“You did. I had been back in San Francisco for only about two hours. I was just walking into May’s apartment when the phone rang. You were…a little out of it, but I was able to gather what had happened. I came as quickly as I could.”
“I don’t remember. How long have we been here?”
“It’s been five days, now,” she said, closing the door. She crossed the room to him, putting her arm around his shoulders.
“Are you going back?”
“No. I’m done. I’m home now.”
He closed his eyes, relieved. Carol would stay by his side, and Rebecca could wake up any moment. His world, balanced so precariously, wouldn’t shatter just yet.
“I wish I could do something other than just watch her. I wish I could help her,” he whispered.
“Maybe you are helping. Maybe she can hear you. Maybe she can sense you. I’ve seen a lot of horrible things, Daniel. I’ve seen people survive injuries that you can’t imagine—survive and recover. Rebecca’s a strong girl. She’ll come out of this.” For the first time since she’d arrived, Daniel noticed tears in her voice.
They lapsed into silence, both too weak and distracted to carry on a conversation. At one point, a nurse brought in a second chair for Carol, and later, the same nurse brought them a pitcher of water and crackers. Daniel barely noticed her, too wrapped up in his memories. He kept returning to Rebecca’s snowmen. She loved them. She wanted to build them every weekend.
He smiled slightly, remembering her first deformed attempt. The snowman looked more like a snowslug or a snowsnake, but she had been so proud of herself, clapping her hands and laughing as she admired her work. Her creations didn’t take humanoid shape until she was six, and by the time she was seven, she could create entire families—complete with a dog. He kept meaning to sign her up for an art class at the community center, but he never quite found the time.
More memories flipped through his mind, frozen like the little square slides Carol always sent home in her letters. With a pain, he realized that most of those memories did not involve Carol. She had been involved in her missions, and he had been so caught up in making sure she was happy, living to her potential, that they both forgot the impact it might have on their daughter.
“What are you thinking about?” Carol asked, her voice low.
“Snowmen.”
“Oh, yes. I remember when she wanted to use my food coloring to make them purple.”
“She still does that,” Daniel said, “but I make her buy her own coloring.”
“Does she have a job now?”
“Well, her allowance. Plus, she babysits in the neighborhood. The parents love her.”
“Babysits,” Carol gasped. “But she can’t be old enough for that.”
“She is twelve.”
“Twelve.” Carol shook her head. “How could she be twelve? I feel so old, Daniel.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
“I don’t want to miss any more of Rebecca’s life, but I still have obligations in California. I was thinking—”
“You can’t take her with you. You can’t. I won’t let you.”
“Well, no, Daniel, that’s not what I was going to say.” She didn’t seem offended by his sharp words or his quick assumption. “I want you both to move to California with me. I’m not going on anymore overseas trips, and it makes no sense to be separated when you could just as easily join me.”
He nodded.
“We could find a nice house on the other side of the Bay, maybe in the same neighborhood as May. And I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding work.”
“I was going to start my own business, I want to be a contractor.”
“I’m sure you won’t have any problem getting started in the Bay Area. Things are really booming there.”
“Yeah, that sounds nice.”
It felt good talking about the future, making a plan, thinking about their lives together. It felt good imagining Rebecca in San Francisco, riding the trolleys and hanging out at the wharves. She’d miss the snow, but he knew she’d be too curious and excited about her environment to be homesick for long.
“Why don’t you tell her about San Francisco,” Daniel invited. “Maybe it’ll give her a reason to wake up.”
Carol nodded, pulling her chair closer to the bed. “You can meet the whole world in San Francisco…”
* * * *
Carol dragged Daniel home from the hospital every night, forcing him to eat, shower, and sleep. He grew more distant with each day as his hope ran out.
When Daniel saw her toes wiggle beneath the thin blanket, he thought he was hallucinating. He pulled away the blanket, staring intently at her tiny feet.
“Move again, sweetheart. Please. Move again.”
Her big toe bent and straightened.
“Rebecca…Becky…can you hear me?” he asked, rubbing the top of her foot.
Now, all ten of her toes responded, wiggling like he was tickling her.
“Carol, wake up. Carol.”
She started awake. Rubbing her neck, she asked, “What’s going on?”
“I think she’s waking up. I think she’s waking up right now.”
Rebecca’s eyes fluttered, her lips moving soundlessly.
“Call the doctor,” he said. “Get him in here.”
Rebecca continued to twitch, her eyes fluttering faster. Daniel held his breath, too wary to hope, too frightened to do anything except believe.
“Talk to me, Becky. Please. Say something to Daddy. Please.”
Her eyes opened and immediately slammed shut. “Daddy? Bright. My arms won’t move.”
“Oh, Becky. I know. I know.”
Dr. Roberts entered with Carol in tow, his face a mask of concern. “Is she awake?”
“She just spoke.”
“What did she say?”
“Um…she said it was bright and that her arms wouldn’t move.” Daniel wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, noticing that his fingers were shaking violently.
“Rebecca? Can you hear me?” Roberts asked, leaning over the bed.
“My eyes hurt,” she croaked. Daniel had to strain to hear her weak voice.
