The Cottage

She was gone when he woke up the next morning. She was back at work. And he and Taryn went to Malibu to visit friends. It was nearly ten o'clock that night when Coop called her. She'd had a busy day, and he and Taryn had had fun. There was none of the petulance in his voice that she'd noticed the night before. She told him she'd see him the following night when she got off duty at six o'clock. He had promised to take her to a movie she'd been dying to see, and she was looking forward to it.

She talked to Taryn for a minute too, they almost seemed like one family now. She was going out to dinner with Mark the next day, and Alex was happy for her.

Alex went to bed in her office shortly after that. She always slept in her scrubs when she was on duty. And her clogs were parked right next to her in case she had to hit the deck running. She never fell into a deep sleep when she was at work. She was always half listening for the phone, even in her sleep. It rang at 4 A.M. and she jumped up with a start and grabbed it.

“Madison,” she said, clearing her head. She was fully awake within seconds. And she was stunned to hear Mark. She thought something might have happened to one of his kids, or even Coop. But then she realized that if it was Coop, Taryn would have called her. “Is something wrong?” she asked quickly. The hour of the call gave her the answer before he said it.

“There's been an accident,” he said, sounding frantic.

“At the house?” Maybe both Taryn and Coop were hurt. But Taryn wasn't with Coop. Mark didn't tell her she was asleep in his bedroom. She'd come down for a drink late in the evening, and his kids had slept at their friends' houses, which had given him unexpected freedom.

“A car accident,” he said quickly.

“Coop?” She held her breath, fully aware of how much she loved him. She didn't need an accident to tell her that. She knew it.

“No. Jimmy. I don't know what happened. The other day, we were talking about not having local next of kin to call in case either of us ever got sick. He must have listed me on his papers. They just called me. They took him to UCLA. I think he's in the trauma unit or something. I thought maybe you could go check on him. Taryn and I will be there as soon as we can get there.”

“Did they say what kind of shape he's in?” Alex sounded worried.

“No, they didn't. They just said it was serious. He went off the road in Malibu, and went down about a hundred feet. The car was totaled.”

“Shit.” It occurred to her instantly that it may have been less of an accident than they thought. He had been depressed ever since losing Maggie. “Did you see him today, Mark?”

“No, I didn't.” He had seemed fine the night before, but that didn't always mean anything. Often, suicides seemed happier once they made the decision to do it. Euphoric even. But he had seemed normal to her on Saturday night at dinner.

“I'll go down to trauma as soon as I can get someone to cover for me.”

She called one of the other residents as soon as she hung up. He was a nice guy she knew well who had covered for her before. She explained the circumstances to him and said she didn't need more than half an hour, to get to trauma and check things out. He said it was no problem, and showed up, sleepy eyed, ten minutes later. By then she had called the trauma unit, and all they could tell her on the phone was that he was in critical condition. He'd been there for an hour, and a team was working on him.

When she got there, she talked to the chief resident, and he told her that Jimmy had broken both legs, one arm, his pelvis, he had a head injury, and he was in a coma. It was not a pretty picture. She went in to see him, and stood at a distance so as not to interfere with what they were doing. They had intubated him, and he was hooked up to a dozen machines. His vitals were irregular, and his face was so cut and bruised, she could hardly recognize him. Her heart ached when she saw him.

“How bad is the head injury?” she asked the chief resident when she saw him again, and he shook his head.

“We don't know yet. He may have gotten lucky. His EEG looks pretty good. But he's in a pretty deep coma.

It all depends on how much brain swelling he gets, and I can't predict that. And if he comes out of the coma.” But for the moment, they had decided not to operate to relieve the pressure. They were hoping it was going to come down on its own. Time was of the essence. And luck. Alex walked up next to him, in a quiet moment. They had set his arm and legs by then, and cleaned him up, but he was very, very badly injured.

She walked out to the waiting room, and by the time she got there, Mark and Taryn were there, looking panicked.

“How bad is it?” Taryn asked before Mark could.

“It's bad,” Alex said quietly. “It could be worse. And it may get worse before it gets better.” She didn't say “if it gets better,” but she thought it.