Читать книгу Another Chance for Daddy - Patricia Knoll, Patricia Knoll - Страница 7

CHAPTER TWO

THE hospital waiting room doors flew open and Becca looked up to see Mary Jane and Shannon Kelleher rushing toward her, anxiety in their faces. Relieved, but shaking, she stood to be folded in her stepmother’s arms. Although Mary Jane was only thirteen years older than she, Becca, who couldn’t even remember the woman who had given birth to her, had always thought of her as her true mother, and her best friend. Her half-sister, Shannon, crowded close. She was taller than the other two women. She put her arms around them both so that the three of them were held tightly together.

Becca gave her sister a welcoming look. She had recently begun a new job with the county government’s soil conservation office and she had a very tough boss. Becca was grateful her sister had been able to get away.

“Brittnie called,” Mary Jane said, pulling away to look into Becca’s pale face and tear-bright eyes. She touched her stepdaughter’s cold cheek. “She told us everything. How is Jimmy? And Clay? And the Emerson boy?”

Becca took a trembling breath, beginning to feel steadier now that her family had arrived. “Jimmy bumped his head on the door. He’s got a lump above his right eye and he’s shaken up, but he’ll be fine. Dr. Kress is keeping him here overnight to watch him. They’re getting him settled in his room, which is why I’m out here. And Joey Emerson wasn’t even scratched. I don’t know how that happened. Clay is hurt the worst because Joey’s car hit directly on his side. He seems to have a concussion and his left leg is broken, but we won’t know how badly either of those injuries is until the X rays are finished.” She looked around vaguely. “It should be pretty soon.”

Mary Jane put her hand on Becca’s arm and gently drew her back to the sofa. Becca went willingly, grateful for her mother’s calm efficiency. Nothing much seemed to rattle her. Becca had realized years ago that Mary Jane had a core of strength she could only hope to equal someday.

“Have you called Barry?” Mary Jane asked.

“He’s out of town today,” Becca answered as she sat. “In Denver on family business.” She wished he was here. His steady presence and rational thoughtfulness were exactly what she needed right now.

Mary Jane gave her another quick hug. “Maybe you can get in touch with him later. We’ll wait with you. Where’s Brittnie, by the way?”

“Gone for coffee.”

Shannon shuddered as she sat down. “That should bring back some unpleasant memories,” she commented with a touch of irony. She tossed her long black hair back over her shoulders and looked at her sister with sympathy in her dark eyes. “It’s the worst coffee in the world, but we drank gallons of it when Dad was in here.”

“How well I remember,” Becca agreed quietly. Her hands fell to rest loosely in her lap as she stared morosely at the floor.

Hal Kelleher had died of cancer three years ago in this very hospital. In many ways it had torn his family apart even as it had drawn them closer together. They had all gone on with their lives. Mary Jane stubbornly clung to their ranch, working it alone, with the occasional help of her daughters, a few members of her extended family, and any good hand she could hire. Both Brittnie and Shannon had finished college and Becca....

Thinking of her firm, no-nonsense father, Becca was fully aware of what he would say if he knew her marriage had broken up. He had adored Jimmy and would have been incensed at the potential harm the divorce might cause the boy. He’d thought the world of Clay, though the two men couldn’t have been more different. Hal had been a man with no guile and few secrets. Everyone knew where they stood with him. He had always said that once a person started something, that person had to keep on until it was finished. He wouldn’t have approved of the way she had given up on her marriage. And he really wouldn’t have approved the argument she’d had with Clay just before he’d pulled out of her driveway.

Mary Jane sat beside her and lightly rubbed her shoulders as Becca propped her elbow on the arm of the uncomfortable sofa and put her forehead in her palm as she relived the horror of the moment when she’d seen the Monte Carlo heading straight for Clay. She had thrown her front door open and sped down the walk before the two vehicles had even made contact, frantically yelling Clay’s and Jimmy’s names. Brittnie had heard her and run from the kitchen.

The instant the accident was over, Brittnie had phoned for the police and paramedics while Becca had wrestled Jimmy’s door open to find him crying and disoriented. She had checked the cut on his head, then climbed in beside him to examine Clay, who had been unconscious, his side of the windshield crumpled into his lap and the water from the Monte Carlo’s radiator shooting like a fountain into the air, soaking them both through the broken window. Inanely, she noticed his beloved Stetson lying on the floor of the vehicle. It was crushed, soaked, and probably ruined.

