The Silken Web

“However,” Mrs. Prather qualified, “he hasn’t regained consciousness. He’s still comatose and has a nasty gash on his head. Several stitches were taken on his scalp. The sooner he wakes up, the better.”

Kathleen stifled the cry that almost found its way out of her throat. “Maybe if I could see him, talk to him…”

Mrs. Prather was already shaking her head. “Not now. I’m sorry, but it’s really better for him if you don’t. I’m sure that when he wakes up and his condition stabilizes, the doctor will let you see him for a very few minutes. Until then, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait.”

Kathleen reached out and touched Mrs. Prather’s sleeve. “Thank you,” she said quietly as she turned away to resume her vigil.

Dusk became darkness, unnoticed by Kathleen. The lights came on automatically in the parking lot outside the emergency room. Traffic on the busy thoroughfare now bore the glare of headlights and winking red taillights, and still she didn’t leave her post.

Mrs. Prather went through the swinging doors frequently, but each time she returned to the desk, she looked toward Kathleen and shook her head sadly. There was no reason for words. She already knew Kathleen’s question.

Mrs. Prather had been gone for some time now, Kathleen mused hopefully as she glanced down at her watch. Maybe she’d be back soon with some news. Just then, the automatic door from the outside swung open and a woman rushed through it.

Kathleen’s eyes were inexplicably drawn toward her. She was small, blonde and extremely attractive. Her perfect features were marred with anxiety as she swept toward the desk. She was wearing a straight cotton skirt that fit her tiny figure to perfection. A soft cotton blouse molded over small, round breasts.

She rested her palms on the high desk and strained toward the nurse who was briefly relieving Mrs. Prather.

Her voice was husky and the words tumbled over each other in their rush to get out as she said, “I’m Mrs. Gudjonsen. I was called by a Dr. Hamilton about Erik Gudjonsen. The doctor knows I’m coming.”

“Yes, certainly, Mrs. Gudjonsen. Go in there.” The efficient nurse pointed the beautiful young woman toward the swinging doors that had held Kathleen’s unwavering attention for the past hours.

Mrs. Gudjonsen whirled away from the desk, and her dainty, swift feet took her inside the treatment room, the door closing behind her.

And just as soundly, just as impregnably, a door closed around Kathleen’s heart.

She sat perfectly still, afraid that if she made the slightest movement, she would shatter into a million brittle shards. Heat washed over her head and throbbed in her earlobes until they felt as if they were on fire. Her lungs constricted, squeezing out her life’s supply of oxygen, and she couldn’t swallow the bile that rose to the back of her throat.

She was lightheaded and feared that she was about to faint. The roaring in her head must surely be heard by everyone around her, though they all seemed to go about their business unperturbed. Didn’t they realize that she, Kathleen Haley, was dying? Now. They could be witnessing the slow, agonizing, torturous death of someone’s soul. And they didn’t see. They didn’t care.

She had to get out, away.

Knowing better than to listen to Edna’s gentle advice, she had followed it nonetheless because it had been what she wanted to do. But again she had loved and lost. She had found the courage to love again, but just as her parents had deserted her, Erik would, too. Only she wouldn’t be around to let him. She’d be gone before that happened.

Carefully, hoping she wouldn’t fly apart and vanish into thin air, Kathleen stood up and crossed to the desk. Taking up a blank prescription form lying on the desk, she wrote Erik’s name on it and, with shaking fingers, pushed the paper through the gold ring that held his car keys. She placed the keys with the identifying paper where she knew Mrs. Prather would be sure to see them.

As Kathleen turned away, she bumped into a tall, husky, blond man who was hurrying up to the desk. She ducked her head, not wanting anyone to see the tears that flooded her eyes and coursed uncharted down her face.

* * *

Minutes later, Mrs. Prather’s quick, light footsteps reflected her lifted spirits. That good-looking Mr. Gudjonsen had awakened, recognized his brother and sister-in-law, and spoke to them. Then he had asked for someone named Kathleen.

There was no doubt in her mind who Kathleen was. With the doctor’s approval, Mrs. Prather spun on her heels and struck off down the hall and through the swinging doors.

But when she pushed them open and scanned the waiting room, the lovely woman with the brimming emerald eyes and the auburn hair, the scratched hands and the anxious, love-filled face, had disappeared.

* * *

“Would you tell me where she was if you knew?” Erik demanded. His eyes pierced the deep hollows into which they had sunk. Fine lines of fatigue, worry and recent illness were etched around his hard mouth and the weary, red-rimmed eyes. “Would you, dammit?” He pounded his fist on the pine table.

“Erik, calm down and quit shouting at us,” B. J. said reasonably. “We’ve told you we don’t know where Kathleen disappeared to, and we don’t. We are as worried about her as you.”

“Oh…” Erik breathed an expletive with all the despair and hopelessness in the world in his voice. He slumped into the easy chair and covered his face with his hands.

This was the second time in the last month he had come to Mountain View and begged the Harrisons for information of Kathleen. And both times they had sworn to him that they didn’t know her whereabouts.

For two weeks, he had lain in that goddam hospital, unable to find out what had happened to her. When he had regained consciousness and started asking for her, a nurse said that a woman matching his description of Kathleen had been there, but had left. He had become frantic with worry. The doctor had ordered a hypodermic to sedate him, lest he worsen his condition.

But when he awakened again, anger at his own uselessness and frustration over the patronizing platitudes of Bob and Sally had made him even more desperate.