“I gave that to her.”
Ann drew her eyebrows down. He’d made her unhappy. Then she smoothed them back out again and smiled at him. The unhappiness was gone. He was relieved.
“That’s right, sweetheart,” she said. “You told her owls were nocturnal.”
And would keep her safe at night while she slept. Kate had had so many fears. It was the only way he could think of to get her to sleep those nights long ago. He remembered the sultry heat of those July evenings, the three of them lying on top of the sheets beneath the ceiling fan as it stirred the air above them, Kate gripping his hand tightly with her small fingers, wanting to be told that the stars couldn’t fall on top of them, that ghosts weren’t watching them from the closet.
He heard the girls playing somewhere. One of them was singing. It reminded him of Ann singing as she painted, off-key, the same song over and over. He missed that sound.
Now she had a bowl. Steam rose from it. The room was darker. Time had passed again. He struggled to a seated position.
“Hungry?” she was saying, dipping a spoon into the bowl and carrying it to his mouth.
He wanted her to move. He threw back the covers, and she was standing now, reaching out for his arm. He shook her off. The motion tightened a band of pain around his head and jabbed knife tips behind his eyes. He had to get to the bathroom. His legs were stiff. The room spun around him. He careened into the wall, hand out for the doorknob.
“No, honey,” Ann was saying. “This one.”
A door yawned before him. He made it to the toilet and heaved up the contents of his stomach. He dropped to his knees and clasped the cold porcelain. He was coughing again and vomiting.
Ann helped him back to bed. She swept the covers up into the air and let them settle against his skin. She put a hand to the back of his neck and helped him suck the straw. He closed his eyes. He loved her so much. He had never loved her more. He wondered if she knew this.
“Oh, Peter,” she said. She patted his forehead with a cool cloth. “Me too, darling.”
FORTY-FOUR
PETER HAD BEEN TALKING ABOUT WILLIAM FOR DAYS. After years of silence, he’d finally opened up. “Remember him sucking his thumb on the ultrasound?” he’d say. Or “His eyes were your color, remember?”
He’d tried to get up by himself yesterday. Ann had come into the room just in time to catch him as he stumbled. “Where are you going?” she asked him, and he frowned. “I have to check on those samples—”
“Oh, Peter, those samples are long gone.”
“They are?”
He looked so distressed that she quickly added, “But they were benign. Every single one of them.”
“That’s good.” He nodded and allowed her to settle him into bed and pull up the comforters.
The girls were worried. Maddie stopped whatever she was doing to track Ann as she came down the stairs. Kate had said nothing, but on Ann’s last trip up to check on Peter, she’d pushed Owl onto the tray. “Give this to Daddy.”
Daddy, not Dad. Ann had blinked back tears, hearing that. “You won’t get it back, honey.”
Kate shrugged. “I don’t care.”
Ann put her hand on Kate’s shoulder, then took the worn, limp creature. It had worked miracles before. Maybe it would again.
She had to keep moving. If she stopped, even for a moment, she’d fall asleep. She’d doze right here standing against the wall. She closed the bedroom door behind her and heard the sound of crying coming from downstairs. The baby again. There was a high-pitched urgency to it. Ann shook the shirt from her arms and stepped out of it. She left everything in the hallway, a puddle of infection.
Kate was holding Jacob and pacing the family room.
Maddie stood there, chewing her lower lip, hands on her hips, watching. She looked over as Ann ran down the stairs. “He won’t stop, Mommy.”
“You tried the bottle?” Ann came over and took the baby. He was red-faced and hiccuping. “Hey, you.”
“It’s not his diaper,” Kate said. “I checked.”
Jacob screwed up his face and shrieked, a bloodcurdling sound that rang in her ears.
“Shh. Shh, sweetheart.”
Jacob squirmed in her grasp, refusing to be comforted. Ann lifted him more firmly to her shoulder and patted his back. He was sweaty and hot.
“Is he sick?” Kate asked.
