“Is everything okay?”
“She’s—awake.”
Relief swelled in Dan’s chest. He sank to the edge of the bed, ignoring the wet towel around his hips. “Thank God,” he breathed.
“She...”
“What?” he asked, sudden fear gripping his lungs, making it hard to breathe. “Is she all right? Lorraine?”
“She has some problems. They’ve called for her doctor.”
Dear God, what now? “I’m on my way.”
Chapter Thirteen
The rain that pummeled Nebraska City’s tree-lined streets seemed appropriate for the dark thoughts accompanying Dan on his way to the hospital. Thunder rattled the heavens as he parked the Ram and ran toward the door. Inside, fluorescent lighting kept the dismal day at bay, but did nothing for the fear that weighed down his heart.
Dan ran up the stairs and the nurse on duty greeted him. He arrived in Autumn’s room out of breath. Lorraine rose from the chair, glanced at Autumn’s sleeping face and pointed to the door. Dan took a minute to stand beside Autumn before he followed Lorraine back out into the hall.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Didn’t the doctor come?”
He’d never seen her face so grim. Her normally bright eyes were dull and she held her mouth in a solemn line. “He was here.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked again.
“She woke up,” she said quietly. “I couldn’t believe my eyes. She even said my name.”
“So she’s conscious?”
“Yes. I called for the nurse. Autumn sounded kind of funny, not herself, and she asked for a drink. The nurse was there by then, and she said it was okay, so she got a pitcher of water and a cup and I poured some. Autumn couldn’t hold onto the glass.” Lorraine’s voice quivered. “It slipped and spilled and we had to change her into a dry gown. She couldn’t help with that much, either. I ended up having to work her hands through the holes for her.”
“Was it because she wasn’t fully awake?”
“No, it’s not like that. It’s like she’s younger or something."
Dan looked at her curiously.
“The doctor came and examined her. He’s waiting to talk to us together.”
“Where?”
“He said to have the nurse page him to the consultation room down the hall.”
Dan strode toward the nurses’ station.
Several minutes later, they sat on chairs in a tiny harshly lit room. Dr. Crowley, their family physician dressed in a casual shirt and slacks, sat across from them.
“Autumn is completely alert and out of any danger,” he told them.
“Lorraine says she has a problem, though,” Dan said.
“It seems her motor control has been affected slightly. The problem is minor, considering the lack to oxygen to her brain for an extended period. Not only did you save her life, Tom, you prevented any worse brain damage by getting oxygen to her brain. Her speech is unaffected, she has bladder control. She’s remarkably well.”
“What about this motor-control thing? That sounds serious to me.”
“We’ll be running a few tests, and I want to call a specialist in from Omaha. It will be a referral, so your insurance will take care of it.” He glanced from one of them to the other. “I’m convinced that with some physical therapy, she’s going to be back to normal in no time. Maybe a couple of months, maybe even sooner. It’ll depend on the therapy program, too—whether you bring her in a few times a week or if you take her to the university for a stay. There are even therapists who will come to your home. I’m not sure what your insurance covers, but you could make a call and find out.”
Dan nodded. Autumn was alive. She was fine. A few months of physical therapy were a small price to pay for having their child spared.
“We’ll know more after Dr. Demarco sees her in the morning, too. I’m going to keep her until then. After he sees her and gives his prognosis, you can take her home.”
They rose, and Dan shook Dr. Crowley’s hand. “Thanks for coming so late.”
The doctor smiled. “My wife is used to my hours.”
Dan led Lorraine back to Autumn’s room. Autumn turned her head when they entered. “Daddy!”
Overwhelmed at seeing her awake and hearing her cry his name, Dan stepped to the side of the bed and leaned over to hug her. Her IV had been removed and she wrapped both arms around his neck with unnatural awkwardness. Dan buried his face in the silky hair at her neck and struggled for composure. "Hi, munchkin.”
