The Christmas Wedding - James Patterson [17]
“Stand still,” Mike had shouted. “You don’t have shoes on. I do. I’ll get it.”
It was a vigorous cleanup—broom and dustpan and dish towels and Fantastik spray to finish up.
“Can I move yet?” Lizzie had asked.
Now standing in the hospital, Lizzie remembered Mike’s answer.
“Absolutely,” he said. “It’s perfect. I think I got it all.”
Chapter 20
MIKE CAME HOME and, other than taking long morning and afternoon naps, he was doing well. He walked around the neighborhood, a little wobbly, but he walked. He talked to neighbors, occasionally forgetting a name or two, but he talked. Lizzie crossed her fingers, and hoped for the best.
Then at five o’clock one morning, everything in their world crashed.
At first Lizzie wasn’t sure what was happening, but she knew it wasn’t a dream, not even a nightmare.
The short, sharp grunting noises, the gasping for air, the shaking mattress. Mike was having a seizure. He lay on his back, saliva encircling his mouth. His bare legs shot up, then out. For a moment he was calm. Then his right arm twisted horribly and flailed, and his wrist banged hard against the nightstand. Whenever his eyes opened, they rolled aimlessly around in the sockets.
Lizzie did what the head nurse at Mass. General had taught her to do.
She pushed Mike onto his side to help his breathing. She checked his mouth to make sure he had nothing in there. She moved the nightstand and the bedside lamp out of his way.
She watched every tortured breath, every stunted movement. She was terrified; worse, she knew poor Mike had to be terrified too.
Then she heard footsteps in the hall and Tallulah yelling “Mommy? What’s that noise?” By the time Tallulah ran into the bedroom, Mike’s seizure had ended. He lay there calmly, covered in perspiration, looking as if he’d been dropped onto his bed from an airplane.
“Daddy!” Tallulah cried out when she saw her father.
“Daddy’s sick, honey,” Lizzie said. “Nothing too bad.”
Mike’s voice sounded full of gravel as he said, “I guess I ruined your sleepy time, Tallu, huh?” He tried to smile. “But you love the lake, don’t you, Tallu? Well, I love the Adirondacks too. You’ve got to dry off, though. It gets so cold up here.”
“Mommy,” Tallulah shouted, “Daddy’s talking make-believe!”
Then Mike relaxed. He stopped talking. And at that moment Lizzie decided they were going to the hospital. In a hurry.
“Tallulah, call Gaby and tell her to meet us in the emergency room at Stockbridge Hospital. Make sure you say Stockbridge. I don’t want her going to the wrong hospital. Tell her I’ll call her from the car,” Lizzie said.
“Mike, we’ve got to get over to the hospital. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” he said softly. “Of course I do.”
“We’ve got to get you into the bathroom. I’ll clean you up. Do you understand that?”
“Lizzie,” he said. “I’ve got cancer in my brain, not in my ear.”
She smiled at him. Would there ever be a time when he wouldn’t be a joker? God, she hoped not.
Chapter 21
“MAYBE WE SHOULD trade in the Hyundai and get an ambulance,” Mike said and forced a grin.
Lizzie glanced over at him. Always with the jokes. Mike was wrapped in a thick thermal blanket, his head propped up on a pillow she had grabbed from their bed. The pillow—pale blue with a border of yellow roses—looked silly, as did Mike with a thick blue woolen cap pulled over his head.
“Don’t talk. Be still.”
“Okay,” he said. “I read somewhere that cancer often disappears if you just sit very still.”
Lizzie smiled, and again, just for a moment, she took her eyes away from the dark, icy road and looked at him. Mike didn’t look frail at the moment. The blanket gave him a bulky appearance, and his face was puffy from the cortisone they’d been pumping into him.
Then she turned to the backseat and gave Tallulah a smile. “Hang in there, honey,” she said.
Her phone rang, and she handed it to Mike.
“Can you answer this?” she asked. “It’ll probably be Gaby.”
He wiggled his hand out from under the blanket and answered, “Rodgers Cancer Taxi Service. Brain tumors our specialty.”
A pause, then, “Gaby, how