An Act of Love Read Free

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    “Bruce. Lorimer wants to see you. Now.”
    “What’s up?”
    “Something about Emily.”
    “Emily? What about her?”
    “You’ve gotta see Lorimer right away. That’s all I know.”
    Bruce yanked on his khakis and striped shirt and sweater, slid his feet sockless into his shabby loafers, then set off at a run toward the dean’s office in the administrative buildings, turning things over in his mind. If the siren had meant an ambulance, and that had come for Emily, well, what could have happened? She wasn’t a jock, she wouldn’t have gotten hurt playing. He took the steps up to the entrance to Tuttle Hall two at a time.In the lobby he stopped to brush back his hair and tuck in his shirt.
    The dean’s secretary, Mrs. Echevera, sat at her desk, pounding away on the computer, but the moment Bruce stepped into the office, she swiveled her chair toward him. “Hello, Bruce. Go on in, dear. He’s waiting for you.”
    Dear , Bruce thought, there was an ominous sign. After rapping sharply at the door, he went in.
    Dean Lorimer was six foot three and had a Teddy Roosevelt kind of gruff charm. “Bruce. Sit down,” he growled. “How are you?”
    “Fine. I’m fine, sir.” Bruce settled uneasily on the edge of the chair facing the desk.
    “We’ve got a little problem you should know about. I wanted to tell you before you heard it elsewhere. Your sister’s been taken to the hospital. If appearances don’t lie, she attempted suicide this afternoon.”
    “Emily?” Bruce asked, incredulous.
    Lorimer nodded. “Her roommate Cordelia found her. In time, I should add, thank God above for that. An ambulance came immediately and she should be in the hospital right now. I want you to know I’ve called your parents. They’re on their way to the hospital. I thought you might like to go over there, too, later on. I’m giving you permission to be off grounds for the rest of the day.”
    “Well, thank you, sir,” Bruce said, automatically polite. “But—are you sure it was a suicide attempt?”
    “Unfortunately, yes. She had a bottle of vodka and a variety of pills with her. Seems she waited until the dorm was empty after lunch.”
    “But she’ll be okay?”
    “We think so,” Lorimer replied cautiously. After a moment he asked, “I don’t suppose you can help shed any light on what would be bothering Emily?”
    Bruce shook his head. “She’s two classes behind me. Well, you know that. I hardly ever see her.”
    “Can you remember when you did see her last?”
    Bruce thought. “Probably at assembly. She seemed all right then.”
    Lorimer shook his head. “It’s not like her.”
    “No, it’s not.”
    “I’ll walk you to your dorm,” Lorimer said, rising. “Something like this … I needsome exercise.”
    “I, uh, I’m not sure I’m going to my dorm right now,” Bruce told the dean. “Unless you think it’s necessary.”
    Lorimer looked at him.
    “I’d kind of like to talk to a friend right now,” Bruce explained.
    “Of course, son,” Lorimer said. He waved his hand. “Go on.”
    “Well, uh, thank you, sir,” Bruce said awkwardly. He left the room, making a polite grimace to Mrs. Echevera, then hurried down the hall. When he stepped out into the cold freshness of the day, he began to run toward Shipley Hall, Alison’s dorm.
    From his window, Bob Lorimer stood, watching Bruce run.

    Emily felt like shit. Was made of shit, actually. The stuff they called charcoal kept making her run for the john. She was sure every sound she made could be heard throughout the ward. People must think she was really disgusting.
    Her intestines were cramped, her stomach hurt, her mouth was dry, and her face felt swollen. She lay on her side on the bed, finding what relief there was in sleep.
    Then she heard the door open. Someone entered the room.
    “Emily? Do you know where you are?”
    Someone was looking at her. A woman.
    “Emily?”
    “Hospital.”
    “Good. Do you know what day it is?”
    The