“I know.” Roberts checked her heart and her pulse. “Carol, why don’t you get some chipped ice for Rebecca?”
Carol nodded, rushing out of the room. She returned in a few minutes, clutching a paper cup in hand.
“Thank you. Now, I’m going to have to ask both of you to step out of the room.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Daniel announced.
“Mr. Scambray, I understand your feelings. I just need to run a few tests. I need a little bit of room and time. Please.”
“Let’s go,” Carol murmured, taking his arm.
“No. She’s scared and confused.”
“Daniel, please. We’ll be right outside the door. Come on.” She gently led him away from the bed. He didn’t look away from Rebecca until Dr. Roberts shut the door.
“She’s awake. She’s talking. Did you hear her?” Daniel asked with mingled excitement and awe.
“I heard her.” Carol clapped her hands together. “It was so good to hear her voice.”
“It was.”
A series of nurses passed by, filtering into the room, but blocked him from entering. He paced in front of the door, growing more frustrated and angry by the minute. His original elation was replaced with fear as the minutes ticked by. What if something was wrong? What if she fell back into her coma? Why wouldn’t they let him see her?
“Everything’s going to be fine,” Carol kept saying, but the words had lost their meaning.
At the moment Daniel thought he would lose his mind, Dr. Roberts finally opened the door. “You can come in.”
Daniel moved forward on shaking legs, approaching the bed with sudden trepidation. He assumed the worse when he saw her closed eyes, fresh despair washing through his body. “Oh, Becky…Becky girl…”
“Daddy? Can I have more ice?”
The nurse by the bed dutifully fed her a chip of ice.
“Everything appears to be normal,” Roberts said, “and we expect she’ll make a full recovery. She’s still going to need a great deal of rest. She’s got a long road ahead of her.”
“We’ll get through it,” Daniel promised. He felt like he could do anything. If Roberts told him they needed to march through fire and swim across the Pacific Ocean, Daniel would take on the challenge with gusto.
“Mom?” Rebecca murmured.
“I’m here, I’m here,” Carol said, stepping forward.
“Don’t leave.”
“Oh, baby, I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
Rebecca smiled. The raging despair in Daniel’s body was replaced by a soft sense of peace.
* * * *
“More ice cream, please,” Rebecca said, opening her mouth.
“No more ice cream until you finish your dinner,” Daniel said, pushing a forkful of turkey between her lips.
“But I’m full of food. I want ice cream.”
“You’d live off ice cream if I let you,” he said, scooping up some mashed potatoes.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“It’ll stunt your growth and rot your teeth. Now, open up.”
“When can I get these stupid casts off?” Rebecca grumbled around a mouthful of food.
“One month to go.”
“One month? That’s an eternity.”
He didn’t tell her the real meaning of eternity—watching your only child unconscious in an ugly hospital room. “You’ll survive, I’m sure.”
“That was May on the phone,” Carol said, coming into the kitchen. “Oh, Daniel, she’s got gravy all over her face.”
Rebecca’s tongue snaked out, sliding around her lips. “Did I get it?”
Daniel wiped the food and slobber off her chin before offering her a mouthful of beans. “What did May have to say?”
“She said there’s a beautiful three bedroom house on the market, just down the road from her. It sounds like the price is good, too.”
Rebecca’s eyes widened. She swallowed her vegetables with a gulp. “What’s going on?”
“Well, Becky girl, how would you feel about living in California?” Daniel asked.
“California? You mean, we’re moving to California?”
“If that’s okay with you,” Carol said.
“And we’re all going to be together?”
“Yes,” Daniel answered.
“Oh, I’d hug you if I could,” she exclaimed.
“Here,” Daniel said, smiling, “have some ice cream.”
“It’s better than a hug,” she announced. “Do we have any chocolate?”
“Your mom will run to the store,” he promised.
“You’re going to spoil her,” Carol said with a wry grin.
“I think she deserves some good ice cream. Bring back some strawberry, too. How does that sound, Becky girl?”
“And chocolate sauce!”
“And chocolate sauce,” Daniel repeated with a wink.
Chapter 8
Mountain Grove, Idaho
1973
Carol stared at the old cabin at the top of the path, unable to force her feet forward. Daniel and Rebecca were at Patricia’s house, showing her how to use her new radio. Daniel had offered to join Carol, but she thought she needed to do this by herself.
Other than the widespread use of electricity and a few old cars, Mountain Grove hadn’t changed in the past twenty years. A few people left, a few people moved in, but the population appeared to be stable. Carol felt distinctly out of place. She didn’t belong there as a child and she certainly didn’t belong there as an adult.
Taking a deep breath, she moved up the worn path. An almost invisible line of smoke trailed from the cabin’s chimney, despite the mild weather. The sun warmed her face without obstruction. The sky was a clear expanse of blue. The tips of the trees swayed in a light breeze. The silence was deafening. She longed to hear the familiar sounds of racing traffic, bustling people, and boats pulling into the harbor.
Carol paused outside the door, straining her ears. She couldn’t hear anything inside. Perhaps he was sleeping. If he was sleeping, should she just barge right in? She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, fidgeting with the buttons on her shirt. How did she look? How would he look? What could she say? What would he say? What did he want to hear? Carol wished Daniel had accompanied her. Why did she think she could do this on her own?
