She hurried out to the reception room. “Cynthia, find Dan. Ask him to finish the deposition for me. Something has come up.”
“All—” Jennifer was already out the door.
She drove home like a madwoman, exceeding the speed limit, going through red lights, her mind filled with visions of something terrible having happened to Joshua. The drive seemed interminable and when her house appeared in the distance, Jennifer half expected to see the driveway filled with ambulances and police cars. The driveway was deserted. Jennifer pulled up beside the front door and hurried into the house.
“Joshua!”
He was in the den watching a baseball game on television.
“Hi, Mom. You’re home early. Did you get fired?”
Jennifer stood in the doorway staring at him, her body flooding with relief. She felt like an idiot.
“You should have seen the last inning. Craig Swan was fantastic!”
“How do you feel, son?”
“Great.”
Jennifer put her hand on his forehead. He had no fever.
“You sure you’re all right?”
“Of course I am. Why do you look so funny? You worried about something? You want to have a man-to-man talk?”
She smiled. “No, darling, I just—does anything hurt you?”
He groaned. “I’ll say. The Mets are losing six to five. You know what happened in the first inning?”
He began an excited replay of his favorite team’s exploits. Jennifer stood there looking at him, adoring him, thinking, Damn my imagination! Of course he’s all right.
“You go on and watch the rest of the game. I’ll see about dinner.”
Jennifer went into the kitchen, lighthearted. She decided to make a banana cake, one of Joshua’s favorite desserts.
Thirty minutes later, when Jennifer returned to the study, Joshua was lying on the floor, unconscious.
The ride to Blinderman Memorial Hospital seemed to take forever. Jennifer sat in the back of the ambulance clutching Joshua’s band. An attendant was holding an oxygen mask over Joshua’s face. He had not regained consciousness. The ambulance’s siren was keening, but the traffic was heavy and the ambulance went slowly while curious people gaped through the windows, staring at the white-faced woman and the unconscious boy. It seemed to Jennifer a sickening violation of privacy.
“Why can’t they use one-way glass in ambulances?” Jennifer demanded.
The attendant looked up, startled. “Ma’am?”
“Nothing…nothing.”
After what seemed an eternity, the ambulance pulled up at the emergency entrance at the back of the hospital. Two interns were waiting at the door. Jennifer stood there helpless, watching as Joshua was removed from the ambulance and transferred to a gurney.
An attendant asked, “Are you the boy’s mother?”
“Yes.”
“This way, please.”
What followed was a blurred kaleidoscope of sound and light and movement. Jennifer watched Joshua being wheeled down a long, white corridor to an X-ray room.
She started to follow, but the attendant said, “You’ll have to check him in first.”
A thin woman at the front desk was saying to Jennifer, “How do you plan to pay for this? Do you have Blue Cross or some other form of insurance?”
Jennifer wanted to scream at the woman, wanted to get back to Joshua’s side, but she forced herself to answer the questions, and when they were over and Jennifer had filled out several forms, the woman allowed Jennifer to leave.
She hurried down to the X-ray room and went inside. The room was empty. Joshua was gone. Jennifer ran back to the hallway, looking around frantically. A nurse passed by.
Jennifer clutched her arm. “Where’s my son?”
The nurse said, “I don’t know. What’s his name?”
“Joshua. Joshua Parker.”
“Where did you leave him?”
“He—he was having X rays—he—” Jennifer was beginning to be incoherent. “What have they done with him! Tell me!”
The nurse took a closer look at Jennifer and said, “Wait here, Mrs. Parker. I’ll see if I can find out.”
She came back a few minutes later. “Dr. Morris would like to see you. Come this way, please.”
Jennifer found that her legs were trembling. It was difficult to walk.
“Are you all right?” The nurse was staring at her.
Her mouth was dry with fear. “I want my son.”
They came to a room filled with strange-looking equipment. “Wait here, please.”
Dr. Morris came in a few moments later. He was a very fat man with a red face and nicotine stains on his fingers. “Mrs. Parker?”
“Where’s Joshua?”
“Step in here a moment, please.” He led Jennifer into a small office across from the room with the strange-looking equipment. “Please sit down.”
Jennifer took a seat. “Joshua is—it’s—it’s nothing serious, is it, Doctor?”
“We don’t know yet.” His voice was surprisingly soft for a man of his size. “I need some information. How old is your son?”
“He’s only seven.”
The only had slipped out, a reprimand to God.
“Was he in an accident recently?”
A vision flashed through Jennifer’s mind of Joshua turning to wave and losing his balance and hitting the pilings. “He—he had a water skiing accident. He bumped his head.”
The doctor was making notes. “How long ago was that?”
“I—a few—a few days ago. In Acapulco.” It was difficult to think straight.