Never Hug a Mugger on Quadra Island by Sandy Frances Duncan, George Szanto

people here. You can wish or hope or pray or whatever you do best. Visit him, one or two people at a time. Patients who’ve come out of a coma have reported they were aware of loved ones and friends in the room and that gave them more strength to come out. Time’s the only thing we have on our side right now. And Derek’s natural strength.”
    Noel nodded, and said, “Has deep brain stimulation been considered?”
    Kyra squinted at him, but said nothing.
    â€œIt’s the wrong kind of injury,” said Pierce. “No one I’ve consulted thinks DBS would be of any value here.”
    Noel glanced at his watch. “We’ve taken enough of your time, Dr. Pierce. Thank you.” They shook hands with Pierce and left the building.
    Back in the car Jason said, “Thanks for asking those questions. Now I know more about Derek’s condition.” He smiled ruefully. “Not that it helps.”
    â€œBut Jase, Linda’s a nurse. She must’ve asked questions like that.”
    â€œI think she has. I just haven’t asked what she’s learned.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œI think—I was afraid of what she’d tell me.” He paused. “And of watching her tell me. With Pierce, it all came out more—objectively? And it looked like he thought he was talking to a professional.”
    â€œI guess,” said Noel as he drove into the line leading to the ferry booth. Jason passed Noel a plastic card. “What’s this?”
    â€œA fare card. They subtract money that’s credited on it.”
    Kyra couldn’t believe that Jason hadn’t talked with Linda about all this. Kyra would have wanted to know everything, the tiniest detail.
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    â€œHere they are,” Linda announced as the back door opened. Kyra, Noel and Jason added their shoes to the sprawling pile. Jason pulled on slippers. Noel wiggled his sock-clad toes. Kyra took in the sun slanting across the wooden cabinets, the dinner preparations, Linda bending over a pasta pot on the stove.
    â€œI see a beer there,” Jason noted. “You two like a drink before dinner?” He looked at Kyra, Noel. “Could be gin and tonic, scotch—“
    â€œGin and tonic would be terrific,” Noel said.
    â€œYou got juice or a pop?” Kyra asked.
    Jason got down glasses, found mixings, cut limes, clinked in ice, poured and handed. They thanked him.
    â€œWhere are the kids?” Jason asked Linda over the sound of water coming to the boil.
    â€œShane’s in his room. Don’t know about Tim and Alana.”
    Jason invited them into the living room.
    Another pleasant light-filled room. Kyra sank into an overstuffed sofa, thinking, I like this house. Electronic beeps and whizzes emanated from around a corner.
    â€œSounds like they’re at the video games,” Jason explained, half apologetically.
    Noel raised his glass to Jason and Kyra. “Cheers.” He sipped, and walked to the window. The woodlot trees began about sixty meters away. A hill rose beyond them, the land cleared. “Are those sheep up there?”
    Jason looked out. “Alpacas. Their wool brings more than sheep’s wool and they crop the grass to no-never-mind the same.” Kyra got up to see.
    â€œSupper’s ready!” Linda called. “Shane!”
    â€œComing,” Tim yelled, over whizzes and beeps.
    â€œShane. Now!”
    Jason strode to the foot of the stairs. “Shane!” He gave Noel and Kyra an exasperated look. Upstairs a door opened.
    Tim and Alana appeared and they all entered the kitchen. “Sit anywhere.” Linda cocked her chin at the long refectory table. Tim and Jason slid into what probably were their accustomed places. Two more placemats looked used; Noel, Kyra and Alana took places in front of crisply folded napkins. Shane arrived and sat, his face a cipher.
    Linda placed a steaming bowl of penne on a