10
Father, My Father—Chapter 35
12 June 1949 (mid-day in Washington State)
Silas turned back to Abraxas and shouted, "Tighten the boom vang, will you?" Then he spun back, lost in whatever Frank was saying.
Loggins may as well have been speaking Swahili. Not only was it hard to hear over the sound of the main sail billowing and snapping repeatedly, and although Silas had given the pair a quick rundown on the parts of the boat and what they did when they got aboard, Abraxas hadn't a clue what he'd been asked to do. Not wanting to look silly by asking Silas to repeat his instructions—or worse, get up and do it himself because Malfoy didn't know how—Abraxas tried to recall as looked around. The mast was the tall pole with the sail…the thick horizontal pole attached to it was the boom. That meant he had to tighten something related to that, and the only thing he imagined it could be was the thingie in the corner holding the boom to the mast in the shape of an L. Or maybe it was the cord over there holding it to the side of the boat. That seemed more plausible.
Inching over across the deck, he wriggled under the boom and stood up on the other side, scratching his head. Perhaps if he pulled this rope it would work. He bent down, gripped the line, and gave a massive tug. No, the knot was too secure. Abraxas took out his wand, aimed it, and muttered a spell; the rope untied itself. Satisfied, he bent down once more to grasp the line, and as he did so the heavy pole of the boom whirled around; Abraxas saw it from the corner of his eye a split second before it collided with his forehead.
He teetered, then everything went black; he didn't feel himself falling backward, or the cold ocean waves swallowing him when he dropped over the side of the boat.
At the front of the craft, Frank and Silas were discussing the merits of Ollivander versus Conn. Frank had borrowed Silas' wand to look it over and give it a try, impressed at the ease of use even though he wasn't the owner. "And you say Conn uses pixie dust? I never heard the like!"
"They use a variety of cores, like unicorn hair and dragon heartstring and such, just like everyone else," Silas corrected him. "My sister has a wand with a pixie dust core, mine is phoenix head feather—nearly as rare as the tail feather."
"I'd like to visit this place one day," said Frank, handing Loggins his wand.
Crinkling his forehead in vexation, the noise of the snapping sail getting on his nerves, Silas turned around to shout to Malfoy that it wasn't that blasted hard to tighten the sail. He stopped, open-mouthed, upon discovering that Malfoy no longer seemed to be anywhere in sight and the boom was swinging freely, its tie rope no longer secured. Muttering a particularly foul expletive he jumped from his seat, skirting the jib, and ran to the back to grab the wildly oscillating boom by the dangling line and hurriedly roped it back into place.
"Check down below!" he screamed to Frank, waving a hand behind them. "See if he's down there!"
Aware of the implications if Abraxas was not below deck, Frank took the stairs in one grand bound. "Abraxas!" He glanced around, then ran to the loo and pounded on the door. "Abraxas!" When he got no answer he opened the door, to find it empty. He raced up the stairs again on quivering knees, shaking his head in desperation.
Silas was already maneuvering the sails as he said, "We have to turn around!"
In the distance Silas thought he spied a bobbing figure in the water, and his heart leapt into his mouth. It wasn't moving as if swimming or struggling as if drowning, it might be driftwood or any number of things…but it wasn't, he felt it in the pit of his stomach. This could not be happening! Malfoy certainly wasn't stupid enough to jump over for a swim without telling anyone, so had he been idiotic enough to release the boom, and then get hit with it? They had to get close and drag him aboard before he drowned—no, mustn't think that way, he must not be dead!
"Accio Abraxas Malfoy!" yelled Frank, his wand in hand.
To Silas' consternation, the floating object began to move rapidly, picking up speed, headed right for them. He whipped out his own wand mere seconds before Malfoy's skull collided with the side of the boat, and bellowed a levitation spell that sent the body into the air. He gently lowered the limp form of Abraxas onto the deck, falling to his knees beside him.
"Frank, what the hell was that? You almost beaned him on the boat!"
