Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
“Of course.” I said without hesitation.
I drove, which I hadn’t done in months. Ian sat next to me, staring out the window, his forehead lined with concern.
After a few attempts at light conversation, I gave up and concentrated on steering his SUV through the dark streets. I let him out at the ER entrance and then went to park the car. It was a good thing the lot was relatively empty because I wasn’t used to trying to park a car this big.
As much as I wanted to support Ian, I couldn’t help slowing down as I approached the entrance to the emergency room. I hadn’t been inside a hospital since my grandpa died. That hadn’t been here. He’d passed at a much smaller facility in Sloane’s Summit where the nursing home was. But still, I couldn’t help thinking of him at every step along the way.
Ian was at the reception desk, and the tired-looking woman behind it was giving him directions. He waited when he spotted me. “They’ve got him in imaging now. We can wait upstairs in the ICU waiting room.” He headed toward the elevators but then stopped before we reached it. “You don’t have to stay. It might be a long night.”
“I’m staying.” I moved around him and pressed the elevator button.
On the fifth floor, we found an empty little waiting room with padded chairs and a few loveseats. Ian stopped, as if even such a simple decision was too overwhelming at the moment. So I sat down on one of the loveseats and then he joined me.
“I’m sorry this happened,” I said.
“Me too.”
“Do they know how bad it is?”
“It doesn’t sound good.” The look of worry on his face nearly broke my heart. “The imaging will tell them if it’s an ischemic or hemorrhagic stroke.”
I didn’t know what either of those words meant, but he apparently did, judging by the sadness in his eyes. I wondered if in this situation, it was worse or better that he had basic medical knowledge. He wasn’t in med school yet, but he was majoring in biology, and I’d seen the medical texts he kept on his desk.
A new thought occurred to me. “How come they told you that?”
“I guess so I would understand the seriousness of it.”
“No, that’s not what I mean. Aren’t there privacy laws?” After all, though Ian was very fond of his advisor, he wasn’t family.
Ian looked older as he twisted his body to face me. “I’m not proud of this, but I named-dropped.”
“What?”
He sighed, looking tired in a way that had nothing to do with the lateness of the hour. “Over on the other side of the building there’s a cancer center, built and funded by the Forsythe family. All it would’ve taken was one phone call to Bennett, and the staff here would’ve told me anything I asked. Turns out I didn’t need to make the call—just the threat of doing it was enough.”
He sounded so miserable that I took his hand in both of mine. “Well at least now they’ll keep you informed.”
He shook his head. “I was a bully down there, throwing my weight around. I never wanted to be that kind of person, but maybe if you’re surrounded by people like that, you eventually become one of them.”
I couldn’t hide my surprise as I stared at his tired face. He was worried, he was tired, and he was concerned that a man he cared about was going to die. And yet, he was still concerned about the ethics of his actions.
He was such a good man.
“You’re not like them.” Though he didn’t acknowledge it, I knew he’d been talking about Bennett, and maybe Grant too. It wasn’t hard to see why he didn’t want to be like them, and I understood now why he was upset. In his concern for someone else, he’d become the kind of man he disliked.
Temporarily.
“You get a pass when it’s someone you care about.” I drew his hand closer and pulled it on my lap, still holding it in mine. “You see all the time on TV how a family member is upset, demanding answers from the doctor that’s wheeling away their loved one on a stretcher. They’re rude and they’re pushy because they’re scared. You wouldn’t blame them for that, would you?”
He sighed, his head bowed, his gaze on the spot where our hands were linked. “No. I guess I wouldn’t.”
“Good.”
He leaned back, resting his head on the back of the sofa. I scooted closer, and he lifted his arm, putting it over my shoulders. I leaned against him feeling his warm body supporting me.
And we waited together.
It was a long night. Thanks to Ian’s name dropping before, we got regular updates, which Ian understood but I didn’t. But it sounded like it was pretty touch and go for the older man.