Eye of the Storm (Hudson 3)

She looked at me askance but didn't say anything. Without waiting, she helped me pull up the suit and zippered it.

"Thank you," I said. She shrugged and left. I stared in the mirror. My legs looked bony and thin to me and I thought my hips had widened. It brought hot tears to my eyes.

"What am I doing?" I muttered. "This is stupid. What am I doing?"

I started to rip the bathing suit off, pulling and tugging at it so viciously that I tore the zipper away from the material on one side. Then I felt my shoulders start to shake and a strange rippling through my stomach. Looking in the mirror. I saw I was crying hysterically. I was just doing it silently.

Maybe I had been working at my therapy too hard. Maybe I didn't listen to Mrs. Bogart enough and take enough rest time. Maybe I had permitted myself to drift through some world of fantasy in a bubble that finally burst. Whatever the reason. I suddenly felt a deep exhaustion. Both fatigue and depression went to the very bottom of my being, turning me into a limp lump of defeat. Half-naked. I sagged in the chair, devoid of the strength to remove the swimsuit completely and get myself dressed again.

A low moan began at the base of my throat and began to vibrate to the back of my neck and up behind my head. Suddenly. I had a terrific spasm in my stomach. too. My moan got louder and Mrs. Bogart came running. When she looked at me. I was shaking so hard, the chair was rattling.

"Okay," she said. "okay. Take it easy." She moved me quickly to the side of the bed and then she helped me out of the chair and under the covers. My teeth were clicking together. I was so chilled. She put another blanket on and then another before she went to call the doctor. Then she returned to tell me I was being taken to the hospital.

"No!" I cried.

"The doctor wants you brought in for some test or other. You got to go. Your driver's on his way. Let me get something on you," she said and put a sweatshirt and sweatpants on me while I continued to 'tremble.

Less then fifteen minutes later. Jake was at my bedside. He looked gray and tired, his face was so drawn. Was it my condition that was making me see him that way?

"How yo

u doing. Princess?" he asked,

My trembling had subsided some, but the spasm in my abdomen was still severe.

"I don't know. Jake. Something happened. I'm sick."

"Okay, let's get moving," he said. Mrs. Bogart wheeled the chair toward us. but Jake lifted me out of the bed and carried me out of the house in his arms. My head rested against his chest.

"You can wheel her," Mrs. Bogart said.

"This is faster," he said.

"Don't you drop that girl on my watch, hear? I'm not being blamed."

"Nobody's dropping nobody," he assured her. "Stop worrying and open the door for us." he ordered with firmness. She moved quickly to get ahead of us and do it. Jake carried me out and put me gently into the back of the Rolls. Then he got behind the wheel and started away.

"I guess Victoria's right about the car," he said, "I should have had it sold and a van out here for you. Sorry, Princess."

"I don't want a van. I like the Rolls," I muttered. I had my eyes closed. "I want Grandmother Hudson's Rolls."

At the hospital they put me on a gurney and wheeled me into the emergency room. Tests were run and hours later. Doctor Morton, the physician on call, came to my bedside to tell me I had developed a severe bladder infection.

"It's not uncommon for people in your condition," he assured me. "We'll clear it up quickly and get you back an your feet."

I started to laugh and he stared a moment.

"Back on my feet? Take all the time you need. doctor." That brought a smile to his face.

"Just an expression," he said.

"I know, Boy. do I know." I said.

They took me to a private room and gave me something to help me sleep.

Late in the morning the next day my eyelids fluttered open and I saw Aunt Victoria gazing at me, her face full of anger, her eyes wide and blazing. When she realized I was looking at her, she cooled and cleared her throat.

"I'm going to have to fire Jake," she said. "I told him specifically to go out and get that van and what do you think he's been doing? Loitering in the local tavern. I found out that he had to be taken home in a taxi two nights in a row because he was too drunk to drive himself. He was probably drunk when he came for you yesterday.