She kissed his cheek and raised her hand to touch his face. Her hand batted the air for a moment, like a baby’s, before she placed her palm against his jaw. “You shaveded.”
“Um-hm.” He kissed her cheek. “Did you?”
“You silly daddy,” she giggled.
He smiled through his tears and kissed Autumn’s face soundly.
“My hands are mean,” she said.
“They’re mean?”
She nodded solemnly. Her four-year-old’s vocabulary didn’t allow her to express her frustration.
Dan took both of her small hands in his. “Right now they’re not minding very well, but they’ll get better,” he promised.
“Are you mad at me?” she asked, and her eyes, so like Lorraine’s, wavered to her mother.
“We’re not mad,” Lorraine assured her. “We love you very much.”
“What were you doing at the pool, Autumn?” Dan asked.
“I thought I lefted my Barbie out there.”
“That’s why we have rules, Autumn, so you won’t get hurt.” Lorraine spoke softly.
Autumn’s lower lip poked out. “I’m sorry.”
“We forgive you, sweetheart.” Lorraine reached to finger comb Autumn’s tangled hair from her forehead.
“Nothing is more important than having you safe and all of us being together,” Dan added. He told her about the doctor who would be coming to see her.
Lorraine took her to the bathroom, returned and fed her a little orange Jell-O, and Autumn fell asleep.
“Why don’t you go home and sleep?” Dan suggested. “I'll stay with her tonight. The doctor won’t get here until tomorrow.”
Even though she was exhausted, Lorrie couldn’t bring herself to leave. Maybe she was being unreasonable, but this was her little girl and she needed to be with her. She shook her head.
Dan didn’t argue with her. “I’m gonna call home. Let them know she’s okay. They can tell the boys in the morning.”
“How were they tonight?”
“As scared as we were. They’ll be relieved.”
Lorrie nodded. “Call my mom, too, will you?”
“Sure. She can let everyone else know.”
Dan left the room and Lorrie lay down on the narrow folding bed. In the back of her mind, she noted she was hungry, but bone-tired weariness won her body’s attention. She closed her eyes and within seconds fell asleep.
Upon Autumn’s release from the hospital, the family planned a celebration. Ruby and Lorna invaded the house, cooking and baking up a storm.
Jackie entered the kitchen where the women were gathered. “I’m gonna let Autumn play with my Barbie Big As Me for a whole day.”
Lorrie smiled, knowing Autumn had to be eating up all the attention from her brothers and cousin.
“Here, darling.” Ruby ushered Lorrie into a chair and placed a glass of orange juice on the table. She opened a cupboard, and Lorrie’s eyes widened at the array of vitamins that hadn’t been there before.
She swallowed the handful her mother placed in front of her and exchanged a look with Cedra. “Will I need supper?”
Cedra sat beside her. “Sure you will. Your mom spent the afternoon while you were napping showing me how to make noodles.”
Lorrie tried not to smile her amusement. She could only imagine Ruby’s cooking class and Cedra’s reaction. “Sounds great."
“I made radishes into little flowers, too. Wait ‘till you see them. A skill that will come in handy.”
“I can’t wait.” Lorrie drank some of her juice.
“Cedra's a natural.” Ruby stirred something on the stove. “She’s going to make Dan a fine wife."
At Ruby’s use of Dan’s name, Cedra’s eyes met Lorrie’s and understanding passed between the two women. Cedra knew Tom was Dan and Dan was Tom. The secret bound them together in a sisterhood all their own. “You’re getting married?”
Cedra nodded. “Buzz asked me a few days ago, but all this happened before I had a chance to tell you.”
“That’s wonderful.” Lorrie leaned and slid her arm around Cedra’s shoulder. “I’m really happy for you. And for Buzz. We’ll be family.”
They exchanged smiles, and the young woman’s eyes glistened with happy tears.
Lorrie covered Cedra’s hand with her own. “Thanks for being here for the kids that night.” Tears welled in her own eyes and she blinked them back. "I couldn’t even think about what to do or... or anything. But I wasn’t worried leaving them here with you guys.”
