She sat up suddenly in the dark. He almost knocked over the lamp reaching for the switch. The light washed over her like radiation. She was ashen—her face twisted in a mask of torture. Her breath came in sharp stabs.

“It hurts!” she cried.

He leapt to her side. “The pain is worse?”

She nodded, tears squeezing from her eyes. “I can’t stand it!”

“This is how the flush works. It puts pressure on the stone to move.”

She doubled up and shook her head violently. “It hurts too much!”

“We have to go to the hospital then.”

On her knees, she buried her face into the end of the couch. “I don’t want to go. Please don’t make me go.”

He spoke firmly. “The flush will still probably work but we can’t risk your life. At least at the hospital they can monitor your condition and give you something stronger for the pain.”

She protested some more but he was not listening. He went into her bedroom and found a long coat. Somehow he managed to get her into it and out the door. She almost fainted in the elevator that led to the parking structure. He held her and whispered soothing words in her ear. At the same time he cursed himself for trying a flush when he did not know the extent of her internal injuries. These days it seemed he was always cursing something.

“How are you doing?” he asked as they pulled onto the Pacific Coast Highway. Middle of the night in Malibu—the road was deserted. He was not sure where he was going. There was St. John’s in Santa Monica—an excellent hospital, he had heard—but it was fifteen miles away. At the same time he didn’t want to search for another. Kathy was in no shape to help with directions.

“I feel like I’m going to die,” she whispered.

“I have a cell phone. Is there anyone you want me to call? Your husband?”

She rolled back into a ball. “No. Not him.”

He reached over and stroked her shoulder. “You’re going to be all right.”

She gave him a desperate look. “Promise?”

He nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Look at you. You’re God, and you’re acting like a doctor.”

He had to laugh. What a girl, even when she was dying she didn’t lose her sense of humor. Amy never made him laugh.

They reached St. John’s fifteen minutes later. He’d run a few lights. He headed for the emergency entrance. But as he went to stop the car, Kathy grabbed his arm.

“The pain stopped,” she said.

“Kathy, that isn’t going to work with me. They can help you inside.”

She sat up straight. “I swear it just stopped.” She shook her head in amazement. “It’s like someone threw a switch.”

He saw she was serious. “The stone must have moved out of the duct.”