Rage of Angels (32 page)

Jennifer was awakened by the soft drumming of the early morning rain, and she lay in bed listening to it gently hammering against the house.

She glanced at the alarm clock. It was time to begin her day.

Half an hour later, Jennifer walked downstairs into the dining room to join Joshua for breakfast. He was not there.

Mrs. Mackey came in from the kitchen. “Good morning, Mrs. Parker.”

“Good morning. Where’s Joshua?”

“He seemed so tired that I thought I’d let him sleep a little longer. He doesn’t have to start back to school until tomorrow.”

Jennifer nodded. “Good idea.”

She ate her breakfast and went upstairs to say good-bye to Joshua. He was lying in his bed, sound asleep.

Jennifer sat on the edge of the bed and said softly, “Hey, sleepyhead, do you want to say good-bye?”

He slowly opened one eye. “Sure, friend. ‘Bye.” His voice
was heavy with sleep. “Do I have to get up?”

“No. Tell you what. Why don’t you laze around today? You can stay inside and have fun. It’s raining too hard to go outdoors.”

He nodded drowsily. “Okay, Mom.”

His eyes closed again and he was asleep.

Jennifer spent the afternoon in court, and by the time she finished and arrived home it was after seven o’clock. The rain, which had been a drizzle all day, was coming down in torrents, and as Jennifer drove up the driveway, the house looked like a besieged castle surrounded by a gray, churning moat.

Mrs. Mackey opened the front door and helped Jennifer out of her dripping raincoat.

Jennifer shook the damp out of her hair and said, “Where’s Joshua?”

“He’s asleep.”

Jennifer looked at Mrs. Mackey with concern. “Has he been sleeping all day?”

“Heavens, no. He’s been up and around. I fixed his dinner, but when I went upstairs to get him he had dozed off again, so I just thought I’d let him be.”

“I see.”

Jennifer went upstairs into Joshua’s room and quietly entered. Joshua was asleep. Jennifer leaned over and touched his forehead. He had no fever; his color was normal. She felt his pulse. There was nothing wrong except her imagination. She was letting it run away with her. Joshua had probably been playing too hard all day and it was natural that he was tired. Jennifer slipped out of the room and returned downstairs.

“Why don’t you make some sandwiches for him, Mrs. Mackey? Leave them at the side of the bed. He can have them when he wakes up.”

Jennifer had dinner at her desk, working on briefs, preparing a trial deposition for the next day. She thought about calling Michael to tell him she was back, but she was hesitant about speaking to him so soon after the night with Adam…He was too perceptive. It was after midnight when she finished reading. She stood up and stretched, trying to relieve the tension in her back and neck. She put her papers in her attaché case, turned out the lights and went upstairs. She passed by Joshua’s room and looked in. He was still asleep.

The sandwiches on the stand beside the bed were untouched.

The following morning when Jennifer went down to breakfast, Joshua was there, dressed and ready for school.

“Morning, Mom.”

“Good morning, darling. How are you feeling?”

“Great. I was really tired. Must have been that Mexican sun.”

“Must have been.”

“Acapulco’s really neat. Can we go back there on my next vacation?”

“I don’t know why not. You glad to be getting back to school?”

“I refuse to answer on the grounds that it might incriminate me.”

In the middle of the afternoon, Jennifer was taking a deposition when Cynthia buzzed.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but there’s a Mrs. Stout on the line and—”

Joshua’s homeroom teacher. “I’ll take it.”

Jennifer picked up the telephone. “Hello, Mrs. Stout. Is anything wrong?”

“Oh no, everything’s fine, Mrs. Parker. I didn’t mean to
alarm you. I just thought I might suggest to you that it would be a good idea if Joshua got more sleep.”

“What do you mean?”

“He slept through most of his classes today. Miss Williams and Mrs. Toboco both mentioned it. Perhaps you could see to it that he gets to bed a bit earlier.”

Jennifer stared at the telephone. “I—yes, I’ll do that.”

Slowly, she replaced the receiver and turned to the people in the room watching her.

“I—I’m sorry,” she said. “Excuse me.”

She hurried out to the reception room. “Cynthia, find Dan. Ask him to finish the deposition for me. Something has come up.”

“All—” Jennifer was already out the door.