"I didn't think," said Frank, not bothering to finish his thought. He was in control, he would have levitated Abraxas himself, and besides he was far more worried about death than a bump on the head.
He dropped onto the deck next to Abraxas, leaning down to listen for a heartbeat; there was none. Forcing back his emotions, his own heart hammering like a snare drum, he let his doctor training take over and aimed his wand at his friend's chest. As he laid his left hand over Abraxas' heart and pushed down hard and fast, he murmured, "Styrtan heorte." That spell would be enough to keep the heart working artificially for several minutes if need be, if it didn't start beating of its own accord.
Then, very carefully, he rolled Abraxas onto his stomach, supporting his neck in the event that he'd injured it. With Malfoy's face turned to the side, Frank positioned himself at the head and pressed down hard on Abraxas' lower back with both hands, then grasped Abraxas' arms and leaned back, pulling the arms with him. Water gushed from Malfoy's mouth. Immediately he rolled his friend onto his back once more, carefully lifted his neck, and opened his mouth; pinching the nostrils shut, he took a deep breath and clamped his mouth over Abraxas' and blew. The chest rose. He repeated the respiration action three more times, and was preparing for a fourth when Abraxas began to vomit.
Frank moved back out of reach of the splatters, then vanished it off the deck and out of the man's mouth with his wand, bent down, and listened to the heartbeat as he felt for the chest to rise and fall on its own. Shaking his head is frustration, he gave another round of breaths. At last he felt a faint rising of the chest that he had not instigated, and in relief he sat back on his heels, tears starting in the corners of his eyes. He watched as one, then another, then another breath occurred, each deeper than the last.
"Damn it, Malfoy, you'd better have a good explanation," he muttered.
"Is he okay?" asked Silas, eyes like big round saucers.
"I don't know yet," said Frank, flipping up Abraxas' eyelid to check the pupil, then he performed a quick series of tests centered mainly around Abraxas' head. "He's got a severe concussion, most likely caused by that," he said, pointing to the gash on the wizard's forehead. "No neck or back injury. I'll need to perform a few more spells to reduce the swelling in his brain and to get all the water from his lungs or it may kill him later."
Silas winced at the mention of death; it made this seem much too real. Yes, he hated Malfoy—well, alright, not hated. Envied. To his own bewilderment and a little bit of disgust, he found upon self-examination that he actually kind of liked him, and even if he hadn't, the idea of the man dying on his boat sent chills up his spine. "I've set course for home. Will he be alright for that long?"
"As long as we keep him warm and still," said Frank. So saying, he sent a drying spell over the clothing, then summoned a blanket from below deck. As he arranged it over the unconscious wizard, he said drolly, "I promised Thalia everything would be fine; she is so going to murder me."
Xxxoooxxxoooxxxoooxxxooo
12 June 1949 (evening in Wiltshire)
Thalia stretched her fists over her head, yawning. It was late, she was tired, and the cousins were still here. Once they'd got a few drinks in them and loosened up, the bickering had stopped and the hilarity had begun. She hadn't the heart to tell them to leave, and frankly they were so drunk from hours of drinking while telling stories that she felt guilty sending them away.
"Orion, Cygnus, I've had such a wonderful time tonight, I don't think I've laughed so much in…ever. But to be honest I must get to bed." She got up, approaching Orion and giving him a cursory hug, then one for Cygnus.
"You sure, Thalia? I've got dozens more stories I could tell," said Cygnus, chuckling to himself.
Orion patted her budding tummy, something he'd never have dared with Abraxas present, drunk or sober. "The baby's got her tired, Cyg, leave her alone."
"Thank you for understanding—and please, don't feel you have to leave," she said. "You're welcome to use the guest rooms upstairs whenever you're ready for bed. Goodnight."
"Goodnight," they chorused.
She heard them talking in the parlor as she headed to the staircase; she'd only got one foot on a stair when she felt a shooting pain in her abdomen, and she let out a stifled gasp. Instantly afraid, she stood there for a minute, waiting to see if it was a singular occurrence. A sharp cramping sent her doubling over. She let out a moan that carried down the hall.
