. "Your brother can help your father."

Don made a face at her, not intended for Charlie, but he caught it out of the corner of his eye. "No, that's okay," Charlie said, with a firmness he didn't feel. "You two go on." He looked at Don. "If Dad needs you, I'll come and get you."

Don looked at Charlie's carefully composed face, trying to read it, wondering when his brother had learned to school his features. Maybe he couldn't read anything because there was nothing to read, he said to himself. "Okay, Buddy. I'll check back in a little while. Maybe we'll see if someone else on board has some Dramamine."

A slightly bigger swell hit the boat, and the ferry rolled a bit. Don and Ana leaned a little, and Don used the movement as an excuse to put his arm around her, as they moved away, staggering a bit, laughing. Charlie watched them go, then sighed, and with an effort pushed himself back up on to his feet with his crutches, standing still for a moment as his head whirled with unexpected dizziness. Maybe the boat was getting to him too – although he could feel fatigue seeping into his bones, perhaps he was simply tired. He managed to make it across the deck to his father, who had effectively given them their own private side of the boat.

"Hey, Dad, how are you doing?" he asked, as another swell rocked the boat. Alan looked at him, eyes watering, and then turned and heaved over the side.

Charlie crutched unsteadily to a nearby seat, upwind, and plopped into it. "That good, huh?" He looked at the horizon and sighed. It was going to be a long boat ride. Hell, for that matter, it was going to be a long vacation.

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It was after seven when they docked. Alan was first in line; he staggered up to the gate and the other passengers parted like the Red Sea at his approach, leaving him plenty of room. Don shot a quick glance toward the back of the boat to assure himself that Charlie was coming, and took his father's arm as they disembarked. Ana waited, watching Charlie with narrowed eyes. He looked in pain, utterly exhausted, she thought, and she followed him slowly up the ramp. It was evident that the trip had been entirely too much for him.

The walkway widened and she pulled up next to him. "Are you all right?" she asked softly.

"Fine," came out, sharply, with a rush of air. He kept his head down, and increased his pace a little as if to prove his contention, but she noticed that his arms were trembling.

They finally reached the top, and she breathed a sigh of relief along with him as they paused on the sidewalk, next to a small grocer's. Neither of them looked as relieved as Alan, though, as he stood, inhaling great breaths of air.

"Well, aren't you a rag-tag bunch?" came a woman's voice, and Ana turned to see a pair of bright blue eyes, under a wreath of the most amazing silver-white hair she'd ever seen. In spite of the white hair and the lines, she was still attractive; Ana felt instinctively that she had been very beautiful, once. Her tiny, wiry frame was adorned with a flannel shirt, which hung over a pair of jeans and hiking boots.

Charlie smiled: the first genuine smile that Ana had seen on the entire trip. "Minnie! Minerva Caswell, you remember my brother Don, of course, and this is my father, Alan Eppes, and – and our friend, Dr. Ana de la Cruz." Ana noticed his slight hesitation as Charlie introduced her, but she pushed it aside. She wasn't exactly sure what she was to the Eppes family yet, herself; her connection with Don was too new. She glanced at Don, who smiled back, and her heart skipped a beat at the look in his eyes.

Minnie stepped forward and gave Charlie a hug, but her eyes caught Ana's. "When I said rag-tag, I didn't mean you, dear. The men are lookin' a little the worse for wear, but of course, we women are a lot tougher, don't you think?" She sent Ana a conspiratorial wink, and stepped back, holding her hand out to Ana, and then Don, and last, Alan. As Alan took it, he got the full effect of a firm grip and the laser blue eyes; they seemed to look right through him, and as he took her hand, he felt oddly defensive, and profoundly glad he was no longer heaving. He got the impression that a man would need to stay on his toes around this one.

Minerva waved her arm, indicating a van behind her. "I brought the van this time; the pickup would have been a tight squeeze."

Alan's eyes traveled over her shoulder, and his jaw dropped at the sight of the green Volkswagen van, a relic from the late sixties or early seventies, complete with a fading peace sign decal in the window. "I had that same van," he said, with a grin of amazement, "in college."

