Ma’am, as I’ve already said, I am not allowed to give out patient information. That means none at all.”
Jenna squeezed her eyes shut. Her fingers ached from their grip on the telephone.
The person on the other end of the line was a nurse at the hospital and she absolutely refused to say if Amber was dead or alive or even still in the ICU.
Jenna’s voice warbled like a sick seagull, but she pressed on. “When will Nurse Cathy be in?” Maybe the woman who had let her see Amber the previous night would answer her questions.
“Ma’am, all I can tell you—again—is that she’s not on duty at this time. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
Jenna hung up on the loathsome voice, struck with her own rudeness. Compared to life’s tragedies, though, being rude to a faceless stranger did not matter.
She balled her hands into fists and stared at a small section of tiled wall, the backdrop to the kitchen’s built-in desk. “I will not cry.” She shoved her palms against her eyes and wondered if she’d ever get hold of her emotions again.
A short while ago, she’d stumbled out of the guest room, still groggy with sleep. It was late afternoon. The hacienda was quiet, the courtyard and kitchen alike vacant. She had no idea where anyone was, nor did it matter. Her only thought had been to find out about Amber.
But she couldn’t.
Did Cade know anything?
At the hospital earlier, after what happened between them—that moment, that glitch—they had left the small room with its telephone, its chairs shoved close together, and its blue floral-print wallpaper. They sat in the cafeteria, across a table from one another, and sipped tea, talking of everything but what happened between them in the small room. Then Cade had walked her to the parking lot where Danny waited in his truck and promised to check in on Amber later.
At the hacienda, after breakfast with the family, Jenna had fallen asleep to her own promise not to mix it up with Cade again.
But she needed to know how Amber was!
Oh, Lord, please don’t let her die. Please don’t let her die.
Nearly ill from exhaustion and worry, Jenna admitted it would be idiotic to drive herself down to the city. Her dad had already declared at breakfast that he would not take her anywhere until Monday, no matter how much she whined. Her mother agreed.
Jenna had no choice but to phone Cade.
Her cell didn’t work at the hacienda, but she used it to find his number and then called it with the house phone.
He answered on the first ring. “Edmunds.”
“Cade, it’s me. Jen—”
“Jenna, are you all right?”
The overt concern in his voice was too loud. It tore through her, shoving roughly at her fragile sense of equilibrium.
“Jenna?”
“How is Amber? The hospital won’t tell me anything.”
“I talked with her parents a couple of hours ago. They said there’s been no change, which is good news for now.”
“Are they coming?”
“They’ll be here tomorrow night.”
“Joey?”
“They talked with him. He should make it here by late Monday.”
“Will they call you if . . .”
“Yes. Or they’ll call you. I gave them your number too—cell, home, and your parents’ house.”
“Okay.” Okay, okay. Everything was under control. For now.
“Please tell me how you are.”
“I’m . . .” She took a deep breath. “Fine.”
“You slept?”
“Yeah. Is there more on Amber?”
“Only what the nurse told you before. They’ll keep her in the coma until the brain swelling goes down.”
“And when will that be?” Jenna wiped at her damp cheeks. “Huh? When?”
“They can’t say.”
“Oh, Cade! How did this happen? Why did this happen?”
“It just happened, Jenna. It just happened. It is what it is.”
Suddenly she knew that he was no longer talking about Amber.
He said, “It can’t be undone.” There was a hint of defeat in his voice.
“I-I know.”
“We move on.”
“I agree. Like two ships passing in the night.”
After a silent moment, he said, “My favorite English teacher is speaking in cliché?”
Jenna closed her eyes. “Your favorite English teacher is a total basket case.”
“That’s obvious. Go back to sleep. I’ll call if there’s any change with Amber.”
“Promise me, Cade?”
“I promise. By the way, don’t you dare think about coming in next week. Your favorite sub is counting on five days in your classroom. Understood?”
She heard the subtle change in his voice. Mr. Ice Guy was back.
Before replying, she waited for a twinge of disappointment to work its way out. She cleared her throat, humming around for the perfectly impassive tone. At last she said, “Understood.”
And she did understand what he said: as far as he was concerned, life was back to the way it had been before the night in the small room with the blue floral-print wallpaper.