The View from Here

by Hannah McKinnon

  Phoebe remembered then about the dog. What a shame he couldn’t go to the hospital with them. She had a feeling everyone in the family could use a good dose of therapy dog right about then.

  After promising Marge that she’d call with updates, Phoebe drove back down the driveway. What she would’ve given for a Marge and Ben herself, she thought.

  Unfortunately, when she returned to the hospital, she still wasn’t allowed back to see any of them. Perry came out to collect the things she brought, and thanked her. He looked terrible, but he assured her the girls were okay. Jake was the one they were most worried about now, and one look at her parents told Phoebe it was wearing on them.

  “He’s in recovery, and Olivia was able to spend some time with him. The doctor says the surgery went well,” Edward told her. He looked exhausted.

  “Let’s all go home and come back in the morning,” Phoebe suggested. For once, her mother did not argue.

  By the time she fell into her own bed, beside Rob, Phoebe was too exhausted to lie awake worrying. About the fact she’d barely seen the boys all day. About money. About the fact she lay beside a husband who was too disillusioned to turn over and kiss her good night. Instead of fretting, it had been all she could do to kick off her sandals and crawl into bed in the clothes she’d worn all day. She was out cold before she remembered she’d not brushed her teeth.

  This morning, she thought the next day, would have to be different. She vowed to call Dave and make a plan for the house. Rob had gone into work, and she’d convinced Anna Beth to take the boys for the morning. “Jesus,” she’d said when Phoebe called to explain why. “How is Jake? I can’t picture him laid up for a second.”

  Tears pricked her eyes as Phoebe realized with a start she did not know if Jake would be all right. The surgery may have gone well, but the fracture was serious and he’d be in traction and then rehab for a long time. And it wasn’t just the leg. There still wasn’t any clear understanding of what had gone wrong out there. Although nobody dared say the words aloud, she had a bad feeling it involved Jake. And Phoebe could tell she was not alone.

  She’d seen it bubbling beneath the surface in Perry, when she’d visited the hospital late the night before. He looked god-awful. She understood as a parent what Perry was already feeling and Jake could not; when your children’s well-being was threatened, there was no telling how you’d react. Brothers or not. Even in a big close-knit family, when it came down to a crisis, your children trumped everyone.

  After signing in at the visitor’s desk, Phoebe stopped at the Starbucks cart in the lobby. She spent almost thirty dollars on coffees, which she could not afford at all. But given how deep she was in the hole, what difference did six more coffees make? In that case, why bother with her usual skinny latte? She ordered herself a mocha Frappuccino, and watched with zero concern as the young barista mixed the creamy confectionery drink. She didn’t even blink when the girl dumped in chocolate syrup.

  “Whipped cream?” she asked.

  Phoebe stared back at her youthful smile. “Drown it.”

  Now, as she stood mesmerized by the gauzy summery view outside Luci’s hospital room windows, she remembered her tray of drinks.

  “Phoebe?” Olivia rose, and met her in the doorway. Luci was sleeping behind her in the bed.

  “Hi! How is she?” Phoebe whispered, coming to her senses.

  “She was up a bit last night, but she’s fallen back to sleep, thank goodness.”

  Olivia looked exhausted, but Phoebe noticed she was wearing the plaid pajama pants she’d picked up from Marge at the house the night before, and that cheered her. She handed her a cup of tea. “I remembered you like chai lattes.”

  “How in the world?” Olivia asked. She pecked Phoebe gratefully on the cheek and pulled a chair over next to her own.

  Phoebe shrugged. “I noticed Jake drinking them and gave him a hard time. He’s normally a boring black coffee kind of guy. You’re sophisticating my brother. We didn’t think it could be done.”

  Olivia smiled sadly. “He does like his lattes.”

  They sat a moment in silence, sipping their drinks and watching Luci sleep. “Any updates on him?” Phoebe asked warily. She didn’t know Olivia that well, and she couldn’t imagine what it was like to be in the hospital with the two people you loved best.

  “I was in with him, earlier,” she said. “He didn’t get much sleep either. I think they’re hoping to move him to a rehab center, possibly as early as tomorrow.” Her brow furrowed. “I don’t think he’ll be out on his beloved lake any time soon.”

