Sunny's Hope

by Nola Cross

  Sunny collapsed back on the pillow as the sound of their footsteps died away.

  “Unbelievable. I’m so sorry,” she murmured, feeling dangerously close to tears.

  Before Ben could respond, a nurse whisked into the room, followed by an orderly pushing a gurney. “You’re due for a neuro eval,” she said in a clipped voice. To Ben she said, “You’ll have to come back later, sir. Ms. Williamson needs to see her doctor now.”

  Sunny looked across at him. His blue eyes were clouded, his expression bleak. For a moment his jaw worked, as if he wanted to say something, then he gave her a small wave, turned, and left the room. Whatever sense of peace and safety she had felt a few moments before had been completely shattered by her ex-husband’s visit. And Ben seemed to feel the same way.

  * * * *

  Ben slipped the key into the back door.

  “Let me help.” Spencer put his hand over Ben’s and together they turned the knob.

  It was eerie coming into Sunny’s house without her being there. All the warmth and life normally present in this place was missing. He flicked on the light and they climbed the steps to the kitchen. Spencer took off down the hallway to the bedrooms.

  “I’ll find him, Dad. Here, Mr. Trix. Here, Mr. Trix,” Spencer shouted and clapped his hands. Ben didn’t know a lot about cats, but he was pretty sure the boy’s method was not going to produce the desired result.

  “Quietly,” he called out, and smiled as Spencer softened his voice.

  He stood for a moment in the kitchen, feeling disoriented. Sunny was a wonderful cook, and this room usually burgeoned with mysterious and delectable odors. She enjoyed presiding at her stove in bare feet and a white apron. The vintage-inspired vision never failed to arouse him, and she liked it fine when he came up behind and slipped his arms around her waist.

  This morning the only signs of life were a couple of empty cereal bowls in the sink.

  It was ironic, wasn’t it? Only six weeks ago he’d still been battling a deep-seated grief over the death of his wife. Sunny’s warmth and passion had led him out of that dark place and made him believe in love again. Now here he stood, teetering on the edge of despair all over again because of what had happened to the very woman who had rescued him.

  And what about Jasmine? He’d already grown fond of the plucky, sweet little girl. It was hell being in this limbo. How badly was she hurt? Did they even know yet? What were her chances of a full recovery? He was overwhelmed with a feeling of helplessness. Since he wasn’t related to her, there were limits to how much the doctors would share with him. He’d have to rely on Sunny to translate everything they said and did. That didn’t sit well with Ben. He was used to digging into a problem, turning it inside out, and resolving it as quickly as possible.

  “I can’t find him, Dad,” Spencer called from the back of the house.

  His son’s voice brought him out of his swirling thoughts. Obviously this problem was one he couldn’t work out all on his own. But I can certainly inform myself better. There must be lots of information about brain injury on the internet. If he learned more about it, at least he would have a context for what might unfold in the next weeks.

  Feeling a little better, Ben went to the pantry and located the cans and bagged food Sunny had mentioned. In the laundry room, he filled the cat’s empty bowl with kibbles and rinsed out the water dish. Then he returned to the kitchen and opened a can of something called mixed grill. At the sound of the electric opener, a gray striped head peeked out from under the checked cloth on the kitchen table. Big green eyes blinked at him.

  “Hey there, buddy.” He bent low and held out the open can toward the cat.

  Pointed ears flicked back and forth as the pink nose engaged, sniffing the air. After a moment Mr. Trix hopped off his chair and sat down a few feet away. Ben inched forward, extending the can. Now the critter pretended disinterest, licking its white vest and paws with great concentration.

  Ben straightened and sighed. “Okay, cat. If you change your mind, it’ll be on a plate in the laundry room.” Then he grinned. I can’t believe I just talked to an animal as if it could understand me. Well, at least he hadn’t started sneezing, which was what most often happened around cats.

