by Devney Perry
I bent and whispered into her hair, “Deep breaths.”
She nodded, sucking in some air. “I’m scared.”
“Me too, sweetheart. Me too.”
If I cried, she would break. So even though my throat was on fire, I forced myself to hold tight. I’d have my moment later, when I was home and alone and could drown out the sound in a hot shower.
A doctor cleared his throat as he walked into the waiting room wearing teal scrubs and matching booties over his tennis shoes. “Mr. Alcott?”
The room sprang to life, suddenly noisy and bustling with movement, even though it had been still and silent just moments ago.
Kali shot off the loveseat as I carefully set Max aside, making sure he wouldn’t fall when I stood.
I grabbed her arm before she could run to the doctor. “Kali, wait. Stay with Max.”
“Mom—”
“Please. In case he wakes up.” And in case the doctor didn’t have good news.
She would not hear it from a fifty-something-year-old doctor with a mole on his chin. If there was bad coming, my daughter would hear it from me.
Her shoulders dropped. “Fine.”
I kissed the top of her hair, then rushed across the room.
The doctor had called Finn’s dad’s name, yet everyone here had converged on him. Bridget, of course, was front and center. “Is he okay?”
“Excuse me.” I shoved past her, joining David and Rayna as they stood beside the doctor.
“Mr. Alcott.” The doctor gestured for David to follow him into the hallway. Rayna grabbed my hand, pulling me along as she followed David.
Kali and Max waited at the waiting room entrance, peering down the hallway as we eased out of earshot. Kali had probably woken him up the second I’d stepped away.
“My kids are right there,” I told the doctor. “Would you mind turning your back to them?”
He nodded once, pivoting so they wouldn’t be able to read his lips or see the expression on his face. “Finn is out of surgery and in recovery. He’s had a lot of internal damage. Right now, we’re worried about infection and swelling. But if he makes it through the next twenty-four hours, his chances improve drastically.”
“But he’s alive?” I croaked out.
The doctor nodded. “He’s alive.”
Thank you, God.
Rayna’s hand came to her mouth as she wept tears of relief. David pulled her into his side, holding her tight and turning her sideways so the kids wouldn’t see.
I wrapped my arms around myself, physically holding the emotions inside. “Can we see him?”
“I can let you in there for just a few minutes, but he’s not awake. We’re keeping him sedated for the time being.”
“You guys go,” I told Rayna and David. “I’ll tell the kids.”
“No,” Rayna said. “You should go.”
“But—”
“Molly.” David touched my arm. “Go.”
“Kali and Max—”
“We’ve got them,” he said. “Go.”
“Okay.” I nodded and followed the doctor down a series of white hallways until we stepped into the ICU. When we entered Finn’s room, my thundering heartbeat drowned out the sound of his monitors.
My hand flew to my mouth, my eyes squeezed shut. A tear dripped down my cheek as I took three breaths to get myself together.
Finn, my Finn, was barely visible beneath white mounds of gauze and bandages. It was hard to see more than the tubes and wires connected to his still body.
“I’ll give you a minute.” The doctor touched my shoulder then left the room.
My shoes shuffled along the floor, the rubber soles squeaking because I didn’t have the strength to lift my feet.
Finn’s hand was cold when I took it in mine. A hundred things to say ran through my mind. Pleas for him to fight, to survive for our children. Sarcastic jokes about his inability to operate heavy machinery. Questions about why he’d kept me as his emergency medical contact after all our years apart.
But if Finn could hear me, if he didn’t make it through the next day, then there was really only one thing to say.
“I love you. I love you so much, Finn. I’ll always love you.”
Chapter Twelve
Molly
“Hey.” I smiled at Gavin as I stepped up to his porch.
He leaned against one of the posts, a glass of iced tea in his hands. “Hey.”
I bent down to pick up the glass he’d set on the top step for me. “I love your sun tea.”
Gavin chuckled and sat next to me on the stair. “This is the last batch.”
“What?” I stared at him in horror. “Why can’t you make more?”
“I ran out of tea bags.”
“I can pick some up at the grocery store later.” I was dedicated to Gavin’s tea. It had been one of my favorite things during the past six weeks. Sitting on the steps with him had become my little time-out from reality.
“I have some coming but it’s back-ordered.”
“I’m going to tell you a little secret.” I leaned in closer to whisper. “This company called Lipton is fairly famous for their tea. They actually carry it at the grocery store. Here. In this town.”
He chuckled. “I can’t do Lipton.”
“Too good for Lipton, huh? I had no idea you were such a tea snob. I feel like I don’t even know you.”
“It’s my mom’s fault. When I was growing up, my family took an annual vacation to the desert. My mom stumbled on this little café outside Flagstaff, and it became our place. They had the best sun tea. Over the years, she became good friends with the owner and found out the brand of tea she used. Mom ordered it and never looked back. She has early-onset Alzheimer’s, and we had to put her in a home a couple of years ago. There are days when she doesn’t remember me or my sister or my dad. But she’s never forgotten that tea.”
“And you make sure to order it too.”
“Always.”
I smiled, taking a healthy pull from my drink. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”
“The pleasure is all mine. You are my favorite neighbor.”
