“I would advise against any sudden movements,” the doctor said cheerfully, too late. “That’s quite a concussion you have there.”
“Is Drew all right?” Cindy almost screamed. At least she tried to scream. It came out like a croak.
“Mr. Fox is fine,” the doctor said soothingly, answering the question at last. “Or he will be, once we get him patched up.”
‘‘Patched up?” Cindy repeated faintly.
He looked at her for the first time, as a person rather than a patient, and saw the depth of her anxiety.
“Mr. Fox was stabbed in the arm, and one of my colleagues is putting in the stitches right now.”
“Stabbed,” she whispered. “Oh, my God.”
The doctor replaced the chart at the foot of the bed and then came to stand next to her. He patted her hand awkwardly.
“Don’t be upset,” he said. “Mr. Fox is an old hand at this sort of thing.”
“Well I’m not,” she mumbled, and he smiled.
“No doubt. But you shouldn’t worry unduly about your friend. He’s been with us before, you know. He shows up every few months with something like this.”
Cindy was silent, trying to put it all together.
“Aren’t you interested in what happened to you?” the doctor asked.
She nodded, and discovered that it hurt to do so. “Yes.”
“Apparently one of the men Mr. Fox put back in jail got out on parole. He found out where your friend lived and waited for him in that garage area. When you passed he jumped both of you.”
Cindy listened, too appalled to comment.
“He chopped you on the back of the neck first,” the doctor continued equably, as if reading the weather report, “to get you out of the way, and then went after Mr. Fox with a knife, slicing his arm. Mr. Fox knocked him out and then brought you here in his car, violating every posted speed limit in the process. He picked up a police escort of two squad cars and they all roared into emergency at the same time. And I understand that the admitting nurse was your roommate, and she put on quite a scene. It was all very colorful, I assure you.”
“Paula,” Cindy murmured. Oh, no.
“And,” the doctor said, warming to his tale, “Mr. Fox punched out an orderly he thought wasn’t tending to you fast enough. I must say he was more concerned about your welfare than the pint of blood he had lost along the way.”
“You were there?” Cindy asked, glad that she had slept through it.
“Only for the last part. The punching out, I mean. I missed your dramatic arrival by a few minutes but I heard all about it.”
I’m sure you did, Cindy thought gloomily. “Is Paula still here?”
“The nurse? Oh, no, we sent her home with a prescription for tranquilizers. I’m sure she’ll be in to visit tomorrow.”
“What’s wrong with me? You said it was a concussion?”
“In simple terms, yes. You sustained a blow that might have caused damage to the spine or the head. We’ll be doing some tests for intracranial pressure and a few other things tomorrow. I’m Doctor Markel, by the way, and I’ll be back to check on you in the morning.”
“I want to see Drew. Can I see him?”
Dr. Markel shook his head firmly. “Absolutely not. You need your rest and so does he.”
“What about tomorrow? Can I see him tomorrow?”
“We’ll talk about it then. Now settle down and the ward nurse will be in shortly to take your vital signs.”
Whatever they are, Cindy thought. She watched as Dr. Markel bustled out the door, closing it behind him, eliminating her view of the hall.
She lay back and stared at the ceiling.
There didn’t seem to be anything else to do.
* * * *
In the morning Cindy was shuffled around for various tests,which ranged from the uncomfortable to the ridiculous. Apparently she passed them all because around noon they began making noises about discharging her.
She asked about Fox five times and was put off with a range of excuses. She was told that he was doing well, but that she still could not see him.
Paula arrived after lunch, carrying a plant bigger than she was. She took one look at Cindy and burst into tears.
“Stop crying, Paula, I’m all right. What is that, a baby tree?”
Paula put the bush down and pulled a wad of tissues from her pocket. “I couldn’t believe it when they brought you in,” she began. “You were out cold, white as a sheet, and Fox was covered with blood, yelling for us to take care of you. He looked like something out of a horror movie, even his hair was matted with gore. I thought that you were dead and he was dying.”
“It’s over, Paula. We’re both all right.”
“No thanks to him!” Paula said fiercely. “I knew he would be trouble. Didn’t I tell you he would be trouble? He’s dangerous, those people he chases are dangerous. That guy who attacked you really meant business, you know. When they brought him back to jail he said he didn’t want to hire someone to go after Fox, he wanted the pleasure of taking care of him personally. ‘Taking care of him.’ His exact words.” She shuddered.
“Calm down, Paula. You’re getting hysterical.”
“When I think,” Paula barrelled on, ignoring her, “of all the time I spent trying to get you out of those libraries and into a social life. And this is how you take my advice? By jumping from the reference stacks into knife brawls with hoods. By running around with Andrew freakin’ Fox, of all people! Even the cops are afraid of him.” She threw up her hands. “It’s like going from singing in a church choir to running guns for the mafia.”
A nurse came in from the hall, glancing at Paula’s offering. “I see that Birnam Wood has arrived,” she said dryly.
Paula threw her a dirty look.
“Time to take your pulse,” she said, picking up Cindy’s wrist.
“How is Andrew Fox?” Cindy asked her.
The nurse smiled. “You two should work up a routine. Every time I go in his room he asks about you.”
“He might well ask,” Paula sniffed. “He’s the reason she’s here in the first place.”
The nurse glanced curiously at Paula. “Don’t you work down in emergency?” she asked.
Paula nodded. “I was there when the two of them came in.”
The nurse grinned. “Some show, huh?”
Paula turned to Cindy. “Your mother called, and I had to make up a story about your absence. I didn’t dare tell her the truth or she would have been flying down here to see you on the next plane.”
“Thanks,” Cindy said. “I appreciate it.” By comparison with Cindy’s mother, Paula was a rock, a bastion of stability.
The nurse left, and Paula stayed until visiting hours were over, settling down enough to discuss her budding romance with the pharmacist and a few other mundane topics. As soon as she left Dr. Markel appeared, with his little light in his hand.
“Look at the ceiling,” he commanded, and Cindy did. “Look at the floor,” he said, and she complied.
He stepped back, satisfied.
“Well, young lady, I think you can go home.”
A different nurse came in and handed him something to sign.
“I want to see Andrew Fox,” Cindy said.
The doctor and the nurse exchanged glances.
“If you discharge me, I’ll just visit him tonight,” Cindy said reasonably.
“I don’t think so,” Dr. Markel said. “He doesn’t want to see you. We have direct instructions not to permit you in his room, and we have to follow the wishes of the patient in these cases.” He scribbled his signature and handed the clipboard back to the nurse.
“He won’t see me,” Cindy whispered, stunned. She couldn’t believe it.
“I’m sorry,” the doctor said, as the nurse looked on sympathetically. “But that’s what Mr. Fox wants, and we can’t risk upsetting him while he’s still in our care.” He eyed her thoughtfully. “Maybe he’ll change his mind when he’s feeling better.”
“But why?”
Dr. Markel shrugged. “I don’t know. He hasn’t said much of anything really, except to ask about you. I must say it seems odd that he is so interested in your condition and yet doesn’t want to see you for himself. But then, he’s an odd fellow.”