The House on Hope Street - By Danielle Steel Page 0,45
It was the longest sentence he'd said since he woke up and started talking to them.
“I will. I'll see you later.”
“I'm okay.” He was trying to reassure her, which was a good sign. He was cognizant, and not only aware of his surroundings, but the subtler implications of what had happened. She couldn't even bear to think of what it would have been like if he hadn't come out of the coma, or worse, hadn't survived. It didn't bear thinking.
“I expect to see you running up and down the hall when I get back. Okay?” He laughed at her, and she walked slowly out into the hall after she kissed him, and the doctor followed.
“He's a very lucky boy,” he said, looking impressed by her. She hadn't faltered for a single moment. “For awhile there, I didn't think he was going to come out of it without surgery, and certainly not this quickly. He's young and healthy, and who knows, maybe you made a difference, talking to him like that.”
“Whatever it was, thank God he came out of it when he did.” Her legs went weak as she thought about it.
“He's going to be here for a couple of weeks, I suspect, so don't wear yourself out all at once. If you want to come back in the morning, he'll be fine.”
“I'd rather sleep here. But I'll go home and check on the other children and then come back in a couple of hours.”
“How many do you have?” He was curious about her. He didn't know who or what she was, but one thing was obvious to him, she was a wonderful mother and loved her son deeply.
“Five,” she answered him. “He's the oldest.”
“Leave your number at the desk. I'll call if anything comes up. And if you decide to stay once you get home, don't feel guilty about it. The others may be pretty upset, particularly if they saw it happen. How old is your youngest?”
“Ten. They're ten, eleven, thirteen, and fourteen.”
“You've got your hands full.”
“They're good kids,” she said, and he wanted to say they had a good mother, but he didn't. Instead, he went back to check on Peter again, and she left. It was after nine when she got home, and all the children were still up. The girls were sitting at the kitchen table, crying, and Jamie was sitting on Carole's lap, looking exhausted and pale. They looked like orphans from a war zone, and they jumped at her the minute she walked in the door, trying to read her face, but she was smiling, although she looked worn out and disheveled.
“He's going to be okay. He's got a terrible concussion, and a hairline fracture of a vertebra in his neck, but he's going to be okay now. He's very lucky.”
“Can we see him?” They asked as a chorus.
“Not yet,” Liz said, as Carole put a plate in front of her with leftover meat loaf from dinner, but Liz couldn't eat a thing.
“When can he come home?” Megan asked, looking anxious.
“Not for a couple of weeks, maybe longer. It depends how fast he recovers.” They wanted to know everything, but she spared them the horrors of that afternoon. All they needed to know was that he had survived. They sat together for an hour, and when they went upstairs, Carole told her how sorry she was. She felt entirely responsible for what had happened.
“Don't be silly,” Liz said, almost too tired to talk to her, let alone assuage her guilt, but she felt she owed it to her to calm her down. “You can't control everything. They obviously got too rough. He's just damn lucky it didn't kill him, or paralyze him.”
“Oh, my God,” Carole said, as tears rolled down her cheeks and she blew her nose. “Will he really be all right?”
“They think so. He didn't regain consciousness until a couple of hours ago, but he's talking now. For a while there, I thought …” She couldn't even say it, and Carole nodded with tears in her eyes. She had thought the same thing, and the longer it took Liz to come home, and when she didn't call, Carole was certain that the worst was about to happen. They had come damn close though. “I'm going back tonight. I'll go up and pack some things.”
“Why don't you sleep here? You look exhausted, Liz, you can use the rest if you're going to be with him tomorrow.”