Page 15 of A Hidden Hope
Charlie popped up his head. “It’s not a crime scene, Wren. This is just spaghetti sauce.”
The young woman marched straight over to Sally Fisher. “What symptoms are you experiencing?”
“Wren,” Charlie said, “I’ve got things covered.”
“WREN?” Hank said. “Like the BIRD?”
Wren ignored both Charlie and Hank. She took Sally’s wrist to check her pulse. “Your heart is racing.”
“Is it?” Sally said, worried. “What could that mean?”
“Several potential causes,” Wren said. “Arrythmia, heart failure, a sudden surge of adrenaline—”
“Or it could mean you’re nervous,” Charlie said, interrupting. “My heart starts pounding when I feel anxious.”
David watched the exchange of the young doctors with a mixture of curiosity and concern. They were certainly eager, but eagerness didn’t always translate to helpfulness. Especially with Sally Fisher.
“Follow my finger,” Wren said, rapidly moving one finger in the air from left to right. “Did you hit your head when you fell?”
“But she didn’t fall,” Charlie said. “She dropped the jar of sauce.”
“She’s having trouble tracking my finger,” Wren said, “which can indicate a stroke.”
“Does it?” Sally’s head swiveled from Wren to Charlie, back to Wren.
“I’ll call an ambulance,” Wren said, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket. “Better safe than sorry.”
At this point, David jumped in. “Slow down. Nothing happens to Sally Fisher without Dok’s permission.”
“But if it’s a stroke,” Wren said, “then time is imperative.” She punched some numbers on her cell phone, then looked up, startled. “There’s no cell service!”
“Not in here,” David said, calmly mopping up the spaghettisauce. “Like I said, when it comes to Sally Fisher, you’ll have to get permission from Dok. Annie is Sally’s daughter.”
“Charlie,” Wren said, “run and get Annie.”
“No!” Sally said. “Annie never thinks anything is wrong with me.”
“THAT’S because nothing EVER IS WRONG with you,” Hank said. He twirled his finger around his ear, like she was crazy.
Sally scowled at him.
“Sally,” David said, “when Dok gets back to the office, you can talk to her then.”
Wren shook her head. “That might be too late!”
Sally gasped. “Too late for what?”
“Treatment for a stroke,” Wren said.
Charlie huffed. “Shedroppeda jar of spaghetti sauce.”
“The question iswhy,” Wren said, a tad disdainfully.
“Maybe because it’s a HUGE JAR,” Hank said. “You should listen to the BISHOP.”
Wren’s head jolted up. “Who’s the bishop?”
“I am,” David said.