Becca looked down at the stains of water and engine coolant that still marked her dress, wondering vaguely if they could ever be washed out. Not that it mattered when she thought about the injuries Clay had suffered.

For an unspeakable moment, she’d thought Clay was dead, and a welter of emotions had blasted through her terror before she had found his pulse, then bone-melting relief when she had realized he was alive, followed by tenderness when he had groggily awakened, rolled his head against her supporting arm, smiled, and said, “Hi, babe. What’s the matter?” Then he’d passed out again.

Clay had drifted in and out as the neighbors had rushed from their homes, Joey Emerson had stumbled, unhurt, from his car, and the emergency vehicles had arrived with sirens blaring and lights flashing.

That had been more than an hour ago and this was the first moment she had found to think about the full impact of what had happened and what could have happened to her son and husband. Ex-husband, she reminded herself, realizing that it was an easy label to pin on Clay, but it wasn’t nearly as easy to hang that label on her feelings for him—especially after today’s trauma.

Becca looked up as she heard Brittnie bustling back into the room, grateful for the interruption of her troubled and confusing thoughts.

“Hi, Mom, Shannon,” she greeted them as she set two cups of coffee on the low table that stood in front of the sofa. “Here, Becca. Try some of this coffee. I know it looks like axle grease, but it might help perk you up.”

“Either that, or she’ll be awake all night,” Shannon responded, eyeing the black stuff.

“She will be anyway,” Brittnie pointed out.

She sat beside Shannon. With her dark blonde hair and lively gray eyes, she looked like the smaller, sunnier version of their father. She liked short skirts, music and dancing and fun of all types. If there was any fun to be had, Brittnie would be in the center of it. She had recently graduated from college with a degree in library science, but she certainly didn’t fit the stereotype of a librarian. She was far more likely to be the one making noise than the one quieting the noisemakers.

Becca took a sip from the foam cup. It tasted as bad as she remembered, but at least it gave her something to do with her hands. At the sound of footsteps, she looked up to see Dr. Kress approaching. Setting the cup down shakily, she stood to meet him.

Frank Kress was a tall, affable man in his fifties. He had a warm manner, but when he was worried about a patient, he became brisk and blunt. Becca braced herself and searched his face to see if it betrayed his mood. She remembered the staccato rap of his voice when he’d told them Hal Kelleher couldn’t live through the night—and the tears in his eyes when he spoke the words.

“Ah, Becca, there you are,” he said, spying her.

She felt herself relax when he gave her a slight smile and sat down in one of the chairs. He flexed his shoulders, rolled his head from side to side and gave a great sigh. “Well, honey, your menfolk have been mighty lucky. Jimmy’s going to have a headache for a couple of days and will probably whine about it the whole time. Clay has a concussion that needs to be watched carefully for at least a week and his leg is broken in two places. I’ve casted it, but he’d better take care of it or risk permanent injury. He’s got to stay here for a few days, then he can go home.”

Becca stared at him. “Home?” Clay had no home. He’d given up the apartment he had in Boulder. His furniture had been put in storage, the few belongings he carried with him from job to job had no doubt been packed and shipped to Venezuela. She knew exactly what arrangements had been made because she had been part of such moves for five years.

Becca shot a quick glance at her mother and sisters whose concerned expressions matched her own.

“Yes, home,” Dr. Kress continued gruffly. “I don’t know where that is for him, and I’ve already told you my opinion of this damned divorce. If your dad was alive he’d probably tan both your hides.”

Becca did, indeed, know his opinion. He’d expressed it in great detail when he’d treated her for bronchitis in January, then again when she’d had her annual physical last week.

“Don’t worry, Frank,” Mary Jane said, stepping forward and touching his shoulder. “We’ll take care of it.”

The doctor stood and gave a satisfied nod. “Good,” he said. “I was hoping I could depend on you. You can see Clay in a little while.”

After Dr. Kress had left, Becca gave her mother and sisters a despairing look, then sat down heavily on the sofa. “Clay can’t go back to Boulder. He gave up his apartment. He has no family to take care of him while he recovers. He is due to leave for Venezuela at the end of next week.”

“Doesn’t sound like he’s going to make his flight,” Brittnie said in a dry tone.

