Rosa kissed them both, then followed Liam out of the room. At the mudroom, they put on their coats and boots. Liam hit the garage door opener and together they headed outside.
A beautiful moon glazed the snowy pastures and backlit the black trees. The whole farm held an ethereal glow, all blues and blacks and glistening whites.
“Mike would love this night,” Liam said. “If she were here right now, she’d be racing ahead of us, scooping snow up in her mittens to make snowballs … or she’d fall backward without warning to make an angel. I hope the snow is still here when she gets out of the hospital. ”
They came to the cottage’s two-rail gate. Through the sparkling layer of new snow, you could just make out the knobby brown rose vines that, in the summer, were a wall of bright green and shocking pink.
The gate made a high-squeaking sound in the silence. Rosa went ahead and opened the front door, flicking on the kitchen light. She took off her coat and hung it up in the antique armoire by the door. Liam laid his over the back of a chair at the kitchen table.
Rosa turned to him. “What did she say, my Mikita, when you told her about your marriage?”
He was caught off guard. “We didn’t tell her. ”
“What? This is madness not to tell her—”
“Steve thinks the truth might frighten her. We don’t want her to suffer a relapse. ”
Rosa seemed to think about that for a minute, then she shook her head. “You men—you doctors—you do what you think is best. But I am her mama, no? I have always taken care of my Mikaela. I will not stop now. I will need the fotografías you found. ”
Liam tried to imagine what it must be like to have a mother like this. What a power it must grant a person in life to have a place where you could always land softly, even after the hardest hit. “Rosa,” he said quietly, touching her hand. “I’m glad you’re here. I don’t know how I would have made it through this without you. ”
Rosa grabbed his hands and held them tightly. “You are stronger than you think, Liam. This I have seen in you over these past weeks. Now you are thinking that Mikaela does not need you, that she has forgotten you because she does not love you, but you are wrong. Her eyes may be open, but mi hija is still asleep. Give her time. ”
She woke easily this time. No floating at the bottom of a swimming pool, no black and angry sea slapping around her. She just … opened her eyes.
Strangers surrounded her bed. Some she’d seen before, some she hadn’t. They were talking to her and to one another. She could see their mouths opening and closing, opening and closing, but nothing made any sense.
Do you know where you are … who you are … what happened …
She wished they would shut up. One by one, their faces came into focus, and the questions they were asking began to make sense. Dr. Penn—the nice-looking man with the gray hair and white coat—smiled at her.
“Good morning, Mikaela. Do you remember me?”
“Penn,” she answered, her voice as cracked as old porcelain and nearly as fragile. Her throat still hurt. “What … happened me?”
“You fell off your horse and hit your head. You suffered quite a head injury. You’ve been in a coma. ”
She wanted to ask questions, but she couldn’t remember any of the words she needed.
“Don’t worry, Mikaela. It’ll all come back to you. ” Stephen turned to the strangers. “Let’s go. She needs to rest. ”
Wait. She tried to sit up. It was hard; her right side felt weighted down, too weak to move easily. Her heart started beating too fast, her breathing broke into gasping bits. Before she could remember the right words to make them stay, they were gone.
The door to her room squeaked open, and a new stranger appeared. She was a heavyset woman in a blue polyester pantsuit. Her fleshy face was creased into a bright smile. “Good morning, Mikaela. How are we feeling today?”
She frowned. Her name was Kayla now. Everyone knew that. Everyone. So why did they all keep calling her Mikaela? She hadn’t used that name in years—not since Sunville.
She tried to push a question past her disobedient tongue. The word she was searching for—hello—was bouncing around in her mind, but it disappeared before reaching her mouth.
“We removed the catheter last night—do you remember that? I thought you might like to try going to the bathroom by yourself. Doctor will be here in a few minutes. ”
Kayla gazed up at the woman, trying to make her mouth work. “Who … where?”
“I’m Sarah Fielding, honey,” she answered the unasked question. The nurse bustled around the bed and pulled the sheets back.
Kayla stared down at her skinny, hairy legs. They looked okay. So why wouldn’t they work right?
Sarah eased a plump arm behind Kayla’s head and gently tilted her u