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“I don’t blame you.” Laurel made a mental note to have one of her friends on the hospital’s social worker staff check in on Carol, if no one had done so yet.
A couple in the far corner of the room knelt beside their chairs for what appeared to be a quiet prayer before sleep. Carol lowered her voice as she leaned closer to Laurel. “Robert and Jean Wyzinski,” she murmured, nodding toward the praying couple. “Their little boy has very little chance of surviving, but they haven’t given up hope. They can’t, I guess.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Laurel asked in a whisper, feeling sympathy gather in a lump in her throat.
“He had routine surgery to correct a minor problem with his stomach and he developed a post-surgery infection that has turned into encephalitis. He isn’t responding to any antibiotics and his condition keeps getting worse instead of better. He’s been in a coma for the last three days. They’ve been told to expect the worse, but they cling to their faith.”
“How—” Laurel swallowed hard, her sympathy now touched with fear of something similar happening to Tyler. “How old is their son?”
“He’s eight. Their only son, though they have two older daughters. I feel so sorry for them.”
Carol was obviously a people person, someone who cared about others as intensely as she was curious about them. Laurel already liked her, but she didn’t have the energy for further conversation about other people’s problems for now. She was so very tired.
With a faintly apologetic smile, she reached for her blanket as someone dimmed the lights in the room. “I think I’ll try to get about an hour’s sleep before I look in on Tyler again.”
Unoffended, Carol glanced at her watch. “The nurse has promised to come get me at midnight to sit with Patty for a while. I suppose I’d better get some rest, too. Good night, Laurel.”
“Good night, Carol.” Laurel settled back into her recliner, turning her body toward Jackson as she did so. He was already stretched out, his eyes closed, though she knew he wasn’t yet asleep.
As if to confirm that thought, he reached out to her. She placed her hand in his and let her eyelids drift closed. Just before she fell into a restless sleep, she offered a prayer of hope—for her child, and for all the others whose loved ones waited and worried.
Seven
Laurel nearly jumped out of the big recliner less than two hours later when someone touched her. It felt as though she’d just managed to doze off when she opened her eyes to find a young nurse’s aide leaning over her.
“Mrs. Reiss? I’m sorry if I startled you.” The young woman spoke in a whisper.
Laurel tried to be as considerate, though fear made her voice rise a bit. “What’s wrong? Is it Tyler?”
“Nothing’s wrong. He’s just restless and we thought he might like to hear your voice. You asked us to come get you when he woke up.”
Proving he hadn’t been sleeping deeply either, Jackson lowered the footrest of his recliner. “He’s awake?”
“Not completely. We still have him lightly sedated.”
Laurel was already on her feet. Since she’d slept in her jogging suit and sneakers, she was prepared on that short notice to follow the nurse. “We can both come?” she asked, noting that Jackson was sliding his feet into his shoes.
“Of course.”
They left the waiting room as quietly as possible to keep from disturbing the few people who actually seemed to be sleeping. Laurel noted that Carol’s chair was empty, so she figured she must have been summoned to her daughter’s unit.
As the nurse had explained, Tyler wasn’t fully awake, but had surfaced from the heavy sedation enough to whimper softly and squirm a bit in the bed. He quieted when either of his parents spoke soothingly to him, so Laurel and Jackson spent the rest of the night taking turns sitting with him and taking catnaps in the waiting room. Neither got much sleep, and both were exhausted by the time Donna and Carl arrived Saturday morning.
Laurel noted immediately that Donna seemed calmer, even if her behavior was still not quite normal. Something was obviously bothering her, but maybe she had decided to keep whatever it was to herself until Tyler was better.
Carl seemed even more protective of his wife than usual, but other than that, Laurel could detect few real changes in his demeanor. Maybe he was a bit more awkward with Jackson than usual? Maybe he didn’t quite meet his son’s eyes when he spoke to him? Or was that simply her sleep-deprived imagination at work?
Tyler was somewhat more responsive that morning
, though still heavily medicated for pain. He even managed a smile for his grandmother, which brought a new film of tears to Donna’s eyes. Laurel couldn’t bring herself to mind that the smile wasn’t for her, because it obviously meant so much to her mother-in-law. And almost immediately afterward, Tyler groggily asked for his mommy. Laurel kissed his forehead and stroked his hair until he went back to sleep.
“You and Jackson both look so tired,” Donna said a short while later. “Why don’t you try to get some sleep while Carl and I sit with Tyler?”
“No, I’m fine,” Laurel answered instantly.
“Yeah, me, too,” Jackson said, not to be outdone.
Donna didn’t try to push the issue.
