The sheet over Hogan was turning red around his leg and his arm. The technician looked toward her. “He your husband?”
She shook her head.
“Is that your daughter?”
She shook her head again. She didn’t know how to explain.
I’m his former fiancé who hasn’t given back his ring. That would be a stupid thing to say. It was actually a stupid thing to do. But here she was doing it. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the darn ring, maybe the whole thing wouldn’t have happened. She didn’t know.
“Could’ve fooled me. She sure looks attached to you.” He nodded toward the way Savannah touched her hair. “She even looks like you, too.”
Maybe he needed more of an explanation. “She really just likes my hair.” Jenna flatlined her lips and tried to see beyond the EMS tech working on Hogan.
Was he going to be okay? Oh, God. Was he going to be okay?
She was in the back of an EMS medical transport with a broken little girl who looked like she could be her own and a man she was technically engaged to, whom she really could have had for her very own—if things had been different.
Even if Hogan were to be okay, she wouldn’t be. Ever.
⸙
At the hospital, they put Hogan on a different bed. The move was extremely painful. He was trying desperately to keep his wits about him, but he kept fading. He’d open his eyes, and his vision would get dark around the edges. He needed to ask about Savannah, but he couldn’t form the words when he opened his eyes.
He felt something prick his arm, and then it got cold.
He heard something sort of zip, like a curtain being pulled. Still he couldn’t speak.
He felt a flurry of activity around him. He heard people talking to one another and then finally to him. The voices sounded groggy and tired. Or was that him?
Whatever they put in his arm must have helped because every time he opened his eyes, he was able to focus on the light longer and longer before the big fade.
And then he heard his own voice. “Savannah.” It was soft at first. “Savannah? Where’s my daughter? Savannah?” He had to know. Now. Where was Savannah?
A woman’s voice said, “Sir, she’s in the bed next to you. She’s okay. Just a fractured arm.”
“Open the curtain,” he said in a stern voice. He had to see for himself. The little girl had to be frightened to death. All alone. And with strangers.
“But sir…”
“I said open the curtain. I want to see my daughter,” he demanded.
The nurse did as she was told. It was so hard to stay conscious, but he willed himself so.
When she pulled back the curtain, Hogan nearly succumbed to the blackness again.
“Jenna?” He struggled to sit up. The edges dimmed around his vision.
“Not on your life, buddy,” the nurse said and pushed him back to a reclining position. “You have a pretty deep laceration on your arm and a dislocated hip. You’re not going anywhere.”
“Jenna. You’re still here?” He heard a gentleness that he couldn’t control in his voice. He lifted his head a little. “You’re barefooted.”
“Of course I’m still here. I couldn’t leave Savannah.” She looked at the little girl and then back at him. “Or you.”
He let his head fall back onto the gurney again, too tired to keep up the struggle. Tears leaked out of his eyes. “They said she had a fracture.” He turned his head, and he saw his little girl’s hand. The one stroking Jenna’s hair. He looked back into Jenna’s face. “Thank you for staying with her. With us.”
“No need for thanks. You guys have got some healing to do.” She turned and brushed the little girl’s hair from her face. “And I’m going to stick around to help.”
All his emotions rushed to his head. He closed his eyes. Water leaked down the sides of his face.
It seemed as if all the fear about Savannah, all the worry about Jenna, all the pain he’d had just disappeared.
⸙
Though she felt ridiculous, Jenna shucked corn in Christian Louboutin heels. Well, who else was going to make Hogan and his little girl dinner? Not that Jenna was some kind of amazing cook or anything, but she’d watched and helped Amberlee make many meals—too many to count. She’d loved hanging out with the elderly woman when she was a child. She’d taught her everything she knew about cutting up collards and shucking corn. It was their secret, though—especially from her parents. If they’d known she’d been slicing tomatoes with a knife and shucking corn on the plantation, they’d have killed her. And Amberlee.
She kicked off her shoes. She really didn’t need them here. It would be unlikely that Hogan would care if she made his dinner barefooted.
She was in a sort of foreign land now, and anything went.
It had taken a few days to get the injured father and daughter team settled, but finally they were. She had decided to stay in Savannah’s room for a few days. It was a large bedroom, and the little girl had a queen bed. And the child was not about to part with Jenna’s hair. When she could, she would take Savannah back to the field to hunt for her doll—because it helped her to self soothe. That would help because Jenna could hardly break herself away from the little girl—even to make meals. But that was okay.
“Would you like to help, sweetie?” It was easier if she simply included Savannah in everything she did. She put the little girl on the barstool beside her at the counter.
Though she still didn’t look into her eyes, Savannah was her shadow. Even though the little girl didn’t respond to anything, her presence—and hair—was all that was needed for Savannah to appear content.
Jenna mixed the flour and Crisco and buttermilk for the biscuits. “Do you want to help me put these into the pan for Daddy?” Savannah continued to look at a spot in the middle of the room. In the middle of nowhere. No point. No focus. No response.
She placed the rolls into the pan and continued to talk to the small girl. “Do you want chicken nuggets tonight?” She wasn’t going to get a response. About anything. She was becoming good at observation. Watching to see what Savannah liked. What she did. How she reacted. Or rather didn’t react.
