his face, but a second wave of nausea racked him, and the towel
fell to the grass.
Miguel picked up the Campari glass, all the while wailing in high-pitched Spanish. As
he took the glass away, he called something over his shoulder.
"Your pills, sir..." Jay bent over. "No, it's too soon. Janey, bring blankets. And check
with your dad. I want that chopper."
Janey dashed off, with Lydia trotting after her. Winton D'Angelo was holding Denise,
who was weeping on his polo shirt. The Peltzes gaped. They were holding hands. Llewellyn
vomited until he was heaving dryly. When Janey came back with a pillow and an armload of
blankets, Jay had her spread them on the grass. She said Lydia was with Bill. The helicopter was
hauling victims of a car wreck to the county hospital. They were sending an ambulance in case it
took too long. She made her report in a high breathless voice while she spread the blankets a few
yards away, and Jay and I held Llewellyn.
Slowly Llewellyn's spasms eased, and he sank back on the chair, shuddering under our
hands.
"Now, sir," Jay said, "we're going to help you over to those clean blankets. Miguel said
you take heart pills."
"Digitalis. Shirt pocket. Chest hurts." He stumbled as we half-carried him to Janey's
pallet. She handed Jay a damp towel, and he wiped Llewellyn's face and shirt clean when he had
eased the old man down. Llewellyn lay on his side, half-curled in a fetal crouch. Jay swaddled
him with extra blankets, and I slipped the small pillow Janey had brought beneath his head. He
seemed to be drowsing.
"Should you give him the digitalis?" I had seen the outline of the little silver pillbox
against the damp shirt. I eased the box out. "Do these look right?"
Jay was taking Llewellyn's pulse. "Thready," he muttered. "Jesus."
"Digitalis," I repeated.
"Uh, yeah...no." He took the box and looked at the pills. "I wish I knew whether he'd
taken one in the last couple of days."
"Last night. I saw him."
Jay frowned at me. "Are you sure?"
"Same pillbox."
He slipped the box in his pants pocket and began checking the pulse rate again.
Llewellyn stirred. "Sir, Dai, can you hear me?"
"Mmn."
"Can you tell me how you feel?"
"Mouth burns."
No wonder--all that stomach acid.
"Tingles," he mumbled after a moment, blinking. "Hands feel funny. Eyes all blurry."
His jaunty waxed mustachios had wilted.
Jay was muttering under his breath. Abruptly he stood up and looked around. "D'Angelo,
Peltz, clear the chairs and tables off the lawn. I want you to mark off a place for the chopper to
land. That flat area by the boat dock. Let's hope the damned thing gets here before dark. If not
you'll have to drive cars down here to light up the grass."
I was still kneeling by Llewellyn. I smoothed his hair. His breathing came shallow and
quick. It was dusk, still fairly light out, but hard to tell colors. I was looking at his lips. If he had
trouble getting enough oxygen they were supposed to turn blue.
"Oh, God, don't let him die!" Denise moaned. She made to kneel by me.
"Take her into the house," Jay snarled. Janey and Angharad Peltz almost had to drag
Denise off Llewellyn's body, but they eventually persuaded her to go into the house with them.
She moaned all the way.
D'Angelo and a very subdued Ted Peltz began dragging the lawn chairs and little tables
to the veranda. Miguel was back, wringing his hands. I had never seen anyone actually do that,
not even Denise. His beautiful dark eyes were wide with anxiety, and he seemed to have
forgotten the English language. Jay said something to him in rapid Spanish, and he nodded and
began helping with the chairs.
Jay knelt down again and took a pulse.
When he finished, I cleared my throat. "What do you think?"
"I think the chopper will come, and they'll transport him to the hospital." He looked over
at me and touched my face briefly. "Take it easy. Do you know CPR?"
"Naturally." I had learned it in college and relearned it the previous November as part of
my