"Some crazy dude," he said. "He thinks he's a doctor here, I guess. He's yelling about how they're not following his orders. Security's got him."
"Weird."
"Well, it's a hospital. People aren't generally here because they're all good and normal."
Michael had a point, but it still felt weird, again. That could have just been waking up like she did, of course, and the generally freaky nature of the past few days.
All Claire knew was that she was glad, so glad, that her friends were with her.
"Where's your mom?" Shane asked. Claire shook her head.
"Bathroom, maybe? Which is where I need to go."
"Ooh, me, too," Eve said. The boys rolled their eyes, like they'd planned it. "What? It's what girls do. Get over it."
"I was never on it," Michael said, straight-faced. "Don't take all day."
Eve took Claire's arm as they walked down the hall toward the bathroom. No more shouting, so the crazy guy had been detained and taken off to the padded rooms, Claire guessed. There weren't very many people in the halls right now, and as she looked at the clock, she realized why; they'd been here for hours, waiting. She'd slept through most of it.
Mom wasn't in the bathroom, but Claire was relieved (no pun intended) to get there anyway. She and Eve chatted about nothing, really, during the entire process, and then Claire kept on talking while Eve checked her makeup, which took a lot longer.
Finally, Eve met her eyes in the mirror and said, "You think your dad's going to be okay?" It was a direct question, an honest question, and Claire felt her breath catch in her throat for a second.
"I don't know," she said, just as honestly. "He's . . . he's been weak for a while. I hope this is just . . . something they can fix."
Eve nodded slowly. "Oliver said they could get the hell out of here. They should, Claire. They should go find one of those world-class heart places and never come back, like Michael's parents. Talk to your mom about it. Promise me."
"I will," Claire said, and sighed. "Thanks."
"For what?"
"For not just telling me everything's going to be all right."
Eve paused in the act of fixing her lipstick. "Are you kidding me? It's Morganville. Of course everything isn't going to be all right. We're lucky when something is all right." She finished the lipstick, made kissy lips at the mirror, and said, "Okay, ready."
As they left the bathroom, they saw Michael and Shane in the hallway, and Claire's mother, and a doctor in a white lab coat with his name embroidered over the pocket. Claire hurried to join them, and Eve joined just a few seconds later.
"Dad?" Claire blurted out. Her mother took her hand.
"Your father is alive," the doctor said. "He's got a serious issue with his heart, and I've already spoken with Oliver to tell him we don't feel we can give him the care he needs here. I'd like to transfer him to a facility in Dallas. They've got the best possible specialists and facilities to treat him there."
"But . . . is he going to be--"
The doctor--not one she was familiar with, from her various stays and visits here--was older, tall, with a long, mournful face and graying hair. He wasn't especially warm. "I can't give you a good estimate of his chances, Ms. Danvers. I can only say that they're worse if he stays here."
Claire's mom, who'd been taking it all in silently, said, "When are you transferring him?"
"Early morning. You're welcome to ride with him."
"I will. I have to . . . go home and pack some things. Claire--"
"Mom, if you want me to come with you . . ." Of course, Oliver hadn't said she could leave, but Claire wasn't in any mood to think about that.
"No, honey, it wouldn't be safe for you to try; we both know that. I'll let you know as soon as we arrive, and I'll call every day. As soon as we can, we'll be back here. All right?" Her mother kissed her forehead and smoothed her hair back. "Stay here. Stay safe, with your friends. He's stable right now, and I'll let you know if you need to come up and see him. There's no telling how long all this will take."
"Can I see him? Before you take him?" Claire asked the doctor. He nodded. "He's awake, but ten minutes only. Don't tire him out. He needs rest."
"Want me to . . . ?" Shane asked. Claire hesitated, but shook her head. She didn't think Shane would be especially restful for her dad, much as he meant well.
Her dad's room was quiet and very white, even though they'd tried to make it more cheerful with pictures on the walls. He was lying propped up on the bed, playing with a remote control, and he looked better. Not well, but better. "Hey, sweetheart. Sorry I gave you such a scare."
Claire laughed, but it tasted wrong in her mouth. "You're apologizing? Next thing, you'll be telling Mom you're sorry for messing up the carpet by falling on it."
He acknowledged that with a wry little twist of his mouth. "So, they're taking us to Dallas tomorrow. I hear they've told us we don't have to come back." Her dad always seemed to see too much, Claire thought. Like he could see right through her. "But you're going to stay here, aren't you?"
"I don't think they'll let me leave, Dad."
Her father took her hand. His fingers were warm and strong, and she was so glad to feel that, after holding his limp, cool hand when he was lying on the floor. "I want you out of here, Claire. I want you safe. I want you to get on with your life like you'd planned, go to MIT. It's my fault you came here at all, you know; your mother and I wanted you to stay close, and . . . this is what happened." He took in a deep breath. "You're meant for something better. That's what I was trying to tell you before. It's what I told Shane, too."