Mary Jane looked at all three of her daughters, then focused on Becca. “He can come out to the ranch. I’ll take care of him.”

Becca stared at her. “Absolutely not You’re right in the middle of calving, soon you’ll be moving the herd... There’s no way you could take on a patient—and believe me, Clay is not the best of patients.”

“Yes,” Shannon broke in. “I remember the time he sprained his wrist. He couldn’t drive, work, or even cut his own meat.”

All four women winced in unison. They remembered all too well because it had happened on a visit home to the ranch. They had all suffered his bad temper together. They had understood that his surliness was due to his reluctance to be dependent on anyone, but that hadn’t made it easier to bear.

Before they could continue the discussion, a nurse approached and said Becca’s son was asking for her. With a quick wave to her family and a promise that she would come for them when they could see Jimmy, she hurried off to the pediatrics ward of the small hospital.

In his room, Jimmy sat up in bed, looking about with a frightened expression and tear-filled eyes. When he saw Becca, he started crying. She folded him into her arms and murmured reassurances. After a few minutes he calmed down so she eased him back against the pillow and kissed him.

“Where’s my daddy?” he asked as Becca stroked his dark hair away from his face.

“He’s in another room.”

“Well, tell him to come here. I wanna see him,” her son insisted in a petulant tone.

“He was hurt in the accident, too, remember? He has to stay in his bed.”

Jimmy moved restlessly. “I wanna go see him in his room.”

“Jimmy, honey, I haven’t even seen him myself yet.”

“Is he dead?”

“No, no, of course not.” Becca knew that her son still had vague memories of his grandfather’s death and even though he didn’t know exactly what death meant, he knew he didn’t like the way it made him feel when someone died.

“You and me can go see him.”

Becca sighed. She knew he wouldn’t rest until he had seen Clay and been reassured that he was all right. “I’ll go see if he feels like talking to us, but first I’ll get Grandma and Shannon and Brittnie to come in here with you.”

“Okay,” he agreed. At last, he lay against the pillows and closed his eyes. Becca hurried off to summon her mother and sisters, and while they sat with Jimmy as he began to drift off to sleep, she went in search of Clay’s room.

She found him in another wing of the hospital. He was asleep. There was a bandage across the cut on his forehead and his right eye was swollen. The cast on his leg came up to his thigh and was propped up in a sling over the bed to relieve pressure on his hip.

Becca paused in the doorway, then entered slowly, her gaze fixed on him. For some reason, her mind insisted on conjuring up the image of a fallen warrior, which was ridiculous. He was a mining engineer, not a soldier. Still, the image lingered in her mind.

Becca was glad to see that the other bed in his room was empty and she wouldn’t be disturbing anyone else by pulling up a chair and sitting for a few minutes while she waited for him to wake.

Wearily, she sank into the chair and stretched her feet out in front of her. It was such a relief to sit calmly after the fright and worry of the past two hours and to know that both Clay and Jimmy were going to be all right. She didn’t know what they were going to do about finding a place for Clay to recover. As she had reminded her family, he had no one else. He’d never known his father and had been abandoned by his mother before his tenth birthday to be raised in a series of foster homes. After he’d reached adulthood, he’d made no effort to locate his mother or any member of her family.

- When Jimmy was a baby, she had tried to convince Clay to contact his mother, but he had refused. He wanted nothing to do with her. Becca had been very disturbed by his adamant denial that his mother had any rights to know her grandson. He’d refused to discuss his reasons or listen to her arguments.

That had been only one of the many things wrong with their marriage, she thought sadly. They hadn’t discussed things. When a problem arose, Clay either took care of it on his own or clammed up about it. She was accustomed to a family who talked things over—often at loud volume—and he was used to handling everything himself. Neither of them had been able to change.

She knew when he woke up, he was going to be difficult. When they had been married, he had rarely been sick and if he was, he had wanted only to be left alone. He hated being dependent on anyone, especially her, now that they were divorced.

Watching him in his helplessness, she felt a flurry of emotions she couldn’t quite sort out. She had long ago come to accept the reality that a small part of her would always love him. After all, he was the father of her son. Jimmy’s self-confidence and perseverance were traits he had inherited from Clay.

Jimmy had always been the kind of child who liked to do things for himself. In fact, his first words had been “By myself.” Clay was the same way—complete unto himself.