Grasping the railing in a death grip, Thalia swung herself slowly about until she was able to sit on the lower stair, where she panted through the pain. "Brax, where are you?" she cried out softly. "I need you."
"Are you alright?" asked Orion, who'd heard her cry and come out of the parlor. He walked toward her, weaving back and forth.
"I don't—I don't know," she said, panic beginning to rise in her voice.
"Orion, you're still here?" asked Nicolette, coming out of her room and standing at the head of the stairs, unaccustomed to loud speaking at this late hour. She started to descend. "Thalia, why are you sitting there? What's wrong?"
"I—my stomach. I'm getting cramping," said Thalia. Her chin began to quiver. When Nicolette put an arm round her shoulders, she burst into tears.
"We're going to the hospital," said Nicolette firmly. She stood up and helped Thalia to her feet. "Let's use the floo in the main sitting area."
"What if it's nothing?" asked Thalia, feeling like a nuisance.
"Then it's nothing. Better to be sure, isn't it?" She led the young witch through the house, with Orion tagging along.
"Hey, where's everybody going?" asked Cygnus. When his cousin had failed to return, he'd gone searching for him, only to find a party of another sort going on. "Can I come, too?"
Nicolette turned around, sending a warning glare that stopped him in his tracks. "You and Orion are to remain here, is that understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," he replied automatically.
"But I can help," said Orion, though what manner of help he'd employ was left to the imagination. Tripping over the coffee table and landing face down in the armchair didn't bolster his plea.
By now they'd reached the fireplace, and Nicolette took a small handful. "I'll let you know as soon as we find out anything. Come along, dear." She took Thalia's hand, tossed the floo powder into the flames, and they stepped in as she said, "St. Mungo's."
As Orion dug himself unceremoniously out of the armchair, Cygnus said thoughtfully, "You think we should owl Abraxas?"
Orion shook his head. "He's thousands of miles away. It'd be days before the owl got there."
"Then let's wait here for Mrs. Malfoy to come back." So saying he plopped himself into one of the chairs facing the fire.
Orion turned and planted his rear in the seat that moments ago had been kissing his face. "Don't you think Thalia will be with her?"
Cygnus shrugged. "I hope so."
Xxxoooxxxoooxxxoooxxxooo
12 June 1949 (evening in Washington State)
Abraxas woke up in a bleary haze. His head hurt, and he appeared to be propped up on pillows in bed, though he didn't recall going to bed. He attempted to sit up completely, and was immediately pushed back down by Frank, who'd apparently been sitting on a chair beside him, waiting for him to stir.
"Don't even think about getting out of that bed," said Frank in a stern tone Abraxas had never heard. If this was his bedside manner, he needed brushing up.
"How did I get here?"
"You don't remember being hurt?" asked Frank.
"No…wait. I was loosening the rope to tie it tighter, and that pole thing hit me in the head," Abraxas replied, nodding as if to agree with himself. "I don't remember anything after that."
Exhausted from the day's traumatic events and from sitting next to Malfoy for the better part of the day, Frank clipped in an irritated manner, "Let me get you up to speed. You drowned." Yep, there was that substandard bedside manner again.
Abraxas stared, unbelieving. "I—I what?"
"Drowned, dead, not alive anymore. Have you got any idea how upset—"
"Oh, shit," moaned Abraxas, turning his head to look around the room. "Is this hell? I have to live in Silas' house for all eternity?"
Frank managed to restrain himself from slapping his friend. "You're not dead now, dimwit! I'm almost a doctor, remember? After a few minutes we found you in the water and pulled you out, then I fixed you up as much as I could. You've been unconscious for several hours."
"I thought I heard voices." Silas entered the room smiling and stopped by the foot of the bed. He'd changed his clothing from the day's outing and now sported robes with long tails and cutaway front. "How are you feeling?"
