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Faith received permission from her Sentinel officer to visit her father at the hospital. Her Aunt Priss gave her
rides to and from the hospital so I didn't have to leave Dan to chauffer. Faith was able to visit there for only short jaunts because of the limited legal time window. But while there, she held his hand and spoke life to him. I was awed by her sensitivity.

And so, I suspected, was Dan.

On her first visit, Faith had rushed to his side and embraced him for long moments, weeping openly. Dan returned her embrace, patting her lovingly and murmured, “I'm gonna be okay, baby. Don't worry, Daddy will bounce back.”

Later, as we grabbed a bite at the hospital cafeteria, she told me, “I'd never seen Daddy look so — vulnerable, Mama.” She puckered up again but fought back tears as we grabbed our trays and made food selections.

“I know.” We took seats at an empty table. Priss, being sweet Priss, had volunteered to stay with Dan while Faith and I lunched. She knew instinctively that we needed exclusive mother-daughter time together. “I felt the same. He's always been so — so fiercely protective and giving …”

Faith opened her carton of milk and stuck a straw in it. “I've been really thinking about all the things I've said to him in anger.” She looked at me then, and in her bright blue eyes glistened sorrow as I'd never seen it before. “Do you think he can ever forgive me?” Tears gathered in those blue depths as I sat and watched. A knot leaped to my throat. I gulped it back.

Then smiled. “I'm sure he can.”

“I hope so.” She didn't sound so sure. And I understood.

But I understood, too, that Dan's life had taken a sonic turnaround.

He would not be the same. About anything.

“Remember, Faith, love is the strongest emotion we can experience. And one thing I know — your Daddy loves you.”

The house sparkled for Dan's homecoming. Faith had outdone herself this time with cleaning. She even arranged vases of our in-season hydrangeas, placed strategically for splashes of blue and white.

Poopsie did an exuberant series of celebration dancing spins, yapping furiously until Dan picked her up and tucked her against his bosom.

Food, from Priss and Lexie's kitchens, filled the refrigerator and counters. A baked, glazed ham — for Faith and me — nestled beside an extra golden rotisserie chicken — for Dan. My sisters had gotten Dan's food instructions from me earlier that week. Now, he would be treated with his very own special dishes of low sodium/ low cholesterol entrees.

“
Dash
is a wonderful friend to heart patients who can't have salt,” Priss now told me as she rushed to greet Dan. “Much tastier than the old version.”

She and Lexie were setting out tasty veggie dishes on the counters and from the oven came marvelous, mouthwatering aromas of heating rotisserie chicken and ham.

Their spouses, Earl and Adam, dropped by on their lunch break to enjoy the meal with us, making it an even more festive occasion. But soon thereafter, when the kitchen reverted back to spic and span, they prepared to depart.

I plumped up the pillows on our bed, got Dan settled comfortably and handed him the remote. “Rest,” I told him and gave him a big hug. His eyes drooped tiredly and
he was already breathing deeply by the time I left the room.

“Dan needs his rest,” Priss said as she kissed my cheek on her way out. “Call if you need me. Okay?”

“Okay. Thanks for everything.” I hugged her, then reached out and pulled Lexie into the circle and we three inhaled each other's love, embracing and enjoying the intimate sister-moment.

I heard them praise Faith for her housecleaning efforts as they left, thankful for their sensitivity toward her. She'd had so little to validate her for so long.

I shook my head, letting that train of thought go.

Things were beginning to look up.

“Mama, don't get up,” Faith whispered as I struggled to wake. “I'll get Daddy his medicine. You need your sleep.”

Thankful, I snuggled back down. It was time for Dan's morning meds and he was already getting up to trek to the bathroom. I'd had a late night, catching up on my newspaper column writing. My boss had understood when Dan was sick I couldn't meet the deadlines. He graciously had someone else to fill in. But I only missed about four days so I wasn't doing too badly. I'd always made it a habit to have at least four or five columns in reserve. This time, it had saved me much stress.

I heard Dan and Faith talking quietly in the kitchen. I smelled Dan's decaf coffee perking, Faith's morning gift to him. He preferred “high test” but was beginning to reconcile himself to the lifestyle changes Dr. Chorness had warned him of.

Decaf coffee was among Dan's most difficult adjustments.

With my mind in motion, I gave up on sleep and shuffled to the bathroom, then to the kitchen for my own cup of decaf.

Her father's med agenda lay spread out before Faith. “I've already measured out your two liters of water for the day, Dad. Dr. Chorness said that under no circumstances are you to exceed that.” This, said gently and I watched Dan's slight struggle to submit to her nurse-y orders. In the end, he relaxed.