She put them in the oven, set the timer, and finished shucking the last ear of corn.
“Okay. I’m going to check on Daddy. See how he’s doing with his physical therapist. Here.” She handed the little girl her Mommy and Me book and ducked out of the kitchen. When she made it back to the plantation, she was going to get the little girl some other books about mommies. Hogan had provided her with lots of age-appropriate books, but she loved the one about the mommy best. Probably because—in effect—she didn’t have one, except for the one on the pages.
The therapist was assisting Hogan to walk down the hall. Even with a damaged gait, he mesmerized her. She couldn’t believe she was thinking like that at a time like this. Poor man and his poor daughter.
“Everything okay in here?” she asked.
Hogan smiled. His dimples lit up the narrow hall. “As okay as possible. What about in there?” His dark hair shook each time he put down his foot.
“We’re making dinner.”
He downed his head and lifted his eyebrows like he doubted her. She could only imagine what he thought. Yeah, right. The debutante and his autistic child were making him dinner?
She’d show him. She smiled and went back to the kitchen.
Savannah turned the pages of the book.
“Now it’s time for the salad.”
The little girl continued to look at her story about the mommy.
Jenna took out the ingredients for the salad from the refrigerator and set them beside the little girl.
The timer on the oven went off.
Savannah’s head snapped up, and her gaze met Jenna’s.
What? What had just happened? “Savannah?” Jenna saw some kind of clarity in the little girl’s eyes. So she seized upon a possible opportunity. “Let’s put the spinach leaves in these bowls, sweetie. Like thi
s.” She showed her how to take them from the bag and place them in the bowls. And to her amazement, Savannah transferred the leaves just like Jenna had showed her.
The little girl continued to tear until all the lettuce was gone. And then she disappeared into the darkness again.
Jenna thought about the circumstances. And then a light bulb went off. Or rather…a bell.
She remembered the first day she’d arrived on the farm, something similar had happened. When she rang the bell on the front porch, she’d noticed something. Some kind of similar reaction when the little girl got up and ran to her father. She had mistakenly thought she’d frightened the little girl. The bell.
She started recalling some of what she’d learned in her education classes and put a few things together from an education journal she’d just read about something they referred to as “conditioned mindfulness.” What if she used that technique with a type of behavioral therapy?
Hmmm. Maybe she’d try something. She walked to the stove again and set the timer for three minutes. She placed shredded cheese, dried cranberries and bacon bits in bowls in front of the little girl.
The bell sounded, and the little girl looked up at Jenna. Deep into her eyes.
She bent down to gaze into her face. “Savannah, listen carefully. I really need you to help me put the cheese, bacon and cranberries into the salad bowls. Okay? Like this.” She moved the bowls even closer to Savannah, and she put a little of each into each bowl.
She heard something in the doorway. It was Hogan on his crutches. With his mouth open. She put her finger to her lips to make sure he didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to spoil the magic.
He watched as his daughter put little fistfuls of salad fixings on the spinach. Surprise covered his face.
“Great job, Savannah.” She said evenly. “Perfect. Your daddy’s going to be so proud.”
Hogan ambled even closer. “Savannah?” he asked.
The little girl didn’t acknowledge him, so he turned to Jenna. “Did I really see what I thought I saw just now?”
Jenna smiled and nodded as she stroked Savannah’s hair. “I think we may have had a little…discovery. Not completely sure yet, though.” She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of walnut and cranberry dressing and took off the cap. She turned on the timer again and said, “Let’s see.”
When the timer went off, the light in Savannah’s eyes turned on.
Like before, she bent down, looked into the child’s eyes and said, “Sweetie, I want you to squeeze a little dressing on each of our salads. Okay?” She turned her head to see if Hogan was watching.
Savannah grabbed the bottle and did as she was instructed. The child put the bottle down and was gone again.
“Hogan took the little girl by the shoulders and said, “Savannah, I am so proud of you. You helped Jenna with our dinner. Daddy is so impressed at how well you made our salads, big girl.” He looked up at Jenna with a wash of red over his eyes.
The child looked beyond him as if he’d said nothing. “This is incredible. Absolutely incredible.” He shook his head. “I’ve had a lot of teachers and specialists come through those front doors, but I’ve never seen anything like this. I mean…she was here…like, really here.”
He turned back to look at the little girl. “She actually saw you. And listened to you.” He shook his head. “Really, I cannot believe it.”
“I read about this. Light can trigger it, too. That may have been what brought her off the porch that night. The fireflies,” she said.
“Well, shut my mouth! That’s amazing!” He thought for a moment. “Yes. I’ve seen her interact with lightning bugs, too, when I’ve carried her out in the evenings. I think you’re right. I thought she simply loved fireflies—like she does her Barbie.”
“It’s slightly different. The Barbie is a comforting thing, a self-stimulating behavior, called stimming. The lights and bells are triggers to bring her into the present.” Jenna started running all sorts of educational scenarios through her head. How she was going to put bells in every room in the house. All the new games and tricks she was going to try with Savannah. How she was going to use lights in an extremely limited way to stimulate interactions. It was going to be a real job.
