I smiled down at the cute page as a tear fell onto it.
“Mom and Dad are angels,” Viera said at bedtime. It wasn’t the first time she had said that. “They talk to me at night, and Mama says that she’s safe.”
“Great, honey, I’m so glad you’re not as sad as before.”
“Sad? Nope. They real! I knows it!”
“Even better.” I kissed her head. “I bet your mom and dad are the best angels in heaven.”
“Duh.” She laughed.
My memory flashed forward to the sirens, and then dialing Rip of all people before my phone was taken away from me. I said a few words to him, he was yelling.
And then I heard voices.
So many hushed voices about my vitals.
My body gave a jerk as I slowly looked over at Rip, at the tears staining his cheeks along with the smile he saved only for me. Other than a few bandages and the horrible headache, I suddenly realized I’d escaped pretty unscathed, all things considering.
“Are the kids”—I burst into tears—“are they OK? I’m so sorry, I just, I couldn’t not react, Rip! I remember, of course I remember, it was just a bit fuzzy.”
“That’s normal.” The doctor started talking until Rip shot him a glare that said to shut up and stop ruining our moment.
Rip moved around the doc and pulled me into his arms again. “You remember the kids? You remember—”
“How could I forget our crazy, chaotic life? The doctor said some memories might be fuzzy or feel strange as I heal over the next few days. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” I sobbed against him.
Dr. Jennings cleared his throat. “I’m going to give you some privacy. Your neuro checks are coming back to normal. It appears like the swelling’s gone down significantly. We weren’t sure if it would be a few hours or a few days.” He started to walk away, and then called back, “Your family sounds perfect.”
I thought back on the chaos and whispered, “It is.”