Jack stared at the clouds above, his face chalk white and eyes pained and frightened.
“M-my medical card,” he said in a shaking voice. “In my wallet.”
Someone grabbed the wallet and located the card.
She wasn’t used to seeing him so scared. She’d learned an injury to the head was one of the worst things for a hemophiliac. She’d told the 911 operator about his condition, and they instructed her to keep him as still as possible. Even now blood could be pooling inside his skull, leading to unbearable pressure and compressing his brain tissue.
The ambulance rolled across the golf course and halted a few yards away. A medic hopped out of the front seat and strode toward them while two others unloaded a stretcher from the back.
The lead medic knelt down beside Jack. “Sir, can you hear me?”
“Yeah,” Jack said.
“How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Three.”
That had to be good. If his brain was in bad shape, he might be too confused to answer.
“We’re going to take you straight to the hospital to get some clotting factor into you. Then a bunch of docs will do their thing, okay?”
“Yeah,” Jack said again, this time his teeth beginning to chatter. Was it from the cold or from fright? She’d been shaking like a leaf ever since getting out of the pond.
One of the EMTs held Jack’s head while another slipped a collar around his neck. Once it was secured, they slid a plastic backboard beneath him.
“Who’s coming to the hospital with him?” an EMT asked.
“I am,” Alice automatically said, and mercifully, Jack didn’t countermand her. She didn’t know what to expect, but Jack needed someone with him at the hospital, and she wanted to be that person.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The next five days were the longest of Alice’s life. Jack had been put into an induced coma because the neurologist said it would reduce the brain’s metabolic demand and hopefully stabilize the bleeding. Jack’s brain bleed was severe, and unless it could be controlled, it could lead to a seizure and permanent brain damage. Keeping him in a controlled, sedated state was his best chance of survival.
At least she was allowed to remain in his room, which was a major concession since the first thing the hospital staff wanted to know was Jack’s next of kin. Aside from a father he hadn’t seen in decades and a stepmother he never met, there wasno one. She scrolled through his cell phone, looking for an emergency contact, but came up empty.
The hospital let her stay, but with the recommendation that Alice contact Jack’s parents.
She did. A string of unanswered text messages from Jack’s stepmother were still on his phone, and she sent a brief message alerting Sophie to Jack’s condition.
She framed the message in the most positive terms possible, but as she looked at Jack in the center of the hospital bed, hooked up to monitors and beeping machines, it was hard to be optimistic. He looked awful, with dark shadows beneath his eyes and a bruised, swollen lump at his temple. The plastic neck brace kept his head immobile and a cannula was taped beneath his nose to supply supplemental oxygen. His ankle looked hideous. The fall had caused an ankle sprain and the swelling in the joint had reached monstrous proportions. The orthopedic surgeon warned this would cause cartilage damage and could ultimately require a joint replacement if it happened again. Both of Jack’s arms were hooked up to IVs that dribbled drugs, nutrition, and most importantly, a steady supply of Factor VIII plasma to heal the internal damage to his brain.
The nurses said Jack might have some level of subconscious awareness and suggested Alice speak words of comfort to him. It was the reason she refused to leave his bedside.
“The greens look terrific,” she said. “The club’s new ground manager came by earlier today and said that three groups of golfers played a test round, and they all loved it.” The waterfall was a mess and the ambulance left huge gouges in the greens that still needed repair, but Alice stuck to positive messages.
“The Roost is already being reassembled,” she continued. “Zeke is sending me photographs. The fireplace and chimney are back in place, secured with brand-new mortar. They color-matched the mortar so it looks exactly like what was used before.The entire ground floor has been reassembled and the floors laid. They’re working on the second floor now.”
It was hard to believe how quickly it was coming together. Every board and stone had been numbered and erected exactly as before. Additional logs that had been cut and stained to look like the original were added to the top of the first floor to raise the ceiling. The second story would require new flooring to be up to code, and it would be finished this week.
When she ran out of things to say, she turned up the volume on the PGA tournament playing on the television mounted in the corner of his room. It was probably her imagination, but it seemed Jack rested a little easier with those calm, soothing voices of the golf announcers.
It was during those times when the golf announcers took over that Alice scrolled through Jack’s cell phone. At first she felt horribly guilty, like she was snooping … but that phone had been vibrating with incoming texts from his business partners in Japan. She sent noncommittal answers, saying a medical emergency would keep Jack unavailable for the following week, but he would return their messages as soon as possible.
Her own phone vibrated, and Daisy’s name appeared on the screen. Things had been tense between them ever since Daisy suggested the signet ring found at the Roost might belong to the Tuckers. They also needed to discuss Jack’s bill at the hotel. Alice didn’t want him to overhear anything troublesome, and stepped into the hallway to take the call.
“How’s he doing today?” Daisy asked.
“No change. The doctors are going to keep him under for at least another day. Daisy, I need to check him out of the hotel. It seems pointless to pay for a room when he’s trapped here at the hospital.”