She often worried that the closeness she now shared with Jimmy would change over the years until he was closed off to her as Clay was. She dreaded that day.

Along with the love she still felt for Clay, she experienced sorrow and regret, but overriding it all was relief that their battles were over. She had a new life now and soon she would be sharing it with calm, predictable Barry in a permanent home of her own.

She cast Clay a guilty glance. She knew she should have told him about her engagement to Barry, and she certainly should have told Jimmy. It was pure cowardice on her part that she hadn’t done so, but she hadn’t wanted to argue with him again. They’d argued anyway, and look what had come of it.

Becca started when the phone rang and she grabbed it quickly so it wouldn’t wake Clay. He stirred, though, and she picked up the phone and moved as far from him as possible. Cupping the receiver close to her mouth, she answered in a near whisper. “Hello?”

“Rebecca?” Barry Whelker’s voice came over the line.

“Barry,” she said in relief. “I’m so glad you called. How did you know where to find me?”

“I couldn’t get you at your house, and there was no answer at your mother’s, so I got your neighbor’s number from directory assistance. They told me what had happened. How are Jimmy and Clay?”

Becca smiled, feeling steadied by the even tone of his voice. Trust Barry to show his resourcefulness in tracking her down and his thoughtfulness by calling her right away. Such thoughtfulness was one of the things she found most appealing about him, both as a boss and a fiancé.

“They’re going to be all right,” she said. While Barry listened and made concerned sounds, she rapidly ran through a description of Jimmy’s and Clay’s injuries.

Immediately, Barry offered to come home and help out, but Becca convinced him that her mother and sisters were on hand. There was no need for him to cut short his visit to his family and return before Monday.

“But you’ll need my help,” he said.

“No, really, Barry,” she said, casting a glance at Clay. She could just imagine what her ex-husband would have to say if her fiancé showed up to help her and her family care for him. “It might be better if I don’t see you until I’ve decided what I’m going to do. Clay will need someone to take care of him for a few days at least, and I don’t know where that’s going to be....”

“But he won’t want me around,” Barry finished for her.

“Yes, I’m sorry, but it’s true,” she admitted. “Clay isn’t the easiest of men,” she said, dropping her voice even more, though her ex-husband still showed no sign of waking up.

“Which is why you’re marrying me.”

Barry’s tone wasn’t smug, or triumphant, merely matter-of-fact, which bothered Becca somehow. “Yes, well, that’s true,” she answered. “But it’s not the only reason I’m marrying you.”

Barry was silent and she knew that he was thinking about what they both knew—that she didn’t love him the way she had loved Clay. She also knew he was too tactful to point that out. She could think of no reply.

Barry finally broke the silence by saying he would call again later and that he would be home in two days.

Becca hung up and sat for several minutes staring at the phone. She felt as though she had somehow disappointed him, but what she had said was true. At the best of times, Clay wasn’t an easy man. With multiple fractures and a concussion, he was going to be impossible. She and Barry would soon be sharing the “for better or for worse” of marriage. As far as she could see, there was no reason to start out “for worse.”

Quietly setting the phone on the nightstand, Becca turned to look at Clay. It seemed as though she could barely see the movement of his chest as he breathed and she thought of all the times she had worried and feared he was going to be injured on a job site. He’d never received so much as a scratch. Now he’d nearly been killed backing out of her driveway. Shakily, she sat down beside the bed and resumed her vigil.

As she watched, his eyes fluttered open, skimmed over her blankly, then closed again. After a moment, they opened again and stared at her for several seconds. A chill of fear washed through her. It was as if he didn’t recognize her, she realized as he drifted off again.

She thought suddenly of how he’d greeted her when he’d momentarily regained consciousness after the wreck. He’d called her “babe,” though he’d never been one for endearments. It touched her now and tears filled her eyes.

When he stirred again, she stood, bent over him, and rested her fingers lightly on his cheek. This time his eyelids snapped open and he focused on her with a clear and lucid gaze. Recognition leaped into his eyes, then joy such as she had never seen filled his face as he looked at her, studied her expression, then seemed to delve deeper into her eyes. Then he gazed at each of her features, lingering on her mouth, the hair loosening from her French braid and falling around her face, and then the curve of her cheek. For an instant, it was as if he had been stripped of all pretense.

