Robards, Karen Read Online Free PDF Page B

diagnosed, to be precise. Six if you counted the visit that brought on the diagnosis, which had been prompted by Jessica’s collapse on a bright May day at field hockey practice.
    “Name?” Grace gave the required information as quickly as
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    possible—sure enough, Jessica’s name and the required insurance information were in the computer-and signed the necessary forms. Then w th the recepti
    I ionist’s blessing she hurried into the treatment area to be reunited with her daughter.
     
    Cha ter P
    5
    XCEPT FOP, A PAIR OF WOMEN in white uniorms at the nurse’s station and a man in a f
    white lab coat who was walkmg rapidly away from her, no one was visible in the treatment area. A sea of closed white curtains faced Grace whichever way she looked.
    “May I help you?” One of the wouien–-she assumed they were nurses, but was too far away to read their name tags for certain identification-looked at Grace inquiringly.
    “I’m looking for my daughter. Jessica Hart. She was just brought in. A man was carrying her.” “Diabetic?”
    Grace nodded.
    “Treatment Room B.” She pointed along the white-curtained corridor. “Theyjust finished checking her. “
    Like the other cubicles, Treatment Roorn B was partitioned off from the corridor by an almost floorlength white curtain suspended from a metal rod. All Grace could see from the hallway were about three
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    inches of a pair of men’s feet clad in black leather basketball shoes topped with the slightly frayed hems of a pair ofjeans, and the wheels and steel legs of a hospital bed.
    Grace pulled the curtain aside just enough to allow her to enter. A quick glance found Jessica lying on a white-sheeted mattress, eyes closed. A Band-Aid held a cotton ball to the inside of her right elbow; the sleeve of her blue sweater had been pushed up above the Band-Aid. Her head and upper torso were supported in a semiupright position by the raised head of the bed. A small flat pillow was beneath her head. A gray blanket covered her to her armpits; her arms were pale sticks atop the blanket. Someone had removed the cop’s jacket, which had stayed wrapped around her as he had carried her in, and taken off her shoes. The items lay bundled together on a nearby chair.
    By the bright light of the overhead fixtures, Jessica looked even more ill than she had in the car. The flush in her cheeks was a bright, hectic red. Her lips were so dry they looked painful.
    “A nurse just left. She took your daughter’s blood pressure, temperature, and a blood sample. She said someone would be back with the results in a little bit.” The cop was standing to the right of the bed, his hands thrust into the front pockets of his faded jeans, his feet in the black basketball shoes planted slightly apart. He wore a green plaid flannel shirt, tucked in. She guessed his age at somewhere around forty years old; the harsh light revealed lines around his eyes and mouth, and there were gray threads in his black hair.
    Until he spoke, Grace had barely noticed him. Her
     
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    KAREN ROBARDS
    attention had been all for Jessica. She met his gaze and saw that he looked disapproving still.
    “Thank you.” Grace spared him no more than a glance as she walked over to the bed and put a hand0r) her daughter’s forehead. The fruity scent of Jess’s breath was detectable even above the antiseptic odor of the hospital and the unmistakable smell of booze. Jessica’s body temperature, gauged through her hand, told her nothing, though it seemed normal enough. She was no medical expert, and she felt her daughter’s forehead more for something to do than in any real expectation of learning anything from it. Her hand moved from Jessica’s forehead to curl around her cold, unresponsive fingers where they lay atop the fuzzy blanket, There was nothing she could do for her daughter now, she knew, except wait for the doctor’s verdict. As always, in the face ofiessica’s illness, she