Rejoice (7 page)

And in that moment Brooke’s adrenaline and panic turned to nausea.

She gritted her teeth. Enough. She couldn’t stand there while Hayley was suffering, couldn’t take another moment of it. A way had to exist for her to mother her daughter, and somehow, someway, Brooke would find it. Without considering protocol or Dr. Martinez’s assurance that nothing would help her daughter, Brooke released the lock on the bed rail. She eased it down and then climbed carefully into bed beside Hayley and propped herself up against the headboard.

Then she worked her hands beneath her small daughter and lifted her into her arms. Brooke fought the urge to recoil, because the moment her daughter was completely and fully in her arms, Brooke realized something. The stiffness wasn’t only in Hayley’s hands and feet.

It was throughout her entire body.

Hayley had always been more clingy, more willing than Maddie to cuddle with Brooke. Maddie was the independent one, the daughter who would give Brooke a quick hug, then be on her way. But now Hayley fought Brooke’s embrace, pushed against it and stiffened in a way that left Brooke unsure about whether she’d survive the pain.

“Hayley, it’s me, Mommy.” Brooke lowered her mouth to Hayley’s temple, inches from her daughter’s ear. “Hayley, I’m here, honey . . . I’m here.”

Brooke hadn’t cried much since the accident.

She was a professional, after all. Someone trained to think with her head, not her heart. But with Hayley unwilling, unable to respond to Brooke’s arms around her, the tears came like streams. Quietly and without the sobbing some parents showed in emergency rooms, Brooke wept over Hayley, wept for all the missing parts and for the uncertainty of whether she’d ever be whole again.

“Baby . . . shhh. Hayley, it’s Mommy.” She hugged her daughter to her chest and whispered the words as often as she could, as often as her strength would allow.

If only Peter had watched her, if he’d stayed with the girls until she got back . . .

Hayley’s blonde hair was matted to her head. Brooke brought her knees up so Hayley wouldn’t roll out of her arms back onto the bed. Clutching her tighter than before, Brooke worked her fingers through her daughter’s hair, the way she’d done a hundred times before. “Hayley . . . I’m here. Mommy’s here.”

And that’s when it happened.

Suddenly Hayley stopped crying. For the first time since she’d woken up earlier that day, she was neither sleeping nor crying. Brooke’s breath caught in her throat, and in the shock of what was happening she stopped running her fingers through Hayley’s hair. Almost at the same time, Hayley began crying again, wailing that constant, sickly slow cry that sounded not even remotely familiar.

Brooke drew short, shallow breaths, desperate to find her way back to that place where for the fraction of a moment, Hayley recognized her voice.

She knew. I know she did, God. Let her remember again, please. . . .

No audible response came, but the moment she finished praying, she knew the answer. It was Hayley’s hair. The touch of Brooke’s fingers in her hair had pierced the darkness and caused her to remember. Even for just a few seconds.

Trembling with the possibility, Brooke gathered herself into a straighter sitting position and cradled Hayley closer than before. Once more using her legs to brace Hayley’s body, Brooke worked her fingers slowly and carefully through her daughter’s knotted blonde hair.

And once again her crying stopped.

Hayley’s mouth hung open, and her eyes held the vacant stare of someone who couldn’t see. She still turned her head from side to side, but she was connecting. Somewhere deep inside her brain, she was feeling a bond with Brooke.

A dryness filled Brooke’s throat. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? Brooke had always run her fingers through Hayley’s hair. Whenever the child couldn’t sleep or if she’d had a bad dream, Brooke would sit at the side of her bed and play with her hair until she was sleeping once more.

She sniffed and found her voice. “That’s right, baby. You always loved this.” Brooke felt a smile lift the corners of her mouth, because for the first time since Hayley’s accident, the panic and fear and nausea were gone. As awkward as it felt sitting on the hospital bed, holding her stiffened daughter, Brooke was doing the only thing that in this new season of life held any meaning whatsoever.

She was being a mother to Hayley.

Peter was in bed early that night, but it made no difference. Since Hayley’s accident, sleep wouldn’t come except in useless fits and starts. The rest of his family had settled into a routine by now. Brooke stayed at the hospital night and day, coming home during the day, when he was at work, to change clothes or take a shower. And Maddie stayed with John and Elizabeth.