The pleasure and relief on his face made her think of a time they’d gone exploring in a cave that Clay had sworn was safe. She had twisted her ankle and he’d had to carry her out. They’d both been overjoyed when they had stumbled outside and found light waiting on the other side.

Becca shivered at the memory. She didn’t know exactly why she had connected that with the look on Clay’s face just now.

Heat washed through Becca, flooding her with the same joy she saw in him.

She was reaching for his hand when something in his gaze seemed to click into place. All expression faded. His eyes swept the room and came back to her.

“Becca,” he said in a voice that cracked. He tried to clear his throat. “Can I have some water?”

“Of course.” She hurried to get him a glass of water, then eased his head up so he could sip it from a straw.

Satisfied, he turned his lips from the drink and said, “What are we doing here?”

She opened her mouth to answer him, but unexpectedly, tears filled her eyes again. Her lips trembled and the tears poured out. “I’m...I’m sorry, Clay....” She didn’t know if she was apologizing for crying or for being responsible for his injuries.

“Are those tears for me?” he asked in a faint voice. “I haven’t seen you cry since you....”

Becca’s eyes snapped to his, unexpected grief washing them. There was no need for him to go on. Either of them could have finished the thought.... “Since your last miscarriage.” Becca took a breath and looked away. This wasn’t the time to think about that.

Besides, the truth was, she had also cried plenty over Clay in the past couple of years, but she’d never let him see her at it. Even now, she willed her tears away.

Becca fought to control the tremble in her voice and lips. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been run over,” he said dryly, looking at her from beneath the edge of his bandage.

“Do you remember what happened?”

“Yeah, I was backing out,” he answered in a grim tone. “And I got hit. Did you get the number of the truck that hit me?”

She gave him a rueful look. “It wasn’t a truck. It was my neighbor’s teenage son in his Monte Carlo.”

“That settles it. We’re never letting Jimmy....” With a groan of shock, he tried to struggle up onto his elbow. “Jimmy! Where...?”

Her hands sprang out to keep him from climbing from the bed. Even with the huge cast on his leg and the supporting sling suspended above, he would have tried it. “He’s all right,” she insisted, urging him back. Quickly, she told him what Dr. Kress had said about Jimmy. “He wants to see you, though,” she concluded. “I told him he could if you felt up to it.”

Clay gave her a fierce glance. “Of course I’m up to it. He needs to be reassured.”

“I’ll go see if I can bring him here.”

It took her a while to find Dr. Kress and get him to agree to let her take Jimmy in a wheelchair to see his dad. Finally, the doctor approved the idea saying it would do Jimmy good and he might continue to rest if he wasn’t worried about his dad.

“In fact,” he suggested, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Now that I think about it, I don’t see any reason the two of them can’t share a room until Jimmy is released.”

“Share a room?” Becca asked, eyeing him warily.

“Sure. This is a small hospital, not many patients right now, we can accommodate a boy and his dad. Besides,” he added gruffly. “It’ll be easier on you than running back and forth between the two rooms.”

Becca didn’t point out that she hadn’t really intended to run back and forth. Since she was no longer Clay’s wife, she didn’t feel responsible to watch out for him. He was an independent man—boy, was he independent—and he didn’t like being coddled. She didn’t say it, though, because she knew it wouldn’t quite ring true. She had to focus on Jimmy, though. In spite of her own reluctance to move her son, she knew it would be the best thing for him.

She nodded her agreement and within a few minutes, Jimmy was being wheeled through the corridors to Clay’s room with her and her family trailing along behind. -

Mary Jane, Shannon, and Brittnie each said a few words to Clay, kissed Jimmy good-night and slipped away, leaving. Becca to settle into a chair and ponder exactly how this had come about.

“When’s Dad gonna wake up?”

Becca tried to ignore the whining tone in her son’s voice though it was beginning to annoy her greatly.

“He’ll wake up when he’s ready,” she answered for at least the tenth time.

“When can we go home?”

Dr. Kress wanted to check Jimmy once more before releasing him, but as the doctor on call at Tarrant General, he’d been summoned to deliver a baby. She didn’t feel like explaining all that to Jimmy, though, so she just said, “When your dad wakes up.”

“Mom, I need a drink,” Jimmy went on, not even pausing for breath between one demand and the next.

