Pictures of Emily by Theresa Weir Page B

stepped onto the gangplank, he caught a glimpse of a purple unicorn fluttering against blue sky.

Chapter 5
    Once Emily was at the hospital and on intravenous antibiotics, she began to improve almost immediately. By the third day she was well on her way to total recovery. She had even talked her father into returning to St. Genevieve by himself.
    Now, on the fifth day, Sonny was sitting in Dr. Martin Berlin’s office. Even though Martin had told him to quit hanging around the hospital disrupting things, Sonny hadn’t listened. He couldn’t seem to stay away. In fact, he’d just come from seeing Emily.
    The doorknob turned and the office door flew open. “This is crazy!” Martin Berlin announced. Lab coat flapping about his knees, he slammed the door shut and strode across the small room to the window, tossing a stack of folders on his desk as he passed.
    Sonny was used to Martin’s theatrics. Martin sometimes participated in Little Theater productions, and some of the sweeping stage gestures and voice projection had carried over into his real life.
    “The entire hospital is crawling with Sonny Maxwell groupies,” Martin said, gesturing wildly.
    Sonny locked his fingers over his stomach and stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. “I’ve tried to keep a low profile.”
    Martin was on a roll. “And my nursing staff! They’re walking around like a bunch of lovesick zombies. Just this morning, one of the nurses got the medicine orders mixed up. A patient almost ended up swallowing a suppository instead of a vitamin!”
    Sonny had known Martin going on six years—ever since Sonny had donated enough money to add a children’s research wing on to the hospital. Most doctors looked older than they really were. Martin was fifty, but looked forty. He was divorced, content, but one of the most highly-strung characters Sonny had ever come across.
    “What the hell do you do to them?” Martin asked. “There are at least thirty women out there right now—women just begging to be your love slave.” He pointed toward the parking lot below. “From here, I can see a girl who can’t be more than fifteen. She’s holding up a sign that says I want a piece of your action. Now what is a girl of fifteen doing with a sign like that?”
    Sonny shrugged and laughed. “There’s nothing I can do about it.”
    “It isn’t funny. This is real life. “Not one of your movies or ads. I’m scheduled for surgery this afternoon, and I don’t know if there are any assistants left around here who don’t have little hearts floating in front of their eyes. And that’s not all. I can’t leave this place without a dozen reporters shoving microphones in my face, demanding to know the scoop on you and Emily. I know you’re trying to keep her name out of the tabloids, but I think you’re going about it wrong. Why don’t you just go out there and talk to them? If you don’t tell them what’s going on, they’ll make something up.”
    “Since there’s nothing tawdry to tell them, they’ll make something up anyway.”
    “Well, this chaos can’t go on any longer. This is a hospital, not your fan club headquarters.”
    “So what you’re saying is you want me to leave and take Emily with me, right?”
    “You make it sound as if I’m kicking her out.” Martin came away from the window and perched himself on the edge of the desk, hands clasped in front of him, all doctor now. “Four or five days is the average stay for a pneumonia case. But Emily had some pretty badly damaged lung tissue. I’d like to keep her nearby for another week, then get a fresh set of X-rays before she goes home. But with this mess outside, and my nurses…” He shook his head. “Something has to be done.”
    “Maybe she could stay in a hotel,” Sonny suggested.
    “You couldn’t keep it a secret. The press would be hounding her within an hour. I have a better idea.” Martin—normally an eye-to-eye man—rubbed the back of