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Hearing Harper’s name, I pause with the spoon that I’m holding mid-air. I turn toward Jude, my brows knitting together in worry. “Is she okay?”
Jude responds with a casual shrug. “She’ll get there,” he says, a subtle hint of fatigue in his tone.
He probably didn’t sleep. I don’t understand why . . .Then, I recall why Lyric came to Seattle. Harp. I feel like an asshole for letting my sister down. “Why didn’t you call if she needed me?” I ask sharply.
“Because she has five other siblings to look after her.” Jude just gives me a look. “Your family’s gotta be the priority now.” His gaze darts briefly toward Cora. “Harp gets it, that they’re important. And, eventually, she’ll even wanna meet them, connect with Ame again too.”
But not now? My worry spikes, but before I can ask any more questions, Cora tugs his shirt insistently. “Unca Jude. You gonna help izing the muffins?”
“Hate to break it to ya squirt, but muffins don’t get icing usually. That’s more of a cupcake thing.” At her crestfallen look, he tweaks her nose playfully. “But how about if I whip up some delicious strawberry smoothies while we wait for those muffins?”
I explain quickly what smoothies are, adding, “They’re kind of like milkshakes.” Cora immediately perks up. “Yes, pwease.”
She forgets all about the muffins. I finish them and set them in the oven. As Jude gathers smoothie ingredients, Cora “helping” enthusiastically, my phone suddenly buzzes. Glancing at the screen, I see the hospital number and my gut seizes.
I signal to Jude who nods that he’ll keep an eye on my girl. I quickly step toward the library to take the call. “Dr. Decker speaking.”
The person on the other line tells me Isadora’s condition has changed. The intracranial swelling has resolved, and they are lightening her sedation. It’s a waiting game now. She might awaken potentially in only a few hours, possibly days. The unspoken third possibility hangs heavily in the air—she might not wake up at all.
“Thank you for calling. I’ll let my wife know. Please update me immediately if there are any changes to her condition,” I request before ending the call.
Reaching my bedroom, I hear the shower running. Hesitating at the door, I knock softly. “Ameline, it’s me. I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
The sound of the water stops, and after a moment, Ameline’s voice, slightly muffled, responds, “I’ll be out in a minute.”
I lean against the wall, my mind racing. Isadora’s awakening could change everything. Ame might leave with the kids and leave me behind, or . . . what if she miraculously wakes up perfectly fine and takes them away from us?
That might break Ame’s heart. Could they be able to fix their relationship? Stop searching for the worst-case scenarios and just wait patiently, I order myself.
Ameline emerges from the bathroom, her hair damp and clinging to her shoulders, a towel wrapped around her. She scans my face with concern. “Is everything okay?”
“The swelling has subsided, and they’re gradually bringing Izzy out of the coma,” I say, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt.
A crease forms between her brows, confusion and tentative relief warring across her lovely features. “Will she wake up today?”
“Could be hours, maybe days,” I hedge, not wanting her to spiral imagining worst-case scenarios too.
Ame looks at me skeptically. “This is where you tell me that she might not wake up or could’ve lost all her faculties,” she insists, then points toward the place where she has the scar. “I had brain surgery. I know what can happen if a part of your gray matter suffers an injury.”
I should know better than to sugarcoat with this woman. “You’re right, there are infinite possibilities. But we can’t make assumptions yet, baby,” I say, aiming for a positive outcome.
“Yet, it’s a possibility,” she presses, her expression tense.
“Everything is possible, yes,” I admit, my heart heavy. “We can’t foresee exactly how her recovery will unfold.”
She nods, some tension easing from her face. After a weighty moment, she adds, “Fitz called earlier. He said the temporary guardianship for the little ones is set up.” She explains to me how it works.
We don’t get to be parents but we’re allowed to register them for school, make medical decisions and . . . it’s like fostering them.
I remember how it was when my parents fostered Lyndon. He was just a baby. There were a lot of restrictions and what we could do, like going on vacation, or . . . well, I can’t remember specifics. It’s been so long. Though one day he became ours. A Decker. That could happen here too, right?
Am I a bad person for wanting to keep Cora and Caleb, calling them mine?
Before I can think more, Ame adds, “If anything changes, we have to let him know.”
“What kind of changes?”
She shrugs. “If she never wakes up, dies, or just leaves the hospital declaring herself healthy.”
