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But he was about to find out.
WEAK MORNING SUNLIGHT was trickling into Lane’s bedroom when the telephone on his night table rang.
Morgan made a soft sound of protest, pulling the blanket higher around her shoulders and burying her head in the pillow. After an all-night lovemaking marathon, she was in no shape to move, much less function.
?
?Let the machine get it,” Lane mumbled, wrapping an arm around her.
“Mm-hmm.” Morgan was already drifting back to sleep.
The ringing stopped, then started again.
“Goddammit, Monty,” Lane muttered, reaching across Morgan and groping for the phone. His gaze fell on the clock. “It’s seven fucking thirty.” He plucked the receiver off the hook and crammed it against his ear. “It’s Saturday,” he said bluntly. “I’m sleeping. And I’m not meeting you till ten. So forget it.”
“Lane?” a woman’s hesitant voice inquired.
He blinked in surprise. “Who’s this?”
“Nina Vaughn, Jonah’s mother. I’m sorry to call so early, but we’re in the emergency room at Maimonides Medical Center. Jonah’s been admitted.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
Jonah wasn’t doing well.
His parents were doing worse.
Nina Vaughn rushed over to Lane the minute he walked into the ICU waiting room. “They’re doing a CT scan,” she informed him. “I told them everything you said about Tuesday’s skiing accident. The doctors said this could definitely be related.” Her voice quavered. “Eddie and I are total wrecks. I should be more helpful; I am a hospital aide. But I work in pediatrics. I don’t know anything about sports injuries. And he was in so much pain. We rushed him here by ambulance.”
“Pain doesn’t necessarily mean a critical injury,” Lane tried. “I’ve torn ligaments and literally seen stars.”
Jonah’s mother nodded, but Lane wasn’t even sure she’d heard him. “At least they’re giving him something for the pain,” she murmured. “He’s more relaxed now. Oh, and they drew blood. We’re waiting for the results. Something about a CBC to check for internal bleeding.”
Lane nodded. “That makes sense.” He turned to greet Ed Vaughn with a handshake. “How are you holding up?”
Jonah’s father shrugged, his face drawn with worry. “I’m okay. I just wish they’d tell us something.”
“They will.” Lane forced a smile. “Hey, I spent half my teen years in the ER for stuff like this. My mother used to say that the hospital should be issuing me frequent flier points.”
At that moment, the hallway doors swung open and an orderly wheeled Jonah down on a gurney. He looked lousy—half out of it, pale and scared, and like he was fighting back tears. His parents hurried over, flanking the gurney as it made its way down the hall.
Jonah spotted Lane, and surprise darted across his face.
“Hey.” A self-conscious grimace. “Did my mom drag you down here?”
“No, I came to find out how soon you’d be back at work. We’ve got the congressman’s photo essay to finish, remember?”
“I’ll do my best.” Jonah forced a smile. “But right now, I feel kind of crappy.”
“Yeah, I’ve been there. But it gets better.”
“Glad to hear it.” Jonah shifted, wincing a little at the discomfort. “Would you do me a favor and call Lenny? He’ll need someone to sub for me. I feel bad leaving him in the lurch.”
“You’re not leaving him in the lurch. You’re getting better.” Lane walked alongside the gurney until the orderly reached Jonah’s ICU room. “I’ll take care of it. Anything else you need?”
Jonah eyed his parents’ drawn expressions. “Yeah. Convince my parents I’m not gonna die.”
“They already know that.” Lane winked at Nina and Ed, trying to lift their spirits. “But they’re your parents. They worry. That’s their job.”