Minerva patted a fender affectionately as she moved past it to open the van door. "She only comes out in the summer," she said. "I store her in the winter – otherwise she would have rusted away by now."

She opened the front passenger side, with a sharp glance at Charlie, wondering if the others had noticed that the young man was trembling, albeit slightly, from fatigue, and had an odd whiteness around his lips. "The front seat is probably the easiest for you," she said, and her blue eyes clouded with concern as his father helped him into the seat.

The rest of them clambered into the back, and Alan sank back gratefully into a seat. His stomach was finally settling a little, and he could focus a little better on his surroundings. He drew a deep breath of pine-scented air, and took in the golden twilight streaming over the water. Things were looking up – thank God he was off that infernal boat.

Moments later, as the van lurched down the gravel road and he was hanging on for dear life, he rescinded his prayer. The boat was suddenly looking unaccountably good. Between bounces, he reflected on how far automobile manufacturers had come with suspensions; he'd forgotten that the van rode like a mechanical bull. He could tell that he was traveling through pine forest by the darkness and the smell; but that was the only reason – it was whizzing by too fast to pick out individual trees. Suddenly the van slowed with a bone-grinding jerk, and Alan saw Minerva looking at Charlie with concern. "I'm sorry, dear, I forgot, and just tore off like a bat out of hell. I'll slow it down."

Slow it down she did, but the damage had been done, and by the time they pulled up in front of a cabin, Alan's beleaguered stomach was flipping again, and he stumbled out of the van like a polished stone that had been spit out of a tumbler, his head reeling. He wondered dimly if Minerva handled men like she handled vehicles, and then slapped himself mentally – where on earth had that thought come from? Still it brought a little grin to his face, and he turned to see Ana and Don emerge from the van, with the rattled loopy smiles that people wore when they exited an amusement park ride.

Don whispered something in Ana's ear, and she laughed, and the sight brought a genuine smile to Alan's face. Those two were certainly hitting it off; it was about time his oldest connected with someone, he thought. He stepped past them, reaching in to grab a bag.

Charlie sat for a moment, trying to gather his strength, then slowly opened the door, and slid his crutches into position. He felt strange, lightheaded, and he suddenly couldn't wait to lie down. He noticed vaguely that they were in front of Minerva's cabin, and he heard her telling the others that she would unload Charlie and Alan there, and then drive Don and Ana to their cabin after dinner. He was sliding out onto his good leg as she spoke, which suddenly felt extremely wobbly, and her voice seemed to be drowned out by a strange roaring that he thought at first was wind in the pine trees. He stared up at them, wondering how they could be so noisy when they looked so still.

Minerva stopped speaking suddenly and looked with alarm at Charlie, and Don turned just in time to catch him mid-slump. He eased him down, holding his upper body, and looked up with dawning panic in his face, as Charlie's head rolled against his shoulder. "What's wrong with him?"

The others clustered around as Ana took his pulse. "His pulse is steady," she said. "I think perhaps the trip was just too much for him."

"Let's get him inside," directed Minnie, "I have a bed ready."

Between three of them, they managed to transport Charlie's limp figure to a bedroom inside, awkwardly because of the brace on his leg. Minnie fussed over him, pulling a cheery quilt over him, gently pressing a cool cloth against his face. She shot Alan a sharp glance. "You really ought to take better care of him."

Alan was already irritated; she had pushed him out of the way in her ministrations and was performing what he felt was decidedly his job. "We do just fine, thank you," he shot back. "It's not as if I invited the men who attacked him over for dinner."

"Hmpff," sniffed Minerva, and she dabbed at Charlie's forehead with the cloth. "Poor baby." She glared at Alan, and he glared back, as Charlie stirred and his eyes fluttered open.

He took in their expressions, both of which instantly softened as they looked back at him, and they immediately began fussing, clucking, murmuring comforting words, inquiring how he felt, touching, tucking blankets; patting his cheek… He felt claustrophobia rising, and taking a deep breath to fight it down, closed his eyes with a groan, as Minerva gave the comforter a little tug, Alan gave it a yank back, and they faced off, glaring again. This was a mistake – he knew it, this vacation was a huge mistake.

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End Chapter 34