Jennifer snapped off the radio with trembling fingers. Mechanically, she went to the closet and got her coat, then picked up her purse and keys.
Her only thought was to get to Lee as soon as possible.
* * * *
Jennifer remembered nothing of the drive to the hospital. She obeyed traffic signals and negotiated city streets in a daze. She wasn’t sure she could get in to see Lee when she arrived, but she knew she had to try.
There was a crush of reporters in the lobby of the hospital, and she pushed past them impatiently. A hospital spokesman was dealing with them, handing out the usual party line about “resting comfortably” and “everything possible being done.” Jennifer knew the truth was to be found elsewhere.
But she soon discovered that no one would tell her anything. She wasn’t a member of the family, or part of the team’s staff, and she couldn’t even find out what floor Lee was on. She was standing in the reception area, terrified, frustrated, when she saw Joe Thornridge speeding in a side door, dodging the press, his face hunched into his collar. They were listening to the administrator and didn’t see him.
Jennifer wanted to shout for him but feared attracting attention. She waited until he had turned down one of the corridors and then scurried after him as fast as she could.
He jumped when she grabbed his arm, whirling to face her.
“Joe, it’s me.”
His eyes widened. “Jenny! Why’d you pounce on me like that?”
“I didn’t want the reporters to see you. How is he?”
Joe’s plain face darkened with concern. “Not good, sugar, not good. He’s still out, and these doctors here can’t seem to figger why.”
The knot forming in Jennifer’s stomach lightened another notch. “What happened?” she asked.
“I screwed up, is what happened,” Joe said miserably. “I overshot him by a mile, but you know he’s always got to try for ‘em, even if they’re twenty feet over his head. Banks never woulda been able to nail him like that if he hadn’t been reachin’ for the moon.”
“Where is he?”
“Third floor. Intensive care.”
“Intensive care?” Jennifer repeated faintly. Suddenly she didn’t feel very well. She stopped abruptly and put her hand to her throat Air seemed to be in short supply.
Joe put his arm around her and steadied her against his side. “Hey, hey, li’l lady, take it easy.” He turned her to face him and put his hands on her shoulders, looking down at her. He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, just studied her expression. Then he stepped back and took her hand. “C’mon, sugar,” he said quietly. “We’ll go up and see what the story is.”
The ride on the elevator seemed endless. Jennifer clutched Joe’s hand as if it were a life preserver.
The scene outside intensive care was grim. Roy O’Grady and Coach Rankin sat on one of the visitors’ benches, furiously puffing cigarettes and whispering. They reminded Jennifer of French films from the sixties in which everyone smoked constantly and conversed in low, intent voices through a carcinogenic cloud. Dawn sat apart from them, her customary composure undisturbed, watching Jennifer’s approach calmly. Carl Danbury and his wife, a statuesque beauty with a curly Afro, stood off to one side. They didn’t look happy.
Mrs. Danbury took one look at Jennifer and said to Joe, “Get this woman a glass of water.”
Joe obliged, walking to a water cooler at the end of the hall, and Mrs. Danbury extended her hand. “You must be Jennifer. My husband told me about you. I’m Rita Danbury.”
Jennifer shook hands, wondering what Carl had said.
Mrs. Danbury led her to a seat next to Dawn and then sat herself, putting Jennifer in the middle between the two other women. Joe came back and silently handed Jennifer her drink.
“Did you call Sal Barbetti back?” Rita asked him.
Joe nodded.
“Is that the man who owns the restaurant?” Jennifer asked.
Joe nodded again.
“When I was there with Lee, he said something about a favor Lee did for his son. Do you know what that was?”
“Oh, his kid got into some trouble with the police when he was out to see his cousin Angelo. Lee vouched for the kid to the cops, took him in to live with him while the kid was on probation, saved him from a juvenile home, certain. Sal would do anythin’ for Lee.”
So would I, Jennifer thought, but that isn’t helping right now.
A doctor emerged from the private room, and everybody stood. He shook his head. “I’m sorry. He’s still unconscious.”
Everybody sat down again, dispiritedly. Rita Danbury patted Jennifer’s knee.
Dawn spoke up. “May I see him, Doctor?”
The doctor nodded. “Just for a minute,” he said. “Since you’re family.”
Jennifer turned to her, surprised.
Dawn met her glance. “I am a distant cousin,” she said. “But since the rest of Lee’s relatives are in Montana, I am taking responsibility.” She followed the doctor into the room.
Jennifer put her head back against the wall and closed her eyes.
When Dawn came out again after a short interval she said, “Would you let this young lady see him, please?” She indicated Jennifer. “Miss Gardiner is a close friend of Lee’s, and I would appreciate it.”
The doctor hesitated, and then agreed, reluctantly. “All right. But be quick about it.”
Jennifer pressed Dawn’s hand for a moment in gratitude and walked past the doctor into the antiseptic cubicle.
She paused at the foot of the bed, as the doctor gently pulled the door closed. At first glance Lee looked asleep, but closer examination revealed an unhealthy pallor beneath his coppery skin. His black hair was like an ink stain against the stark whiteness of the pillow. Traces of the blackout he had worn during the game remained under his eyes, making the sockets appear hollowed and sunken. His big hands, which could play Chopin, catch a football from any angle, and make love to Jennifer so expertly, lay curled on the sheet, relaxed and lifeless.
Jennifer stood looking for a few moments, and then went to the side of the bed, pushing back the lock of hair that always fell across his forehead.
“I love you,” she said, because she knew he couldn’t hear it. “Please wake up, and get well.”
Then she marched out of the room and down the hall to the lounge, pushing through the swinging door and walking straight to the window overlooking the parking lot. She cried silently, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.
She turned at a slight sound behind her. Joe was standing against the wall, his hands in his pockets, watching her. He held out his arms, and she ran into them.
“Oh, Joe,” Jennifer sobbed, “he isn’t going to die, is he?”
“No, no,” Joe murmured soothingly, rubbing her back as if he were burping a baby. “Course not, course not Need more’n a li’l ol’ bump on the head to take that Injun out.” Joe’s drawl was becoming more pronounced as the evening wore on. But it came and went, like the tide.
“But he looks so...still,” Jennifer said.
“Why, sure he does. That’s just because you’re not used to seein’ him stayin’ in one position that long. He’s always runnin’ aroun’ like his tail was on fire, and so now the comparison is scary, that’s all.” He pushed her hair out of her face and said, “C’mon back, now, with the others. You shouldn’t be alone in here.”
Jennifer followed him slowly back to the group.
* * * *
They kept vigil all night long. Rita Danbury went out for coffee at about 3 AM., and Joe called his wife twice, for moral support, since there was nothing to report. Jennifer fell asleep for an hour huddled under Carl’s coat and had just awakened when a nurse came out of Lee’s room, grinning from ear to ear. All eyes turned to her, and she pointed to the intern behind her, who announced smilingly, “He just regained consciousness for a few seconds.”
Carl punched Joe on the shoulder. Rita gestured to the rising sun through the window, and said, “Amen. Joy cometh in the morning.”
“What did he say?” Jennifer asked.
The intern rolled his eyes. “He said, ‘Am I in a hospital?’ I told him that he was, and he said, ‘Get me out of here.’”