“Don’t tell that to Mrs. Jarrit.” I nodded to the house at the end of the cul-de-sac. “I think she has a crush on you.”
“There’s just something about me that seventy-year-old single women can’t resist. I think it’s my glasses.”
I giggled, finishing my tea. I swallowed the last drop as a black van turned onto our street. My shoulders fell, the exhaustion from the last six weeks hitting me full force.
“Today’s the big move day?”
I sighed. “Yeah.”
“How’s everyone doing?”
I stared at the van as it crept toward my driveway, not sure how best to answer that question. “I don’t know. It’s been hard. I know I told you this yesterday, but I really appreciate everything you’ve done to help out. From mowing the lawn, to sending over the girls to play with Kali and Max, to bringing pizza over. And the tea.”
These five-minute breaks on Gavin’s porch had become a highlight of each day, mostly because we didn’t talk about all the bad things. He told me anecdotes from his childhood or about his job. We joked about the other neighbors. But for five minutes, I didn’t need to think about the kids or the changes coming.
I didn’t have to think about Finn.
“I’m always happy to help. Just let me know what the girls and I can do.”
“Thank you.”
He clapped me on the knee as the van pulled into the driveway.
Poppy waved at me from the passenger seat. Cole shut off the van, and the big door on the side slid open. Kali and Max barreled out.
“Hey, Mom.” Max waved. “Hi, Gavin.”
We both waved back and I stood from the steps. “Thanks again.”
“Anytime. See you around.”
Today was my last tea break with Gavin. After today’s move, I wasn’t sure when I’d have time to come here again.
; I set off across the grass, jogging to the van to give Poppy a hug. “How did it go?”
“Good.” She nodded. “We’re good.”
Kali and Max joined us, and we all stood away from the van as Cole fiddled with the wheelchair ramp.
Getting Finn in and out of the van was going to take us all some practice.
Six weeks after the accident, he had finally left the hospital.
The first few days after his initial surgery had been a struggle for all of us. I never wanted to set foot in a hospital again. Max had said the same this morning.
Finn had been extremely lucky to get through his surgeries without infection, but the damage to his body was so severe, it had been hard for me to think about that without feeling sick.
He’d had three surgeries since the day of the accident, and with each one, I’d spent the hours praying he’d make it out alive.
His leg had been broken in four places, and after the last surgery, it was more pincushion than appendage. The same was true with his arm. Both his leg and his arm were frozen in thick, white casts. Finn’s pelvis had been broken as well, and because of it, we were looking at another month of this wheelchair.
But the internal injuries had healed. They’d been the life-threatening ones. Now what he needed was time, rest and rehab.
“Hi.” Finn smiled at me as the wheelchair rolled off the van’s ramp.
“Hi.” My heart melted at his smile.
He was hiding the pain. He was frustrated and pissed off that he was confined to a wheelchair. But he was alive. He was smiling. For me. For the kids. For Poppy, who’d had a harder time than the rest of us.
He was smiling because today was the first day in six weeks he wasn’t stuck in a hospital bed.
It was gorgeous, that smile more soothing than a deep breath of fresh air after a summer rain.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. “I can wheel myself right back into the van.”
“You’re not going anywhere.” I rolled my eyes and went around to the handlebars of his chair. “Welcome home.”
He looked up at me over his shoulder, his eyes warm. “It’s good to be here.”
I winked at him, then nodded to the kids. “Lead the way.”
Kali and Max giggled as they raced for the ramp that Finn’s employees had constructed for him.
When the doctors had given us the details of Finn’s recovery plan, it had been clear he wouldn’t be going to his own home. Well, it had been clear to me and everyone else in the room that day. Everyone except Finn.
He spent an hour explaining to me, Poppy and his parents how he’d be fine at his house. His chair had an automatic option, so he could motor himself around with the control stick. He had one working arm and could eat sandwiches for a few months. He’d pee into a bottle and could manage a one-handed sponge bath.
When he was done explaining his ludicrous plan, I pulled out my phone in front of him and called Gerry at Alcott. I told him I needed a wheelchair ramp to my front door. When I arrived home that night, his entire crew was there along with a trailer full of lumber.
They built it in two days.
“Want me to push?” Cole offered.
“No, I’ve got him.”
Cole pulled Poppy into his side, and the pair followed the kids up the ramp and into the house.
I held back, wanting a few moments with Finn. “How’s the pain?”
His shoulders sagged. “It’s been a lot of moving around today. I’m feeling it.”
“I’ve got your prescription inside. Have you eaten?”
“No. I couldn’t stomach one more hospital meal.”
“Okay. Food. Pills. Nap.” I pushed the chair forward slowly.
“Molly, I . . .” He ran his hand over his face. He’d grown quite the beard in his time at the hospital. I’d offered to shave him a few times—so had a couple of overeager nurses I wouldn’t miss—but he’d declined. He liked the low maintenance of the beard.
“What?” I slowed us to a stop.
“Thank you.” His blue eyes lifted up to mine. “You didn’t have to do this. I could go home. Hire a nurse. Mom said she’d stay with me for a while. This is a huge burden on your life.”
