Chapter 9: Bed Fourteen

By seven-thirty Timmy was awake and asking for a popsicle.

The ER charge nurse said the cardiac floor had a bed ready, number fourteen, and a transport team was on the way.

I stood by the bay with my bag over my shoulder and my hands shaking from the night.

Dane stood ten feet away in the corridor with the lab report folded in his fist.

A few nurses had drifted up to the desk, pretending to chart.

Demi stood behind him, very still.

"I've made a decision," Dane said.

He didn't say it to me.

He said it to the charge nurse, in a voice that carried.

"Ms. Brewer's room in the family wing is released as of noon.

The cost guarantee on this patient is withdrawn, and her case goes back to the committee."

The nurse's pen stopped.

"Sir?"

"You heard me."

"Dane," I said.

"The surgical date stands on the clinical schedule. The foundation will decide whether to fund it."

"The foundation has already decided," Demi said quietly. "It decided yesterday."

She turned to me, gentle as a hostess.

"Housekeeping will bring a box for your things, Ms. Brewer."

A nurse at the desk said, "I'll pack them myself," and glared at her.

Dane nodded without looking at either of them.

Something in my chest went cold and clear.

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