She drove home like a madwoman, exceeding the speed limit, going through red lights, her mind filled with visions of something terrible having happened to Joshua. The drive seemed interminable and when her house appeared in the distance, Jennifer half expected to see the driveway filled with ambulances and police cars. The driveway was deserted. Jennifer pulled up beside the front door and hurried into the house.

“Joshua!”

He was in the den watching a baseball game on television.

“Hi, Mom. You’re home early. Did you get fired?”

Jennifer stood in the doorway staring at him, her body flooding with relief. She felt like an idiot.

“You should have seen the last inning. Craig Swan was fantastic!”

“How do you feel, son?”

“Great.”

Jennifer put her hand on his forehead. He had no fever.

“You sure you’re all right?”

“Of course I am. Why do you look so funny? You worried about something? You want to have a man-to-man talk?”

She smiled. “No, darling, I just—does anything hurt you?”

He groaned. “I’ll say. The Mets are losing six to five. You know what happened in the first inning?”

He began an excited replay of his favorite team’s exploits. Jennifer stood there looking at him, adoring him, thinking,
Damn my imagination! Of course he’s all right.

“You go on and watch the rest of the game. I’ll see about dinner.”

Jennifer went into the kitchen, lighthearted. She decided to make a banana cake, one of Joshua’s favorite desserts.

Thirty minutes later, when Jennifer returned to the study, Joshua was lying on the floor, unconscious.

The ride to Blinderman Memorial Hospital seemed to take forever. Jennifer sat in the back of the ambulance clutching Joshua’s band. An attendant was holding an oxygen mask over Joshua’s face. He had not regained consciousness. The ambulance’s siren was keening, but the traffic was heavy and the ambulance went slowly while curious people gaped through the windows, staring at the white-faced woman and the unconscious boy. It seemed to Jennifer a sickening violation of privacy.

“Why can’t they use one-way glass in ambulances?” Jennifer demanded.

The attendant looked up, startled. “Ma’am?”

“Nothing…nothing.”

After what seemed an eternity, the ambulance pulled up at the emergency entrance at the back of the hospital. Two interns were waiting at the door. Jennifer stood there helpless, watching as Joshua was removed from the ambulance and transferred to a gurney.

An attendant asked, “Are you the boy’s mother?”

“Yes.”

“This way, please.”

What followed was a blurred kaleidoscope of sound and
light and movement. Jennifer watched Joshua being wheeled down a long, white corridor to an X-ray room.

She started to follow, but the attendant said, “You’ll have to check him in first.”

A thin woman at the front desk was saying to Jennifer, “How do you plan to pay for this? Do you have Blue Cross or some other form of insurance?”

Jennifer wanted to scream at the woman, wanted to get back to Joshua’s side, but she forced herself to answer the questions, and when they were over and Jennifer had filled out several forms, the woman allowed Jennifer to leave.

She hurried down to the X-ray room and went inside. The room was empty. Joshua was gone. Jennifer ran back to the hallway, looking around frantically. A nurse passed by.

Jennifer clutched her arm. “Where’s my son?”

The nurse said, “I don’t know. What’s his name?”

“Joshua. Joshua Parker.”

“Where did you leave him?”

“He—he was having X rays—he—” Jennifer was beginning to be incoherent. “What have they done with him! Tell me!”

The nurse took a closer look at Jennifer and said, “Wait here, Mrs. Parker. I’ll see if I can find out.”

She came back a few minutes later. “Dr. Morris would like to see you. Come this way, please.”

Jennifer found that her legs were trembling. It was difficult to walk.

“Are you all right?” The nurse was staring at her.

Her mouth was dry with fear. “I want my son.”

They came to a room filled with strange-looking equipment. “Wait here, please.”

Dr. Morris came in a few moments later. He was a very fat man with a red face and nicotine stains on his fingers. “Mrs. Parker?”

“Where’s Joshua?”

“Step in here a moment, please.” He led Jennifer into a
small office across from the room with the strange-looking equipment. “Please sit down.”

Jennifer took a seat. “Joshua is—it’s—it’s nothing serious, is it, Doctor?”

“We don’t know yet.” His voice was surprisingly soft for a man of his size. “I need some information. How old is your son?”

“He’s only seven.”

The
only
had slipped out, a reprimand to God.

“Was he in an accident recently?”

