“Eyes still tight shut, she groped for it. It wasn’t where it usually was, and, bewildered, she forced her eyes open, shading them with her hand from the subdued glow of the bedside lamp that seemed like a glare in her semiawake state. But this wasn’t her lamp. It wasn’t her bed. It wasn’t her phone. . . . It came to her in a rush: Oh, God, it must be the hospital calling. . . . Oh, God, Ed, wait for me, wait for me. . . . Adrenaline catapulted her from the bed. She stared wildly aro...und, looking for the phone. There wasn’t one. But she could still hear it ringing. Oh God, oh God, Ed, my darling, honey, sweetheart. . . . Now she remembered, Ed hated telephones in the bedroom. He’d refused to have one, said there was no need for anyone to call him in the middle of the night, business could wait. . . . But not the hospital. She was already racing through the lofty living room, grabbing up the telephone.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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