Her eyes fill up with tears and she doesn’t even try to blink them back. Her voice trembling, she says, “I’ve always been proud of him, every day of his life.”
I wipe my wet face, and we go back out to the lobby.
Mr. Jacobson addresses the crowd. “They need blood donors. I’ll expect you all to line up.” He sits down as people start to roll up their sleeves, and the nurses form lines for donations, since so many people are willing.
Finally, when things have settled a bit, Mr. Jacobson stands up.
But Derrick stands up at the same time. He talks over Mr. Jacobson when he opens his mouth to speak. Mr. Jacobson scowls at him, but Derrick continues. “I was wrong,” he says. His voice rings out loud and clear. “I treated that poor man horribly. And for no reason. And tonight, he didn’t think twice about saving Imogene.” His voice breaks. “I just want to say I’m sorry.”
“You should tell him when he wakes up,” Mr. Jacobson says quietly.
“I will. I just wanted to say it publicly so everyone would know. I was wrong. I shunned that man, and I convinced a lot of you to shun him too. That was wrong. This town has treated him just awful, and it’s my fault.”
Some are nodding as a small rumble moves through the crowd.
“I was wrong,” he says again decisively. He swipes his hand down his face.
The doctor comes to get him to take him to his wife, who is in recovery. But it’s about an hour later before they come and get us to take us to Ethan.
When I walk into the room, Ethan looks to be asleep. His face is pale, his lips dark in stark contrast to his skin tone. He’s wearing a hospital gown. His mother walks over, brushes his hair back from his face, and kisses his cheek. His eyes flutter open.
“What…?” he asks. His brow furrows. He looks around, confused.
“You’re going to be fine, son,” his mother says softly.
“Mitchell?” he asks.
“He’s with my grandmother,” I say quietly from behind Ethan’s mother.
He tries to smile when he realizes I’m in the room. “Abigail,” he says, his voice weak. He lifts his uninjured hand slowly, and I rush over to take it.
“I told you not to go, you stubborn man,” I say. “You didn’t listen.”
He shakes his head, a soft smile on his face. “I didn’t die. Dying is not very healthy.”
I snort out a laugh, and he grins.
“My arm hurts,” he says, as he tests the cast, lifting it an inch before letting it fall with a grimace.
“You broke it. Along with your spleen. And you got a slice up your side somehow which they had to sew up,” I explain.
“When I do it, I do it right.” The nurse injects something into his IV, and his eyelids grow heavy. “Don’t leave,” he says, and then he falls asleep.
I lay my forehead on his good arm and suck in a breath. “I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
His mom smooths my hair. “Just wait until it’s your son lying on the table.”
I look up at her. “Are you okay?”
She nods and looks at me thoughtfully. She says nothing for a moment, but then she says very softly, “I was worried that you weren’t the right one. That you were only using him on the rebound.”
I smile at her. “Are you still worried?”
She shakes her head. “Not at all. You’ve been good for him.”
“Can you believe he just jumped into the water like that?” I still can’t believe it.
“I’m not surprised. It’s who he is. He’s a good man. Sometimes he just forgets that fact. Or in his case, people convince him differently.”