Becca looked at her son with a growing mixture of frustration, amusement, and despair. She knew he was playing his injuries, minor though they were, for all they were worth. She was delighted that his twenty-four hours in the hospital were almost over so she could take him home. Her only hope was that she wouldn’t be tempted to lock him in his room when she got him there and throw away the key. He had been demanding and petulant all morning, exactly the opposite of his usually sunny nature.

“You just had a drink,” she said, moving to stand beside his bed. She was exhausted, having slept very little the night before. Her family had insisted she go home and rest and Brittnie had stayed with her, but she hadn’t fallen asleep until far past midnight.

“I need another one,” Jimmy said.

She picked up the small plastic pitcher and started to pour water into a glass.

“I want orange soda.”

“No.”

Jimmy stiffened in his bed and his bottom lip popped out. “But my head hurts.”

“James Harold,” Clay spoke up from the other bed. “Stop annoying your mother. You don’t need another drink. Now be quiet.”

Becca glanced up and Jimmy subsided as he, too, looked at his father in surprise. She had thought Clay was still sleeping, as he had been most of the day—though she didn’t know how he had slept through Jimmy’s demanding bouts of whining.

She turned to him, noting the improved color of his skin and the brightness in his eyes. “Well, good afternoon,” she said, cautiously.

One corner of Clay’s mouth eased up. “I haven’t slept this late since the last time I had a hang....” He glanced at Jimmy. “...nail,” he finished, and Becca laughed at the unexpected silliness of his remark.

Jimmy scooted out of his bed and hurried over to get as close as possible to Clay and pepper him with questions. “How come you didn’t wake up, huh, Dad? You been sleepin’ all day.”

“Not all day, son. They keep waking me to make sure this bump on my head didn’t really hurt my thick skull. Looks like you’ve got a bump, too.”

“Yeah.” Jimmy grinned suddenly. “We’re twins.”

Clay chuckled and the sound seemed to calm Jimmy. He asked his father more questions and though Becca knew his head must be pounding with pain, Clay answered, reassuring him that they would go skiing another time. Becca wondered uncomfortably how much he remembered of their argument yesterday just before he’d been struck by Joey’s car. She didn’t relish the thought of opening that discussion again, but she knew Clay well enough to know that once he felt better, he would pursue it like a bloodhound.

Right now, though, her greatest problem was the one she’d been wrestling with since the day before. Where was Clay going to go to recover once he was ready to leave the hospital?

She walked over to the bed and gently urged Jimmy away. “Honey, Dad needs to rest. His head hurts, too, just like yours has been hurting.”

Clay looked up at her and she felt a tingle of surprise when she noted how the bandage that slanted across his brow gave him a rakish appearance. And somehow, the expression in his green eyes seemed more...relaxed.

“I actually feel pretty good,” he said, then lifted himself onto his elbow. “Ah, maybe a little weak, though.” He lay back down.

Becca stared. She’d never heard him admit to a weakness before.

He grinned at her. “I’m glad you’re here, Becca.”

Becca’s jaw sagged. “You’re kidding.”

“It’s good to see you.”

She gave him a long look. “Clay, I think you need to rest a little more.”

“I feel fine.”

He certainly looked fine, considering the shape his leg was in, not to mention his head—and the black eye that was going to be spectacular. In fact, if he wasn’t so banged up, she would think he looked better than he had in a long time. There was a light in his eyes she hadn’t seen in.... She couldn’t remember ever seeing it before, and a teasing smile tilted his mouth.

Becca felt her surprise settle into disturbing warmth that thumped down to rest in the pit of her stomach. Unconsciously, she folded her hands at her waist as if to hold it there.

Off balance, the next thing she knew, Jimmy was tugging at her skirt and saying, “Dad’s awake so we can all go home now.”

She blinked down at his happy face. “What?”

“You said we were waitin’ for Dad to wake up so we could go home. So let’s go.”

“Jimmy, I meant we were waiting so you could see him before I take you home. He can’t leave the hospital yet. He’s not well enough.”

“Oh. Then we can come back and get him tomorrow.” Jimmy scurried back to Clay’s bed and gave it a quick examination. “Are you gonna need a special bed like this when we get home?”

Clay looked at Becca’s stunned face, then back to his son. “No. I’ll be able to use a regular bed.”

“Like Mom’s?”

“Just like Mom’s.”

The little boy nodded with satisfaction. “Then we’ll come back and get you tomorrow and take you home to live with us again.”