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"I'm all right," a faint but irritated voice protested. Abby was suddenly overcome with feelings that were not hers: frustration, irritation, weakness. But only an aching; the terrible pain was dulled. |
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Feeling her moist eyes glow with relief and joy, Abby smiled at Hannah. Mike would be fine. |
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Abby rode with Mike in the vehicle called an ambulance through the streets of L.A., siren blaring. He was taken once more to the medical center named Cedars-Sinai. Again he was rushed into the emergency area and removed from Abby's presence. |
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Much later he was taken to a room where she was permitted to join him. It was small and sterile, with a faint odor resembling the alcohol she had used on Mike's skin while treating the bee sting. |
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The wound had been in his shoulder: painful but not permanently damaging. "Thank God," Mike said, his voice still weak, when the tall, authoritative man who identified himself as Dr. Shreve came in. "This shouldn't affect my ability to do woodworking, should it?" |
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Abby held her breath for a moment, knowing how much his hobby meant to him. |
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The doctor pulled off his spectacles and folded them about the stethoscope around his neck. "As far as I can tell," he said, "you should make a full recovery." |
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Abby's breath whooshed out in relief as Mike |
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