  Phoebe sipped her Frappuccino, eyes trained on Luci’s peaceful face. There seemed to be no ire in Olivia’s tone. Phoebe wondered if she knew any more than the rest of them did about the accident.

  “How are you doing?” Phoebe asked.

  Olivia seemed about to answer, but instead, she began to cry. “Luci won’t talk. Not even to me.”

  Phoebe leaned forward and put a hand on Olivia’s back.

  “I don’t want to push her, but this is not good. And then there’s Jake. They don’t know what kind of mobility he’s going to have. Last night the doctors told him that he may have trouble walking again, that they won’t know anything for sure until the bones have a chance to set and he gets into rehabilitation.” She covered her face in her hands. “Of all the people this could happen to. He can’t sit still for a second. This will do him in.”

  Phoebe scooted closer. “Listen, if there’s one thing I know about my little brother, he defies the odds. Always has.” She forced a smile. “Did he ever tell you how he got on the football team in high school?”

  Olivia shook her head.

  “When he was a freshman, he decided to go out for football. Which was ridiculous because he was a track star, and he was short at the time. The coach told him exactly that.

  “But Jake showed up, every day. And every day the coach would ignore him. He’d tell him, ‘Go home, Goodwin.’ But Jake wouldn’t. He’d shadow the guys during practice. He’d do every drill they were doing. And after a while the coach couldn’t ignore him.”

  Olivia was listening. “He never told me that story.”

  “He wouldn’t. He’s too modest. Eventually the coach let him on, but he never played him. That whole season, Jake sat on the bench. Until one of the last games. One of the running backs pulled a hamstring, and Jake begged to be played. My dad jokes that the coach was so sick of Jake, he was probably hoping to throw him in there, watch him get sacked, and they could all be done with it.”

  “What happened?”

  “The quarterback threw him the ball. And he ran with it.”

  Olivia beamed.

  “I was afraid to watch, to be honest. Jake was a string bean compared to the other players. There’s no way he would’ve survived a tackle. But he was fast, and he got yardage.”

  “Did he score?”

  Phoebe smiled at the memory. “Yeah. He made a touchdown. It was epic.” She shrugged. “It was Jake.”

  Olivia laughed, softly. “I bet he was hard to live with after that.”

  “Nah. I would’ve been. Perry certainly would’ve been. The two of us would’ve lorded that kind of thing over everyone in the family. But Jake wasn’t after that. He usually doesn’t care what anyone else thinks. I guess he just wanted to prove it to himself.”

  Olivia twisted the ring on her finger and stared out the window. “He’s so sure of himself. I wish I was.”

  “Which is why we need to be, too. He won’t be down for long. Not with you two girls to come home to.”

  Olivia smiled and turned her gaze back to Luci. “I just hope the same for her.”

  “She’s had a bad scare,” Phoebe said. “Give it some time.” Phoebe glanced at her watch. “Speaking of which, I should be going.”

  “Are you going to visit Jake?” Olivia asked.

  When Phoebe nodded, she saw the pull in Olivia’s eyes. “Please tell him I’ll be in as soon as I can.”

&nbs
p; Phoebe held up another chai latte. “I’ll tell him this is from both of us,” she promised.

  She took the elevator up to the surgical floor. “I’m looking for Jake Goodwin,” she said at the reception desk.

  The male orderly directed her down the hall. She hoped the latte was still hot. Jake could use something sweet and distracting. She was about to round the corner to his room when she heard the raised voices.

  Phoebe halted in the doorway. Perry was standing at the foot of his brother’s bed, arms out by his sides. Jake lay under a white blanket, one leg up in traction. Her little brother had never looked so small.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” Perry asked, his voice rising in anger.

  Jake stared back at him, his face dark with regret. “I told you I’m sorry, Perry. It was an accident.”

  “Sorry?” Perry bellowed. He banged the bottom rail of Jake’s bed, and Jake winced. “You let my daughter drink beer to the point she was intoxicated. Then you drove the boat into a dock. Christ, Jake, you could’ve killed them!”

  Phoebe froze. She wanted to run in and yell at them both. At Perry to stop; couldn’t he see the pain Jake was in? At Jake to not listen to his brother. They all knew Jake would never have done this on purpose.

