Harbor Street (Cedar Cove #5)(60)

She rolled her eyes.

Grumbling under his breath, Jack opened his bottom drawer and pulled out the gray sweatpants and shirt. “I hope you’re happy,” he muttered as he returned to the bathroom.

“You’ll feel much better when you finish.”

“If I live.”

“Very funny,” she said. “Start slow and increase your speed gradually. Don’t overdo it,” she advised. He refused to look at her, but Olivia felt only mildly guilty when she followed him into the bathroom. “Grace and I complain every week about aerobics class, but we both feel good afterward. You will, too.”

“If you say so.” Jack sat on the edge of the bathtub to lace up his sneakers.

“Tell you what,” Olivia said. “I’ll make you breakfast while you’re walking.”

Jack smiled for the first time that morning. “Bacon, eggs, two slices of toast. Wheat,” he added, knowing she disapproved of white bread.

“Oatmeal.”

“Oatmeal,” he spewed back.

“With raisins, but only if you stop your complaining.”

The grumbling was back and, despite herself, Olivia laughed. He was being so childish about this.

“Call the office for me, would you?” he said as he walked back into the bedroom, giving her a list of instructions. One would think he was going to be away for a week instead of an hour. Standing in front of the treadmill, he stared at it, as if searching for one last chance to avoid this.

After a moment, he apparently reached a decision and plugged it in, then stepped onto the flatbed. Frowning at the display panel, he began pushing buttons.

“Don’t you want to read the instruction book first?” she suggested.

He ignored her. The machine made a loud humming noise and started moving, nearly throwing Jack off his feet. Olivia swallowed a hoot of laughter, knowing he wouldn’t appreciate her reaction.

Given no option but to move with the machine, he began walking. But after a few minutes, he was huffing and puffing, reconfirming the fact that he was in terrible shape. Olivia wanted to tell him to slow down, but she could see Jack wasn’t in a listening frame of mind.

Retreating to the kitchen, she heard the hum of the treadmill in the background as she put water on the stove to boil for his oatmeal. He might complain, but she noticed that he’d finished the entire bowl the last time she’d made it.

Next, she reached for the phone and called the newspaper office. When Steve Fullerton, the assistant editor, answered, she rattled off the instructions Jack had given her. By then, the water was bubbling and she added the oats and turned off the burner to let them cook slowly.

Wondering how Jack was doing, she went back to the bedroom. As she rounded the corner, she realized he’d quit already. He’d only been at it for fifteen minutes. She hoped that in time he’d increase his stamina. She also hoped it wouldn’t be a battle every morning the way it had been today.

When she entered the bedroom, Olivia found Jack sitting on the treadmill, dragging in deep breaths. His color was a sickly gray and he was sweating profusely.

“Jack?” she whispered and hurried toward him. “Jack? Jack, are you all right?”

He pressed his hand over his heart, shaking his head.

“I’m calling 9-1-1.”

“No,” he gasped. “I’ll be all right. In a minute.”

Olivia wouldn’t chance that. She ran into the kitchen and grabbed the phone. She punched out the three numbers.

“9-1-1 Emergency,” a woman’s voice answered.

“This is Judge Olivia Lockhart,” she said as authoritatively as she could. “I need an aid car at 16 Lighthouse Road. My husband is having a heart attack.” She heard the panic in her own voice but couldn’t restrain it. It felt as if her own heart was in danger of failing.

“Judge Lockhart, please stay on the line.”

“No—my husband needs me. Just hurry! In the name of God, please hurry.” She dropped the phone, remembering something she’d read months ago—that an aspirin might help a heart attack victim.

Her hands trembled as she took the aspirin bottle from the kitchen cabinet and shook it into the palm of her hand. Several tablets tumbled out and in her panic, she flung what she didn’t need onto the floor.

Jack looked bad when she returned, lying prone and gasping for air. “Jack, oh, Jack,” she sobbed. She managed to get him to swallow the aspirin. A siren wailed in the distance, and she ran to unlock the front door.

An aid car parked outside the house and two EMTs dashed toward the front steps, carrying their equipment. Olivia’s relief was so great she nearly sank to her knees.

From that point on, events blurred in her mind. Both men worked on Jack for the first few minutes. He was unconscious by then and for one horrifying second she thought he’d died. Terror gripped her. She couldn’t breathe. Before she’d even noticed what was happening, Jack had been loaded onto a gurney and transported to the aid car.

“We’re losing him!” one of the technicians shouted.

“No!” Olivia screamed as she stood in the middle of her yard. “No—” Unable to watch, she covered her face. The aid car sped off.

She went back into the house, found her car keys and realized how badly she was shaking. In this condition, she’d be incapable of driving. It took three tries to dial Grace’s home number correctly.