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back his chair and sprang to his feet, all manner of ,fears crowding his
mind. She d over-taxed herself, looking after two extra people; her
appalling diet of rich foods and fats had finally caught up with her; the
stairs had proved too much for her heart.  What in the world is the
matter?
She held out both hands as if she were cradling a tiny baby. Her eyes,
when she looked at him, were opaque with fear.  It s Emily, Lucas, she
whispered.  Something s happened to her. I think you d better come.
CHAPTER TEN
GIVEN his grandmother s propensity for exaggeration, Lucas didn t
exactly buy her dramatic claim, but that didn t prevent his heart from
rioting briefly within his chest cavity.
Controlling the urge to race up the stairs in a panic, he took her by the arm
and led her to a chair.  Don t upset yourself, Bea. I m sure Emily s just
fine.
 But she s not! Bea insisted.  Lucas, she s just lying there in the bed and .
. . bubbling.
 Bubbling? He smiled at the description.  I don t think I ve ever come
across that particular condition before. She s becoming more inventive all
the time. But his grandmother wasn t about to be put off and slapped at
his hand with rare impatience.  No! Lucas, I m afraid she s dying! There s
a rattling sound every time she breathes and when I spoke to her she didn t
seem to know who I was.
A thrill of fear raced up his spine. Only years of practice kept his face
reassuringly neutral.  Perhaps I d better take a look, then.
"Perhaps you had." Monique s voice sliced across the table, rife with
censure.  Because if anything happens to my granddaughter, Lucas Flynn,
I shall hold you accountable.
 Stay here, both of you. I ll go at once.
He took the stairs three at a time, all the while telling himself that it was
just another ruse on Emily s part. Hadn t she paved the way last night for
this little scene to take place, complaining vaguely of not feeling well only
after she d partied for hours and seduced him into making love to her?
Yet she d been well enough to find the skill and energy to reduce him to
quivering exhaustion!
Her door stood ajar and he wasn t even at the threshold before he thought
he heard it: the impaired gasp of lungs laboring to function as they fought
the threat of drowning. Still he didn t want to believe--didn t dare to.
Approaching the bed, he assumed the sort of superior manner that he
detested in others of his profession.  Well, Emily, are we not feeling a
hundred percent this morning?
She opened her eyes at the sound of his voice and he was appalled at the
blankness he saw there, as if she were staring at a stranger. Or, worse, at
nothing.
 Emily, he said again, this time unable to subdue the throb of alarm in his
voice.  Can you see me? Do you know who I am?
 Lucas . . . His name seemed to percolate from her throat, making it plain
what Bea had meant when she d used the word  bubbling .
He watched the shallow rise and fall of Emily s chest and cursed inwardly.
Hell and damnation, he had enough letters behind his name to qualify him
five times over to be a doctor, yet he couldn t lay hands on so much as a
stethoscope! Not that he needed anything but the senses he d been born
with both to see and hear that her rate of respiration was clocking in at
about forty a minute, rapid enough even for a layman to realize that
something was definitely and seriously amiss.
The grandmothers, who naturally enough had ignored his advice and
followed him upstairs, hovered in the doorway and he didn t need to look
to know that his anxiety had communicated itself to them threefold and
that they teetered on the verge of panic. Dear Lord, he didn t need them
falling apart now!
 Mrs. Lamartine, he said, making a split-second decision,  there s a
phone in my room. I want you to call the hospital right now. Tell them to
meet us at the emergency entrance--"
 Wouldn t it be better to ask them to send an ambulance?"
 We can t afford the time, he said bluntly.
She pushed her way past him to see for herself the shape Emily was in. For
once, her phenomenal self-possession deserted her and pure dread cracked
her voice.  Oh, mon Dieu!
He took her by the shoulders and forcibly turned her away from the bed.
 Make that call, Monique. Let them know we ll be there within the half-
hour and that we re bringing in a patient showing signs of acute adult
pulmonary distress.
He uttered the last four words slowly and distinctly. With a courage he had
to admire, she pulled herself together and repeated,  Acute adult
pulmonary distress.
 Right. Get on it, he said, and gave her a gentle push toward the door and
watched her hobble away before turning his attention to his own
grandmother.
 Bea, I need you here. Emily's all tangled up in the sheets and soaked
through with perspiration. Sponge her off, get her into a fresh nightgown or
robe--whatever you can find--and have her ready to be moved by the time
I ve brought the car around to the front door.
He was striding away when Emily spoke again, her voice a pale thread of
sound drifting weakly after him.  Lucas, don t . . .leave me....
 Not a chance, he said, returning briefly to her bedside and stroking the
hair out of her eyes.  Not a snowball s chance in hell, sweetheart!"
She lay feather-light against his shoulder as he carried her down the stairs a
few minutes later.  Keep her upright as much as possible, he instructed
Bea, settling her in the back seat of the station wagon.  It ll help her
respiration.
Within five minutes they were on their way, with Monique beside him
railing at the slowness of their progress even though he broke all the speed
limits. Just as they approached the boundary of April Water, a highway
patrol motorcyclist spotted the car and pulled in behind them, lights
flashing.
Lucas barely drew to a halt.  Medical emergency, he said tersely, before
the helmeted police officer had a chance to open his mouth.  I need an
escort to the hospital.
The officer swept an assessing glance over Emily, cradled against Bea s
shoulder, and didn t argue. Revving up his motorcycle, he said,  Follow
me, and, sirens screaming, cut a path through the thickening traffic in the
town, shaving precious minutes off their journey and bringing them to the
emergency entrance of April Water General just under the time Lucas had
allowed.
The hospital personnel had done their part. Doctors, nurses and lab
technicians were there in force, poking and poring over Emily. But the
damnable thing was, no one could agree on a diagnosis.
The emergency physician, Martin Jamieson, knew of Lucas through the
medical grapevine and called him into a side office.  I didn t want to say
anything in front of the elderly relatives, he said, shaking his head,  but
this case has us completely baffled.
They d been messing around with her for over an hour and this was the
best they could do?  Damn it, man! Lucas exploded.  You must have
come up with something!
The other man handed him Emily s chart.  We ve run all the usual tests,
Dr Flynn: taken her vital signs, checked her blood gases, white blood
count--everything you d do if you were calling the shots.
 She s on oxygen?
"Yes."
Lucas frowned at the clipboard in his hand and worried his lower lip
between his teeth.  Her temperature s elevated. You could be looking at
some sort of viral infection, possibly pneumonia. You ordered a chest X-
ray?
Martin Jamieson nodded.  Results just came in. There s fluid on her lungs,
no question about it.
 Then you need to get a culture. You can t hazard a guess at medication
without one.
 We re trying but she s not very responsive.
Oh, she was responsive enough, given the right circumstances, and Lucas
would inspire her now, because he d be damned if he d sit idly by and let
her just fade away! They had too much to look forward to.
He flipped the chart closed.  Let me try.
Jamieson shrugged and waved him toward the cubicle at the far end of the
hall.  Be my guest. We re here when you need us. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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