I walked around the chair and knelt so we were eye level. “Finn, you’re not going anywhere. Until you’re healed, this is your home. The kids need to see you. They need to see that you’re getting better.” So do I.
“I need to see them too.” He stretched his good hand over the arm of the wheelchair and cupped my cheek. “And you.”
I gave him a small smile. “We’ll be okay.”
David and Rayna would have done anything to help. The same was true of Poppy and Cole. But none had made the offer to bring Finn into their homes. Why? Because I made the decision to bring him here before they even had the chance.
He was here. At home.
Where we all needed him to be.
I pushed him up the ramp, his chair heavier than I remembered, but not unmanageable. When we reached the porch, I waved to Gavin, who was still standing outside.
He waved back before we disappeared inside.
“Tell Gavin thanks for mowing the lawn,” Finn said.
“I did.”
“No, tell him from me.”
“All right.”
I still felt awful for standing Gavin up for our date. He’d called the night we were supposed to have dinner, but I’d been at the hospital. Finn had just been taken off his sedatives and we’d all been waiting anxiously for him to wake up.
I hadn’t even realized what time it was. What day it was. Hours had blurred together, and when Gavin called, I went to a quiet corner. He asked me where I was. I crumpled into a heap of tears.
I cried hard, finally letting it go. Gavin stayed on the phone the entire time. When I pulled myself together, I told him about Finn’s accident. He listened and promised to be there if I needed help.
He didn’t ask to reschedule our date. I didn’t offer. We both knew there would be no date.
I’d learned something since the accident.
My love for Finn wasn’t going to stop. I could tell myself and others I wasn’t in love with Finn. It was all lies. I’d buried that love deep, shoving it down whenever it threatened to appear, but it was still there.
It had always been there.
Until I figured out how to deal with it, there was no room for another man in my heart.
“Dad.” Max came careening down the stairs as I pushed Finn into the living room. There was a stack of books under his arm. “Check this out.”
“What?” Finn forced the pain and exhaustion from his face. He had been trying his hardest since the accident to hide it from the kids.
“Grandma Deborah gave me all these books yesterday. You have to find Waldo.”
“That was nice of her.”
Max nodded. “Grandma has some of these in her office but some other kid circled all the Waldos already. These ones are different and waaay harder.”
I smiled, pushing Finn next to an end table so Max could set the books down and they could hunt for Waldo together. “I’m going to make some lunch. Max, help out your dad if he needs something.”
Finn gave me a smile before turning his attention to the first page Max had opened. “We’ll be fine.”
Mom had stepped up these past six weeks. She’d never been one to volunteer to babysit, especially when the kids were still in diapers. But when I’d spent my free hours at the hospital, taking shifts with Poppy and David and Rayna so Finn wasn’t alone, Mom had spent more time with the kids than she had in the past few years combined.
I wish I could say it was for Finn. But I knew Mom. She was doing it for me, and at the moment, I’d take it.
I went into the kitchen and found Poppy, Cole and Kali already making lunch. Bread and cold cuts were laid out on the counter. Kali was slicing up a block of cheese. Cole was setting the table for six.
“I was just going to do this. You guys
don’t need to make lunch.”
“I’m happy to.” Poppy smiled from where she was assembling sandwiches. “You don’t have to do everything yourself.”
Except for so long, it had been just me. Even before the divorce, I’d done everything in this house. Laundry. Cooking. Cleaning. Yard work. It felt strange to watch other people work, so I got drinks out for everyone.
“We brought over enough clothes from Finn’s for a while, along with his toiletries. But there might be some other stuff he wants.” Cole set a stack of napkins on the table for us. “Just let me know and I’ll bring it over.”
I nodded, grateful I wouldn’t need to go into Finn’s house and search through his home for personal belongings. “Thanks. I’m going to run out to Alcott and pick up his computer and calendar. He’s going to try and work on the laptop a little bit each day and get into the swing of things.”
“Want me to go over?”
“No, I can do it. But thanks.” I glanced over my shoulder. Poppy and Kali were laughing about something by the sink. They were in their own world, and we were far enough away that I could ask Cole the question that had been on my mind often lately. “Is she okay?”
Cole looked at his wife, his eyes softening. “She’s the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”
“Yes, she is.”
“She’s okay. She just got scared.”
“We all did,” I whispered.
“What she needs right now is to help. She needs to be there for Finn. He pulled her through after Jamie died. You both did.”
“I was there, but Finn was the one who got through to her. He was there at rock-bottom.”
“She wants to be there for him. I know you can do this on your own, Molly.” Cole met my gaze, his light-green eyes pleading. “But don’t. Drop a couple of balls for once in your life and let her pick them up. She needs to balance the scales. She needs to have a chance to be there for Finn like he was for her.”
I nodded, my throat too tight to speak.
I didn’t want to give up control of the juggling act. I didn’t want to hand over something to Poppy. Truthfully, if I handed over one ball, I was afraid all the others would fall. But I’d risk it for her.
“Lunch is ready,” Kali announced, shouting for Finn and Max as she carried over two plates to the table.