partially clothed, he was completely presentable. He reached out and placed two fingers on Emily’s neck, feeling for her pulse. Was it his imagination or did it seem kind of weak and thready?
He glanced at Amanda and met her worried eyes. Judging by the expression on her face, she was getting it.
“Oh,” Amanda said, dropping the phone back onto the desk. She sank to her knees next to Emily’s limp form. “What happened? What’s wrong with her?”
“I’m not sure.” He pinched Emily’s arm. “I think she might be dehydrated, though. Has she been sick?” Bering inched closer and was alarmed anew by how soft and shallow her breathing seemed.
Amanda began shaking her head. “No, not that I know of...I mean, she said she had a headache today. And she really hasn’t been herself lately, but she hasn’t been sick. Did she faint or something?”
Bering nodded, but never took his eyes off Emily. “She started acting really weird. She said she was hot and then she, uh, she began taking her clothes off, and then she passed out. It scared the heck out of me. I... Where in the world is Tag with that ambulance?” Bering put his fingers on Emily’s neck again, the weak, faint thud of her pulse causing his own heart to leap and then thump heavily in his chest.
“Oh, no!” Amanda cried suddenly, springing to her feet. She crossed over to the desk, and as she frantically searched through the messy pile, she let out an anguished groan.
“What is it?” Bering asked her.
“I gave her some pills earlier for her headache. But I told her to only take one or even a half to start with, but it looks like she took them all. They’re prescription and they’re really strong, and I don’t think she’s eaten anything all day. She hasn’t eaten much at all since we’ve been here, actually, and...” Amanda was rambling now as she rushed back toward Emily. “Like I said, she really hasn’t been herself. She’s been through so much and she...” Amanda broke off with a sob, dropped to her knees and grabbed one of Emily’s limp hands. “Emily, honey? Wake up, Em, please,” she pleaded. “Wake up.”
Bering heard the ambulance crew bust into the reception area. “Finally,” he muttered in relief and then shouted, “Tag, in here.” The paramedic team came charging through the door and Bering had never been so glad to see his cousin in his entire life.
* * *
“I FEEL SO SILLY,” Emily said much later as Amanda helped prop her up against two wonderfully fluffy down pillows. She’d awoken and oddly enough hadn’t been all that surprised to find herself in the hospital. She had vague and hazy recollections of an ambulance ride and voices coming from very far away. There were also remnants of vivid dreams swimming in her head, of strong hands running a cool cloth over her skin, and warm fingertips caressing her face and hair. But of course that was crazy. She’d obviously been delusional.
Amanda’s face split into a wide grin. She set the paper bag she’d been holding on the bed beside Emily. “I’m just glad that you’re going to be okay. What did the doctor tell you?”
Emily made a face. “That I was dehydrated, undernourished, exhausted, anemic and stressed-out, and on top of all that I was then, apparently, drugged.”
Amanda winced. “I’m so sorry about the pain pills, Em. I should have only given you one.”
“Amanda, clearly it wasn’t your fault. I was out of my mind. The doctor also said I am overall generally unhealthy.” She scrunched her face into a doubt-filled expression and asked, “Do you think I’m unhealthy?”
“Honestly?”
“Yes, honestly.”
Amanda began ticking things off on her fingers. “You don’t get enough sleep. You don’t get enough exercise. You work all the time. You never eat very well—I’ve been telling you that for years. So, yes, I’d say it doesn’t surprise me that the doctor says you’re unhealthy.”
Emily shrugged and said defensively, “I don’t have time.”
Amanda looked at her doubtfully. “You don’t have time?”
“To eat healthy and stuff.”
“You have just as much time to stop at Whole Foods in the morning as you do the bakery. You have just as much time to eat a banana or some oatmeal as you do an apple fritter. You have just as much time to walk through the salad bar at Trader Joe’s as you do the drive-through at Chicken Little.”
“I don’t like hummus,” Emily said with a curled lip. “Or wheat germ.”
“No one is suggesting you eat hummus, and I would be willing to bet you couldn’t identify a germ of wheat if your life depended on it.”
“That’s probably true,” Emily conceded with a grin. “But you know what I mean—I don’t like slimy, wheat-germy-type things.”
“Wheat germ isn’t slimy. But look, Emily,” Amanda said and then took a deep breath. “I know you don’t like to talk about this, but ever since the promotion-Jeremy thing, you haven’t been taking very good care of yourself at all—worse than normal. All you do is work. All you talk about is work.”
Emily folded her hands neatly in front of her. “Hmm,” she said thoughtfully. “Amanda, I know I’ve probably been awful to work for—”
“No, no,” Amanda said, “you are, and always have been, the best boss in the world.” She reached down, took Emily’s hand and squeezed it. “But right now I’m talking to you as your best friend. You need to pull yourself together. You need to start taking care of yourself and thinking about yourself first, before your job—before even your stepfather and your mother, and definitely before that worm Jeremy.”
Emily bobbed her head agreeably. “You’re right. I know you’re right. I’m going to. I will.”
“I’m sorry, Em, if I sound harsh, but you have no idea how worried I’ve been about you.”
Emily felt a surge of guilt well up within her. How selfish of her not to realize what Amanda had gone through, too.
“Oh, Amanda, I’m so sorry.” She reached over and enfolded Amanda’s hand in hers. “Yes, I promise I will get my act together. I will get better and healthy and eat raisins and vitamins and do yoga and become a hummus-eating vegan. And you know what? I’m thinking about starting my training for a triathlon the minute I get out of this hospital bed.”
Amanda let out a bark of laughter. “Let’s not get carried away here. It’s important not to set our expectations too high.”
“You’re right. I won’t, because I’m not eating any raisins. I’m not eating anything that looks like a dead bug. And I’m really not a strong swimmer, so that triathlon thing might be a tad unrealistic.”
“I’d settle for a brisk fifteen-or twenty-minute walk on the treadmill.” She let go of Emily’s hand and then reached into the brown paper sack sitting on the tray table and pulled something out. She placed it on a napkin and set it on Emily’s lap. “Here, try this. It’s one of the most delicious things I’ve ever eaten.”
Emily grimaced at it. It was some sort of biscuit covered with purplish-brown polka dots. “What is it? Wait, Amanda, is that a raisin?”
“Those are huckleberries. It’s a huckleberry scone. Just try it,” Amanda coaxed in a motherly tone. “Stop looking at it like that. I swear they aren’t raisins and there’s no wheat germ or anything healthy in it. I don’t even think it would fall into the ‘healthy’ category at all.”
Emily looked skeptical. “I’ll try it later, okay? I’m really not hungry right now. Now tell me exactly what happened after I passed out.”
Amanda ignored her attempt to change the subject. “Emily, you just told me you were going to do better. You promised. And the doctor says you have to eat if you’re going to get out of