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Bret snuggled closer and opened his eyes. Tears rolled down the boy’s pink cheeks. “Can we see her today?”
Liam drew in a deep breath. “Not yet. Yesterday I told you that her head was hurt, but there’s … a little more to it than that. She’s in a very deep sleep. It’s called a coma, and it’s the body’s way of healing itself. You know how when you have a really bad case of the flu, you sleep all the time to get better? It’s like that. ”
Jacey’s colorless lips trembled. “Will she wake up?”
Liam flinched. Any answer—every answer—felt like a lie. “We hope so. ”
He looked at Jacey and saw the sad, desperate knowing in her eyes. She was a doctor’s kid; she knew that not everyone woke up from a coma.
God help him, Liam couldn’t say anything to save her from the truth. Hope was something he could offer, but it wasn’t a prescription he could fill. “She needs us to believe in her,” he said, “to keep our hope fresh and strong. When she’s ready, she’ll wake up. ”
Bret wiped his eyes. “Fix her, Daddy. ”
“The docs are doing everything they can right now, Bretster, but she’s asleep …”
“Like Sleeping Beauty,” Jacey said to her little brother.
Bret burst into tears. “Sleeping Beauty was asleep for a hundred years!”
Liam pulled Bret into his arms and held on to his son tightly. Jacey scooted closer and hugged them both.
When Liam felt Bret’s tiny shudder, and the warm, wet rush of his daughter’s tears, he buried his face in his son’s coarse, red hair.
And he prayed.
There were too many cars in the hospital parking lot. Absurdly, that was Rosa’s first thought as she drove into the Ian Campbell Medical Center that afternoon. It took her several minutes to find a vacant parking space. Finally, she pulled in between a battered Ford pickup truck and an old Impala, and turned off the engine.
She took a deep breath and released her grip on the steering wheel, one finger at a time. When she finished, she found that she was sweating, though the heater hadn’t worked in years and it couldn’t be more than forty degrees outside.
She gazed at the small figurine of the Virgin Mary anchored to the beige plastic dashboard. Then she got out of the car and walked toward the hospital.
The electronic doors whooshed open; the bitter, astringent smell of stale, medicated air assaulted her.
Rosa’s step faltered. She tucked her black vinyl purse against her narrow body and focused on the floor at her feet. It was an old habit, one she’d never been able to break. When she was nervous, she counted every step between where she was and where she wanted to be.
At the front desk, she stopped, barely looking up when the receptionist greeted her.
“I am here to see Dr. Liam Campbell,” she said.
“I’ll page him,” the girl answered. “Please have a seat. ”
Rosa nodded and turned away. She kept her head down and counted the steps back to the collection of gray plastic chairs. Fourteen, to be exact.
She heard her son-in-law’s name echo through the halls. A few minutes later, she watched him walk toward her.
He looked as she would have expected, tired and beaten. He was a tall man, her son-in-law, although you didn’t notice that most of the time. There had been several occasions over the years when Rosa had turned to speak to Liam, or hand him something, and had been startled by his height. Ordinarily, he just didn’t seem to take up that much space. But he had the heart of a lion. Rosa had never known anyone who loved as completely as her son-in-law.
“Hola, Dr. Liam,” she said, pushing to her feet.
“Hello, Rosa. ”
For an awkward moment, she waited for him to say something. She stared up at him. In his green eyes, she saw a harrowing sadness that told her everything she needed to know.
“Is she still alive?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
He nodded.
“Ah … thank God. You will take me to see her now?” she said, her fingers toying nervously with the brass closure on her purse.