Would that always be the fear? Would they never feel safe? Ann laid him down. She pressed his belly, but it was soft, checked his diaper, and went over his entire writhing body. Everything seemed normal. So why was he still crying? He wasn’t running a fever. He didn’t have a runny nose.
“I don’t know.” She lifted him to her shoulder again. Jacob balled his tiny fists against her and mouthed her shirt. Drool collected wetly on the cotton of her collar. She patted his back and he burped. Was that the source of all of this, a little gas? Jacob let loose a long belch.
Maddie giggled.
“There, there.” Ann patted Jacob’s back and smiled at Maddie.
“All better.”
Jacob gummed her shirt, then bit down hard.
That hurt. “Ouch!”
Surprised, Jacob began to wail again. Ann pulled the baby away and peered inside his mouth. “Guess what?” She ran her finger along his lower gum, then pulled it out hastily when he started to close his mouth. “Jacob’s got his first tooth.”
The girls had never labored like this for a tooth. One day they’d be all gums. The next day, they’d produce a pearly tip of tooth. William hadn’t lived long enough to teethe. Blinking back tears, she pressed Jacob to her and hugged him. How normal. A first tooth. How utterly normal.
“Let me see,” Maddie said.
“I’ll tell you what,” Ann said. “Why don’t you two get him dressed while I wet a washcloth for him to chew?” Better than her shoulder.
“He can wear one of his new things,” Kate said. “Now that he’s a big boy.”
“I’ll pick it out,” Maddie said, already running from the room.
“Nothing stupid,” Kate said, following. “Nothing with short sleeves.”
“I’m not that dumb.”
“Oh, yes, you are.”
Ann paused before the bathroom mirror and pulled down the neck of her shirt. Sure enough, there was a telltale angry imprint on her skin. She unscrewed a bottle of water and dripped a few precious drops onto the corner of a washcloth.
Peter had vomited for two days now. She couldn’t keep up with the fluid he was losing. She’d set a bowl of water outside among all her water collection bowls and cups, in hopes of freezing it into chips she could slide between his lips, but all she’d gotten was cold, dirty water. It was above freezing now.
At least he was asleep. She couldn’t tell how high his fever had gone. She’d held her gloved fingers to his forehead, and the heat of his skin had burned through the latex. She couldn’t get a more accurate reading than that. He was shivering so much that she was afraid he’d bite the tip right off the thermometer. All she had to go on was the brightness in his eyes and the lucidity of his words.
Which had come and gone. Like what he’d said the other day about his giving Kate the stuffed owl. Ann had been the one who’d found it in the shop and brought it to Kate, a welcome-home gift when at last Social Services had finished their investigation and had let them take Kate back. Peter had smiled up at her, remembering the imagined memory.
“Mommy?”
Ann looked up to see Kate standing in the doorway. She looked frightened. “Mom, it’s Maddie.” Ann raced up the stairs.
Maddie sat on the floor of her bedroom. Her head had fallen forward. Her breaths came in short bursts. She held her hand to her throat.
Ann rushed to her side. “What happened?”
Maddie’s face was flushed.
“We weren’t doing anything,” Kate said. “Honest.”
Ann could see large red hives forming along Maddie’s neck. “You’re having a reaction.” To what
, though? “Kate, stay with your sister.”
She had to get the EpiPen.
Five minutes. The nurse had been specific. Five minutes: that was all the time she had from the very first onset of symptoms. After that, there could be brain damage.
Ann ran downstairs and flung open the coat closet. Her purse hung from its usual hook. She grabbed it and dumped it on the floor. Four. Things went rolling every which way, and she stopped them with her hands. Kneeling, she shoved aside lipstick, wallet, key ring. It must have skidded away. She stared blankly. It had to be here.
She looked all around, checked under the sofa, and moved the chairs. Certainly she would have heard it roll away. She yanked coats from hangers and checked pockets. Things had been so chaotic. Maybe she’d moved it for some reason, stowed it somewhere else, and forgotten the thought processes that had led her to do so. She ran to the pantry and brought out the first-aid supplies. It wasn’t there, either.
Had Peter found it and moved it? He’d never do such a thing without saying so. It was no use asking him now. He’d just look at her with confusion.
