Daniel looks at me with wide green eyes, so much like Will’s. There’s fear in them and it breaks my heart to know he was scared as well. They’ve both lost so much already.
The IV line in my hand pulls when I lift my arm toward him. “Come here, sweetie,” I croak out.
He scrambles off Alexander’s lap and attempts to climb onto my bed. Alexander gets up, and before helping him the rest of the way, he grabs a cup on the bedside table and lets me take several swallows. The blessedly cool water feels like heaven against my dry throat. I notice him pushing the call button on the side of the bed before he lifts the line to my IV, then lifts Daniel onto the bed. As soon as his knees hit the mattress he buries his face against my shoulder and starts crying just as hard as his sister. My free arm closes tightly around him, and I close my eyes and kiss the tops of my babies’ heads.
When I open them again, my eyes go to Alexander, who’s back to sitting on the edge of his chair, his hands gripping the arms so tight his knuckles are white. A whole slew of emotions crosses his face and it makes my chest ache when I realize he was worried as well.
I can’t imagine the pain he went through and what was going through his head when he found out about the wreck. He’s already lost his wife and baby in a car accident. I know he cares for me deeply, that’s apparent at the pain in his eyes now, so to know he could have lost even more people to the same fate had to have been torture for him. I hate that he went through that.
I hold his gaze and hope he sees the silent words coming from me. The words I have yet to tell him, but desperately want to. I love this man more than I thought was possible, and I need him to know that.
A moment later, a doctor walks into the room carrying a chart. I hate it when the kids are forced to get down so the doctor can check me over. I’m impatient as he asks me questions and explains the extend of my injuries, but am glad when he says I can go home tomorrow, as long as there are no complications throughout the rest of the day and night.
As soon as he’s gone, the kids are back on the bed with me. My eyes stay connected with Alexander while they cry into my shoulder. After a few minutes, their cries turn to sniffles. I break my stare with Alexander and pull both kids back so I can get a better look at them. I notice the bandage on Kelsey’s cheek again and the one on Daniel’s chin. More tears come to my eyes and my chest burns. It’s apparent they aren’t serious injuries, but they should never feel even the smallest of scratches.
“Are you both okay?” I ask them, needing them to say they’re fine.
Daniel nods, and I turn to look at Kelsey. “We’re okay, Mama. We’re just glad you’re okay too.”
I close my eyes and relish in the sound of her voice. It’s going to take a long time to get used to hearing it again, but I’ll soak up every second and never take it for granted.
“I love you both.”
They return the sentiment, and I kiss their cheeks.
I keep my arms around them both, but my eyes move back to Kelsey. I can’t stop looking at her.
“You’re talking.” I state the obvious, because it’s still so unbelievable.
She nods and drops her head. I place my hand under her chin and gently lift it back up. Utter devastation shows on her face, and it makes me want to cry all over again.
“Kelsey, sweetie—”
“I’m sorry!” she blurts, interrupting me.
“There’s absolutely nothing for you to be sorry for,” I tell her, my heart in my throat making it tight.
She nods vehemently. “There is, Mama. I’m sorry I made you so worried because I didn’t talk. I’m sorry I hurt you.” She stops, and I watch her throat bob as she tries to hold back her tears. Her voice is a whisper when she finishes, breaking my heart in the process. “I’m sorry Daddy died.”
I lean my head close to her. “I want you to listen to me very carefully, Kelsey. I know I’ve said this before, and I’ll continue to say it until you finally believe me. You are in no way responsible for what happened to your father.” I stop, letting her process my words before continuing. “Your daddy wasn’t getting all the blood he needed for his heart to work properly.” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “He would have died either way, because no one knew of the problem. It wasn’t because he went to go get your bear. His heart gave out because it was too weak to work anymore. He would have died whether he got your bear or not.”
I can see in her eyes that she still doesn’t completely believe me, but I also see undeniable hope that what I’m saying is true. Since we moved to Cat’s Valley, I haven’t put her back in counseling, hoping that the move would be a big enough change to help her open up and release some of the grief. I can see that was a big mistake.
“I miss him so much,” she whispers brokenly.
“I do too. We’ll always miss him and that’s okay.” I turn to look at Daniel and see the sadness in his eyes. I pull him closer and speak to them both. “But it’s also okay to move on. Your daddy will always be a part of our lives, no matter what.”
“I’ll try,” Kelsey says after several moments.
Although this is a very painful subject for all three of us, it feels right that we’re discussing it. I’ve never tried keeping the subject closed, I’ve always been open to talking about Will to them, but Kelsey’s never shown interest, or her face contorts in pain when his name is brought up, and I think Daniel likes to avoid it because it always hurts Kelsey and me. It doesn’t feel forced, and I know it was time. Hopefully we can all properly heal now, most especially Kelsey.
Alexander still hasn’t said anything, and I look over at him. He looks tired, with bags beneath his red-rimmed eyes. He looks strange wearing the dark blue scrub shirt. He’s bent over with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together tightly, watching me and the kids with an intense look. Something painful lurks in his eyes.
I’m just about to ask him if he’s okay, when the door whooshes open and his parents step into the room. They come to a stop when they notice I’m awake. Immediate relief has their shoulders sagging. It warms my insides to know that they care enough to worry, even if it is because I’m important to Alexander.
The kids lift their heads to look at the door, and his parents’ eyes soften when they see them huddled on the bed with me. It’s Helen who steps forward first, stopping briefly by Alexander and squeezing his shoulder. She comes to a stop beside the bed. David goes to stand behind Alexander.
“How are you feeling, dear?” she asks with kind eyes.