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"Not for a while, Pierre. It's four in the morning," I told him and laughed.
"Four in the morning? I've never been up that late, have I?" he asked, looking from Mommy to me.
"No."
He looked past me and saw Daddy on his crutches in the doorway. Pierre's eyes grew bigger than silver dollars. "Dad; What happened to you?"
"Oh, I slipped and fell down the stairs," Daddy said nonchalantly. He hobbled up to the bed.
"Does it hurt?"
"Not much anymore. Later I'll let you sign your name on my cast."
Pierre smiled. Then, just as quickly as that smile came, it faded. "Jean can't sign it," he said.
"Then you'll sign it for him," I replied quickly, before the tears could come to anyone's eyes.
"Yes," Pierre said, thinking. "I will sign everything 'Pierre and Jean' from now on," he said excitedly.
"Well, people might not understand that, Pierre. When you sign your name, it's enough that you know you're signing for Jean, too, okay?"
He thought a moment and then reluctantly nodded.
But I sensed that from that moment on, everything Pierre did in his life, he would do for his dead brother, too. He would drive himself to do twice as much twice as well. He would try to live two lives. It would take a long time for him to bury Jean. When he did that, Jean would die again for him, and he would suffer the tragedy a second, maybe even harder time.
Pierre couldn't believe how long he had been sleeping. We told him as much about his condition as we could. He was smart enough to understand most of it. I promised him that when he was up to it, I would explain it in more detail. He loved to learn, and it occurred to me that he, perhaps as much as I, had the potential to be a good doctor.
We remained with him until he got tired and closed his eyes again. Mommy was terrified he would slip back into unconsciousness, but the nurse and Dr. LeFevre, who arrived hours earlier than usual, having been told of Pierre's recovery, assured us the worst was over.
"But there is much to do," she added quickly. "He's going to need loads and loads of tender loving care and therapy. It will take time. Don't expect him to put on his running shoes and go off to join other children his age right away," she warned.
"We'll do whatever it takes to help him get well again," Mommy pledged.
Although it was still quite early and none of us had had enough sleep, we were too excited to just go home to sleep. Daddy took us out for breakfast, and we discovered that we were quite hungry. We hadn't done much more than nibble at our food the past day or so.
It was good to see my parents reanimated, talking excitedly about the things they were going to do to prepare for Pierre's homecoming. Mommy thought it might be wise to hire a tutor for him as soon as possible, and Daddy suggested some short sight- seeing trips. I warned them about moving too quickly and advised them to wait to see what the doctor thought before we made any decisions or took any actions.
"Look
who's become the wise old lady," Daddy kidded and then reached for Mommy's hand across the table. "And look who's become as giddy as a child."
She smiled at him and they exchanged that magical look I had seen so many, many times before, a look I envied and dreamed of having between me and someone wonderful . . someone like Jack.
Jack! I thought.
"Daddy, we've got to get home soon. Jack will be arriving."
"Jack?" Mommy said. "Oh, I had forgotten."
"How could you forget Jack?" Daddy teased.
"You stop it right now, Daddy," I warned. The two of them laughed. It was the sweetest music I had heard in a long time.
Just as I feared, when we returned to the house, Jack was already there.
"You have a guest in the sitting room, mademoiselle," Aubrey told me. I thanked him and hurried down the corridor.
Jack looked lost and unsure of himself seated on the velvet settee in our grand sitting room. He wore jeans, boots, and a cotton plaid shirt, but his dark hair was brushed neatly, not a strand out of place.