  He dished up the food and went in search of Spencer, who had stopped making noise a couple of minutes earlier. Silence was usually not a good sign. He found his son in Jasmine’s room, lying on his back on the twin bed. Clasped in his arms was Jasmine’s WonderTales Pony, the beloved toy she had just received for Christmas.

  “Are you okay, son?”

  Spencer propped himself up on one elbow, his little face solemn. “I miss her, Dad. Is she going to get well pretty soon?”

  For a moment, Ben considered lying to ease Spencer’s fears, then decided against it. Raising the boy’s hopes could backfire if Jasmine didn’t recover right away. “It might take a while. We don’t know for sure. Right now she’s resting a lot.”

  Spencer lay back down and held the toy above his head, dipping and twirling it like a carousel horse. He seemed deep in thought. Finally he spoke again. “I said a prayer about it. I asked God to make her all better.”

  “That’s a good thing.” Ben still marveled at the connection the two children had. It had been there from the very first day they met and only seemed to grow stronger as time passed.

  “Will she still be able to walk and stuff?”

  A deep stab of anguish pierced Ben’s chest. Those were the big questions, weren’t they? Again he was assailed by the urgent need to learn more. “It may take her a while to remember how to do those things, buddy.”

  “Oh.”

  “She will have lots of special helpers called therapists.”

  “Ther-a-pists.” Spencer murmured the word. Then he sat straight up. “And me! I’ll help her too, Dad.”

  “That’s a great idea. I’m sure Jasmine will like that.”

  “And we can take her pony to her. Can’t we? She can cuddle with it while she’s resting.”

  “Sure we can. We can see about doing that tomorrow.”

  Chapter 4

  “More coffee?” Sunny started to rise from the table, the damn brace making even the simplest movement awkward and robotic.

  “I’ll get it. You sit still.” LaRonda retrieved the coffee pot and filled both their mugs before resuming her seat.

  “Thanks.” Sunny smiled at her best friend. It was great to be back in her own home, her own kitchen, if only for a few hours. Late morning sunlight splashed across the gingham tablecloth and puddled on the floor, where Mr. Trix stretched out contentedly.

  “Sure.”

  “And thanks again for the beautiful flowers.” Sunny fingered a velvety rose petal. By yesterday evening, her hospital room had been overflowing with floral arrangements as the families of her second grade students learned of the accident. When she’d checked out of there this morning, she’d had most of the flowers sent over to the long-term care unit. It was just as well; right now her kitchen was filled with the almost-cloying scent of the roses.

  “Of course. I remembered yellow was your favorite.” LaRonda reached out and patted Sunny’s hand. She took a long drink of her coffee and then set the cup off to the side. “So, how in the world are you sitting here so calmly when your baby girl is still in the ICU? I’d be tearing my hair out if my Tabby was in the hospital without me.”

  Sunny’s eyes filled with tears. She blotted at them with a paper napkin while her friend waited for her to respond. She’d been brave all morning, and to tell the truth it felt good to let loose some of her iron control.

  “Leaving her there this morning was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” She swallowed and blew her nose. “She looked so small and helpless lying there with all those tubes and wires coming out of her. If Ben hadn’t been beside me I’m not sure how well I would have handled it.”

  LaRonda handed her another napkin. “I understand, sweetie. But you’re home now. Go ahead. Sometimes you just got
ta give in and have a good cry.”

  As if she’d been waiting for exactly those words, a dam seemed to break inside Sunny. All restraint vanished as she laid her forehead on her arms and bawled. LaRonda stayed beside her, making little cooing sounds and rubbing her arm until she’d cried herself out. Finally, Sunny raised her head.

  “Better?” LaRonda’s own eyes were wet. She was a true friend.

  Sunny nodded. “Yeah. I really needed to shed some tears, that’s for sure.” She let out a long, shaky breath. “But not in front of Jasmine. She may be heavily sedated, but I believe she can hear what’s being said around her.”

  “Uh-huh. I’ve heard that too. People wake up later and can tell you all about what was going on.”