“I didn’t do anything special, Lorrie. I just made them brush their teeth before they went to bed and sat out cereal and bowls in the morning.”
“But you were here for them.”
“Your mom did the hard stuff—the cooking and laundry.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Lorrie said.
“No need to thank me,” Ruby replied. “That’s what mothers are for."
Lorna turned and raised an amused brow at Lorrie. Lorrie took a deep breath to control her emotions. “I couldn’t have made it through any of this without all of you... and...” Dan, she’d almost said. “Tom.” How she hated calling him that, now that she knew. She hadn’t said either name in so long, neither one rolled from her tongue comfortably. “He knew what to do. He saved Autumn’s life, you know. And he was so incredibly strong, even though I know he was as scared as I was. I never knew what a strong person he is.”
“So are you, Lorrie,” her sister said. “I always thought they’d have to knock me out with drugs if something happened to one of my kids. I’d fall apart. But you were a real trouper.”
“I guess you don’t know until it happens to you,” Lorrie answered.
“Well, none of us is ever going to have to find out again,” Ruby said firmly. “We’ve had all the discovery we need.”
Amen, Lorrie thought silently.
Gil and Lorrie's father came in the back door just then. “Smells good in here.” Orrin noticed Lorrie and stooped to give her a hug. “Hi, hon."
“Dad.” She gave him a peck on the cheek.
“We’re using the dining room,” Ruby announced. “The leaves are in the table. Lorna and Cedra, you set the plates and silverware.”
Lorrie got up and helped, happy to be doing normal, useful things in her own home. The warm cooking smells, the banter among the men and women, the familiarity swept away all the pain and confusion of the past weeks and soothed her.
The dining-room table had never been so full of food and family. As her loved ones gathered, she surveyed the smiling faces, Dan on one side of her, Autumn on the other, and a sense of security pervaded her heart. From the head of the table, Dan asked the blessing, his voice deep with emotion on a special word of thanks for Autumn’s recovery. Amens chorused around the room.
Bowls and platters were passed. Bram and Jori fought over a roll and Lorna had to trade places with Jori to separate them. Silverware clinked and voices mingled. Dan’s gaze met and held Lorrie’s.
Emotion filled her chest and her throat. Nothing was as important as having her family together. Nothing.
Nothing was as important as loving and being loved.
Could she call him Tom in front of others for the rest of her life? Could she come to terms with this bizarre situation and put the feelings of betrayal behind her?
“Tom,” she said aloud.
Something flickered behind Dan’s eyes, something uncertain and wholly alert. Tom and Cedra, the only ones who picked up on her use of the name, glanced over. Dan’s attention didn’t waver from her face.
“Pass the potatoes, please.”
Calmly, purposefully, his expression unaltered, Dan picked up the bowl and handed it to her.
Activity went on all around them, Autumn and Jackie giggling, Gil and Orrin discussing the upcoming city elections. The whole picture was so normal, so Norman Rockwell. It was totally incongruous with the turbulent scene silently being acted out between Dan and Lorrie.
Could she remember to call him Tom? What if she slipped? Would it become second nature?
She’d called him Tom for fourteen years. What if she called him Tom when they were alone? When they were in bed?
“Thank you.” She placed mashed potatoes on her and Autumn’s plates and handed back the bowl, and even though her stomach had gone into a spin cycle, she took a bite.
Dan took the bowl and set it down, his heart behaving a little strangely. Why had she done that? Tom and Cedra went on with their meal, Cedra feigning fascination with Ruby’s directions on how to get gravy stains out of the white tablecloth.
Lorraine helped Autumn get her fingers around her spoon. Unobtrusively, she cleaned up a blob of potatoes and gravy that hit the front of Autumn’s shirt and encouraged her to try again. She ended up feeding Autumn most of her meal in between taking her own bites, and, obviously, she didn’t care. It was plain to Dan that she was as happy as he was to have Autumn home.
