The Second Ship (The Rho Agenda #1)(25)
At that moment, her father reappeared with two tiny, cone-shaped water cups in his hands.
He shrugged, causing some of the cold water to spill on Heather’s hand as she reached for a cup. “Sorry. It was the best I could do on short notice. I did ask the nurse to get you a tall glass of water, though. She was quite upset that she didn’t already have a jug in here.”
Heather downed both cupfuls of water, equations coming and going as she lost and regained her concentration. Smiling, she crushed the small cones of paper in one hand and handed them back to her father. “Thanks, Dad. That was so good.”
“You’re welcome. Glad to see you looking so much better—awake, for one thing. Mark and Jennifer stopped by several times, along with Fred and Linda. They wanted to stay, but we sent them home saying we’d send word once your condition changed.”
At that moment the doctor walked in. Heather’s mother moved aside as he leaned across the bed. Pulling a small penlight from his pocket, the doctor promptly began doing his best to blind Heather by holding her eyelids open and shining the bright light in first one eye and then the other.
“Good morning, young lady. I’m Dr. Johanson,” he said, pulling out his stethoscope. “You gave us quite a scare.”
Heather gasped as Dr. Johanson applied the stethoscope to her chest. Did he store it in the freezer between uses?
“Nice, deep breath. Now, give me another. Okay, again. Very good.” The doctor grinned and straightened up, revealing a handsome face complete with blue eyes and a shock of unruly blond hair. He looked not a day older than twenty-five, though Heather figured he had to be at least in his thirties.
If she had to have a doctor, Heather thought, it could be worse.
Doctor Johanson pulled the clipboard from the end of her bed and scribbled something down.
“I was going to schedule a CAT scan and an electroencephalogram today, but it looks like that’s no longer necessary. I’ll have the nurse swing by and get your vitals, and we’ll keep you around for another night. Barring something unusual, you’ll be home tomorrow.”
Heather pushed herself up into a seated position as her mom stacked pillows behind her. “Can’t I get out of here tonight? That gives you all day to watch me.”
Dr. Johanson smiled. “I don’t think one extra night here will hurt you. I like playing things safe.”
Her mother patted her hand. “Don’t worry, dear. I’ll stay with you until they kick me out.”
“And I’ll pass word to the Smythes,” her father said. “After school, I’m sure Mark and Jennifer will camp out here.”
After a meal of the hospital's finest cuisine, something vaguely resembling a veal cutlet, Heather slept again.
The remainder of the day passed slowly. In those rare moments when her mother was not beside the bed chatting with her, Heather practiced controlling her visualizations. She found relaxing her mind to be a very tiring activity. Apparently, in its natural state, her mind was full of mathematical questions, which were now being automatically answered. She would have to work to make the natural tendency stop.
Luckily, by the time Mark and Jennifer swept into the room to deliver big hugs, Heather felt in better control. The vertigo effect was gone. Unfortunately, with parents and doctors constantly walking in and out of the room, any discussion of the starship was out of the question.
At last, as the twins turned to depart, Mark called over his shoulder, “We’ll see you at school tomorrow, right?”
“I’m planning on it,” Heather replied.
“Well, plan again,” her mother said. “You’re staying home for a couple of days. At least until I am satisfied you are fully recovered.”
“Mom!”
“That’s final.”
“Don’t worry,” Jennifer said. “We’ll stop in every chance we get.”
“Thanks.”
With a wave, the twins disappeared out the door.
As Heather’s parents prepared to leave for the night, the gorgeous Dr. Johanson stopped by and removed her IV. Then, after her mom and dad had kissed her good-bye, for the first time in a long while, Heather fell into a comfortable, deep, dreamless sleep.
Chapter 16
The school day started inauspiciously enough. The morning was bright and clear, and Heather had arisen at her regular time to await the sunrise. Numerous friends and acquaintances stopped her in the hall to ask about how she was feeling and to tell her how happy they were to see her again. Even the teachers went out of their way to tell her they were glad to see her back—except for Ms. Gorsky, whom Heather doubted knew the concept of happiness.
Heather’s ability to maintain a relaxed state of mind that eliminated the mathematic equations from her head was improving in fits and starts. She had almost messed up and blurted out “1,123” when her dad spilled salt on the breakfast table while trying to fill the shaker. She had just known that there were 1,123 individual grains and another 465 that had spilled off onto the floor. It was weird, but as easy as people could glance at a group of oranges and think “3,” she could glance at a pile of salt and think “1,123.”
When she had started rubbing her temples, her mother had asked if she had a headache and suggested that perhaps she should stay home another day or two. Heather managed to mollify her mother with a quick grin and an explanation that she was just dreading having to tell everyone at school that she had passed out for no apparent reason.