"You tried to kill me, didn't you?" Abraxas accused, trying to sit up again and being forced back down once more. "Frank, let me up! I need to punch him!" He fumbled clumsily at the nightstand for his wand, which didn't seem to be there.
"What is wrong with you?" snapped Silas. "I saved Frank's life and helped save yours, and to repay me you act like a lunatic!"
"Abraxas, quit!" growled Frank as he pushed a very painful pressure point that made Abraxas go limp for a second. "He didn't do anything to you."
"He knocked me into the water on purpose," Abraxas maintained, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring since he obviously was not going to be allowed up and his wand had apparently been stolen.
Confused as to exactly how he'd caused Malfoy to fall into the water when he'd been nowhere in the vicinity, Silas said, "While I doubt anyone would blame me if I did, I asked you to tighten the boom vang, not untie the rope! What part of that didn't you grasp? Or did you not hear me?"
Abraxas scowled. "I heard you…I just didn't know what it meant."
"Well now you do," said Silas, then added in a mere grumble, "Some people are hard of hearing; others it seems are hard of thinking. Did it never occur to you to tell me you didn't understand?"
"No," said Malfoy truthfully.
"I'm gonna go out on a limb here and make a guess," said Frank, directing his remark to Abraxas. "Did you honestly think this was some grand plot, that Silas tried to get rid of you so he could have Thalia for himself?"
Staring steadfastly straight ahead, lips pursed in a pout, Abraxas refused to answer.
"Oh, my God!" Frank exclaimed, throwing up his hands.
"Seriously?" asked Silas, not sure whether to laugh or be angry. "I'm not denying I still love Thalia, but I'm not going to kill over it!" As he thought about it, he let out a snorted chuckle. "Yes, because once you're dead, she'll surely fall into my open arms, right? Have you so little faith in your own wife?"
"Don't talk about my wife," said Abraxas, dropping his eyes, embarrassed. Here, now, in light of all that had been done and said, his suspicions sounded silly and childish. Of course Thalia wouldn't run to Silas, even if Abraxas had succumbed to drowning! He'd let jealousy and petty fear cloud his mind, and he'd almost died because of it. Scratch that, he had died. Thalia was not going to be happy about that, even if it had been only for a few minutes…was there a way to get around telling her?
"Frank brought Thalia up, so now I have to talk about her," said Silas, smirking. As the words he intended to speak crossed his mind, the smirk faded. In his mind he'd gone over the past with Thalia a hundred times, he knew the score, and there was no point in lying to himself or Malfoy. "I'm not perfect, but I'm not a bad guy, no matter what you think of me. I realize it's not your fault I lost Thalia. As much as I'd like to claim you did, you didn't steal her, I pushed her away. I was stupid and it cost me a wonderful woman. But I'll get over it."
Abraxas eyed him warily. "So you're not hoping to swoop in one day and try to win her back?"
Silas shook his head, giving a small, sad smile. "Maybe if I thought it would work, only I don't. My energy is better spent finding a witch to love right here—and paying her the proper attention, being the man she deserves. I did learn something from that whole affair."
Abraxas continued to study him, then bobbed his head slowly. The other wizard sounded sincere, and if he were being objective he'd admit that Silas had a lot to offer a woman. Just not his woman. "When you find her, treasure her, Loggins. Treat her like your princess and she'll treat you like a king."
"Good advice," said Silas, somehow certain Malfoy wasn't just throwing out platitudes. He'd witnessed the passion with which Thalia loved this man, the tenderness with which he spoke of her, the ferocity of his protectiveness for her. In his own time with Thalia, he'd never felt that—and he wanted to. One day he'd like to have a relationship like Thalia had with Abraxas. "I take it you speak from experience?"
Abraxas smiled, the image of his lovely Thalia flitting through his mind. "Indeed."
"You know, I really want to hate you," said Silas, lowering himself into the chair Frank had vacated earlier. "It kind of perplexes and annoys me that I don't."
Abraxas let out a laugh that made his head hurt all over again. "That is so funny—I was thinking the same thing about you!"