She raised her hand, her fist pausing just an inch from the door. Should she knock? What if he was in bed? It wouldn’t be fair to make him get up just for her sake. But it would be rude to go inside without knocking—this wasn’t her house anymore, after all. But Patricia had claimed that Bradford was waiting for her, so why not go inside?
Carol pushed open the door, sticking her head inside. She looked around the empty room, shocked at just how small the home was. Somehow, over the past two decades, she had forgotten what a pillbox the cabin was. “Dad?”
No response.
She stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. Like the rest of Mountain Grove, very few things had changed. A new radio—though it still looked a decade old—occupied the place of honor besides the fireplace. Electric lamps stood in the corner, and an old refrigerator dominated the kitchen. He had made some effort to update over the years, but it still seemed like he lived in the Stone Ages.
“Dad?”
Carol moved first to his bedroom, nudging open the door. The bed was empty and made, the window open, allowing fresh air to blow through the room. Her mother’s massive quilt still hugged the bed, and a small painting of her as a young lady still hung above the headboard.
Drawn forward by the forgotten portrait, she entered the room. Looking up at the woman she barely remembered, she realized that they shared the same face. She could also see Rebecca in Naomi Thorn’s eyes. She had been so young. Carol had already outlived her mother by ten years.
A loud, hacking cough pulled her from her thoughts. Jumping, she rushed to find the source of the sound. There was only one room remaining—her old bedroom. She barely recognized it when she pushed open the door. At some point, he had converted it into a small library. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and a hand-crafted pine desk was positioned beneath the window, with a beautiful view of the valley beyond it.
Bradford was leaning over the desk, his hand covering his mouth as his body shook with the force of his cough. Carol winced, stepping inside.
“Dad?”
Bradford turned quickly, his cough forgotten. “You’re here.”
“Didn’t you hear me when I came in?” she asked, longing to cross the room to him, but stopped by an invisible barrier.
“I hear things,” he said, dismissively waving his hand. He pushed himself to his feet, and Carol didn’t recognize him at all. He had gained fifty pounds, maybe more, and his face was a mask of wrinkles and liver spots. How had he aged so much in twenty years?
“Carol?” He held out his arms. “You came home.”
A lump formed in her throat as she stepped into his hug. “Oh, Daddy.”
“I’ve missed you so much,” he said, holding her in a strong bear hug.
“I’ve missed you, too.”
“When Patricia said Daniel was visiting, I didn’t dare hope to see you, too.” He pulled back, holding her by the shoulders. “Let me look at you. You’re still my little girl.”
Carol withstood the scrutiny with a smile, happy to remain still and answer his questions.
“What’s San Francisco like?”
“Beautiful this time of year.”
“What are you doing now?”
“Organizing aid and missions to the war-ravaged regions of Vietnam.”
“Have you been to Vietnam?”
“Yes.”
“Is little Rebecca here?”
“Yes, she’s visiting her grandmother with Daniel right now.”
&nb
sp; “Have you married Daniel yet?”
“We’re still talking about it.”
“Why haven’t you been to visit me?”
“Oh, Daddy, I don’t know.”
She didn’t know the answer to that question. For years, she thought of the Grove with trepidation—the only good thing she ever found there was Daniel, and he left Idaho for her. This was the place they sought refuge when her mother died, but she never saw it as anything other than a prison. What escaped prisoner ever returns to her old cell voluntarily?
“Come, come into the other room. We’ll sit by the fire where it’s warm.”
Carol frowned. It wasn’t cold in the cabin. In fact, it was rather pleasant. “Are you cold, Dad?”
He left the room without answering, favoring his right leg as he walked. She also noticed his hands twitching. That’s what happens when you get old, she tried to assure herself. He’s fine, just not the young man you remember.
But Carol knew he wasn’t fine. That’s why she was there.
“Jed’s son cuts my wood for me these days. He’s a good boy. Do you know him?” He bent to poke at the fire, sending a flurry of orange sparks into the chimney.
“Why would I know him?”
“Well, he is Daniel’s nephew. Maybe you exchanged letters or something,” Bradford said, straightening.
“Oh. Right. No, I’ve never met him.”
“Have a seat, have a seat,” Bradford encouraged, pointing at the old rocking chair. “Are you hungry? Would you like something to drink?”
“I can get it, Dad.”
He waved his hand at her. “No, no, no. I imagine you’ve had a long trip and you’re tired.”
She settled in the rocking chair, realizing it would make Bradford happy if he could treat her like his little girl again. It made her uncomfortable, watching him totter around the cabin, but she didn’t want to upset him or start a fight.
“Are you still the pastor?” she asked, hating herself for not already knowing the answer.
“Of course!”
“I thought maybe you’d be thinking about retiring—”
“Me retire? Oh no, I love it too much, and they love me. We’re like a family now. I couldn’t retire. It would be too…too painful to see another person leading my congregation,” he explained, taking a pitcher of fresh milk out of the fridge. He held it up and smiled. “I bet you haven’t tasted anything like this in years.”
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