The idea seemed odd, and no matter how he tried, Peter couldn’t make peace with it. While Hayley lay in that hospital bed—forever changed, forever damaged—the people who loved her the most had found a way to go on, a way to exist day to day.

Everyone but him.

Peter rolled onto his side. The room was dark, and shadows shifted near the window. Peter wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t remember the shadows doing that before Hayley . . .

The thought hung in the air and Peter swallowed. His heart thudded hard against his chest in a pattern that hadn’t been regular since the moment he’d seen Hayley at the bottom of DeWayne and Aletha’s pool.

A deep pounding ache tore at his head, permeating his brain, his consciousness. He tried with both thumbs to rub away some of the pain, but after a minute it only felt worse. His hands fell back to the bed and he lay motionless for a moment.

Everything hurt. His fingers, hands, both arms for that matter. The muscles in his thighs and calves. All of him hurt the way he had once when he contracted a strain of the Asian flu.

But this time he wasn’t sick—not in a viral sort of way.

He’d first noticed the strange sensations in his body the day after Hayley got hurt, the way his feet seemed suddenly heavy and unwilling to move, the way he struggled to open his car door and keep his hands on the steering wheel as he made his way home from the hospital.

Now, though, he had a few ideas about what was happening to his body. He was sleep deprived, for one thing. Anxious, tense, unable to help his little girl. No wonder he was falling apart. The pain in his heart had spilled into his bloodstream, his limbs, his organs, until every part of him hurt.

Finally, today he’d done something about it. He closed his eyes and pictured the scene, the way it had played out this afternoon after his second visit with Hayley.

On his way out of the hospital, he’d gone to the pharmacist and approached the man with a smile. The two had started practicing medicine in Bloomington about the same time; they knew each other on a first-name basis.

“Peter.” The man’s face was somber. Word traveled fast through the hospital personnel; by then everyone knew about Peter’s little girl. “How is she?”

“Hanging in there.” Peter managed a grim look, one that hid the trembling in his hands. “It’s too soon to tell.”

The man shook his head. “I’m sorry, Peter. Really. All of us are.”

Peter nodded and kept his eyes down, trained on a spot just in front of his shoes. After an appropriate amount of time, he looked up and angled his head just slightly. “Listen, I’ve neglected some of my patients lately. Could you look up Joe Benson’s chart and give me a refill of his pain meds? I promised I’d phone it in, but I forgot.” A quick shake of his head, as if to say Peter couldn’t believe he could do such a thing, even with what happened to his daughter. “He called, and I told him I’d run them by his house on the way home.”

The pharmacist squinted, troubled. “Peter, you don’t have to do that. If he can’t come out, I can have someone else run it over to him.”

“No.” Peter hoped his answer wasn’t too quick. “I’ll take care of it. Joe’s a special patient. His back pain’s been an issue for years now.” Peter allowed a slight, sad smile. “It’ll make me feel useful.”

“Okay, then.” The man tapped the counter. “You got it.”

Peter’s heart had been racing within him, but with those words it calmed down for the first time that day.
Amazing,
he thought.
The lie was brilliant
. If Joe ever found out about the prescription, Peter would only have to say there must have been a mistake, that the pharmacist must have gotten his information mixed up.

After a few minutes, the pharmacist returned with the bottle of pills. “Here you go.” He handed a small white bag to Peter. “Hope old Joe Benson feels better.”

Peter studied the man’s face and saw not a shred of doubt. “I’m sure he will.”

The memory of that conversation lifted, and Peter turned onto his other side. He hadn’t planned to use the pills, not really. Only if he couldn’t sleep again. The aches and pains, the dull thudding in his brain—all of it would go away if only he could get some sleep. He’d thought about sleeping pills, but he remembered something one of his patients had told him a few months back.

“Pain pills do it all, Doc.” The man had been an addict; Peter was fairly sure. “Everything that hurts feels good again, and you sleep like a baby.”

Peter tried to imagine feeling like that, and he could hardly do it. The only thing besides a pill that could make Peter feel that way would be hearing the news that Hayley was well again, that the drowning had been a bad nightmare and her doctors were releasing her to Brooke even now.

But that wasn’t about to happen.

A storm was brewing outside and a gust of wind shook the bedroom window. Again his patient’s words ran through his mind.
“Everything that hurts feels good again and you sleep like a baby . . . like a baby . . . like a baby. Everything that hurts feels good again. . . .”

