a little. Help me, God, he prayed, then he forced his arms to his sides and strode into the area. “Hi, guys,” he said softly.
Jacey lurched to her feet. The magazine she’d been reading fluttered to the floor. Her eyes were swollen and red-rimmed; her mouth was drawn into a tremulous line. She was wearing a wrinkled pink sweatshirt and baggy jeans. “Daddy?”
Bret didn’t stand. He pushed the toys away and wiped his moist eyes, tilting his little chin upward. “She’s dead, isn’t she?” he said in a voice so dull and defeated that Liam felt the grief well up inside him again.
“She’s not dead, Bretster,” he said, feeling the hot sting of tears. Damn. He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t cry, not in front of them. They needed his strength now; the fear was his alone to bear. He forced his eyes to open wide and pinched the bridge of his nose for a second, then he knelt down beside his son and scooped him into his arms, holding him tightly. He wished to God there was something he could say, some magical bit of verbal wizardry that would banish their fear. But there was nothing save “wait and see,” and that was a cold comfort.
Jacey knelt beside Liam and pressed her cheek against his shoulder. He slipped an arm around her, too.
“She’s in bad shape right now,” he said slowly, searching for each word. How could you tell your children that their mother could die? “She’s suffered a pretty severe head injury. She needs our prayers.”
Bret wiggled closer to Liam. His body started to shudder; tears dampened Liam’s lab coat. When Bret looked up, he was sucking his thumb.
Liam didn’t know what to do. Bret had stopped sucking his thumb years ago, and here he was, huddled against his dad like a boy half his age, trying desperately to comfort himself.
Liam knew that from now on his children would know that dark and terrifying truth, the one that he and Mike had tried so hard to keep from them: The world could be a frightening place. Sometimes a single moment could change everything, and people—no matter how much you loved them—could die.
The hours of their vigil dripped into one another and formed a day.
Finally it was evening. Liam sat in the waiting room with his children, each of them watching the slow, methodical pirouette of the wall clock’s black hands. It had been hours since anyone had spoken. Words, he’d learned, had the density of lead. Each one seemed to weigh you down. And so they sat, together and yet alone.
At eight o’clock they heard footsteps coming down the hallway toward them. Liam tensed instantly and leaned forward. Please, don’t let it be bad news …
Jacey’s boyfriend, Mark Montgomery, swept into the quiet room, bringing with him a swell of energy. “Jace?” he said, his voice too loud. He stood in the doorway, wearing a red-and-white letterman’s sweater and baggy black sweatpants. “I just heard …”
Jacey ran into his arms, sobbing against his chest. Finally she drew back and looked up at him. “We … haven’t gotten to see her yet.” Mark kept his arm around her and led her to the sofa. Together they sat down. Jacey leaned against him. The quiet flutter of their whispery voices floated through the room.
Liam went to Bret and hugged him, cradling his son in his arms, carrying him back to the chair. And still they watched the clock.
Just before nine o’clock, Stephen came into the room.
Liam eased Bret onto the floor. Then he stood up and went to Stephen.
“The same,” Stephen said softly. “There’s nothing more we can do for her tonight. We just have to wait and see.” He lowered his voice then, speaking with a friend’s concern. “Take your children home, Liam. Try to get some sleep. We’ll talk again in the morning. If anything … happens, I’ll call you.”
Liam knew that Stephen was right. He should take his children home, but the thought of walking into that empty, empty house …
“Take them home, Liam,” Stephen said again.
Liam sighed. “Okay.”
Stephen patted him on the shoulder, then turned and left.
Liam took a deep breath. “Come on, kids. It’s time to go home. We’ll come back in the morning.”
Jacey stood up. “Home?” She looked terrified. Liam knew that she didn’t want to walk into that house, either.
Mark glanced at her, then at Liam. “A bunch of us were going to go to the haunted house. Maybe … maybe you want