She was almost panting. Five minutes. How long had it already been? Slow down. Go back in time. Think.
“Mom?” Kate’s voice was high and panicky.
Think.
She had filled the prescriptions right away. One had gone to school to be stored with the nurse. The other had gone in her purse. When was the last time she’d used her purse? At the grocery store with Libby. No, wait. She hadn’t taken it. She’d taken it out of her purse and left it at home. She’d known that they had only the one shot now and that shot had to be kept with Maddie. She’d been in a hurry. Where had she put it? She wheeled around. Her gaze skittered across the room and came to rest on the junk drawer.
She raced back upstairs. The nurse had shown her how to do it. She had watched the video. She came into the bedroom and found Maddie motionless on the floor. Kate knelt beside her, the baby in the crook of her arm. Ann removed the cap and upended the tube. Don’t touch the tip, the nurse had said. That’s where the needle is.
“Okay, baby. It’s okay. I’m here.”
How long had it been?
She gripped the pen in her right hand and jabbed the tip into Maddie’s thigh. Maddie didn’t even jerk away. My God, was it too late? The needle was designed to penetrate clothing, but there wasn’t any way to see if it had done so successfully. She clenched the pen and willed Maddie to breathe. Come on, sweetheart. She wanted to withdraw the device and see if the needle tip was showing, but she had to hold the pen in place for ten seconds. She counted them off.
“Mom?” Kate said.
Maddie was breathing in shallow gasps.
Ann withdrew the pen and held it up. There was something she was supposed to look at on the pen to see if it had worked. She couldn’t recall what. She glanced to Maddie. Thirty minutes. That was how long she had to get her daughter to the hospital.
FORTY-FIVE
THE ICICLES WERE MELTING, TINY SILVER DROPS POISED on the rounded tips. The ground below was reflected in them, an entire town of miniaturized people going about their business. Amazing. The sun sparkled and the drips extended, glided down the lengths of ice, collected in soft, beautiful shapes. They stretched until all that connected them were thin gossamer strands that finally snapped. Plop.
Peter opened his eyes. He was in a bed. His tongue was sealed to the roof of his mouth. He pulled it free and rasped it across his lips.
“Ann?”
Had he made any sound? He tried again.
“Ann?”
She was busy with the kids. She’d be up soon.
He turned his head. A glass stood there with a bright green straw. It was full of clear brown liquid. He stared at it. Tea, perhaps. Not ginger ale. It was too dark for that. He coughed. Juice of some sort. Yes.
He blinked. Drums pounded a warning against his temples. He couldn’t do that again. He had to move more slowly. He closed his eyes and opened them again. Much better. Now that he had that mastered, he could pull his arm up from beneath the covers. Yes, here it came with a sly rustling noise, more reptile than human. He held up his hand and was relieved to find fingers on the ends, instead of a pink forked tongue or tiny curved claws. He flexed his hand. He turned and extended his arm across his body toward the glass.
The glass felt soft. Soft? He had to be careful not to grip too tightly and squeeze out all the juice. Up it came, the green straw bobbing in the motion.
Now it was gone. He blinked. Drumbeats. He’d forgotten to do that with more care. He hoisted himself on one elbow and looked over the edge of the mattress. There the glass lay on the carpet in a pool of brown liquid.
Coughing almost sent him over the edge of the bed. He rolled back, panting, sank against his pillows.
What was this? Someone had brought grapefruit sections in a bowl. Exactly what he wanted. He reached his spoon in, brought up a pale oblong slice, and slid it between his lips. Each particle burst on his tongue. Now a slushy chunk of watermelon, pushed between his teeth and dripping down his chin.
When he opened his eyes again, he saw time had passed. He didn’t know how he knew this, but the sensation in the room was different. It felt like it was later in the day.
He coughed. His hand came away red. His lips were cracked and bleeding.
Ann was too busy. He shouldn’t expect her to figure out when he was thirsty. He could at least get his own glass of water. It was a simple thing, and he felt up to it.
