Marge held up a tin. “I baked blueberry muffins this morning.” She turned to Luci and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I snuck them in just for you!”
Luci grinned and looked at her mother, expectantly. “Go ahead,” Olivia said.
As was his way, Ben stood beside his wife, quietly shadowing her exuberance. “Good to see you, darling,” he said, pecking Olivia’s cheek. “How are you holding up?”
“Still standing. Thank you for coming.”
Luci and Marge dipped into the tin of muffins, and Olivia accepted one gratefully. It was still warm to the touch. “Boy, you really did just bake these.”
Ben shook his head when she offered him one.
“You’ve more willpower than I do,” Olivia said, tearing into the buttery folds of the muffin. She’d been living on hospital cafeteria food, and as the warm blueberries melted on her tongue she seriously wondered if she’d ever tasted anything so gratifying.
Marge shook her head. “Oh please. You give that man too much credit. Who do you think taste-tested them?”
A small giggle escaped Luci and hope filled Olivia’s chest. God, she was so glad to see Ben and Marge.
“Now,” Ben said, sitting beside Luci’s bed and examining her cast, “this is a lovely shade of pink, but I think it might need a little artwork. May I?” He reached in his pocket and held up a black Sharpie marker.
“I didn’t even think of that,” Olivia said. “Luci, Ben can sign your cast. We all can.”
“Even better,” Ben said. “I can draw you a picture. Would you like that?”
Luci’s eyes widened. She nodded happily. Drawing was something they did together, Ben and Luci. Whenever Marge and Ben invited them to the big house for dinner, Ben would sit down at the farm table with a big sketch pad and a black marker. Whatever Luci pointed to he would draw; a flower from the garden, their tabby cat, Simon. Then he would hand the marker to Luci and let her take a turn. “He’s crazy about that child,” Marge would say, as she and Olivia watched from the kitchen. Ben never said so, but Olivia had long suspected it was more than a means to pass the time. It was Ben’s creative way to get Luci to express herself. Thefact that he’d brought his black Sharpie to the hospital made her eyes water.
Ben uncapped the marker, holding it up like a wand. “All right, then. What will it be, sweet one?”
Olivia watched as Luci considered his question. She turned her eyes on her mother, with a sudden pleading look. There was something special she had in mind.
“You have an idea,” Olivia said, moving closer to the bed. “Can you give us a hint?”
Behind her, Olivia could feel Marge holding her breath. Indeed, she was, too. But as much as she didn’t want to pressure Luci, this was what their speech therapist usually encouraged. When Luci’s brow furrowed in consternation, Olivia wavered. “Is it something here?” she asked, hopefully.
Luci shook her head.
“Okay, Mommy will guess.” She ran through the usual objects the two liked to commit to paper. “Is it a butterfly? Or a flower?”
Again, Luci shook her head.
Olivia sighed inwardly. “Tell us yes or no,” she encouraged. She wanted Luci to articulate, even if it was just a guttural sound in the affirmative or negative. Olivia might be pushing it, she knew. But this was Ben and Marge. Besides Olivia and her grandfather, they were the safest people Luci could practice this with.
“Do you want Ben to draw an animal?”
Luci brightened.
“Ah!” Marge said with relief. “You love the birds that come to my feeder in the garden. Would you like a chickadee?”
Luci shook her head. She was getting discouraged, Olivia could tell. “We’re going to help you to tell us what you want. Can you draw it for us?”
Ben held up his marker. “Excellent idea.” There was a fumbleas Marge rustled through her purse looking for a scrap of paper. Olivia scoured the room. The only things she could find were hospital forms and a magazine, both filled with text. Meanwhile Marge kept guessing aloud.
Luci was starting to look as if she might cry. This was the problem—when Luci couldn’t articulate and Olivia couldn’t guess, things unraveled. Olivia wasn’t about to let Ben’s lovely idea be wasted. Determined, she tore through the drawers in the nightstand. There was a bedpan, a washcloth. Nothing else. Feeling frantic, she turned to Luci. “Hang on, honey. I’ll go ask a nurse! We’ll find you a piece of paper, don’t worry.” But as she spun toward the door, she halted.
There, in the doorway, stood Perry. He had a bashful look on his face. In his hand was a rope. “Perry?”
He stepped to the side, but not to make room for her. Olivia’s eyes followed the length of rope from Perry’s hand to the shadows behind him. Buster lumbered forward. The second he saw Luci and Olivia he barked, and his whole body began to wag.
There was a small shriek from the bed and everyone turned. Luci leapt from her covers and leaned over the railing, reaching out with her good arm. Her face was alight with joy.