Sure, it hurt to see her this way, but it was only a matter of weeks until she’d be back to normal. Dr. Demarco had assured them that retraining Autumn to use her muscles would be as simple as teaching a healthy toddler. The more intensive her treatment, the speedier her recovery. Dan and Lorraine had explained Autumn’s condition to the boys, so none of them commented. Ruby, however, dabbed her eyes with her napkin and hurried toward the kitchen with the excuse of refilling the boys’ milk glasses.
“Grampa,” Thad said to Orrin, “why don’t you come watch the game on TV with us next Saturday?”
“What game is that?” Lorrie’s father asked.
Thad, Dan, and the twins exchanged horrified looks.
Gil chuckled.
“The Nebraska game, of course!” Thad acclaimed. “The Huskers are heading for another national championship.”
“Tom makes his special chili,” Lorraine added in a coaxing voice.
Dan met her eyes.
She’d called him Tom quite naturally. He wondered if she’d even realized what she’d done. He dared to feel a little hope, but the inconsistencies of their relationship flared up at him. At one moment, like this one, it seemed their life was on course, but the next second, when they were faced head on with coming to any answers, things took a nosedive.
“Sure, I’ll come for the game,” Orrin decided. “What time is it?"
“You have to come in time for the pre-game show, Grampa,” Jori informed his grandfather slowly, as if the older man were from another planet. The family laughed.
Later that night, after company was gone and the kids were in bed, Dan stepped to the family room doorway to check on his father. He was surprised to find Thad sitting with him.
“Can you believe Grandpa Loring didn’t know about the game this week?” Thad asked.
“Not everybody’s as crazy about football as you are, Thad.”
“Yeah, but doesn’t he watch the news? Or read the paper?” Thad scoffed.
“Sure, he watches the stock exchange.”
“Bor-ing.”
“People’s interests are different,” Gil said.
“I guess so.”
An easy silence passed, and Dan prepared to move away.
“Don’t be intolerant of other people’s differences, Thad,” Gil said. “Don’t be like me.”
Dan stopped where he was and couldn’t help listening. Where had that come from?
“What do you mean?” Thad asked.
“For a long, long time I thought your dad and your uncle Dan should want the s
ame things I wanted, should want what I wanted for them.” He took his time, as if he was forming the words carefully. “I didn’t let them decide for themselves.”
Thad didn’t say anything. Dan let the words soak in, guilty about eavesdropping, but not willing to miss what came next. His father had never spoken to him of these things.
“I even started trying to decide things for you. But your dad held me back.”
“Like wanting me to work in the orchards?” Thad asked quietly.
“Yeah.”
“But now you don’t want that?”
Gil’s head turned toward his grandson as though he was looking into his eyes. “I still have hopes and dreams. But they’re mine, not yours. I want you to do what makes you happy, Thad, not what makes me happy.”
“My dad’s happy,” Thad said after a minute.
Gil nodded. “I believe he is. And he doesn’t resent me for pushing him. He’s done more with the farm than I ever could have, than I ever hoped for."
Those words evoked new emotion in Dan’s chest. Pride. Gratitude. Things he’d never felt where his father was concerned.
“And he’s a fine husband and father,” Gil went on.
Thad nodded his head in agreement.
“You know I could never tell him and Dan apart when they were small?”
“You couldn’t?” Thad’s voice sounded incredulous.
“No. But I can now. Even if I couldn’t see, I could tell them apart. Like he can tell Bram and Jori apart.”
“You can tell Bram and Jori apart,” Thad said.
“I worked at it,” Gil admitted.
“So did Dad.”
Gil agreed.
“He’s a great dad,” Thad said.
“He’s a great son,” Gil added.
Dan’s heart swelled at his father’s words. His chest filled with a sense of accomplishment he’d never known. He’d never until that moment realized how much his father’s approval meant to him. He stepped into the room.
Gil and Thad looked up.
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