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Show Hannah Mae and the Mona Lisa 89 been to the hospital since. Folks from Willard don't go to the hospital for everyday hurts. Not for mule kicks or bouts of gout. Not for broken bones or tonsillectomies. The clinic in Holly Ridge serves well enough for those. Folks go to the hospital to be bom. And folks go to the hospital to die. I followed Dad through the front doors and blinked in the bright light. We stopped at the receptionist. "Colby Jones?" Dad asked. The receptionist punched Colby's name into a computer. "Are you family?" she asked. Her face was grave. "Yes," Dad lied. But not much of a lie. "I C U," said the receptionist. "Second floor." Dad clenched his jaw. I took Dad's hand and he led me toward the elevators. We rode to the second floor. More bright lights. Another receptionist. "Colby Jones?" Dad asked again. The girl looked at Dad and she looked at me. "Wait here a minute," she said. She walked to a glass-fronted room in the back. I could see the back of Mom's head through the glass, but I couldn't see Gus and I couldn't see Colby. The girl spoke with Mom, and then checked something on the wall above the bed. Mom turned and left the room. I dried my eyes with Dad's handkerchief. It didn't help. Dad asked, "What are the doctors saying?" Mom measured me quickftwith her eyes. I suspect she was deciding how much to ' v tell. She's not one for sugar coating and neither is Dad, but I figure she was thinking hard about what to say. |