Robin Cook - Host

On the bureau was a picture of her that had been taken the same weekend at Folly Beach as her picture of him. She appeared to be as happy as he did in his, and she wondered whether she would ever feel that way again. Just as she had done back in her dorm room, she turned the photo over. Looking at it could only bring pain when she came back to the room later that night. She was going to sleep there to feel close to Carl and help convince herself she wasn’t as selfish as she worried.

Next, Lynn made her way down the second-floor hallway to one of the smaller bedrooms that Carl had turned into a study. It was a large house with another three bedrooms up on the third floor, and two more in the dormered attic space. The bedroom Carl had turned into his work space had a door out onto the veranda, as most of the bedrooms did. The room had a very masculine feel. It was paneled in dark mahogany. One wall had floor-to-ceiling bookcases in which one shelf was filled with sports trophies he had won, starting with Pee Wee Football and Little League Baseball.

Lynn sat down at Carl’s very neat, expansive desk and turned on his PC. She got her cell phone, legal tablet, and pencils out of her backpack. As the PC was warming up, she scrolled through her contacts in her phone until she got to Giordano and tapped his work number. Knowing herself and her tendency to put off unpleasant chores, she wanted to get it over with so that she could concentrate on immersing herself in Carl’s medical situation.

The phone was answered by a secretary. Lynn gave her name and said that the call was personal. A moment later Frank was on the line.

“What’s up?” Frank asked. Lynn sensed his concern. She knew he had taken Carl to the hospital that morning.

“I’m afraid there has been a complication...” Lynn began.

“Don’t tell me!” Frank interrupted. “Carl had a premonition things were not going to go right. What happened?”

“There was a problem with the anesthesia,” Lynn said. “His oxygen level dropped during the surgery, and he hasn’t woken up. He’s in a coma.”

“Oh, fuck!” Frank blurted out. “What’s going to happen?”

“I spoke briefly with a neurology resident who was on the case. He’s convinced there was brain damage. There’s going to be an MRI this afternoon.”

“Double fuck! Holy shit!”

“I’m sorry to lay this on you,” Lynn continued. “I can’t tell you any more. I’m in the dark myself. I didn’t know enough to even ask the right questions, but I’m going to rectify that tonight. Maybe tomorrow I’ll know more. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Please do! Jesus Christ! Do his parents know?” Frank and gone to elementary school and high school with Carl and knew the parents well.

“They know.”

“Oh, my God! You must be devastated. I’m so sorry, Lynn. How are you doing?”

“I’m a basket case,” Lynn admitted. “On top of everything else I feel responsible, since I recommended the surgeon.” Her concern about her being selfish went through her mind, but she didn’t mention it.

“That’s crap!” Frank said without hesitation, mirroring Michael’s reaction. “This is not your fault. No fucking way! I mean, I could just as much say it was my fault because I was the one who drove him to the hospital. That’s bullshit! Give yourself a break!”

“I’ll try, but I’m overwhelmed. The problem is I’m not fully in control of my feelings.”

“Where are you now?” he asked.

“I’m here at Carl’s. Which reminds me: you are off the hook about Pep. I’ll see to her needs.”

“Do you want me to come and pick you up? You could stay with Naomi and me.” Frank had a single house similar to Carl’s and not that far away. “You can stay as long as you want. We have plenty of room.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I want to stay here.”

“Are you sure?”

“As sure as I can be at the moment. I’m going to take it hour by hour, day by day. I’ll call you if I need to talk. Meanwhile I’m going to occupy myself learning as much as I can about his medical situation.”

“You have my cell. Call me anytime you want. Truly: anytime. It doesn’t matter. And if you don’t mind, I’ll check in with you later this evening.”

“I don’t mind,” Lynn said.

“Okay, catch you later. And I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Lynn said before she clicked off.

Turning her attention back to the computer screen, Lynn first made sure of the Internet connection, then brought up Google Chrome. Before she could initiate the first of what was going to be many searches, she jumped in fright. Sudden movement off to her left caused her to leap to her feet, sending the desk chair skidding backward on its casters and crashing loudly into the bookcase. A few books that had been balanced upright to display their front covers fell to the floor. The cat who had initiated this chain reaction howled in equivalent fright and fled the room.

“Holy shit,” Lynn voiced, pressing an open palm against her chest. Her heart was racing. For the second time the cat had innocently enough terrorized her, this time by leaping up onto the desk. The intensity of her reaction gave her an idea of the extent of her anxiety. She bent over and picked up the volumes that had fallen and returned them to the shelf. Next she pulled the chair back to the desk and sat down.

For a few moments she let herself recover before getting to work. She had three main areas of interest. The first was the incidence of complications involving anesthesia. The second was the specialty of anesthesia itself so that she could go over Carl’s record with full understanding. She particularly wanted to know about problems related to hypoxia or low oxygen and what could cause them. Apparently that was the current explanation of Carl’s delayed return to consciousness. And finally she wanted to read about the Glasgow Coma Scale.

A few minutes later Pep wandered back into the room. This time when she jumped up onto the desk to sprawl on its surface, Lynn didn’t even notice. She was deep into a piece on hospital complications. The statistics floored her and even embarrassed her about the profession she had been working so hard to enter. She had known complications were a problem in some hospitals but nowhere near the extent that she now knew existed. It made her wonder why there had never been a formal lecture about it or even any discussions in her preceptor groups. The more she read, the more shocked she became.

Lynn had been furiously taking notes and suddenly needed an eraser. Assuming there would be one in the desk, she pulled out the drawer to look. Not unexpectedly there were several. She picked one up and was about to close the drawer when her eye caught something else. It was a small signature-blue Tiffany box.

Lynn froze, staring at the box. After a moment’s hesitation and with a shaking hand, she reached into the drawer and lifted it out. Sliding off the white bow, she opened it. Inside, as she guessed, was a small, black, felt-covered box containing a diamond engagement ring. With a loud snap, Lynn closed it, put it back in its blue carton, and replaced it in the drawer.

For a moment she stared off into space. Now she knew for sure there was going to be an engagement that had been derailed by the events that morning. For a moment she struggled with a combination of overwhelming sadness and paralyzing anger, each trying to best the other. But instead of giving vent to either, she closed the desk drawer to return to her Internet search. She felt a renewed commitment to the task of finding out exactly what had happened to Carl and who was responsible as a way to avoid even thinking about lost opportunity and the disturbing freedom issue.