Lucien confided in his friend, explaining about the accident--and the woman being admitted to his family’s private hospital wing.  Passing his responsibility off on Eliza was a cowards move--but, he knew this news would be best received coming from anyone, other than himself.  He thought about this as he walked through the hospital’s entrance.  He rode the elevator to the fourteenth floor, and when he stepped off, he was greeted by Dr. Hazzar.

“Hello Mr. Delors--you were right to send that young lady here.”

“Where is she?”

“Being prepped for surgery.”

“Will she make it--I mean--will she live?”

“To soon to say.  After I reviewed the records, it became clear to me that precious minutes had been lost.  Had she arrived even five minutes earlier--those few extra minutes could have made the difference in her outcome.”

Dr. Hazzar sighed, then he said...

“But she’s here now--and we’ll do our best.”

“Thank You Dr. Hazzar.”

The doctor strolled down a hall completely devoid of patients and in that instant Lucien had to wonder--what was the good of having money when he couldn’t save this woman?  He owned an entire hospital wing, for goodness-sake; but in the big scheme of things owning this possession didn’t really matter--and it wouldn’t change that young woman’s outcome.  Time--that’s what Dr. Hazzar had said she’d needed--time and he’d stood by watching while the tech’s wasted precious seconds debating what amounted to her fate.  He’d been a part of the problem; the Delors van had hit her--and the moment he arrived on the scene, he should have told Caesar to call Lincoln’s medical evac-team. If he’d called, she would have had the best doctors and nurses money could buy; not the medical techs employed by the city.  Lucien would blame himself if she died.

“You’ve got to live.”  He mouthed the words, causing a passing nurse to question him.

“I’m sorry Mr. Delors--were you talking to me?”

He shook his head, then he said...

“No...I was talking to myself--but I didn’t answer.”

She smiled, then said...

“Can I get you a cup of tea?  I understand that we might receive a patient on your family’s wing--a guest, I’ve been told.”

Lucien nodded but he couldn’t get that one word out of his head--might.  She’d said that they might receive a patient.  He waved his hand, then said...

“No tea--but thank you for offering.  If anyone is looking for me--I’ll be in the waiting room.”

Lucien turned, wanting more than anything to be alone.  He didn’t deal well with crisis--and this was his first time waiting to learn if a person had lived or died.  Oh God, he prayed.  Please--don’t let her die.

“I don’t even know her name.”  He said.

Lucien reached in his pant pocket.  When he pulled out the band, a wash of shame overtook him.  This was evidence and possibly a means of identifying the young woman.  While he’d been talking to the street cop, he should have given the band to him--but he didn’t; largely because he couldn’t.  This fabric was a tangible connection to her--the beautiful broken dove.  The Samaritan woman who’d compelled him in ways no other woman ever had.  Lucien closed his eyes, and his thoughts went to Marisela.  His sister had been right.  For years, he’d noticed her friends attention and the way she flirted and always complimented him, over other men.  Marisela was lovely, poised, attractive, and any man would be lucky to have her.  Lucien opened his hand, and he examined the black band, twisting it using his thumb.  He was sure this band belonged to a man--and the idea pained his stomach.  Samaritan's never married outside of their Sect--and he knew this.  But--Lucien couldn’t help himself.  Some part of him wanted this woman to be single--and it didn’t matter that the idea went counter to every idea that governed his and her life.

He flipped his wrist, checking the time and he wondered if her surgery had begun.

“Be all right.  Please--be all right.”  He said...because for now--more than anything, it didn’t matter if she was single or married to the owner of the black band.  For now, Lucien would give anything if it meant that his broken dove would survive.

**********

Chapter 6

6:58 PM

Samaritan Commune

Zachary and Aldeara Zelle’s home

“How many times does he have to repeat himself mom?  He went back to the Conclave and Ona wasn’t there.  She wasn’t there and she wasn’t anywhere in the area.”

Caleb was the Zelle’s adopted son, and he’d lived with them since he was twelve.  Before joining their family, he’d lived a life of wealth and privilege.  After his parents had been killed in an unexplained accident, through the generosity of the Zelle’s; Caleb had been taken in, then adopted into their family.  That had been eighteen years ago, and still he found it difficult adjusting to Samaritan customs, rules and practices.  For him, being a Samaritan, living alongside a modern world; the idea was maddening, as well as an extreme contradiction in terms.

Zachary Zelle held up his hand, appealing for silence.  In a compromising voice he said...

“We’re only asking to be sure.  In this situation, there are any number of reasons that would explain Ona’s tardiness--and we wouldn’t want to ignore either of them.”

Caleb was exhausted.  The second Noah arrived at their parents home alone, he’d had misgivings and he wanted to know what had happened to Ona.  When his protective instincts kicked in, every emotion surface unchecked.  He hadn’t meant to raise his voice but he’d never been known for his even temperament.  Besides, he was convinced that something else was at play, and his intuition told him that his sister was in trouble.  So, he stirred the hornet’s nest, trying to shake some sense into this situation.

Noah scanned the room.  His eyes rested on his adopted brother, pleading for serenity.  He didn’t speak until he was sure that Caleb would still his tongue and when his brother stumped across the room, taking a seat at the dinner table, Noah cleared his voice, then he calmly addressed his mother.

“The last time I saw Ona, she was happy and heading into the Conclave chambers.  We’d agreed to meet at the dock.  Geff and I waited, until the last ferry arrived.  We didn’t want to leave, not knowing where she was, so I called the Conclave to find out what was delaying her departure.”

Noah’s expression became strained.  When Ona had not arrived, he’d pleaded with the boat-master to wait while he returned to the Conclave to gather his sister.  It was decided that Geff would search the areas surrounding the dock, while Noah searched the route most Samaritan’s took in route to Conclave Square.  Their combined searching held up the ferry, but not one passenger complained.  Since Samaritan’s live on communes, most outsiders believed that they all knew each other; but that wasn’t true.  However, most of the people on the ferry knew Zachary and Aldeara Zelle.  His parents and their projects were legendary because the Conclave had never turned down their philanthropic proposals.  So--the ferry waited, but when Noah and Geff both returned without Ona, the boat master suggested, that however unlikely, they couldn’t rule out the fact that Ona may have traveled home on an earlier ferry.  He suggested they return to the Samaritan barge, and continue the search there.

That had been two hours ago, and still--no Ona.  Aldeara’s eyes held back her tears, because she was fighting her overwhelming need to cry.  Her voice quivered when she said...

“Zachary...if Caleb is right, and something has happened to our daughter--what are we to do?”

Zachary crossed the room, wrapping his arms around his wife to console her.  He didn’t know what to say because he’d never encountered a situation quite like this one.  Samaritan’s lived uneventful lives, devoted to helping others.  He cleared his throat, then he said...