'Has she phoned? Did someone tell her about Pierre?' Daddy asked and nodded, hoping for a yes. But Aubrey could only disappoint him.
'Not that I know, Monsieur.'
'Where's Mrs. Hockingheimer?' Daddy glanced up the stairway.
'She went to the hospital with Pierre, monsieur. The ambulance took them both.'
'Ambulance?' Daddy released a small moan. Then he turned to me. I shrank into a tighter ball when I looked at those pathetic, sad eyes that showed his suffering.
'Where is she? Where could she have gone?' he cried, turning back to the butler. Aubrey stared, not sure what else to say or do.
'Daddy?' I tugged on his sleeve. 'Daddy.'
'What? Oh. Yes. We had better go directly to the hospital. Call me if you hear from Madame Andreas, Aubrey, Call the hospital immediately.'
'Yes, monsieur.'
We charged out the front door and down the steps. 'Maybe she called the doctor first and went directly to the hospital,' he said, wishing aloud. My silence brought him back to reality.
In no time we were driving into the hospital parking lot. The elderly volunteer at the front desk moved too slowly for Daddy when he asked where Pierre Dumas had been taken. He slapped the counter as she fumbled with the patient register. 'Hurry, madame, please.'
'Yes, yes,' she said when she finally found Pierre's name. 'He was just admitted. He's in ICU.'
'Intensive care?' Daddy grimaced.
'Probably just a precaution, Daddy,' I said. It was more like a prayer, too.
He took a deep breath and we hurried to the
elevator. When we got to the ICU visitors' lounge, Mrs. Hockingheimer came out quickly to greet us.
'Oh, monsieur,' she said, 'thank God you're here.'
Daddy held his breath, the words cluttering on his tongue.
'What's wrong? What's happened to Pierre, Mrs. Hockingheimer?' I asked breathlessly.
'He's gone into a deeper coma. The psychiatrist is upset. She says Pierre has suffered a serious relapse.'
'Relapse?' Daddy said. 'Back to what he was?'
'Even worse than he was originally,' she said and began to cry. Daddy's face turned ashen. I felt my heart stop and then pound. Panic nailed my feet to the floor. My legs felt so numb I didn't think I had the power to move one in front of the other.
'Where is Dr. LeFevre?' Daddy asked finally.
'She's inside with Pierre. She came out and just went back in with another doctor,' Mrs. Hockingheimer said. 'An urologist.'
I tried to swallow, but couldn't. Daddy's shoulders drooped. Although I was really feeling sick, I managed to find my voice. 'Let's go talk to the doctor, Daddy.'
We started toward the ICU, both of us terrified at what we were going to discover. Before we reached it, the door opened and Dr. LeFevre stepped out. She gazed at us, her eyes filled with confusion and disappointment.
'What's happening to my boy?' Daddy asked softly.
'I have a specialist in there examining him, Monsieur Andreas. He's suffering renal failure.'
'What does that mean?' Daddy asked, gazing at me first. I knew he understood, but for the moment he was so nervous and excited he couldn't think.
'It's his kidneys, Daddy,' I said.
'His kidneys aren't filtering out the waste, monsieur. They have shut down.'
'Why? How can this happen?'
'I have seen this happen to patients who suffer prolonged coma, much more severe than what Pierre suffered, but his situation, which we thought was improving, suddenly took a turn for the worse and he went deeper into himself. Psychologically, monsieur,' she said after a long pause, 'your son is trying to get back with his twin brother.'
'Get back. But . . . Jean is dead,' Daddy said in a low voice.
'I know, monsieur. And so does Pierre.'
'But then he's . . .'
'Willing himself to die,' she said.
Her words fell like thunder over us. Daddy stared in disbelief.
'But how can someone . . . Surely that's not possible, Doctor,' Daddy said.
'The mind is far more powerful than one might imagine, monsieur. People develop psychosomatic illnesses. Some people are unable to see even though there is nothing physiologically wrong with their eyes; others are unable to walk, even though there is nothing wrong with their legs.' She paused and looked behind us. 'Excuse me, Monsieur Andreas, but where is your wife? Where is the boy's mother?'