  “So it’s really important that I keep it together when I’m in her room. I only want her to hear positive words from me.”

  “That’s a good idea. How long before she comes to? Aren’t you afraid she’ll wake up and wonder where you are?”

  “The doctor says there’s no chance of that with all the sedation they’ve given her. I only came home today to do a quick load of laundry and meet briefly with the principal of my school.”

  “So how long do you plan to be off work?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I see my neurologist on Friday afternoon. I’m hoping he’ll say the brace can come off. But of course after that I want to be available to spend time at the hospital. I want to be there when Jasmine begins to come out of her coma.”

  “How soon will that be?”

  “The doctors can’t be sure. Keeping her on the sedation helps to prevent further swelling in her brain.” An involuntary shiver moved over her skin. Please, God, watch over my baby girl.

  LaRonda seemed to read her thoughts. “I’m praying for her.”

  “Thank you.” Sunny managed a smile.

  LaRonda took one of the cookies from the little fluted plate in the center of the table. She nibbled thoughtfully. “So. This Ben guy…”

  “Yes? What about him?”

  “Seems like things are getting pretty serious with you two.”

  “I guess they are, yes.”

  “How’s he feeling about what happened to Jasmine?”

  “What do you mean? He feels awful about it of course.”

  “I mean he was driving when this happened. Is he taking responsibility for that?”

  Sunny stared at the other woman, her pulse leaping. Where had LaRonda gotten the idea that Ben was at fault? The last thing he needed was a big dose of guilt from her friend. He already felt bad enough about being behind the wheel. “He is in no way to blame for what happened. The other driver ran the stop sign.”

  “Really? That’s not what I heard.”

  “What do you mean? What did you hear?” Sunny’s heart hammered. What the hell was going on?

  “I was at the nail salon this morning, you know—” She waggled her perfect pink manicure at Sunny— “and Tiana Thomas told me that your boyfriend had been arrested for it and was out on bail.”

  “What?”

  “I told her I thought she was mistaken, but she swears it’s true.”

  “Well, it isn’t true. It’s a lie, a total lie.” Sunny struggled to keep her voice calm, but inside she was seething. Tiana Thomas tended bar at the same nightclub where Charles’s girlfriend, Sharina, worked as an exotic dancer. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who had started the nasty rumor.

  * * * *

  Ben laced his fingers through Sunny’s but she didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes were riveted straight ahead. They stood side by side at the window to Jasmine’s ICU room, watching as the little girl’s chest rose and fell rhythmically with the action of the ventilator. Soft beeping noises came from the other machines surrounding her bed.

  Ben’s heart felt like a cold lead ball in his chest. It was now forty-eight hours since the accident and nothing much had changed for Jasmine as far as he could tell. They’d released Sunny this morning, but of course she had wanted—needed—to return this evening to see for herself how Jasmine was doing. Even though this place made his skin crawl, he’d be chauffeuring Sunny as long as she was wearing the brace. It was the least he could do.

  Sunny let out a long, shaky breath. He knew she was doing her damnedest to be brave. In a flash he was almost bowled over by a powerful surge of guilt and anger. It isn’t fair! Not fair that the bubbly little girl lay so still and silent, facing a recovery period of undetermined length and severity.

  And it wasn’t fair to him and Sunny either.

  Those wonderful hours they’d spent together at the hotel on Saturday night now seemed like an idyllic dream. The passion they’d shared, the carefree kisses and laughter were all but wiped away by the horrific reality of Jasmine’s injuries. Up until Sunday night, he would have said their relationship was nearly perfect, expanding and changing like the colorful pattern in a kaleidoscope. Each day seemed better than the one before. Now he had to wonder if they’d ever get back to that special, almost-selfish place where their relationship came first, if only for a few stolen hours.

  “Ah. Ms. Williamson. I’m glad to see you here.”

  They turned in unison to find Dr. Margery Joffman, Jasmine’s neurologist, walking toward them. She carried a clipboard and several file folders.

  “How’s she doing, doctor?”

