Southampton Spectacular by M. C. Soutter Page A

pulse and airway, as Devon had, and then did something that Devon hadn’t anticipated: he rubbed Cynthia’s arm. As though comforting her. “Okay, Dear,” the doctor said. “You can wake up now.”
    Devon’s mother opened her eyes. She tried to sit up, but the doctor held her down firmly. “Not so fast,” he said, and gave her a little smile.
    Devon almost laughed out loud. Four years of medical school, four more years of residency and clinic work, and this is the technique? The arm-rub? I’m reading all the wrong books .
    “Is she okay?” Peter Hall called out.
    Cynthia and the doctor both looked surprised.
    “Mr. Hall?” called the doctor.
    “Honey?” said Cynthia.
    “Hi, everybody,” Peter said, amusement in his voice. “I’m glad to be impressing so many people today, but I’d sure appreciate it if someone would tell me what happened.” He smacked his lips together experimentally. “I’m pretty hungry. And thirsty. And my head feels like it got caught inside a trash compactor. Did I get hit by a bus?”
    Still on the floor beneath him, Cynthia Hall burst into tears. “Oh, Peter ,” she said, and began sitting up. The doctor was still holding her down, but he seemed to realize that this particular patient was no longer in danger of fainting. Cynthia rose all the way to her feet, and she reached out to put a hand gingerly on her husband’s leg. She was still crying.
    Peter looked at her sympathetically. “I’m fine, Cynthia,” he said. “Honey, I’m going to be just fine. I feel a little groggy, but everything’s going to be okay.” He put a hand up slowly, reaching out for her.
    His wife nodded and took his hand. Then she looked down at the floor and continued sobbing. “Oh, Peter,” she said again. “I can’t believe… all this time…” she trailed off and dissolved into a fresh bout of tears.
    Now Peter looked concerned. “Cynthia? Look at me. I’m really going to be fine. Trust me.”
    Cynthia looked up, and she took a breath to steady herself. “Okay,” she said finally, and squeezed his hand.
    Devon watched the two of them for another moment, and then she went to her father’s side. She had never felt happier in her life, and she could feel tears streaming down her own cheeks. He was going to be all right. Her mother, too. Whatever had been in that manila package, the one from the lawyer… it didn’t matter. The package was down on the floor where her mother had dropped it, and Devon kicked it under the bed.

Austin’s First Move
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    1
     
    As far as the Hall family was concerned, everything was on its way back to normal. The manila envelope had been swept under the rug – or under the bed, in this case – and it might never have been mentioned again if it hadn’t been for the thing with Pauline. And then the bigger thing with Barnes, which really laid everything bare. But all of that was still to come. Still weeks in the future, according to the Grand Scheme of Events. And so for the moment there was only rejoicing. Devon and her mother explained to Peter what had happened, which was a surreal experience because he had absolutely no memory of the event (or several hours leading up to the event), so they were telling him about things he himself had done. They delighted in telling him, again and again, how he had rescued the Dunn baby by the barest of margins. How everyone had thought they were both maybe dead. How Peter had appeared at the entrance to the Beach Club with Frankie unharmed, and how no one could believe it.
    They told him the story to pass the hours. And the days. While he was eating, and then getting back on his feet, and then, finally, removing layer after layer of bandages. Simply because they could. Because he was awake now, so it was no longer a story with a terrible ending. It was an exciting story. A triumphant story.
    Peter smiled at the telling every time. “I wish I could remember it,” he said. He