Man, woman, and child(45)

"Oh," she said blandly. And then added, "I suppose that's wise."

There was a silence.

"Listen, Sheil, he's been soaked and I think he's got a fever. Maybe I could take him to Mass General, but—"

"Is he that sick?"

"No. I mean, I'm not sure. Look—can I bring him back just for tonight?"

There was another pause.

"Bob, the girls are still very upset. Being cooped up all day hasn't helped matters." She sighed. "But I don't think it's good for you to stay away anymore. It's beginning to look like you've left."

Bob was enormously relieved.

"Yes. Anyway, it'll only be for a day or so. I mean, we can't let a sick child travel. Don't you agree?"

She hesitated. He waited nervously.

"I don't think you should stay away any longer," she repeated. Avoiding one issue, and speaking directly to the more important one: their marriage.



i HE ROAD WAS SLICK AND DARK. BOB DROVE TOO

fast. The boy was dearly getting sicker by the minute. He sat quietly, holding his stomach, now and then emitting a barely audible moan.

''Shall I play the radio?" Bob asked.

"Okay. . . r

He put on WCRB, desperately hoping that the music would somehow soothe the child.

No one was on the highway. The storm seemed to have discouraged even the state police. He reached the Cape Cod Canal in record time. And he continued to push the car along Route 6.

The nearer he got, the angrier the heavens became.

He skidded as he turned onto Pilgrim Spring Road. Fortunately, he spun off into heavy mud and regained control almost immediately.

He glanced at the boy. Jean-Claude hadn't even noticed the near accident. He was oblivious to everything except his stomach pains.

Bob braked sharply as he pulled up in front of the house. Rain pelted the windshield. He breathed a deep sigh of relief. Tliey had made it in one piece.

165



He looked over at the boy. His eyes were closed, his head leaning against the door.

"We're here, Jean-Claude/' he whispered, stroking his hair. ''It's gonna be all right now."

The boy did not react.

''Are you okay?" Bob asked.

The boy nodded.

"Do you feel well enough to walk—or should I carry you?"

"I can walk," he said slowly.

"Good. Then when I count to three, we each get out our own side and hurry into the house. Okay?"

"Okay."

Bob counted, and then stepped out into the downpour. He looked quickly across to the other side of the car, saw Jean-Claude's door open, and then rushed for the shelter of the porch.

Sheila was waiting alone in the living room. Though it had been just over twenty-four hours since they had seen one another, their awkwardness made it feel like years. She looked at her husband, soaked with rain and remorse.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah. You?"

"Surviving," she answered.

"Where are the girls?"

"I sent them to their room. T didn't think this was the time for confrontations." She seemed to be glancing over his shoulder.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"Where's Jean-Claude?"

"He's—" Bob turned. The boy was not behind him. He was not anywhere. He turned back to Sheila. "Maybe he was too scared to come in."

"Let's get him," she said.

He rushed to the porch and saw nothing but the



ink-black storm. Then a bolt of lightning sliced the sky, briefly illuminating the driveway.

He was lying face down, a few steps from the car, the rain slapping his motionless body.

''Jesus!" Bob gasped. He ran to the boy and turned him over.

''He's unconscious," he shouted to Sheila, who was standing on the porch.

"Bring him in. Fll call a doctor!" she shouted back.

"No—it looks bad. Fm gonna take him right to the hospital."

In an instant she was by his side, looking at the child as the downpour drenched them both. She felt his forehead as Bob lifted him.

"He's absolutely boiling!" She opened the car door as Bob gently placed him inside. "Fll come with you."

"No. Go in and warn the hospital."

*'Are you sure?"

*'Go on. Sheila, please." He was almost hysterical.

She nodded and ran back toward the house.

From a lighted window on the second floor, two pairs of eyes watched Bob's car splash down the driveway onto the road. Jessica and Paula wondered what new catastrophe had just entered their lives.

Bob drove to Hyannis like a man possessed- The boy was silent, his breathing short and rapid. And his forehead began to grow disturbingly cold. Now and then his delirium abated and he would utter a single word: "Mdmcin."

llie emergency room was a madhouse. The stormy holiday roads had yielded more than the statistical expectation of traffic accidents. But as Bob, holding Jean-Claude in his anns, announced himself, a young harried-looking intern rushed out.