In Your Dreams (Blue Heron #4)(104)

“I know what it is, but I’m fine, Jeremy. Thanks.”

“Okay. Glad to hear it.” He signed a paper. “Ice, Tylenol if you need it, come to the office in a week for stitch removal.” Jeremy smiled. “Good to see you, even under the circumstances.”

“You, too, Jer.” He gave Jeremy a manly hug. The guy was practically part of the family. As decent as they came, too.

Emmaline wasn’t back yet, and Jack found himself going to the elevator. Got in, pushed the button. The elevator rose, and six seconds later, the doors opened to a sign.

“Fourth Floor, Intensive Care Unit. Please speak quietly.”

The hall was quiet except for the beeping of machines and, farther down, the murmur from the nurses’ station. The squeak of rubber-soled shoes. The hiss of a ventilator.

Room 401 had a whiteboard hanging on the door. McGowan, H. was written in green marker. Jack could see a bed and someone sleeping (or dead). Across the hall, 402, Zaccharias, M., 403, Blake, S., 404, Humbert, L.

Room 405, Deiner, J.

The door was open a few inches.

He shouldn’t be here.

His heart was smashing in his chest, hurling itself against his ribs like that bobcat.

If he opened the door just a little more, he’d be able to see something. Josh’s feet, maybe.

The image of Josh Deiner, sitting up in bed, texting on his phone or watching TV or eating Jell-O, came to him so fast and hard that Jack’s knees nearly buckled.

“Can I help you?”

Jack jumped. He hadn’t even heard the nurse behind him. “Jane MacGregor, APRN,” her name tag said. Jack was aware suddenly that he was drenched in sweat.

“How’s he doing?” Jack whispered.

Her face softened. “Are you a family member?”

“No.”

“Then I can’t discuss—”

“How dare you? Get out! Get out!”

Josh Deiner’s mother stood in the doorway, her voice like breaking glass. “How dare you come here? Get away from my son!”

“Mrs. Deiner, I just wanted—”

“Get away from us!” she screamed, and shoes were squeaking on the floors and visitors’ heads popped out of rooms. “He’s here because of you! How dare you intrude like this!”

The nurse took Jack’s arm and led him down the hall, and Jack thought he might fall; he wasn’t sure his legs were working right. Maybe it was the hit on the head, but he was wrong, something was wrong, and Josh, please, please don’t die.

The elevator doors opened, and there was Emmaline.

“There you are,” she said.

“There’s been a disturbance here,” said the nurse. “Security’s on their way up.”

“Josh Deiner’s room?” Em asked. “Jack here is the one who pulled him out of the lake.”

“Oh, I see.” The woman looked at Jack, her face kind. “I’m sorry, but I still have to ask you to leave.”

“We’re going,” Em said. “You won’t need Security. I’m Manningsport P.D.”

“What you did was amazing, by the way,” the nurse said softly. “I’m sorry about the Deiners.” Then she walked back down the hall.

Jack could hear Mrs. Deiner sobbing, the loneliest, most heart-wrenching sound on earth...a mother mourning her only child.

Josh wasn’t getting any better. Jack didn’t need a doctor to tell him that.

“Let’s go home, big guy,” Emmaline said. She pushed the button for the elevator, and the doors opened.

When they closed behind them and the elevator started to move, Jack put his arms around her, held her close and didn’t say anything.

When they reached the lobby, he let her go and saw that her eyes were wet.

“I’ll tell Angela I’m staying at your place,” she said, and that was all.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

EMMALINE WAS SLURPING down her third cup of coffee a few days later. It was her day off, and she and Angela had been up late the night before with the Bitter Betrayeds, who’d graciously accepted Angela as an honorary member, despite declaring her “too beautiful and too nice.”

The group was full of news—Jeanette O’Rourke was going on a cruise with Ronnie Petrosinsky, the Chicken King. Allison was indeed going back to the irritatingly perfect Charles, who’d proven his love by sending her a gift-wrapped box of cookie jar fragments. Shelayne announced that she’d just been approved as an adoptive parent, and there were hugs and more Peach Sunrises and a bottle of champagne.

And lastly, Em was grilled on how Jack was in bed. Her silence had brought on some fierce (and very colorful) speculation.

“She’s blushing,” Grace had pointed out, coming in from the kitchen with a fresh pitcher of Peach Sunrises. “You know what that means. Jack is a dirty, dirty boy.” Coming from their senior citizen member, this had caused shrieks of laughter from the women.

“Maybe it’s time you changed the name of your group,” Angela had suggested. “None of you seems particularly bitter or betrayed.”

That had given the rest of them pause.

“Call yourself the Sunrise Girls,” Ange had suggested. “These cocktails are simply wonderful, Grace.”

It was surely their best meeting yet. No one had mentioned the book they’d neglected to read, but that was never really the point.