Will and Mary waited while Dr. Ruggles and Nurse Fitzsimmons worked over his daughter. Will glanced out the window at Ashley Springs’ largest sugar maple tree, which had inhabited these grounds for as long as anyone could remember; it probably was there before his grandmother came from Ireland. He prayed that Catherine would have long life, too.
When Dr. Ruggles turned toward him, Will feared the worst.
“Will, we need to get Catherine back into surgery. The wound’s abscessed. She’s a mighty sick little girl. I’m not sure she’ll make it, but we’ve got to get it drained. We’ve gotta get that poison out of there.”
While Dr. Ruggles talked, two nurses wheeled Catherine out the door and the resident surgeon, Dr. McReynolds, followed them down the hall toward the operating room. He didn’t stop to explain but hurried after the gurney. When Catherine was wheeled past Will, she looked right at him, but didn’t smile, didn’t whimper, and, worst of all, didn’t move. Will took Mary in his arms and helped her to the settee.
Will paced the floor. He took out his pipe. He put it back in his pocket, unlit. In between, he consoled Mary, told her that Dr. Ruggles and Dr. McReynolds were excellent doctors. They’d bring her through. He had told Catherine to be strong, and reminded himself that he must be, too. An hour passed. Another half hour. Then Dr. Ruggles walked toward them. Will thought he looked grim. He took Mary and Will’s hands. “We’ve done all we can. We drained the infection, cleaned the wound, and placed a tube to remove the seepage. We can’t do more. It’s in God’s hands now.”
“Can we see her?” Mary said.
“Not yet. She’s not recovered from the ether. We’ll call as soon as she’s conscious, as soon as the effects have worn off.”
Will and Mary waited in silence, alone with their worries. He wanted to tell Mary that Catherine would be all right, but he didn’t dare promise anything, especially anything the doctors couldn’t deliver. He didn’t blame them; they were only human. Dr. Ruggles had said that Michael would recover, he was sure of it, and Will believed, but he was wrong. He couldn’t be wrong again. He couldn’t try to know God’s will. Not this time.
They wheeled Catherine into her room. She looked so frail and weak that Will wanted to take her in his arms and hold her, keep harm away, make her healthy again. Mary took Catherine’s hand and Will thought he saw a glimmer of a smile on Catherine’s face, but he wasn’t sure. She lay so still.
“We’ll keep her here under close watch,” Nurse Fitzsimmons said. “You can sit in these chairs,” she pointed to two straight-backed, wooden chairs, “or you can sit in the waiting room. The chairs are softer there. We’ll call you if there’s any change.”
Will looked at Mary, and without a word spoken, he turned to Miss Fitzsimmons and said, “We’ll wait here.”
Nurse Fitzsimmons checked every half hour, and Will stood close behind, waited for each report. “Is she okay?” he asked after each examination. And between the nurse’s visits, when his little girl’s wellbeing fell on his shoulders, Will reacted to Catherine’s every move. When her breathing seemed labored and irregular, he panicked and started toward the nurse’s station. But Mary held him back. Then he fussed because Catherine seemed so quiet. And then when she cried out, Will rushed to her side, but Catherine lay still. He lowered his ear to her chest. Her breathing seemed normal. It must have been a dream. It would be a long night.
“She’s resting well now,” Nurse Fitzsimmons said, “but tonight is critical. If she makes it through tonight, she should be okay.”
Mary dozed in her chair, but Will stayed awake through periods of panic and calm. Why couldn’t he be like Mary? Why couldn’t he leave it in God’s hands? He paced the floor. He bent over Catherine and listened intently, listened for each breath, listened to catch any whimper or word. He watched and waited. The darkness wouldn’t go away, and the night wouldn’t end. His body wanted to quit, to drop on the floor beside Catherine, but Will wouldn’t give in. He couldn’t go to sleep. He drank cup after cup of coffee, and then he saw light on the far horizon and felt a sense of relief. Catherine had made it through the night.
The next three days, Will and Mary took turns staying with her, and she improved rapidly. Early on the fourth day, Nurse Fitzsimmons proclaimed Catherine well enough for visitors, so Will raced home to catch Sharon and Ruby before they left for school. And he was just in time. He found them at the hall closet discussing whether it was cold enough for winter coats. “Grab your jackets, girls,” he said. “No school today. Today we celebrate. We’re going to see Catherine.”
“She’s okay?” Sharon said.
“Just a minute,” Ruby said and rushed up the stairs. She was back in a minute with a big blue ribbon in her hand. “I’ve waited all week to take this to her.” She glared at her father. “You didn’t tell her, did you?”
“Not a word.”
When Catherine saw it, she cried out, “We won? My first ribbon ever. We really won it?”
“Don’t get too excited, young lady,” Will said. “Don’t tear your stitches.”
“And Miss Bridge said that you did so good and were so brave that she’s going to give you those red slippers,” Ruby said.
“And red slippers aren’t all,” Sharon said. “Just you wait until you get home.”
“Now, Sharon,” Will said. “Don’t you go telling secrets. Besides, I think Catherine’s had enough excitement for one day.”
One week after her second operation, Catherine slept in her own bed. But she didn’t sleep alone. Sharon and Ruby had placed the big wooden horse alongside Catherine’s bed where she could reach out and hug it.
When they brought her into the room and she saw it, Catherine squealed with delight. “That’s for me? I’ve got my own horsey?” And when she was assured that it was hers, she responded, “I’ll take good care of him, I promise.”
And Catherine didn’t complain, not once, that she couldn’t ride. Although she looked uncomfortable to Will, Catherine slept through the night, her fingers grasping the horse’s silver mane. And Will felt sure that she dreamed about adventures they’d have together.
But Will had another surprise in mind. As Catherine regained her strength slowly, they walked around the yard and down the block for exercise. Each day, they went further until he was sure she was ready. Then one day they walked down the valley road, the road that Will had never taken Catherine along before.
They listened to the current sing its song and watched the birds flit from branch to branch at the water’s edge. “That’s a brown-headed cowbird,” he said. “A lazy bird. Must think she’s well-to-do. Leaves her young with a nanny.”
Will described a red-winged blackbird, a brown thrush, and a meadow lark.
Catherine squealed her delight when a German brown trout surfaced to grab a bug.
Then Will saw it. “Look over there. It’s an indigo bunting. See the blue speck?” Will pointed across the stream to where the iridescent bird darted among the hawthorn branches. This was the first one he had seen since that day he sat with Michael at this very spot, and he was sure it was a sign that all was well with his little family. Even while the world fell apart around them.