She looked down at her finger and the beautiful ring on it, and for the first time, she sort of understood why Hogan hadn’t told her about Savannah. It would scare most women off. Away for good.
But not her. She handled snakes. She could certainly handle this precious little girl that she’d grown so attached to…so protective of…and she knew this to be her…calling.
She looked at the clock. “Hey, we have a little while before dinner. I wanted to go back out to the field to try to find Savannah’s dolly. How do you think she’d react if I took her with me?”
He pondered the question for a moment. “I don’t see a problem. She’s spent a lot of time in the fields with Colton and me. I think that will be what she remembers.” He paused. “I don’t want her to associate the accident with the fields, so we need to get her back in them as soon as possible.” He brushed the top of her golden hair. “If she reacts negatively, just bring her back, and I’ll try to get Buck or one of the guys to find it.”
“Yeah, I thought about that, but I think it would be great if she found it. That would make her feel…in control of her comfort. Does that make sense?”
“Of course.”
“You mind if we went…without shoes?”
“Why would I? I spent half my childhood without them. Savannah doesn’t care for them either.”
“Great.” She turned to the little girl. “Come with me, sweetie.” She helped the little girl off the stool and took her hand. Savannah tiptoed out the door beside her.
The sun shone bright in the field. Jenna knew the exact spot they’d had the accident. As she entered the field of grasses, she let go of Savannah’s hand. Jenna felt light, like she had before the accident—like she always did on the plantation. She let the sand filter between her toes like she did on DeBordieu Plantation. What was it with her and the land? The earth felt similar to the sandy loam that covered her plantation. Only her land seemed to have less of the red stuff that was mixed in with the dirt beneath her feet, even more fertile than this magnificent farm. Good growing land. But what could she grow? So many crops were not profitable—at least not as profitable as she would need them to be. She said a prayer for direction—for her land, for her life, for the little girl with her, and even to find the Barbie. God could do anything.
“Let’s find your dolly, sweetheart.” Jenna twirled down a row, almost dancing like she had in ballet class when she was a child.
Savannah took a slow twirl on her little toes, just like her. Jenna bent down. “So, princess, you like to dance, too?” Jenna popped up on her own toes and took another twirl.
The little ballerina copied her. This was more magic. More fodder for thought. She was determined to unlock the doors that imprisoned this precious child.
As they danced and ran down the rows in the fields, she looked for the doll. Finally she spotted it—a little beyond the area where she supposed it was. “Savannah, look here.” She stood behind the little girl and pointed.
Savannah ran to her doll, picked it up and immediately started stroking the dirty hair.
She reached for the little angel and hugged her. Savannah immediately dropped the doll in favor of Jenna’s hair. She kissed the five-year-old’s cheek, picked up the doll and handed it back.
“Did our girl find her Barbie?”
Jenna jumped at the unexpected voice. It was Colton, Hogan’s brother. He reached out and picked up his little niece. Jenna had met him in the hospital just after the accident, and he’d been stopping by to check on Hogan every once in a while.
He kissed his niece. “So how’s my brother doing today?”
She smiled. “Well, I think.” She brushed at her cotton sundress.
“Sorry I haven’t been coming around a
s much as I should, but I’ve been tending an experimental crop in one of the remote fields. Tea plants.” He set Savannah down again. “But I haven’t been too worried about my brother because I saw that he was in good hands.” He smiled, making the dimple in his chin more prominent, just like his brother. “Her, too.” He nodded his head toward the little girl. “She’s taken quite a liking to you. Never seen her like that before.”
“Thanks. I’ve grown rather fond of her, too.” Something he’d said earlier had sparked an idea. “You said you’re growing tea plants?”
He inhaled deeply. “Trying to. They could be pretty profitable—if I could get them to thrive. They’re struggling, though. They need land that drains better. And I’m worried about what they’ll do in the winter…when it frosts. We get way more cold nights than the bottom of the county because they’re closer to the shore.”
Like her land. “What’s involved with a tea crop?”
“You got a few minutes?”
“As long as they include Savannah.”
“Come with me.” They walked back to a huge barn-like shelter that housed a lot of machinery.
“This is my favorite toy on the farm.” He pointed to a John Deere Gator.
She’d wished she had one on the plantation, but they just used their gas-powered golf cart that had been rigged with a dump bucket on the back. It worked.
“Let’s go for a ride.” He bent down. “You want to ride on Uncle Colton’s Gator, Savannah?”
The child made no attempt to respond. She continued to brush her doll’s hair.
“Come on, baby,” she said and picked up the little girl and climbed upon the Gator.
Colton got in on the other side, cranked her up, and away they sped, bumping over ground, running down paths between acres and acres of crops—corn, tomatoes, peanuts. Dirt kicked up behind them and left a trail denoting where they’d travelled. Finally, they reached a completely different looking field. He shut off the Gator by some kind of official looking sign that had some writing with information on it that she didn’t understand.
Fireflies and Lies (A Summerbrook Novel Book 4) Page 19