“Fine. I dropped off Lily with a friend,” I say, my tone a little too sharp. Several faces in the waiting room—a woman with pointed features, a man with eyes like a forlorn beagle, a gray-haired matron who looks like she hasn’t slept in days—turn toward us, their expressions curious. I step back into the hall so we can talk without being overheard.
He follows me. “How did she take the news about Margaret?”
“She was upset. She thinks people go to hospitals to die.”
“Oh, wow.” His blue eyes are troubled. “Is that what happened to Brooke?”
I shake my head. “She was already dead when...” My eyes unexpectedly fill. Pregnancy hormones, grief, and Lily’s meltdown have made me hyperemotional. “When the ambulance arrived.”
“Hey. Oh, hey...” He reaches out and touches my arm. I feel a little electric shock and must have flinched, because he drops his hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” His eyes are so sincere and kind that I feel ridiculous for behaving so defensively.
I blink a little and fight to get my emotions under control. “I’m sorry. I had a bit of a rough night. Lily woke up crying from a bad dream.”
He looks so concerned that I feel the need to clarify, so he won’t think I just abandoned a sobbing child. “She’s fine this morning. She was excited to see my friend Sarah and her two boys.”
“So someone different is caring for her today?”
I nod. “Sarah’s a psychologist, so I thought it might be helpful for Lily to spend part of the day with her. That way I can get some professional feedback on how she’s doing.”
“Good idea.”
I toy with the shoulder strap on my handbag and try to think of a diplomatic way of asking,What the hell are you doing here again?“I’m surprised to see you here this morning.”
“I wanted to see how Margaret’s faring.” He steps closer to the wall to let an aide wheel an empty gurney down the hall. “I hope you don’t mind, but I came by at six thirty to catch the doctor.”
“What?” I do mind. I mind very much. Zack is not the person who should be talking to Margaret’s doctor!
He lifts his shoulders. “I thought it was a way I could help.”
“You should have called me.” Zack and I had exchanged phone numbers yesterday.
“I’m sorry. You’re right.” He runs a hand through his hair, his gaze apologetic. “But I knew you were taking care of Lily and probably wouldn’t be able to get here that early. When my mom was in the hospital, I learned that catching the doctor on morning rounds is often the only way to get any information.”
I don’t really want to be appeased, but I sort of am. This is the second time he’s mentioned his mom in a hospital setting. I make a mental note to ask him about it later. “Did you see Dr. McFadden? What did he say about Margaret?”
“He’s encouraged. He said it’s too soon to tell for sure, but so far she isn’t showing signs of major cognitive impairment.”
“That’s great!”
He nods. “He said she’s responsive and conscious. She’s got some confusion and forgetfulness, but he said a certain amount of that is normal, and hopefully it’ll get better with time. She’shaving a little arrhythmia, so he’s prescribed a drug to control that. If she continues to improve, he’ll move her to a post-ICU room tomorrow.”
“That’s fantastic!” I immediately feel lighter. I didn’t realize how worried I was that she wouldn’t make it.
“Yeah.”
The door opens. A nurse stands in the doorway. “Immediate family may come in. No more than two visitors per patient, please. We ask you to keep your voices low. The maximum amount of time you can stay is thirty minutes, but we prefer that you limit your visit to fifteen minutes so as not to tire out the patient. Please use the hand sanitizer on the way in and out. Thank you.”
“I’ll wait here,” he says.
I’m glad he’s not going to be pushy about this. I get in line with the other visitors and we file into the large room. Medical equipment beeps and swooshes beside every bed. Most of the patients in them look unconscious—or worse.
Margaret’s bed is on the left. Her eyes are closed. I touch her hand—the one that doesn’t have an IV in it. “Margaret—it’s Quinn.”
She opens her eyes and looks at me. I can’t tell if she recognizes me or not. “Hello, dear.” Her voice is weak. “How are you?”
“Fine. I’m fine.” I give her an encouraging smile. “You seem much better this morning. How do you feel?”
“Like someone worked me over with a bully stick.”