A vision flashed through Jennifer’s mind of Joshua turning to wave and losing his balance and hitting the pilings. “He—he had a water skiing accident. He bumped his head.”

The doctor was making notes. “How long ago was that?”

“I—a few—a few days ago. In Acapulco.” It was difficult to think straight.

“Did he seem all right after the accident?”

“Yes. He had a lump on the back of his head, but otherwise he—he seemed fine.”

“Did you notice any lapse of memory?”

“No.”

“Any personality changes?”

“No.”

“No convulsions or stiff neck or headache?”

“No.”

The doctor stopped writing and looked up at Jennifer. “I’ve had an X ray done, but it’s not enough. I want to do a CAT scan.”

“A—?”

“It’s a new computerized machine from England that takes pictures of the inside of the brain. I may want to make some additional tests afterward. Is that all right with you?”

“If-if-if”—she was stammering—“it’s necessary. It-it won’t hurt him, will it?”

“No. I may also need to do a spinal puncture.”

He was frightening her.

She forced the question out of her mouth. “What do you think it is? What’s the matter with my son?” She did not recognize the sound of her own voice.

“I’d prefer not to make any guesses, Mrs. Parker. We’ll know in an hour or two. He’s awake now, if you’d like to see him.”

“Oh, please!”

A nurse led her to Joshua’s room. He was lying in bed, a pale small figure. He looked up as Jennifer entered.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi there.” She sat at the edge of his bed. “How do you feel?”

“Kind of funny. It’s like I’m not here.”

Jennifer reached out and took his hand. “You’re here, darling. And I’m with you.”

“I can see two of everything.”

“Did—did you tell the doctor that?”

“Uh-huh. I saw two of him. I hope he doesn’t send you two bills.”

Jennifer gently put her arms around Joshua and hugged him. His body seemed frail and shrunken.

“Mom?”

“Yes, darling?”

“You won’t let me die, will you?”

Her eyes were suddenly stinging. “No, Joshua, I won’t let you die. The doctors are going to make you well and then I’m going to take you home.”

“Okay. And you promised we can go back to Acapulco sometime.”

“Yes. As soon as—”

He was asleep.

Dr. Morris came into the room with two men wearing white jackets.

“We’d like to begin the tests now, Mrs. Parker. They won’t take long. Why don’t you wait in here and make yourself comfortable?”

Jennifer watched them take Joshua out of the room. She sat on the edge of the bed, feeling as though she had been physically beaten. All the energy had drained out of her. She sat there, staring at the white wall, in a trance.

A moment later a voice said, “Mrs. Parker—”

Jennifer looked up and Dr. Morris was there.

“Please go ahead and do the tests,” Jennifer said.

He looked at her oddly. “We’ve finished.”

Jennifer looked at the clock on the wall. She had been sitting there for two hours. Where had the time gone? She looked into the doctor’s face, reading it, searching for the small, telltale signs that would reveal whether he had good news or bad news for her. How many times had she done this before, reading the faces of jurors, knowing in advance from their expressions what the verdict would be? A hundred times? Five hundred? Now, because of the panic raging within her, Jennifer could tell nothing. Her body began to shake uncontrollably.

Dr. Morris said, “Your son is suffering from a subdural hematoma. In layman’s terms, there has been a massive trauma to his brain.”

Her throat was suddenly so dry that no words could come out.

“Wh—” She swallowed and tried again. “What does that—?” She could not finish the sentence.

“I want to operate immediately. I’ll need your permission.”

He was playing some kind of cruel prank on her. In a moment he was going to smile and tell her that Joshua was fine. I was just punishing you, Mrs. Parker, for wasting my
time. There’s nothing wrong with your son except that he needs sleep. He’s a growing boy. You mustn’t take up our time when we have patients to look after who are really ill. He was going to smile at her and say, “You can take your son home now.”

Dr. Morris was going on. “He’s young and his body seems strong. There’s every reason to hope the operation will be a success.”

He was going to cut open her baby’s brain, tear into it with his sharp instruments, perhaps destroy whatever it was that made Joshua, Joshua. Perhaps—kill him.

“No!” It was an angry cry.

“You won’t give us permission to operate?”

“I—” Her mind was so confused she could not think. “Wh—what will happen if you don’t operate?”