She squeezed his leg reassuringly. “Let’s wait till we hear something. You want to come to bed?”

“I want to drink a bottle of gin.”

“You could, but you wouldn’t be happy about that tomorrow.”

“No. I know. Plus, if Abe needs something…” He shook his head and looked away, then came back and met her eyes. “Shit, Frannie.”

“I agree. But Rachel’s going to be up early. We’re going to want to be rested. I’ve got to go lie down. You’re welcome to join me.”

“I’d be lousy company.” Then, softening it, he patted her hand with his own. “Couple more minutes,” he said.

And the phone rang.

“The best bit of news,” Treya was saying to both of them as they listened on the two extension phones, “is that he’s out of his twos. Evidently the younger you are, the worse the prognosis. Three is way better than two. And this is a Level One hospital, so they had a neurosurgical resident in house, which is also lucky since he could go right to work.” Her voice, while not by any stretch cheerful, was strong and confident-sounding. Conveying facts, honing to the bearable news, she was keeping herself together the way she always did, by sucking it up.

“They’ve cooled him down to make him hypothermic,” she went on, “which is what they always do, and taken some scans, and they’ve got him on a continuous EEG and his vital signs are good, so that’s all heartening.”

“But he’s still unconscious?” Hardy asked.

Frannie and Hardy heard Treya’s quick intake of breath and flashed their reactions to one another. “Well, that’s really not so much of an issue now, since they’ve induced a coma. He’s going to be unconscious for a while. Maybe a week or more.”

“He’s in a coma?” Frannie, before she could stop herself.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Treya said. “They induce it with some drug to let his brain heal. And they’ve got him on something for the internal swelling, but the doctor says they still may have to operate. In fact, probably.”