Peter lay there for only a minute more, and then in a burst he was on his feet. Again his legs hurt, and his feet felt as if he were dragging through cement. But that didn’t matter. At this point, he would’ve walked across the ceiling to find relief. As he made his way to the kitchen, to the vitamin cupboard, where he’d stored the bottle of pills, he thought of the patients he’d seen grow addicted to painkillers over the years.

I’ll be smarter than that,
he told himself.
This is only temporary, until my body learns how to sleep again.

He was in the kitchen now, his steps coming faster despite the way his feet ached. He poured himself a glass of water, opened the cupboard, and reached for the bottle. One pill, that’s all he needed. His body would be highly sensitive to the medication—especially at first. One pill and he’d get his first night’s sleep since Hayley’s accident.

The bottle shook some in his hands, and he wasn’t sure why. Anxiety again? Or lack of sleep? Something. He tightened his grip, twisted off the lid, and took one pill. Popping it in his mouth, he returned the bottle to the cupboard and washed the pill down with a single swig of water.

There. That would take care of the pain and the sleep.

He made his way back to bed. By the time he slipped beneath the covers, he could already feel his body relaxing, feel the pain leaving his limbs and mind. But even as sleep began to overtake him he pictured Hayley. Damaged and changed, lost forever . . . and all because he hadn’t watched her, hadn’t taken better care of her. And he knew no matter how many pills he might take, there was one terrible, all-consuming pain the medicine could never touch.

The pain in his heart.

Chapter Seven

Kari sat in the front seat with Ryan for the drive to the hospital.

It was Friday evening, almost a week after the accident, and Brooke had asked if they’d pick Maddie up at her grandparents’ house and bring her in to see her sister. At less than two years old, Jessie was still too young for hospital visits, so they’d left her at the Baxter house.

Now Maddie was belted into the backseat, a backpack on her lap. “Aunt Kari?”

“Yes, sweetie?” Kari looked over her shoulder at Maddie.

“Is Hayley in the hos’apul because she went in the swimming pool too long?”

Kari exchanged a glance with Ryan. “Yes, honey, that’s why.”

“But water doesn’t hurt people, does it, Aunt Kari?” Worry pushed her eyebrows into a
V.

“Well, water can hurt people, yes. If they stay under and don’t get enough air.”

Next to Kari, Ryan reached out and took her hand. He kept his other hand on the wheel, his eyes on the road straight ahead of him.

Maddie seemed to think about that for a moment. They passed through three stoplights before she spoke again. “You mean Hayley’s in the hos’apul because she didn’t get enough air?”

Ryan worked his thumb along the side of her hand. Kari looked out the front window again and nodded. “Yes, Maddie, that’s the reason. Because she didn’t get enough air.”

“But she has air now, right? So why can’t we bring her home?”

A series of knots gripped Kari’s stomach. She wasn’t convinced it was time to bring Maddie in to see Hayley. Kari had been there earlier today, and Hayley looked nothing like herself. She was unable to move her limbs, and everything from her strange cry to her vacant eyes made her seem like a different child entirely.

“Aunt Kari, did you hear me? She has air now so why can’t we bring her home?”

It was a good question.

Brooke had already explained that every other part of the body could regenerate itself after an injury. But not the brain and not the spinal cord. Yes, they would see possible improvements, but after a year or two whatever damage remained would be permanent. Now Kari looked over her shoulder and found Maddie watching her. “Hayley’s brain still needs more air, Maddie. Can you understand that?”

Maddie blinked but said nothing.

She was five years old this fall, old enough to understand that Hayley was sick, if nothing else. But Maddie was having nightmares about her sister, dreams that Hayley was still in the pool or that she had disappeared through the drain at the bottom. Her thoughts were understandable. After all, before she’d been rushed into the house that awful Saturday, she’d seen Hayley lying at the bottom.

Kari shuddered and tried again. “Maddie, do you understand? Your sister’s brain needs more air, okay?”

“Okay.” She angled her head and lifted the corners of her mouth just a bit.

She was quiet the rest of the way to the hospital. Ryan slipped a CD into the player, and none of them spoke until they were up in the waiting room. Kari and Ryan sat with Maddie on one of the sofas and waited until Kari’s mother appeared at the doorway.

“Okay, Hayley’s asleep.”

