Dark Room (Pete 'Monty' Montgomery 2)

Lane rose as Nina Vaughn hurried back in. “He’s awake?” she asked.

“Yup.” Lane pointed. “We were just talking about you, hoping you and Ed were getting a break, maybe something to eat.”

“No need to worry about that.” Nina glanced at her son, looking as close to smiling as Lane had seen her all day. “Lenny Shore is here. He’s got bags of food that are bursting at the seams. The ICU nurse said he can come in, but only for a few minutes and only if you’re up to it.”

Jonah’s lips curved. “I’m up to it.”

Two minutes later, Lenny hustled into the room, two bulging brown shopping bags in his hands. “How’s the patient?” he demanded, eyeing Jonah. “Pale. Hurting. Half out of it. I’ve seen the look a hundred times. Arthur was a jock in high school. The ER was our second home. ICU was our third.”

Lane chuckled. “What did I tell you? It’s a male thing.”

“Don’t be such a big shot,” Lenny chided. “Monty and I have compared war stories. Whose son caused the most gray hairs. There was no clear winner.”

“Congressman Shore is a natural athlete,” Jonah protested. “I can’t imagine him ever taking a fall—especially a dumb one like mine.”

“Trust me, he did. A lot of them. But he never let them stop him. He fought his way back from every injury. Shaken not stirred, we used to call him. Like one of James Bond’s martinis. You’ll be the same way.”

“You’re a Bond fan?” Jonah asked.

“Big-time. Arthur and me. We never missed a movie when he was a kid. Now we have the whole DVD collection.”

“Me, too,” Jonah replied. “Q’s my favorite. Talk about a genius—his gadgets are too cool. And Bond masters every one of them. That guy’s good at everything. He never screws up. And he’s never a klutz.” A rueful grin. “A lot more like the congressman than like me.”

“You’re a special kid, Jonah,” Lenny retorted. “Just take a look around and see how many people feel that way. Then maybe you’ll believe it.”

With that, he plunked down the bag on the table near Jonah’s bed. “Rhoda packed everyone’s favorites. Pastrami, liverwurst, onion and mustard for the patient—along with a quart of her matzo-ball soup, of course. Roast beef with the works for Ed. And chopped liver and corned beef for Nina.” He unpacked each foil-wrapped sandwich, one by one. “There’s also sides of coleslaw, potato salad, and Rhoda’s noodle pudding and chopped liver. Plus a nice, plain sponge cake and a not-so-plain chocolate cake. And last, a variety of Dr. Brown’s sodas—cherry, cream, and root beer. Did I leave anything out?”

“Yeah,” Lane said drily. “The fifty Bar Mitzvah guests who go along with it.”

Lenny grinned, not the least bit put off by the comment. “So we overdid a little. It’s good for them. Especially Jonah. He needs his strength.” A questioning glance in Jonah’s direction. “What’s the latest from the doctors?”

“I have a lacerated spleen. It’s better than a ruptured one but not as good as an untorn one. We don’t know yet if I’ll need surgery or if it’ll heal itself. In the meantime, the doctors are keeping an eye on the internal bleeding to see if I’ll need a transfusion. The problem is, I have a rare blood type.”

“That’s not a problem. That’s what parents are for.” Lenny waved away the obstacle as he continued to try fitting all the food he’d brought on the table. “They’ll get tested and whichever one of them has your blood type will donate as much as you need.”

“I wish it were that simple,” Nina murmured.

Lenny’s brows drew together. “It’s not?”

“I’m adopted,” Jonah informed him. “So neither of my parents is AB negative. Almost nobody is. The doctor told me that only half of one percent of the world is AB negative. So we’re trying to find my birth parents.”

“Well, if being adopted means getting parents like yours, then I’d say you’re a lucky guy. As for that malarkey the doctor handed you, AB negative’s not so rare. I have it, too.”

“Really?” Nina jumped on that. “Lenny, if that’s true, would you mind being tested to see if your blood and Jonah’s are compatible?” Seeing Jonah’s mortified expression, she hurried on. “Honey, we’re not discontinuing the search for your birth mother. We’ve already contacted the adoption agency to see what our options are. But if you should need blood before we find her, then at least your father and I could rest easier.”

“I’d be glad to help,” Lenny said. “But first I better talk to my cardiologist. He can talk to your doctor, make sure it’s okay for me to donate blood to Jonah.” A grimace. “I’m probably worrying too much. But better safe than sorry. I’ve got this thing with my heart. Atrial fibrillation—a big name for a not so big problem. I’m on medicine called Coumadin. It thins my blood, keeps it from coagulating. But, hey, blood is blood, right? And obviously Jonah’s and mine are premium specimens, being that they’re so rare.” He finished setting up lunch, then straightened and gave Nina a comforting look. “I’ll make that call right away, and let you know what happens. If the doctors give the okay, I’ll be back here later today with my sleeve rolled up.”

“Thank you so much,” Nina said fervently.

“You want to thank me? Eat your sandwich. When I come back to give blood, I expect to see every drop of that food gone.”

LANE WAS A BLOCK away from home when his cell phone rang.

He glanced down, saw his father’s number on the display.

“Hey,” he greeted. “I’m about to walk in my front door. I’ll check on Morgan, then fire up my equipment and get started on the negatives.”

“That’s not why I’m calling,” Monty replied tersely. “I located Margo Adderly and tapped out on what she has to offer.”