Lorna tried the number Adam had called from, but got the voicemail of someone called Ellen with a long last name full of consonants. According to Lorna’s phone, the closest hospital was North Country. At first her car wouldn’t start, but after pumping the gas and shifting to neutral, she got the ignition to turn over and in a few minutes, guided by Google Maps, she was driving away from the Neck.
The hospital’s front desk attendant confirmed that Marika had been admitted earlier in the day, gave Lorna the room number, and directed her to elevators leading to the third floor.
Now, standing in the doorway of the hospital room, a hand on the door, Lorna paused to catch her breath and to take in the tableau inside: Marika in bed, eyes shut, a white blanket pulled to her chin; Adam in a chair, Dennis standing at the window, rubbing his beard. No one spoke and yet there was an air of interruption, as if an intimate conversation had been halted mid-sentence when she appeared.
“What happened,” Lorna whispered as Adam and Dennis turned their faces toward the door. “Is she all right?”
“She’s had a myocardial infarction,” Adam said, not whispering.
“I went over to the cottage after I left you,” Dennis explained, “and found her.”
“Having a heart attack. Caused by dehydration,” interjected Adam meaningfully. “And also Freddy jumped on her.”
They all looked at Marika, who had acquired the sarcophagal stillness that comes to people pretending to be asleep. Lorna asked what else the doctors had said and Adam listed a series of tests and their results and the tests to be run tomorrow.
“It looks like a mild heart attack.” He sounded slightly disappointed. “The doctors think she’s okay. But she’ll need to stay here for a couple days, until she stabilizes.”
He yawned and then shut his mouth. “Anyway, where have you been?”
Dennis gave Lorna an apologetic look. “Sorry I couldn’t get back. I figured someone would stop and pick you up.”
“Someone did, eventually. But you didn’t tell Adam where I was?”
“He told me,” said Adam sharply, “that you wanted some time to yourself.”
“Well, I got plenty of that.” She came all the way into the room.
It was a story for later, what had happened to her and her improbable rescue; she’d tell Adam in the car when they drove back to Marika’s cottage tonight. Tomorrow she would begin calling clients to cancel appointments for the rest of the week. There were other calls to make, arrangements and decisions. But for now she said only, “It seems like Grootie is being well cared for and that the doctors think she’s probably all right.
“I brought her purse, by the way,” she added, setting it on the floor by the bed, where limp balls of Kleenex were scattered like clumps of melting snow. “Have you had any dinner?”
Adam held up a Snickers bar wrapper. Dennis had also bought them both sodas and some pretzels from the vending machines.
At the mention of dinner, Marika opened her eyes. Against the white pillows her skin had a sallow, varnished tinge, like a portrait by a Dutch master. She looked at Lorna and frowned deeply for several moments.
Finally, with an effort, she said, “You’re wearing my sweater.”
Lorna looked down at herself. “Yes, I guess I am.”
“It needs a wash,” said Marika, and closed her eyes again.