Kari studied her mother and wondered when the cloud of sadness that hung over all of them would lift. Her mother’s eyes were red and swollen, thick the way they’d often been this past week. She’d admitted to all of them at one time or another that she wasn’t feeling well, wasn’t up to the task at hand. For the flash of a moment, Kari remembered how they’d gathered in the waiting room the night before and held hands.

They’d prayed for Hayley, of course. For her brain to recover, for her limbs to relax, and her sight to return. But they also prayed for each other, for the strain Hayley’s accident had placed on all of them.

Kari took hold of Maddie’s hand, and Ryan took the other one. Peter was working late tonight, so they were the only Baxter family here, and that was a good thing. Brooke wanted a calmer setting for Maddie’s first visit with her sister.

Brooke had asked them to wait until Hayley was asleep. That way Maddie wouldn’t be so surprised at the changes in her sister. Otherwise the child’s strange sound and appearance were bound to frighten Maddie.

Kari looked at the small child. “Ready?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Maddie’s eyes were big and round, and she kept licking her lips. “Will Hayley look sick?”

For a moment Kari said nothing. Then she opened her mouth to speak, but a rush of emotion stopped her. She looked to Ryan for help, and he lowered himself to Maddie’s level. “No, sweetheart. She’ll look like she’s sleeping, okay?”

“Can we wake her up and play with her?”

“No, Maddie.” Ryan’s voice was calm, soothing. “Not tonight.”

Kari bit the inside of her lip. Brooke wanted Maddie’s visit to be a positive experience for both girls. Seeing Hayley would relieve Maddie’s fears, help her know that her little sister hadn’t slipped through the drain at the bottom of the pool. At the same time, Maddie’s voice could help restore another fragment of Hayley’s memory.

At least those were Brooke’s hopes.

But this—these questions from Maddie, the girl’s desire to play with her sister—was more difficult than Kari had imagined. She and Ryan surrounded the child, and together they headed down the hall with Kari’s mother leading the way.

“Hos’apuls have lots of rooms.” Maddie wore her backpack now, and she stared at each door as they passed.

“Yep.” Ryan smiled at her. “Lots of people need to get better.”

“And Grandpa works at this place, right?”

“Right. And your mommy and daddy sometimes, too.”

“That’s good.”

They reached Hayley’s room and went inside. Before even looking at her sister, Maddie went to Brooke, who was sitting in the recliner chair beside Hayley’s bed. “Mommy, I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, baby.” Brooke swept Maddie up onto her lap and hugged her.

After a few seconds, Maddie squirmed herself free and spun around to face the hospital bed. “Hi, Hayley!” Maddie’s voice was loud and upbeat. “It’s me, Maddie.”

Kari stood nestled between Ryan and her mother as they watched the scene.

“Shhh, honey. Use your indoor voice, okay?” Brooke put a gentle hand on Maddie’s shoulder. “We want Hayley to keep sleeping.”

“Oh.” Maddie’s tone dropped to a whisper. “Sorry, Mommy.” Then she turned back to Hayley. “Hi, Hayley . . . I brought you something.” She worked her backpack off her shoulders, put it on the floor, and unzipped the top flap. Then she pulled out Hayley’s baby doll, the one with the pink crayon smudge on the cheek and the bald head, the hair having long since been loved off.

Kari felt her heart breaking within her. She worked her fingers between Ryan’s and watched Maddie place the doll next to Hayley. As great as the problems between Peter and Brooke seemed to be, the two of them had done a great job teaching their daughters how to love.

Maddie moved the baby doll closer to Hayley’s sleeping face. “I’m glad you got out of the pool, Hayley.” She patted her sister’s arm. “You’re not ’apposed to go in there without Mommy or Daddy, remember?”

Hayley took a deep breath and let out a soft moan.

Maddie leaned closer, and Kari could no longer make out what she was saying. Ryan used the moment to motion Brooke to join them by the door. She struggled to her feet and stretched. Her clothes were rumpled, her hair pulled into a stubby ponytail.

At the door, Ryan led them into the hallway and the others followed. Kari stood beside him, her arm around his waist. Today when he came home from his job teaching and coaching at the high school they’d discussed a few things he wanted to bring up to Brooke, so Kari knew what was coming.

Give Ryan the words, God.