“Imagine that,” he said, grin stretching wide. “And me wired with the
thirsty-gene.
” He shook his head. “I never dreamed I'd be limited to drinking liquids. Thanks, Florence Nightingale, for measuring it out for me.”

Faith blushed prettily, knowing his teasing was affectionate. “I also measured your protein intake for the day. It's exactly one quarter of today's entire food allowance.”

“You're really on the ball, honey,” I said, sipping my coffee, sitting opposite Dan, who still made a face when he tried to drink his black decaf.

“Sweetheart,” I said, smiling — I hoped — winsomely at him, “a little fat-free milk and sugar can do wonders for its taste.”

His expression grew even fiercer. “No self-respecting Stowe drinks milk and sugar in their coffee.”

Faith and I burst into laughter, having heard this often through the years. Faith and I both took cream and sweetener.

“Aren't we considered Stowes, Faith?” I asked, feigning umbrage.

“Last I heard,” she agreed, nose in air.

“Present company excluded,” Dan tacked on and joined in our laughter.

My, my, how times had changed.

Faith got back down to business. She took the responsibility of her dad's care very seriously.

“Here's your med holder. I've got all of them in their proper time slots. You've already taken your cholesterol med, the simvastatin and warfarin, the anticoagulant. Let's get some toast in you before you take the diuretic.”

“Which one is that?” I asked, confused at the array of meds in the small compartments of the plastic pill holder.

“This one is the furosemide. This one is digoxin, which treats the irregular heart rhythms.” She pointed to yet another pill. “This is dietiazem, which works along with lisinopril, to control blood pressure and angina in congestive heart failure.”

“I feel like a daggum septic tank,” Dan groused good-naturedly.

“Oh, and Daddy,” Faith reached for some tiny pink tablets, “don't forget the baby aspirin. Dr. Chorness says it's very, very important for heart patients to take them every day.”

Faith jumped up and in no time had a slice of whole wheat toast and an egg white and veggie omelet placed before Dan.

“Do you want one, Mom?” she asked.

“No, thanks,” I replied. “I'll just do some cereal and fruit.”

After eating, Dan washed down the remainder of his meds with his disgusting coffee, still making fierce faces.

Stubborn
. But my, oh, my, did I love that man.

“Oh, and Daddy, I got a job today. Burger King is only two miles from here so they were interested in hiring me
— even though I'm under house arrest — because I'm so accessible. Mom won't have to spend much on gas chauffeuring me, with me working so close.”

“That's great, honey,” Dan said. A job took some of the pressure off Dan, who now was forced to hire another worker to do the things he had been doing. But with Faith's job, the stress would not be as heavy.

Suddenly, the load didn't seem as burdensome.

We were together.

And as the three of us sat there, laughing together, it occurred to me how peaceful it all was. How the love flowed.

And I thought how many times we pray for a miracle, not always knowing the crooked, shadowy path we may have to take to get to it.

Jensen and Mom dropped by the next day. She still drove herself places, but today, Jensen had called her and offered to bring her along for the visit.

“Noni!” Faith met them at the door, squealed and enveloped her Noni in a bear hug while Jensen scooped me up, spun me into cheap intoxication and kissed the top of my head before lowering my feet to the floor.

“I'm so glad you're home for good.” I held his face in my hands and kissed each cheek soundly.

“Me, too,” he said. Was his voice deeper? “I was glad to serve my country, but I'm glad my time's up. That hot, dry desert air was so not fun. I love the smell of honeysuckle and magnolia blossoms too much to stay gone for long. And the good ol' southern food of the Eagle clan.”

“Lordy mercy,” I said, cutting him an impressed look. “Listen to you, you ol' poet you.”

“I was just going to say the same thing,” Noni chimed in, giving me a big hug.

Faith and I fixed tall glasses of iced tea for everyone and lounged in the comfort of the den. Noni got the most comfortable chair with the ottoman today. Drinks sat on the glass-topped coffee table beside our propped feet as we rested on soft, leather functional sofas and chairs. In the background, from Sirius Escape softly flowed Claire de Lune as we chatted.

Dan joined us when he awakened from his daily nap. He stooped to give Noni a kiss on her cheek and shake Jensen's hand. “Good to have you back, Jensen.”

“Tell me what's been happening lately,” Jensen flashed his dimples and white, white teeth. “Have I missed much in the past year?”

Faith burst into laughter, shaking her head helplessly at him.

Dan and I looked at each other and we, too, began laughing.

Noni sat there with this Buddha smile on her sweet face.

“What?” Jensen spread his hands. “I've missed that much?”

“You don't want to know,” Faith gasped, wiping her eyes. “Lord help us, Jense. You really, really don't.”

“Hey!” He thumped his chest like King Kong. “I've been to Afghanistan. I can take it. Put it on me.”

Faith and I took turns relaying the worst of the last months' events.