Spanish Bay by Hans M Hirschi Page A

file in, mostly tourists on the way north or south on CA 1. It turned out to be another busy day, but they managed to get through it, fueled by working together and plenty of endorphins. Chris could see how happy Neil was to be busy and needed.
    After closure, Chris drove Neil back to the house. “Wanna come in for a while?”
    “Rain check? I need to check in on Sally. She really had me worried last night. I just want to make sure she’s all right. Maybe I can drop by later, if it’s not too late?”
    “I’d like that, I’d like that very much. Just send a text.”
    “I will, now that I finally have a phone.”
    Neil went inside the house, and Chris watched him from the car before pulling back out of the driveway to go see Sally. There was an odd feeling in his stomach that something wasn’t right. Sally lived about a twenty-minute drive from the Horners, in the hills outside Carmel, with a beautiful view overlooking the bay and the town.
    Chris knocked on the door, but got no reply. He tried again and waited. Maybe she was in the bathroom or on the phone. But after five minutes, still nothing. He tried the door and noticed that it was open.
    “Sally?” he called into the house. “Sally, it’s me, Chris. Are you here? Mind if I come in?”
    Carefully, he proceeded into the house. It was dark inside, no lights were on, which was odd, given the time of day. He turned on the light and immediately noticed the body lying on the floor. He ran over to her to check if she was still alive. There was a faint pulse, and she was breathing, although it was shallow. Chris dialed 911. “I have an emergency…”
    Two hours later, Chris was sitting in the waiting room of the Community Hospital of the Monterey Peninsula, waiting for news on Sally’s condition. The paramedics suspected that she’d suffered a stroke and had rushed her to the ER. Chris was upset with himself for not checking in with her earlier in the day, but things had been so hectic at the café that he never got a chance to.
    “Chris, what happened?” Neil and his parents came into the ER waiting room. Chris had texted Neil to say he wouldn’t be able to make it, and Neil had convinced his parents he needed to be there for Chris.
    “I don’t know yet. I’m still waiting for any news. Probably a stroke. I don’t know.” He felt tears prickle and pushed them away; he’d already cried enough, waiting and worrying on his own.
    Neil’s dad approached the nurses’ station to see if he could get some answers but returned without. “We just need to be patient. Anyone want a drink?” he asked.
    The others told him what they wanted, and he left.
    “I found her in the hallway, on the floor,” Chris explained. “When I got to the house, it was in darkness and the outer door was open, so I walked in, and she was lying there, unconscious. What if she dies? She’s been so good to me.”
    Chris was coming apart, and Neil tried his best to comfort him.
    An eternity later, a doctor came out and asked for the Ashbury party.
    “We’re here with Sally,” Neil’s dad responded. “This is Chris—the manager of Sally’s café. He found her. This is my son Neil, Chris’s boyfriend, and my wife Sarah. Sally doesn’t have any relatives in California. She’s from back east. How is she doing?”
    The doctor looked down at the floor and pinched the ridge of his nose, trying to decide what to say and how to say it.
    “Sally’s suffered a major stroke, and it’s a good thing you found her when you did. She wouldn’t have survived much longer. It’s still touch and go, and the next few days are going to be critical. I don’t want to build anyone’s hopes up. If she suffers from another stroke, she won’t make it, and even if she makes it, we have no idea yet how bad the damage to her brain is going to be, and what the long-term effects will be. I think you should all go home and get some rest. She’s in good hands here.”
    Chris felt the air drain from