In some ways, Brooke’s future depended on the way she reacted to the things Ryan wanted to say.

“Hayley seems pretty stable.” Ryan spoke so only Brooke and Kari and Mom could hear him.

“She is.” The pain in Brooke’s eyes was deep, but she managed a partial smile. “Every day another piece of her seems to connect with me.”

When Ryan looked at Kari, she gave him a barely detectable nod, one that would encourage him to continue with what he wanted to say. “Brooke, I’m worried about you and Peter.”

Kari watched the walls go up around her older sister’s heart, watched the way her eyes grew hard, her expression stiff. “I’m not worried about me and Peter. Hayley’s more important right now.”

“I know.” Ryan’s voice was gentle. “But maybe keeping your marriage alive is the most important thing you can do for Hayley.” He hesitated. “Have you thought about that?”

Kari gave her husband’s waist a soft squeeze. She was glad he was willing to push Brooke.

Kari studied her sister and saw for the thousandth time that they had little in common. Yes, they both loved their children, and they were both Baxters. But Brooke was a thinker, Kari a feeler. If love didn’t make sense to Brooke for intellectual reasons, she could disconnect very quickly.

Now she stood straighter than before and met Ryan’s eyes. “Look, I know my marriage is in trouble, but what can I do? Peter is avoiding me, and when we see each other he won’t talk.” She planted her fists at her angular waist and looked from Kari and their mother back to Ryan. “Besides, he took off Hayley’s life jacket.” She huffed, and the anger in her tone sent a chill down Kari’s arms. “Excuse me for not feeling ‘in love’ with him right now.”

Ryan gave her a few seconds to catch her breath. Then he touched her shoulder so she would look at him again. “That’s just it, Brooke. Love isn’t a feeling; it’s a decision. It’s something you choose to do because deep down you know it’s the right thing; it’s what’s best for everyone.”

“Okay.” Brooke’s voice dropped some, the fight gone for now. “I hear you. So why come to
me,
Ryan? Why aren’t you giving him this speech?” She gestured toward the hospital room. “He’s the one missing.”

Kari took a half step closer to Brooke. “That’s what we wanted to talk to you about. Both of you.”

“Pastor Mark trained Kari in counseling. It was something she did before we got married.”

“She helped Erin; I know that.” Brooke sniffed and crossed her arms. She kept her eyes on the far wall, looking at nothing in particular.

“Right.” Ryan waited until he had Brooke’s attention again. “Maybe we could get together, meet a few times a week so you can get through this without hating each other.”

“Together or apart?”

Kari looked at Ryan and then at Brooke. “Apart at first, if that would help.”

“I don’t know.” Brooke sighed through clenched teeth and stared at the ceiling for several seconds. When she looked back at Ryan, her expression was softer than before. “Peter won’t agree to it. We haven’t been to church in weeks. He doesn’t like the idea of someone telling him what to do.”

They ended the conversation with Brooke’s agreeing to spend an hour Sunday talking to Kari in the waiting room, or wherever they could find privacy. Ryan promised to call Peter at their house later that night and see if he’d join them.

“You have to believe your marriage is worth saving.” Ryan met Brooke’s eyes one last time. “Otherwise no amount of talking things through will make a difference.”

“I know.” Brooke released a sad burst of air. “That’s the problem; I’m not sure it is.” She looked at Kari. “But I’ll talk. If it would help Hayley, I’d walk across broken glass.”

Ryan hugged Brooke and Kari.

Their mother joined them, and she placed her hand along the side of Brooke’s face. “Don’t give up, honey. God shines a flashlight on even the darkest path. There’s nowhere we can go where he hasn’t already been.”

They went back in the hospital room to check on Maddie and Hayley, and what they saw stopped them in the doorway. Maddie was standing on the bedside chair. She was leaning over Hayley, blowing short puffs of air onto her face.

Brooke didn’t run at Maddie, but she moved as fast as she could without startling the girl. “Honey, what are you doing?”

“I’m helping Hayley.” Maddie looked up and brushed her dirty blonde hair out of her eyes. “Hayley’s brain is hurt, Mommy.”

“Yes . . . of course, baby.” Brooke was at Maddie’s side now, taking her into her arms and hugging her, stroking her hair. “But why are you blowing on her?”

“Because, Mommy.” Maddie glanced over her shoulder once more at her little sister. “Hayley needs air.”