  “It was an accident,” Jake said again. “A terrible accident that I will never forgive myself for.”

  “It was you!” Perry bellowed. “You being reckless, and showing off, like you always do. You will never change, Jake Goodwin. But one thing will: you will never be allowed near my family again.”

  Jake sat up in bed, the blanket falling from his bare chest. His face twisted in pain. “Perry, please!”

  “And after what you’ve done to little Luci, I’m sure Olivia will want nothing to do with you either!”

  At that Jake fell back against the pillows, hands to his face.

  “Stop!” Phoebe yelled from the doorway. “Both of you, stop it now.”

  A strangled cry came from the bed, and she rushed for Jake. “He didn’t mean it,” Phoebe cried. She grabbed his hand, but Jake refused to look at her.

  “The hell I didn’t!” Perry roared.

  A nurse flew through the doorway. She bumped against Phoebe as she tried to get to Jake. “All of you, out,” she ordered. “Now! Or I’m calling security.”

  Perry’s face was flushed, the veins in his forehead throbbing. “I’m sorry,” he managed, pulling himself together. “I’m leaving now.”

  The nurse checked Jake’s vitals, adjusted the IV bag. “You need to calm down, Mr. Goodwin. We have to keep that leg immobile.”

  Phoebe’s eyes darted between her two brothers. Thank God her parents weren’t here to witness this; she could imagine the disappointment in her father’s eyes. In all their mistakes and missteps growing up, they’d never known Edward to raise his voice, let alone his fist. Jane would’ve intervened; she was the shouter. But neither brother listened to her.

  When Perry ducked past her toward the door, she reached for him. His hands were still balled in fists, stiff at his sides. “Perry,” she said. “Stop.”

  But he wouldn’t. He stepped quickly around her and hurried through the door. Phoebe glanced back at Jake, who was staring helplessly out the window while the nurse spoke with him. “I’ll be right back,” Phoebe said. Then, to the nurse, “I’m so sorry. This accident… it’s hurt us all.”

  But Perry was getting away. Hastily she excused herself and went after him. He was already halfway down the hall, making stiff, sweeping strides toward the elevator. She had to break into a run. “Perry, wait!” she called.

  Phoebe caught up to him at the elevator doors. He kept his back to her, stabbing at the buttons.

  Warily, she reached for his arm. “Perry,” she tried again.

  When he turned to look at her, Phoebe saw something in his watery expression she’d never seen before. It looked like fear. “I’m sorry,” he managed, and without warning, Perry fell against her. Phoebe struggled to prop him up, to wrap her arms around the breadth of his shoulders. “It’s okay,” she said, pressing her face to his heaving chest. “Emma is safe, and so is Luci. Everyone is going to be okay.”

  The elevator doors swung open, but neither Goodwin noticed. For the first time in her life, Phoebe held on to her older brother as he sobbed against her. She imagined herself as a blanket, muffling the pain. Phoebe had never seen Perry cry. And it scared the hell out of her.

  This was the big brother. Unflappable, rational, problem-solving Perry. The one they all turned to, and always had, their parents included. What did a family do when their one true rock broke?

  Over his shoulder, through the sweeping bank of hospital windows, she could see the horizon, nothing but blue sky and rolling green hills. It shifted with every racking sob that escaped her brother. Phoebe squeezed harder. “We’re all going to be okay,” she lied.

  Olivia

  Olivia splashed cold water on her face and regarded her reflection in the hospital bathroom mirror. She hadn’t slept, and the evidence stared right back at her.

  “There’s my girl!” The beauty of a familiar voice sang out and Olivia turned in the tiny bathroom doorway to see Marge sail into Luci’s room, arms outstretched. Luci’s face brightened and she gasped, but Olivia’s spirits sank when she didn’t emit a single sound. Marge and Ben were like family, and this was another test she’d been holding her breath for. Sometimes it was possible to snap Luci out of her nonverbal state. If she was surprised by something both familiar and positive, her instinctual reaction might be to vocalize. But it didn’t happen. Olivia tried not to show her disappointment as she went to Marge and hugged her.

