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Breathe.
“Excuse me.”
Lillian jerked her head toward the door at the masculine voice, bunching her muscles and straining toward the opening. She turned, fisting her hands at her sides. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears; fight or flight adrenaline took over.
“I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Dr. Beyton. Are you family?” He stood waiting in blue scrubs, a “this-woman-might-be-unstable” look on his face.
She expelled her breath in a rush, reaching a hand toward the bed to steady herself. Only a doctor. Hannah’s doctor, not Kinetica, the dangerous underground organization who wanted Lillian as their lab rat.
“Not family, a friend.” Over the past two years, she’d become accustomed to lying. And wearing a disguise.
She ran a hand over the straight, long blonde wig made from real human hair she’d paid a whopping sum for at a specialty shop. She scanned the doctor’s body, connecting their energy fields, checking to see if she could use his energy to heal Hannah.
Insubstantial.She swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth. It wasn’t the doctor’s fault he had no more energy than anyone else she’d come in contact with today.
“How’s our patient faring?” He flashed a brief smile and moved into the room without waiting for an answer. He strode to Hannah, studying her charts and the machine monitoring her vitals.
“I have medical experience,” Lillian said. “I’ve seen worse than Hannah. She’s going to beat this,” she added for Hannah’s benefit.
“Well, we’re certainly doing everything we can for her. Can I speak to you for a moment?” He gestured to her father. “Let’s step out in the hall.”
“I’d like…Zoey to come with me.” Her dad used her alias.
“Okay,” the doctor nodded.
Lillian and her dad followed Dr. Beyton into a small room with an examination table and a couple of chairs.
He closed the door and turned to her dad, his expression serious. “We’re going to need to intubate your daughter to help her breathe. Her lungs are full of fluid, which makes it a struggle to take in oxygen. Her body can’t focus on healing.”
“Intubation?” her father questioned.
“He means they’ll put her on a ventilator,” Lillian said. “The ventilator will breathe for her.”About one in three patients never recover.
“That’s exactly right,” the doctor spoke. “Your daughter needs time to fight the infection in her system.”
“Is this like life support? Will she get better?” her father asked.
“That’s our goal.” The doctor sounded chipper.
Despite his optimism, Lillian knew there were no guarantees, especially for someone with extrasensory abilities. Hannah, a strong empath, held the grief, anxiety, and feelings of others in her heart and lungs.She’s dying.
A wave of nausea flooded Lillian’s system. She made a beeline for the nearest chair, which happened to be next to her dad, and sat.
“Can we stay with her?” her dad asked, leaning a hand against Lillian’s chair.
“Not while we intubate. You can wait in the family room. We’ll come get you in a few minutes.”
Lillian nodded. They would put a tube down Hannah’s throat. A harsh procedure for her dad to witness.
“Are you okay?” her dad asked after the doctor left the room. His curly dark hair carried a few more streaks of gray since she’d last seen him, and the lines around his mouth looked deeper. “You’re not getting sick now, too, are you?”
Lillian took a slow breath. “No, I’ll be fine. I’m tired, not sick.” She shrugged, careful to keep her tone light. “She’ll be okay. Let’s head to the waiting room.”
Not thirty minutes later, a nurse, who introduced herself as Dani, came to fetch them, and they returned to Hannah’s bedside. A clear plastic accordion tube snaked into Hannah’s mouth, feeding air and oxygen into her lungs. A large machine next to her bed beeped as it monitored her heart, respiratory rate, and blood pressure.
“She’s a trooper,” Dani said. “But the procedure’s worn her out. She’s been given a mild sedative to help her relax, and she’s sleeping. Might be a good time for you to grab a bite and get some rest. I’ve got the evening shift. I’ll be sure to keep an eye on her.”
Lillian couldn’t think of eating or sleeping, but a deep breath in revealed her father’s vitality was low…too low. Neither one of them had eaten lunch. And he’d been at the hospital since yesterday. He needed a break from his worry and constant vigilance. “Let me take you home. You’re exhausted and need to rest.”
