replied. “You’re a doctor, and you’ll be less likely to have any kind of reaction to whatever might happen.”
The Lonsdales exchanged a glance, and Ellen managed to conceal her disappointment. “Go on,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”
Torres opened the door, and the two men stepped inside. Ellen watched as Marsh approached the bed, stopping when he was next to Alex.
Alex’s eyes opened again, and he recognized Dr. Torres. On the other side of him was someone else.
“Who … are … you?”
There was a slight pause, and then the stranger spoke. “I’m your father, Alex.”
“Father?” Alex echoed. His eyes fixed on the man, and he searched his memory. Suddenly the face that had been strange was familiar. “Dad,” he said. Then, again: “Dad.”
He saw his father’s eyes fill with tears, then heard him say, “How are you, son?”
Alex searched his mind for the right word. “H-hurt,” he whispered: “I hurt, but not … not too bad.” A phrase leapt into his mind. “Looks like we’re going to live after all.”
He watched as his father and Dr. Torres glanced at each other, then back down at him. His father was smiling now. “Of course you are, son,” he heard his father say in an oddly choked voice. “Of course you are.”
Alex closed his eyes and listened to the sound of footsteps moving away from the bed. The room was silent; then there were more footsteps, and he knew people were once again standing by the bed. Dr. Torres, and someone else. He opened his eyes and peered upward. A face seemed to hang in the air, framed by dark wavy hair.
“Hello … Mom,” he whispered.
“Alex,” she whispered back. “Oh, Alex, you’re going to be fine. You’re going to be just fine.”
“Fine,” he echoed. “Just fine.” Then, exhausted, he let himself drift back into sleep.
“You can spend the day here if you want to,” Torres told them when they were back in his office. “But you won’t be allowed to see Alex again until tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Marsh asked. “But why? What if he wakes up? What if he asks for us?”
“He won’t wake up again,” Torres replied. “I’m going to look at him once more, and then give him a sedative.”
Marsh’s eyes suddenly clouded. “A sedative? He just came out of a coma. You don’t give that kind of patient a sedative—you try to keep them awake.”
Torres’s face seemed cut from stone. “I don’t believe I asked for your advice or your opinions, Dr. Lonsdale,” he said.
“But—”
“Nor am I interested in hearing them,” Torres went on, ignoring the interruption. “Frankly, I don’t have time to listen to what you have to say, and I’d just as soon you kept whatever thoughts you might have to yourself. Alex is my patient, and I have my own methods. I made that clear day before yesterday. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He opened the door in his habitual gesture of dismissal.
“But he’s our son,” Marsh protested. “Surely we can—”
“No, Marsh,” Ellen interrupted. “We’ll do whatever Raymond wants us to do.”
Marsh gazed at his wife in silence for a moment, his jaw tightening with anger. But her obvious anguish washed his rage away, and when he turned back to Torres, he had regained his composure. “I’m sorry—I was out of line.” He offered Raymond Torres a crooked smile. “From now on I’ll try to remember that I’m not the doctor here. I’ve dealt with enough worried parents to know how difficult they can be.”
Torres’s demeanor thawed only slightly. “Thank you,” he replied. “I’m afraid I have few patients, and no patience, but I do know what I’m doing. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to get back to Alex.”
But as Ellen led him toward the lounge, Marsh’s anger surged back. “I’ve never heard of such a thing—he as much as told us he doesn’t want us around!”
“Apparently he doesn’t,” Ellen agreed.
“But I’m Alex’s father, dammit!”
Exhaustion threatening to overwhelm her, Ellen regarded her husband with oddly detached curiosity. Wasn’t he even pleased with what Raymond Torres had accomplished? “He’s Alex’s doctor,” she said. “And without him, we wouldn’t even have Alex anymore. We owe Raymond Alex’s life, Marsh, and I don’t intend to forget that.”
“Raymond,” Marsh repeated. “Since when are you on a first-name basis with him?”
Ellen gazed at him in puzzlement. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I’m not,” Marsh countered.
Her confusion deepened. What on earth was the matter with him? And suddenly the answer came to her. “Marsh, are you jealous of him?”
“Of course not,” Marsh replied, too quickly.