“Daddy?” Dana gripped his forearm, stared up with glistening, hazel eyes. His daughter’s face was flushed with excitement over an all-consuming dream about to be fulfilled. Under normal circumstances there was little he wouldn’t sacrifice to see this welcome change. His often-sulking sixteen-year-old was inclined toward ghoulish makeup and shrouds of black Goth clothing, looking more like she belonged to Ozzy Osbourne than Walker, Texas Ranger.
“Daddy, what if she can’t hear me?” Dana pressed a palm to the anxiety in her throat, giving him a glimpse of fingernails polished black and bitten to the quick.
“I hear you.” The response from the bed was raspy.
“What?” Dana’s head, dotted with short purple spikes of hair, swiveled toward the sound and then back again. “Did she say something?”
“I said I heard you, which is about the only thing I can still do.”
Daniel noted the voice grew stronger with each word. It was time for the introductions he’d never expected or intended to make. He would need the wisdom of Solomon to navigate this situation if it came close to what Dana envisioned.
“Erin, this precious girl is Dana Marie, our daughter.” He gave his only child’s shoulders a gentle squeeze. “She’s been by your bed every hour the hospital staff allowed and quite a few they don’t know about. And when she’d let me join the party, I’ve been here, too.”
“That was very kind of both of you.” Erin was cordial, reacting more as Daniel had expected than Dana had hoped. “But as you’ve probably heard, I’m going to be fine so you should get back to your own lives now.”
“How can you say that to us?” Dana’s words were awash with indignation. She wriggled to be free of Daniel’s hold just as she had a thousand times in her young life.
“I’ve been crazy worried about you!” Dana inched between the mountain of machines and the bed. Hours of questioning the nurses had familiarized her with the workings of all the equipment. She’d overcome all fear of tripping a wire or kinking a hose.
“I’ve been waiting for you my whole life. And I’ve been in this room praying for you to wake up for eighteen days! I’ve counted the tiles on this ugly floor and the metal hooks that hold the curtain to that track thing on the ceiling. I know how many beeps the heart monitor makes between your breaths and how many times your IV drips in thirty minutes. I’ve watched while they’ve bathed you and changed your bandages. The scars are wicked now, but they’ll be really cool once they heal.”
Dana’s words gushed out, a torrent of teenage emotion demanding release. She dared to touch her fingertips to the back of Erin’s closed fist.
When Dana spoke again her voice was soft, thoughtful.
“I found out that underneath all that gauze your hair is the same color mine used to be.”
Daniel’s heart ached in his chest like he’d run a wind sprint. There was no sign of his physical attributes in his child. She had long been desperate to find a connection, a simple resemblance to somebody. Her euphoria over the discovery of something as mundane as her mama’s hair color had reduced Daniel’s sixteen years of single parenting to the value of a toilet plunger. Nice to know it’s there but not something to brag about to your friends.
Dana continued, “And I need to see whether or not our eyes are the same, too.”
“I’d like to see that myself.” Erin relaxed her left fist and slowly rotated her wrist, not exactly welcoming but neither brushing away the touch of the girl who seemed brave and outspoken.
Must have gotten that from her daddy. Erin imagined a female cookie-cutter version of Daniel. Tall and thin, with those naturally expressive brows of his.
“As a matter of fact, I’d like to see anything.” Erin tried to make light of her blindness when in truth, the skin on her neck crawled at the thought of being witnessed this way. Broken. Scarred. Vulnerable.
“Waking up to all this is pretty creepy,” Erin admitted. “So I’m sorry about what I said before. I appreciate you being here with me.”
She tried to make her croaky words sound sincere but the whole situation was like an out-of-body experience. Maybe any moment the going-toward-the-light part would start. No such luck. She was still very much in this life, in this damaged body, in her dark cocoon with her nose twitching from antiseptic cleanser and no ability to scratch.
“Butter bean, let’s sit over here and give Erin a minute to rest her voice.”
Feet shuffled away from the bed and Erin thanked God once again that her hearing had been spared. It told her that within arm’s reach, the most thoughtful man she’d ever known stood sentry. She wouldn’t kid herself that his vigil was for her. No, Daniel would provide the best for his child at all cost. But had he ever considered the price might go this high?
Erin certainly never had. Though she prayed often for the husband and child she left behind, it had never crossed her mind that one day they’d cross her path. And now they were a stone’s throw away, not that she could toss a rock if her life depended on it. Her bandaged eyes burned with the notion.
A door creaked and more footsteps thumped against the floor.
“Hello, Ms. Gray.” Another voice joined the room. “I am Dr. Agawa.”
Fabric rustled on the bed as shoes and chairs bumped about. Erin assumed a path was being cleared for his approach.
“I see your Texas visitors are here again today. You are fortunate to have such loyal friends.”
“How are you, sir?” Daniel’s greeting was personable, followed by the sound of palms slapping together as the men shook hands.
“I am good, Daniel. Excited to see our patient alert, as I’m sure you and Dana are, as well.”
The words were like poking a fresh bruise. Strangers had been attending to her most personal needs. Not only had they invaded her privacy, they seemed to have bonded right under her itchy nose. For the first time she felt kinship with the images in her portfolio of suffering individuals helpless to change their circumstances.
“My ophthalmic team has been treating the thermal burn to your corneas. You are healing very well, indeed. Time for a look,” Dr. Agawa announced.
“You’re going to remove the bandages?” Erin was hopeful and horrified in the same breath. She’d be brought out of this darkness before an audience.
“Yes, and if all is what I expect, we won’t reapply them,” the doctor reassured her.
An electric motor hummed as the head of the bed began a steady incline. The shifting of her spine and the repositioning of her weight was painfully pleasant. A loud groan accompanied her long sigh.
The movement stopped. “I’m sorry to hurt you,” a woman spoke from the foot of the bed. “This is the first time we’ve raised your head since we brought you out of the coma.”
“Actually, it’s lovely to change positions. Please continue,” Erin encouraged the attendant.
“That is very good to hear, Ms. Gray.” The doctor
