Chapter 3
Electric
This was all his fault.
He had been the one who'd called up his cousins this morning. They'd arranged to meet in Providence by noon. He had been the one who'd asked Safe Harbor Marina to put one of the boats into their family's slip. He did his best impersonating his father because Jen had refused to pose as Ellie. He had been the one who'd stolen the bottles of alcohol from their parents' stash. It was supposed to take the edge off.
"Mom and Dad are headed for divorce and it's because of me," she'd said as they'd walked along the path.
The lights that lined the dock illuminated the blood that streaked his sister's bronze hair.
Although she'd been known to have no more than just a few sips, he'd offered her a drink. It was supposed to take the edge off, not send her over one.
Mellie had whined all afternoon about dropping her pack of Marlboro Reds into the ocean while docking. She depended on her cigarettes more than her Celexa, so, just after dark, four of them had set out for Edgartown, leaving three of them on Gull Island without a boat.
"Go!" Their cell phones wouldn't work here. "Call Mr. Lowell from the landline in Kleinwood," he'd told Jimmy.
Since his retirement two years ago, he and his wife lived year-round on the next island over. If he squinted, he could just make out the lights of their boathouse.
She had danced dangerously close to the ledge.
"I've never seen her like this," Jimmy said as he took a swig straight from the bottle. "You're sure about your parents?"
Blake had swan-dived into the water, hoping the waves hadn't pushed her from where they'd watched her fall in.
"She's breathing, but she's unconscious."
The sound of a motor grew louder as he and Jimmy attempted to warm her up with beach towels.
"What happened?"
Mr. Lowell threw two lines, securing the boat, in record time, so he could help load Meredith up.
"She hit her head on the rocks," Blake told him as he knelt beside his sister.
Jimmy untied the ropes from the cleats before climbing over the edge and taking a seat.
"We'll drive her into Oak Bluffs and then she'll be airlifted to Boston. I've called ahead," he said as he maneuvered the boat away from the dock.
They took off through Nantucket Sound, into the open water.
~MS~
She was assessed by paramedics right there at the marina. After taking her vitals, the EMTs didn't have to think twice about flying her to Boston.
"Sarah called your parents," Mr. Lowell told him as they sat in the back of the helicopter. "They'll be at the hospital in an hour."
The doctors seemed nervous as Meredith was rushed through hallways and into a trauma bay.
The words "alveolar hemorrhage" and "pulmonary edema" were thrown around more than once.
Nurses approached him, each asking two questions at a time.
"How long was she in the water?"
His heart pounded against his chest.
"How much alcohol did she drink, Dear?"
His head spun.
"Was she conscious when you pulled her—" one of them began, but when a flurry of men and women in blue scrubs passed, he followed until he stood in the doorway of the first trauma room.
"She's a Moran!" Mr. Lowell yelled.
The resident taking down notes arched his brows. "As in?"
"As in the Anthony Moran Cardiology Center."
Their last name got them out of waiting for a table at the nicest of restaurants, out of speeding tickets, and the Ivy application processes, but being a Moran couldn't save them from everything.
"She's in VFib."
When paddles were taken to her chest he couldn't bear to watch.
"What were you kids doing out here anyway? It's the middle of November," Mr. Lowell had said earlier.
It had been his idea.
He'd called his cousins to meet in Providence at noon. He'd posed as his father so the marina would put one of the boats into their family's slip. He'd taken the bottles of alcohol from their parents' collection…
"Blake?"
He looked up in time to see his parents, hand in hand, rushing towards him.
His mother took him into her arms.
"This is all my fault," he cried against her chest.