  Marge held up a tin. “I baked blueberry muffins this morning.” She turned to Luci and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I snuck them in just for you!”

  Luci grinned and looked at her mother, expectantly. “Go ahead,” Olivia said.

  As was his way, Ben stood beside his wife, quietly shadowing her exuberance. “Good to see you, darling,” he said, pecking Olivia’s cheek. “How are you holding up?”

  “Still standing. Thank you for coming.”

  Luci and Marge dipped into the tin of muffins, and Olivia accepted one gratefully. It was still warm to the touch. “Boy, you really did just bake these.”

  Ben shook his head when she offered him one.

  “You’ve more willpower than I do,” Olivia said, tearing into the buttery folds of the muffin. She’d been living on hospital cafeteria food, and as the warm blueberries melted on her tongue she seriously wondered if she’d ever tasted anything so gratifying.

  Marge shook her head. “Oh please. You give that man too much credit. Who do you think taste-tested them?”

  A small giggle escaped Luci and hope filled Olivia’s chest. God, she was so glad to see Ben and Marge.

  “Now,” Ben said, sitting beside Luci’s bed and examining her cast, “this is a lovely shade of pink, but I think it might need a little artwork. May I?” He reached in his pocket and held up a black Sharpie marker.

  “I didn’t even think of that,” Olivia said. “Luci, Ben can sign your cast. We all can.”

  “Even better,” Ben said. “I can draw you a picture. Would you like that?”

  Luci’s eyes widened. She nodded happily. Drawing was something they did together, Ben and Luci. Whenever Marge and Ben invited them to the big house for dinner, Ben would sit down at the farm table with a big sketch pad and a black marker. Whatever Luci pointed to he would draw; a flower from the garden, their tabby cat, Simon. Then he would hand the marker to Luci and let her take a turn. “He’s crazy about that child,” Marge would say, as she and Olivia watched from the kitchen. Ben never said so, but Olivia had long suspected it was more than a means to pass the time. It was Ben’s creative way to get Luci to express herself. The fact that he’d brought his black Sharpie to the hospital made her eyes water.

  Ben uncapped the marker, holding it up like a wand. “All right, then. What will it be, swe
et one?”

  Olivia watched as Luci considered his question. She turned her eyes on her mother, with a sudden pleading look. There was something special she had in mind.

  “You have an idea,” Olivia said, moving closer to the bed. “Can you give us a hint?”

  Behind her, Olivia could feel Marge holding her breath. Indeed, she was, too. But as much as she didn’t want to pressure Luci, this was what their speech therapist usually encouraged. When Luci’s brow furrowed in consternation, Olivia wavered. “Is it something here?” she asked, hopefully.

  Luci shook her head.

  “Okay, Mommy will guess.” She ran through the usual objects the two liked to commit to paper. “Is it a butterfly? Or a flower?”

  Again, Luci shook her head.

  Olivia sighed inwardly. “Tell us yes or no,” she encouraged. She wanted Luci to articulate, even if it was just a guttural sound in the affirmative or negative. Olivia might be pushing it, she knew. But this was Ben and Marge. Besides Olivia and her grandfather, they were the safest people Luci could practice this with.

  “Do you want Ben to draw an animal?”

  Luci brightened.

  “Ah!” Marge said with relief. “You love the birds that come to my feeder in the garden. Would you like a chickadee?”

  Luci shook her head. She was getting discouraged, Olivia could tell. “We’re going to help you to tell us what you want. Can you draw it for us?”

  Ben held up his marker. “Excellent idea.” There was a fumble as Marge rustled through her purse looking for a scrap of paper. Olivia scoured the room. The only things she could find were hospital forms and a magazine, both filled with text. Meanwhile Marge kept guessing aloud.

  Luci was starting to look as if she might cry. This was the problem—when Luci couldn’t articulate and Olivia couldn’t guess, things unraveled. Olivia wasn’t about to let Ben’s lovely idea be wasted. Determined, she tore through the drawers in the nightstand. There was a bedpan, a washcloth. Nothing else. Feeling frantic, she turned to Luci. “Hang on, honey. I’ll go ask a nurse! We’ll find you a piece of paper, don’t worry.” But as she spun toward the door, she halted.