Read Online Daniel's Gift by Barbara Freethy - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Barbara Freethy
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Her heart broke.
"Oh, Danny, Danny," she cried, touching his face with her hand, caressing his cheek as tears flowed down her face. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Danny didn't move, didn't flinch. He was still, utterly still. His face was white, as if the life had been drained from his body. His freckles stood out in stark accusation, as if they were furious at being deprived of the sun. A respirator pushed oxygen into his lungs. It was the only sound in the room.
Jenny faced the doctor. "Is he -- is he in any pain?"
"No, he's heavily sedated."
"Was he conscious at all -- before the surgery?"
"The paramedics said he was unconscious from the time they arrived at the scene."
"I guess -- I guess that's okay," Jenny said, trying to latch on to something consoling. "At least he wasn't crying. I mean, maybe he wasn't hurting or anything."
"The mind has a way of shutting down when things get too bad," Dr. Lowenstein replied. "He has some fractured ribs. We ran a CT scan on his abdomen and pelvis as well as his head. There doesn't appear to be any internal bleeding. Right now our biggest concern is the swelling in the brain."
"What does that mean?"
"It means there's pressure on the brain, and we want to keep the pressure as low as possible, allow the wound to heal."
"How long does it usually take for the swelling to go down?"
"Every patient is different. Every head injury is different. In a trauma like this, the brain goes into a self-protective hibernation phase to allow for healing. It may be a day or two before Danny regains consciousness, perhaps longer. I wish I could offer you something more concrete, but I can't. We'll know more as time goes on."
Jenny sighed and looked at Danny. Tenderly, she plucked a strand of hair off his cheek and pushed it behind his ear. His skin felt cold to her touch. He never felt cold. In fact, he was her furnace, her blanket that she cuddled up with on winter nights. They had laughed about how hot he was, on fire for life. Now, he was icy cold.
"I think he needs another blanket," she said.
"I'll have the nurse bring one in."
"Can he hear me?"
"It wouldn't hurt to talk to him. In fact, it might help."
Another non answer. Jenny felt frustrated. Why the hell couldn't they tell her what was going to happen to her son? They were doctors. They were supposed to be the brilliant chosen ones in life, the people who had all the answers. Luke had always seemed to know everything.
Luke -- another overwhelming surge of anger flooded her body. It was his fault. He was the reason Danny was lying in the hospital bed. God, she wished she had never met him.
Even as the thought crossed her mind, she recanted. If she had never met Luke, she would never have had Danny, and at this moment, when Danny was so close to leaving her, she couldn't bear the thought of never having had him, never having known him.
"We have a room where you can stay tonight, Mrs. St. Claire," Dr. Lowenstein said.
"I want to stay here with Danny."
"That's fine. If you want to lie down -- "
"I don't."
"Okay." Dr. Lowenstein touched her arm and left.
Jenny picked up Danny's hand and squeezed it. There was no response. "Wake up, baby," she whispered as she had done so many mornings in Danny's life. "Wake up, honey. Rise and shine. It's a new day, and we've got so much to do." Her voice broke on the last word and she laid her face on Danny's bed, her cheek touching his hand, and she cried.
* * *
Danny looked over at Jacob. "She's so sad. Can't we tell her I'm okay?"
"You're not okay." Jacob pointed a bony finger at the kid in the bed. "You're barely alive."
"I'm going to get better, right?"
Jacob didn't answer.
"I'm going to get better," Danny said again, his voice rising along with his fear. What if he couldn't go back? What if he really was dead? He looked over at his mother with a heavy heart, wishing he could have the day over again, do everything differently.
"I knew this wasn't a good idea," Jacob said. "Come on.
"Oh, Danny, Danny," she cried, touching his face with her hand, caressing his cheek as tears flowed down her face. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Danny didn't move, didn't flinch. He was still, utterly still. His face was white, as if the life had been drained from his body. His freckles stood out in stark accusation, as if they were furious at being deprived of the sun. A respirator pushed oxygen into his lungs. It was the only sound in the room.
Jenny faced the doctor. "Is he -- is he in any pain?"
"No, he's heavily sedated."
"Was he conscious at all -- before the surgery?"
"The paramedics said he was unconscious from the time they arrived at the scene."
"I guess -- I guess that's okay," Jenny said, trying to latch on to something consoling. "At least he wasn't crying. I mean, maybe he wasn't hurting or anything."
"The mind has a way of shutting down when things get too bad," Dr. Lowenstein replied. "He has some fractured ribs. We ran a CT scan on his abdomen and pelvis as well as his head. There doesn't appear to be any internal bleeding. Right now our biggest concern is the swelling in the brain."
"What does that mean?"
"It means there's pressure on the brain, and we want to keep the pressure as low as possible, allow the wound to heal."
"How long does it usually take for the swelling to go down?"
"Every patient is different. Every head injury is different. In a trauma like this, the brain goes into a self-protective hibernation phase to allow for healing. It may be a day or two before Danny regains consciousness, perhaps longer. I wish I could offer you something more concrete, but I can't. We'll know more as time goes on."
Jenny sighed and looked at Danny. Tenderly, she plucked a strand of hair off his cheek and pushed it behind his ear. His skin felt cold to her touch. He never felt cold. In fact, he was her furnace, her blanket that she cuddled up with on winter nights. They had laughed about how hot he was, on fire for life. Now, he was icy cold.
"I think he needs another blanket," she said.
"I'll have the nurse bring one in."
"Can he hear me?"
"It wouldn't hurt to talk to him. In fact, it might help."
Another non answer. Jenny felt frustrated. Why the hell couldn't they tell her what was going to happen to her son? They were doctors. They were supposed to be the brilliant chosen ones in life, the people who had all the answers. Luke had always seemed to know everything.
Luke -- another overwhelming surge of anger flooded her body. It was his fault. He was the reason Danny was lying in the hospital bed. God, she wished she had never met him.
Even as the thought crossed her mind, she recanted. If she had never met Luke, she would never have had Danny, and at this moment, when Danny was so close to leaving her, she couldn't bear the thought of never having had him, never having known him.
"We have a room where you can stay tonight, Mrs. St. Claire," Dr. Lowenstein said.
"I want to stay here with Danny."
"That's fine. If you want to lie down -- "
"I don't."
"Okay." Dr. Lowenstein touched her arm and left.
Jenny picked up Danny's hand and squeezed it. There was no response. "Wake up, baby," she whispered as she had done so many mornings in Danny's life. "Wake up, honey. Rise and shine. It's a new day, and we've got so much to do." Her voice broke on the last word and she laid her face on Danny's bed, her cheek touching his hand, and she cried.
* * *
Danny looked over at Jacob. "She's so sad. Can't we tell her I'm okay?"
"You're not okay." Jacob pointed a bony finger at the kid in the bed. "You're barely alive."
"I'm going to get better, right?"
Jacob didn't answer.
"I'm going to get better," Danny said again, his voice rising along with his fear. What if he couldn't go back? What if he really was dead? He looked over at his mother with a heavy heart, wishing he could have the day over again, do everything differently.
"I knew this wasn't a good idea," Jacob said. "Come on.
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