“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 mytime. 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?”

Dr. Morris said simply, “Your son will die. Is the boy’s father here?”

Adam! Oh, how she wanted Adam, how she wanted to feel his arms around her, comforting her. She wanted him to tell her that everything was going to be all right, that Joshua was going to be fine.

“No,” Jennifer replied finally, “he’s not. I—I give you my permission. Go ahead with the operation.”

Dr. Morris filled out a form and handed it to her. “Would you sign this, please?”

Jennifer signed the paper without looking at it. “How long will it take?”

“I won’t know until I open—” He saw the look on her face. “Until I begin the operation. Would you like to wait here?”

“No!” The walls were closing in on her, choking her. She could not breathe. “Is there a place where I can pray?”

It was a small chapel with a painting of Jesus over the altar. The room was deserted except for Jennifer. She knelt, but she was unable to pray. She was not a religious person; why would God listen to her now? She tried to quiet her mind so that she could talk to God, but her fear was too strong; it had taken complete possession of her. She kept berating herself mercilessly. If I only hadn’t taken Joshua to Acapulco, she thought…If I hadn’t let him go water skiing…If I hadn’t trusted that Mexican doctor…If. If. If. She made bargains with God. Make him well again and I’ll do anything you ask of me.

She denied God. If there was a God, would he do this to a child who had never harmed anyone? What kind of God lets innocent children die?

Finally, out of sheer exhaustion, Jennifer’s thoughts slowed and she remembered what Dr. Morris had said. He’s young and his body seems strong. There’s every reason to hope the operation will be a success.

Everything was going to be all right. Of course it was. When this was over, she would take Joshua away someplace where he could rest. Acapulco, if he liked. They would read and play games and talk…

When finally Jennifer was too exhausted to think any longer, she slumped into a seat, her mind a dazed blank, empty. Someone was touching her arm and she looked up and Dr. Morris was standing over her. Jennifer looked into his face and had no need to ask any questions.

She lost consciousness.

50

Joshua lay on a narrow metal table, his body eternally still. He looked as though he were peacefully asleep, his handsome young face filled with secret, far-off dreams. Jennifer had seen that expression a thousand times as Joshua had snuggled into his warm bed while Jennifer had sat at his side, studying the face of her young son, filled with a love that was so strong it choked her. And how many times had she gently tucked his blanket around him to protect him from the cold of the night?

Now the cold was deep inside Joshua’s body. He would never be warm again. Those bright eyes would never open again and look at her, and she would never see the smile on his lips, or hear his voice, or feel his small, strong arms around her. He was naked beneath the sheet.

Jennifer said to the doctor, “I want you to cover him with a blanket. He’ll be cold.”

“He can’t—” and Dr. Morris looked into Jennifer’s eyes and what he saw there made him say, “Yes, of course, Mrs. Parker,” and he turned to the nurse and said, “Get a blanket.”

There were half a dozen people in the room, most of them in white uniforms and they all seemed to be talking to Jennifer, but she could not hear what they were saying. It was as though she were in a bell jar, shut off from the rest of them. She could see their lips moving, but there was no sound. She wanted to yell at them to go away, but she was afraid of frightening Joshua. Someone was shaking her arm and the spell was broken and the room was suddenly filled with a roar of sound, and everyone seemed to be talking at once.