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I recognized it could be a long time before Penelope woke up. But I was an impatient man. It was hard to give her the space to recover at the pace she needed.
Please, God. Bring her back to me.
I didn’t have the right to ask for anything. But I was a desperate man.
Life couldn’t be so cruel as to give me a daughter only to have her taken away so quickly.
But it very well could be.
And I still felt somehow responsible that Penelope was lying motionless in a hospital. If I’d just given Alma what she wanted, would she have done this?
I’d likely never know the answer. The damage was done.
And I was going to make sure Alma never hurt anyone again.
Especially not my family.
CHAPTEREIGHT
JOJO
“There is brain activity.”
Dr. Anderson pulled up a scan of Penelope’s head.
I could see movement, though he might as well have been speaking a foreign language.
“So she’ll have normal cognitive ability?” Kane asked.
“I can’t guarantee that. The fact that there’s brain activity is a positive sign. Unfortunately, we won’t know until she wakes.” Dr. Anderson spoke clinically.
We’d worked together on several projects. He was no-nonsense, though he had a good bedside manner with his patients. And he was an excellent doctor. I’d personally witnessed him heal many people. He’d performed surgeries on children with tumors in Cambodia. I’d seen him fix ailments of malnourished people including deformities. He’d helped those who otherwise had no hope or treatment walk again.
“When will she be able to breathe on her own?” Kane fired off another question.
“Right now, she’s in an induced coma so she can rest. Her body has sustained multiple injuries. The surgeon sutured all internal bleeds, as far as they can tell. She is stable but she needs to rest so her body can heal. I’d like to get her off the ventilator as soon as possible, but I’m also prepared to give her body the assistance it needs until she’s more stable. They’re also monitoring her concussion.”
Kane leaned forward. “No sugarcoating. What’s the prognosis?”
Dr. Anderson didn’t seem fazed by Kane’s abruptness. I had the urge to cover my ears, uncertain if I could handle the truth.
“No sugarcoating? I don’t know. Penelope has sustained injuries that on their own many people don’t survive. The head trauma. A hairline fracture on her skull. The collapsed lung. The internal bleeding. Any one of those can be too much for many patients.
“The best we can do is monitor her. Let her body guide us in how it wants to heal. And we’ll give her the support she needs.” He took off his glasses and set them on the table. “It could take a very long time.”
Kane slumped.
The news wasn’t really all that surprising. Anyone could look at Penelope and see she was in a precarious state.
Somehow hearing him confirm some of our worst fears was shocking. I tried to pluck the good pieces from what he’d said, but there weren’t many.
She was alive.
That was the hope I had to hang on to.
“I’d like you to consider moving her to a private medical facility. One where there is staff to provide full-time attention.” He fingered the stem of his glasses. “Of course, I’ll do whatever I can. Penelope is a special girl,” he said fondly.
She’d assisted him so many times, always asking questions and eager to do whatever was needed to help the patients he attended to.
