Rage of Angels by Sidney Sheldon

A moment later a voice said, “Mrs. Parker—”

Jennifer looked up and Dr. Morris was there.

“Please go ahead and do the tests,” Jennifer said.

He looked at her oddly. “We’ve finished.”

Jennifer looked at the clock on the wall. She had been sitting there for two hours. Where had the time gone? She looked into the doctor’s face, reading it, searching for the small, telltale signs that would reveal whether he had good news or bad news for her. How many times had she done this before, reading the faces of jurors, knowing in advance from their expressions what the verdict would be? A hundred times? Five hundred? Now, because of the panic raging within her, Jennifer could tell nothing. Her body began to shake uncontrollably.

Dr. Morris said, “Your son is suffering from a subdural hematoma. In layman’s terms, there has been a massive trauma to his brain.”

Her throat was suddenly so dry that no words could come out.

“Wh—” She swallowed and tried again. “What does that—?” She could not finish the sentence.

“I want to operate immediately. I’ll need your permission.”

He was playing some kind of cruel prank on her. In a moment he was going to smile and tell her that Joshua was fine. I was just punishing you, Mrs. Parker, for wasting my time. There’s nothing wrong with your son except that he needs sleep. He’s a growing boy. You mustn’t take up our time when we have patients to look after who are really ill. He was going to smile at her and say, “You can take your son home now.”

Dr. Morris was going on. “He’s young and his body seems strong. There’s every reason to hope the operation will be a success.”

He was going to cut open her baby’s brain, tear into it with his sharp instruments, perhaps destroy whatever it was that made Joshua, Joshua. Perhaps—kill him.

“No!” It was an angry cry.

“You won’t give us permission to operate?”

“I—” Her mind was so confused she could not think. “Wh—what will happen if you don’t operate?”

Dr. Morris said simply, “Your son will die. Is the boy’s father here?”

Adam! Oh, how she wanted Adam, how she wanted to feel his arms around her, comforting her. She wanted him to tell her that everything was going to be all right, that Joshua was going to be fine.

“No,” Jennifer replied finally, “he’s not. I—I give you my permission. Go ahead with the operation.”

Dr. Morris filled out a form and handed it to her. “Would you sign this, please?”

Jennifer signed the paper without looking at it. “How long will it take?”

“I won’t know until I open—” He saw the look on her face. “Until I begin the operation. Would you like to wait here?”

“No!” The walls were closing in on her, choking her. She could not breathe. “Is there a place where I can pray?”

 

 

It was a small chapel with a painting of Jesus over the altar. The room was deserted except for Jennifer. She knelt, but she was unable to pray. She was not a religious person; why would God listen to her now? She tried to quiet her mind so that she could talk to God, but her fear was too strong; it had taken complete possession of her. She kept berating herself mercilessly. If I only hadn’t taken Joshua to Acapulco, she thought…If I hadn’t let him go water skiing…If I hadn’t trusted that Mexican doctor…If. If. If. She made bargains with God. Make him well again and I’ll do anything you ask of me.

She denied God. If there was a God, would he do this to a child who had never harmed anyone? What kind of God lets innocent children die?

Finally, out of sheer exhaustion, Jennifer’s thoughts slowed and she remembered what Dr. Morris had said. He’s young and his body seems strong. There’s every reason to hope the operation will be a success.

Everything was going to be all right. Of course it was. When this was over, she would take Joshua away someplace where he could rest. Acapulco, if he liked. They would read and play games and talk…