  The woman smiled as she pushed her reading glasses up into her short gray hair. “I have some good news. The bleeding into the subarachnoid space has completely stopped. No further swelling has been detected.”

  “What does that mean?” Sunny squeezed his hand so hard it hurt.

  “We’re going to give her another thirty-six hours on sedation. I want to proceed cautiously. But on Thursday morning we’ll start withdrawing the medications and see how she does.”

  “Yes! Yes!” Sunny threw her arms around him, happy tears springing from her eyes.

  The doctor held up her hand. “We’re not out of the woods yet, but so far there are lots of hopeful signs.”

  “That’s great,” Ben said around the lump in his throat. “What about longer term? What can we expect?”

  “I wish I could give you the definitive answer you want. Every brain injury is different. Of course we will be doing ongoing evaluations over the next few weeks and months. We’ll know more as time goes on. Trauma to the right side of the brain can have long-lasting effects on cognitive skills like learning, attention, and memory.”

  “Oh no!” Sunny’s hand went to her mouth. As a teacher, it had to be hard for her to hear that Jasmine could end up struggling in school.

  “Speech and language pathologists can be quite helpful. We’ll get her going on therapy just as soon as we can. The sooner the better.”

  “What time on Thursday morning should we be here?”

  “Actually, it’s not critical that you’re here. The sedation will be withdrawn very gradually. Jasmine may not even open her eyes for days, and may not be fully aware for weeks. We’ll all need to be very patient.”

  “All right. I can do that. I can be patient,” Sunny said, swiping at her eyes with a tissue. “As long as we’re making progress. That’s the most important thing.”

  Ben put his arm around her, pulling her as close as the brace would allow. His own chest felt lighter, less constricted. Rays of hope glimmered in his mind. He thanked the doctor and they walked to the elevators.

  Once inside, Sunny collapsed against him. She clutched at the lapels of his coat and smiled up at him, bright tears still shining in her amazing amber eyes. Before he realized what she aimed to do, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him. Her ripe lips moved with a sudden, fierce longing on his, branding him with surprising heat. Desire flared and he pushed it away like a bad dog.

  “What was that for?” he asked as she stepped back again, a wide smile on her mouth.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For being here, Ben. For always being my rock.”

  “Where el
se would I be?”

  * * * *

  Neither of them said much on the way to Sunny’s house. Evening traffic was light and Ben’s rental car seemed to find its way across town to their neighborhood without much effort on his part.

  “You know what I hate the worst?” Sunny finally said as they turned on to her street.

  “What?”

  “The not knowing. I hate having to rely on experts and therapists to know what’s best for my own daughter.”

  “That’s why they call them experts I guess. In these cases it’s their job to know what’s best.”

  “Yeah. In my head I know that. But in my heart I still want to be the one Jasmine relies on.” Her voice cracked.

  Ben’s hand covered hers. He coasted the pad of his thumb across her knuckles. “I understand,” he said. “I’m the same way about Spencer.”

  “I guess I’ll just have to get used to stepping back and letting other people make the big decisions.”

  They pulled into her driveway and he cut the engine. The quiet night closed in, her porch light filling the car with a soft yellow glow.

  He turned to her. “I did quite a bit of reading online today. Would it help if I sent you links to some articles about traumatic brain injury?”

  “I don’t know.” She gave a shaky laugh. “I thought about doing that myself. But I was terrified to read about the patients who never recovered.”

  “I’ll only send you the articles that have happy endings, okay?”

  Now she turned and smiled at him. “Okay. Thanks for being willing to screen out the scary stuff.”

  “No problem. Any time.”

  “Well, I guess I should go in.” Her hand moved to the door handle.

  “Call me if you need me. I’ll keep my cellphone on my nightstand.”

  She leaned across and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Thank you.”

  Then she hesitated. She sat back and turned her head toward the darkened house. After a moment she looked at him again.

  “I really don’t want to be alone tonight. I wish you could come in with me.”