He pushed back the covers and dropped his feet to the floor. His breath came in harsh gasps and he waited a moment to let things settle. He picked up the glass from the floor. He’d refill it himself.
He stood. He was a little wobbly, but if he went slowly, he’d be fine.
He shuffled along the carpeted floor. His socks were unpleasantly damp for some reason. He sagged against the wall and pulled them off. Much better.
A pile of stuff sat outside his door. It looked to be a bucket and some rags. He stepped around them and moved down the hallway. It felt good to be out of bed. It would be nice to see Kate and Maddie. His two beautiful girls. They would be busy doing something, and one of them would turn and see him. They’d stop whatever it was they were doing and come running.
Why was he standing here? He was on some sort of errand. A painful swallow brought it back to him. Water. He was fetching himself a glass of water. Ann was talking about water the other day. He couldn’t recall what. No matter. He’d ask her when he saw her. He smiled, imagining the relief lighting her face when she saw him enter the room.
“Oh, Peter,” she’d say, coming forward. “You’re feeling better.”
What did you know? He was feeling better.
FORTY-SIX
ANN GLANCED INTO THE REARVIEW MIRROR. MADDIE looked back at her, barely recognizable with her puffy cheeks and her eyes swollen almost shut. The epinephrine must be wearing off. It had lent them thirty minutes and they’d used ten. Why had she wasted five of them racing through the house, grabbing things? Another minute opening the garage door, a few precious seconds to fumble with the lock on the back door. She hadn’t taken the time to close the garage door or to heave the suitcases out of the backseat. She hadn’t even run upstairs to knock on Peter’s door and let him know she was leaving for the hospital. It’d be okay. He wouldn’t even realize they were gone. He’d been sleeping most of the day. “Hold on,” she told Maddie. “We’re almost there.” She took the highway. A blue sedan appeared in the distance. Someone else was out, too. Surely this meant the hospital would be open. The car soared around the bend toward her. There was something wrong about it. What was it? An instant later she knew. It was on her side of the road and it was zooming straight at her.
“Mom!” Kate yelled.
Ann swerved into the far right lane. The car shot past, the man looking over and grinning.
Kate turned to watch it disappear behind them. “Why did he do that?”
“I don’t know.
” Because he could. Her hands were shaking. She wiped one palm on her jeans, then the other. Peter was right. The world had changed.
Up ahead, the tall gray building came into view. She accelerated onto the ramp, looking over as she swept around the curve and saw cars scattered across the parking lot, a welcome sight that could signify nothing. To come all this way and use up their precious minutes …
“Mom, look,” Kate said.
Thank God. “I see them.”
People clustered around the emergency room entrance. She pulled farther down the curb, well away from the crowd. “Can we park here?” Kate said.
“It’ll be fine.” She got out and came around to the back door to pull it open. Three children stared at her. “Let’s go, Maddie.”
Maddie climbed down from her seat. Ann could hear the whispery sounds of her breathing. Ann pulled a mask down around her daughter’s head. It hung below her chin. Peter had only adult-sized masks. Ann pressed the metal strip across Maddie’s nose. She peeled off a strip of the duct tape and worked the scissors through it. Maddie shook her head. Ann grabbed her hand. “We have to do this. It won’t hurt, honey. When we get home, I’ll Vaseline it off. Just like I do with your Band-Aids.”
She pressed the tape along one side of the mask, cut off another strip, and did the other side. “Let me know if it gets hard to breathe.”
Maddie’s eyes were frightened above the curve of her mask. “Hold out your hands.”
Maddie extended her hands, and Ann pulled a pair of latex gloves over them. The gloves drooped from her fingers. Ann rolled up the wristbands to tighten the fit. At least Maddie’s palms and fingers were covered. “Don’t touch anything.”
She quickly pulled on her own mask and gloves and reached for the door handle.
“Can’t I come, too?” Kate said.
“I don’t want you and Jacob going in with us. There are sick people in there. You’re safer out here. Just stay in the car. Don’t unlock the doors for anybody. Honk the horn if someone bothers you.”
The Things That Keep Us Here Page 31