I wish I could wear a hat.”
“Let’s see what the nurses say about that. I’ll go buy you one.”
“A Red Sox hat,” she says.
“How about a UVM hat?” he asks.
“We’re close to UVM right now, aren’t we?” she asks, as if just registering that fact.
“We’re at UVM,” he says.
“But don’t get me a baseball cap. Get me one of those, oh, you don’t know, it’s like a golf cap, except bigger, and I can get my ears under it. I should really pick it out.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he says.
“If only Gina were here. She’d know what I meant. Do you know what happened to my cell phone?”
He hasn’t seen her cell phone or the purse she took to the dance. Maybe Tommy has them. “I’ll see if I can find out,” he says.
Webster sits on her bed. Who gets reprieves like this?
“Want half my sandwich?” she asks.
He tells her no, even though he’s hungry. “Gina came,” he says. “Tommy came with his dad. Tommy saved your life. Did I mention that?”
Rowan looks concerned. “I wish I could remember something.”
“Maybe you will, maybe you won’t,” he says, deciding to take Rowan up on her offer. He picks up the other half of her sandwich. Turkey, white bread, no dressing. Tastes delicious. “It’s probably better off if you don’t.”
“I was drinking, wasn’t I?” she asks, wiping her mouth with a napkin. She has to do everything now with her right hand.
“Yes, you were.”
“Are you mad?”
“Mad? Yes.” He meets her eyes. “But mostly all I’ve felt is fear. You’re a very lucky girl.”
Webster won’t tell her about Kerry, the girl who didn’t make it. Not yet.
“But I’ll be rip-roaring furious if you ever get drunk again,” he warns.
“I’m sorry.”
“Do you know why you did it?”
“I just did it,” she says, moving the tray out of her way.
“You were angry when you left the house.”
“Maybe I was still angry,” she says. “It’s hard to know.”
“A lot of people came here to visit you,” Webster tells her. “Tommy’s dad lent me a family car. The cruiser is back at Rescue, and I had the keys in my pocket. They’re a good family.”
“I knew you’d like them,” Rowan says. “Dad, I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how horrible this was for you. And I’ve been such a bitch.”
“You certainly have,” he says. “If you feel up to it, I’m going to ask you to do some makeup work. If you fail math and English, you won’t be able to go to UVM.”
“I’m at UVM, remember?”
“Do you remember the last time you saw me?”
“The night of the dance. I was furious with you.”
“Do you remember why?”
“You read my diary.”
“So you’re not angry now?”
“Now? I’d have to be crazy to be angry now. Though I’m a little pissed off about my hair.”
“I didn’t read much, if that’s any consolation.”
She shrugs and sits up straighter. “It doesn’t seem like such a big deal. But I don’t want to think about it. It’s embarrassing.”
“Nothing’s embarrassing now,” he tells her.
“I’m still hungry. How long did I go without eating?”
“Four days.”
“Cool. I wonder if I lost weight,” she says. She presses the sheets down at the sides of her hips and stomach.
“The last thing you need to worry about is your weight.” Webster finds her foot again under the sheet and holds on to it. “Look, there’s something I want to tell you.”
Rowan waits.
“Your mother has been here nearly the whole time you’ve been unconscious.”
“My what?”
“I found her just last week. When I told her about the accident, she came right away. She kept me from losing my mind.”
His daughter’s eyes open wide. He waits for the fact to sink in.
“Where did you find her?” she asks.
“She’s been living in Chelsea,” he says, moving closer to her on the bed.
“Where is that?”
“It’s a city near Boston. I think once when you were younger, we talked about where she came from, and I showed you on a map.”
Rowan leans back and inches the covers closer to her chin. “How did you find her?”
“On the Internet. It was easier than I thought. I drove to Chelsea and talked to her.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“You weren’t in a mood to hear about it,” he says. “I had to think about how to tell you. And then, next thing I know, I’m in a helicopter with you strapped to a backboard.”
“What’s she like?”
“She’s an artist, Rowan, a painter. She’s very good. She’s had a complicated and difficult life. But the reason I’m telling