Chapter 21: The Waiting Room

Eleanor was sitting up on the gurney in the emergency room, in her good wool suit, glaring at a monitor.

"I fainted at the breakfast table," she told me. "That's all. Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm one of your patients."

"You are one of my patients."

I read the strip over the nurse's shoulder.

Atrial fibrillation, fast, and her pressure was low.

It was not the valve I had replaced.

It was only a heart that had been hit too hard, too many times, in one autumn.

"We're admitting you," I said. "Tonight, they'll shock the rhythm back. It's short, and you'll sleep through it."

"And you'll be there?"

"I'll be there the whole time."

"Good." She shut her eyes. "Then I won't be frightened."

I stepped into the corridor to sign the orders.

Scott was standing by the nurses' station, out of breath, with his coat open and his hair wild.

He had run from the cab.

"Is she..."

"She's stable. It's a rhythm problem. They'll treat it tonight."

His shoulders came down so fast that I thought he might fold.

"Can I see her?"

"Family only, and one at a time."

"I'm her grandson."

"Then you can see her when she's asleep." I looked at him. "Go home, Scott. It'll be hours."

"I sold my home."

"You what?"

"There's a very good hotel on Michigan Avenue." He almost smiled. "I'd rather sit here, if the hospital doesn't object."

I looked at him a moment.

"Suit yourself," I said.

I did not tell him which waiting room.

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