“I’ll talk to him, Graham. I don’t hold him responsible. That poor boy.”
He sighed. “Thanks, Katy. We’d all appreciate it. Maybe if he heard it from you, he could stop this needless blame on himself.”
“I will. As soon as I see my girls.”
He turned the car into their driveway. “I’m sure they’re waiting.”
Gracie was out the door as soon as the car stopped. I was smothered in Gracie hugs and kisses the moment I stepped out of the vehicle, catching her in my arms. She giggled and talked a mile a minute, the whole time patting my cheek, dropping little smooches on my mouth, cheeks, and nose and exclaiming in delight over the stuffed lamb I had seen in the gift shop and brought to her.
I carried her inside, setting her on her feet so she could show Laura her lamb, and I took Heather from Laura’s waiting arms. The feel of my baby snuggled into my chest made tears sting my eyes, and I had to bow my head to hide them from Gracie. Still a baby herself, she was still too perceptive not to notice.
“Why you cry, Mommy?”
“I missed you,” I sniffed.
She looked confused. “I was wight hewe.”
I forced a smile, brushing away the wetness under my eyes. “I know. How silly of Mommy.”
Laura cupped my cheek affectionately. “I have her bottle ready. Go upstairs with your girls, and I’ll bring it. You have a little time with them.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, not trusting myself to say much else right now. My emotions were too raw. Laura, being Laura, understood.
“Of course, dear girl.”
Upstairs, I settled in the nursery they had set up for all their grandkids. There always seemed to be a baby on the way or here, Laura would often say. I slipped the nipple into Heather’s mouth, stroking her wispy hair and humming softly.
Gracie was busy on the rug in front of me introducing “Lambie” to all his new friends. She talked and asked questions as I fed Heather, burped, and changed her, then sat back in the rocker, holding her as she fell asleep. The soothing routine calmed me, and when Gracie looked up at me, the inevitable question falling from her lips, I was ready.
“When Daddy home?”
I stood and placed Heather into the crib, stroking her back. I sat down, patting my lap. “Come sit with Mommy.”
She clambered up, peering up at me with such a serious expression, the resemblance to Richard was uncanny.
“Gracie, baby, Daddy won’t be home for a while.”
“Why come?”
I drew in a deep breath. “Daddy got hurt, and he has to be in the hospital for a while.”
Tears filled her wide eyes. “Daddy hurt? Like a boo-boo? I tiss it betta, then he come home.”
“I bet that would help a lot, but Daddy needs more than kisses. He has to sleep a lot and be quiet.”
“But I miss him!” Her voice rose in a plaintive wail.
I wrapped her in my arms. “He misses you too, baby girl. He’ll be home as soon as he can.” I paused. “When he does, he will need lots of help to get him big and strong again. Could you help him with that?”
“Yes,” she sniffled. “I wants him home now.”
“Me too, but he has to stay. The doctor says so. Remember when you had a cough and the doctor said you had to stay in bed? You didn’t like it, but you were a good girl and did it so you got better. Daddy has to do what the doctor says too.”
“Oh,” she huffed.
“He needs some pictures for his walls. Maybe we could color some, so when he wakes up he can see them. You know how much Daddy likes your pictures.” Richard always referred to them as his Picassos. Scribbles of color on paper, really. Except to him they were treasures—especially when she managed a crude X in the corner for him.
“Otay.” She wiped her nose with her sleeve, and I let it go. This wasn’t the time for a lesson on manners.
“As soon as he isn’t so sleepy, I can take you to see him,” I promised.
“Soon?” she asked, her expression and the furrow between her brows so like Richard, my breath caught, and I had to pause before I replied.
“I hope so, baby girl. I hope so.”Gracie fell asleep on top of me. She had burst into tears again, and I held her tight, shushing and cooing at her, assuring her all was okay, and praying internally I wasn’t lying to her, until she fell into an exhausted sleep. I tucked her into the bed in the room and stepped into the hall.
Brad was coming out of a door opposite and froze when he saw me. I had only met him once, but I saw the toll this had taken on him. His eyes were sunken, his hair flat, and there was a pallor to his skin. Like Richard, he was bruised, with cuts on his face and arms. A heavy cast covered his arm, and he was bent over from the pain no doubt caused by his ribs. His eyes darted everywhere, unable to meet mine.