Page 9 of What Doesn't Kill Her

Or maybe Kellen was thinking out loud.

Dr. Brundage continued, “I had my daughter when I was in high school, I wouldn’t give her up to a good family, and I did everything wrong. But she’s a good kid, and she’s in premed. Rae’s a good kid, too. She’ll be okay.”

Out in the corridor, Max’s voice, wry and amused. “Honey, are you telling the whole hospital our family secrets?”

“No, Daddy, only about Mommy and me and you.”

“That’ll do it,” Max said. “Hi, Brenda.”

His tone must have made the elusive Brenda nervous, because she suddenly appeared at Kellen’s bedside. “I’m here, Doctor.”

Outside the door, Max said, “Grandma has arrived. She’s in the waiting room, and she’s going to the cafeteria.”

Kellen heard the steady thump-thump of Rae’s heels against the linoleum. “I want ice cream!”

“You’ll have to talk to Grandma about that,” Max said.

“Ice cream!”

“Don’ttell her I said you could.” Max could get quite a stern tone to his voice. “That would be lying!”

“Okay...” Rae’s enthusiasm audibly waned, and the sound of her boots faded in the distance.

Max stepped through the door.

Dr. Brundage finished her sutures, pulled off her gloves and stepped back to let Brenda cover the wound. “Who’s your next of kin?” she asked Kellen.

“I guess...Max. Why?” Kellen asked warily.

“You’re going to need care. Are you going home with him?”

“Yes,” Max said.

Dr. Brundage looked at Kellen for confirmation.

“Yes,” Kellen said.

“Good. Listen up, you two.” Dr. Brundage stared into Kellen’s eyes. “Although with the drugs I put into you, I don’t think you’ll remember. I’m keeping you here overnight. I’m not happy about the look of this puncture. We never want any kind of puncture with an unsterile object. I think we can safely say the roof tile was not sterile. We’re going to do a course of intravenous antibiotics. Then we’ll send you home with instructions and pain pills and—”

“I want to see the bitch!” In the corridor, Roderick’s belligerent voice got louder again. “Let me see the bitch. I want to see her now!”

Dr. Brundage looked up in annoyance. “Shut that door,” she said to Max.

But a harried-looking intern stuck his head in. “Dr. Brundage, I’m sorry. We’re transporting this guy to Portland for surgery, and he’s throwing a fit. He wants to speak to your patient.”

Max clearly didn’t give a damn. “Drug him!”

“We can’t give him any more drugs. He’s had the limit and he’s still yelling.” The intern turned his head back toward the continued shouting, then looked at Kellen. “Is it possible...?”

“No, it is not possible!” Dr. Brundage said.

The synapses in Kellen’s brain flashed her an urgent dispatch. “I’ll see him. I want to see him.” Because what message was so important to a guy with a compound fracture that he stayed conscious to say it?

Dr. Brundage sighed. “All right. Is she ready to be transported to a room?”

“Yes, doctor.” Brenda removed the brakes from the bed and Dr. Brundage helped her wheeled it toward the door. They maneuvered Kellen into the corridor and placed her so her head was even with Roderick’s.

What few strands of hair the guy had were stuck together with blood and perspiration. His skin was sweaty pale green. Both legs were wrapped and elevated. Clearly, despite whatever drugs they had given him, he was in agony. Yet his bulging blue eyes narrowed on Kellen. He rolled onto his shoulder toward her. His hand shot out and grabbed her neck, and he spoke.

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