Lab reports came in that afternoon. The drug in Dez’s IV could have been fatal, but she’d received antidotes soon enough that nobody expected serious complications.
“I wouldn’t be too surprised if she was a little drowsier than normal,” the doctor explained.
“I should be so lucky.” Jade grinned at her daughter.
“Hey.” Dez gave a playful pout.
Right before dinnertime, the nurse came in with all the discharge paperwork and instructions. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect, since Pastor Reggie and his family were due to land at the airport any minute. Thankfully the pastor’s van would have enough space to fit Jade, Dez, and Ben. It would be midnight or maybe even later by the time they reached Glennallen, but at least they could spend the night at their home.
Two different police officers stopped by to hear Jade’s story about shooting Gabriel at the cabin. Ben assured her it was standard procedure and that she didn’t have anything to worry about. She wanted to trust him, but she still had a hard time believing the justice system would be completely fair and unbiased toward her. Hopefully, the fact that Gabriel had held Jade at gunpoint, that the gun she’d shot him with was his own, and that he was one of the men who’d abducted her daughter would free her of any murder charges. Ben knew a lawyer in Anchorage he promised to get her in touch with, even suggesting he might help her out pro bono if she ended up needing legal advice.
Jade was thankful for his help. Thankful that in this sea of cops in their imposing uniforms, she had someone she could count on as a friend. An ally. Ben spent nearly the entire day at the hospital, laughing when a therapy dog came in to cheer Dez up with some tricks, keeping Jade supplied with as much coffee as she could ever want.
“You sure you’re not getting too bored with plain old black?” he asked, his teasing eyes twinkling.
She grinned back. “Are you saying a little cream might do me some good?”
“Never know unless you try.”
It was nice to have a friend.
After all the discharge paperwork was filled out, Dez hopped into a wheelchair to head downstairs. While she kicked her light-up tennis shoes on the foot rests, Ben insisted on taking a few selfies with her. “It’s not every kid who gets to ride their own chariot. I don’t think even Elsa had one of these in Frozen, did she?”
“Elsa could have made one out of ice.”
Ben smiled. “But I bet she wouldn’t have looked as smart as you do, though.”
Halfway down the hallway, he asked the nurse if he could be the one behind the wheelchair. “Now I can say I’ve pushed a real princess around.”
Jade worried he was spoiling her daughter. Most days, it took all of Jade’s energy to get them to the daycare on time and come home and crash on the couch for a few minutes before it was time to heat up something for dinner. She was thankful for all of Ben’s attention, but she hoped Dez wouldn’t be disappointed when they got back to Glennallen and life returned to normal.
At least the daycare was closed for Christmas break. Jade would try to find the energy to do some arts and crafts with Dez. Maybe bake some cookies. The downside was that no work meant such a meager paycheck at the end of the month. She still wasn’t sure what she was going to do about presents. How sad was it that just a few hours after promising God to be better mom if he only brought her daughter back to her, Jade was reverting right back to her old tired, worried self, stressed out about money, easily annoyed if Dez asked too many questions or demanded too much out of her.
Ben wheeled Dez into the hospital gift shop, insisting that she pick out anything she wanted. Jade watched them, despising the familiar feeling of guilt that seemed to permeate her entire life as a mother. Guilt she wasn’t doing enough, buying enough, being enough for her daughter. Ben was nice, but Jade couldn’t shake the feeling that he was showing off.
See? Being a parent is easy. Look how good at it I already am, and she’s not even mine.
Ben would never know what it felt like to be Dez’s mom. To be so terrified for her daughter’s safety you nearly threw up. To experience those heart palpitations and that cold sweat every time you thought about what might have happened. What had already happened.
Kids are resilient. It was something Jade had been telling herself for years, ever since Dez was a baby and managed to roll herself off the bed and land on the hard, wooden floor.
“Kids are resilient,” the phone nurse said, calming Jade’s fears, assuaging her guilt.
Maybe the nurse was right. Jade watched her daughter in the gift store checkout line, holding two new books plus a giant Elsa balloon she’d conned Ben into buying for her. There was no visible indication that her daughter had just survived a kidnapping, a night in the woods, and a poisoning attempt. Dez was smiling, playful, and as lively as always.
Kids are resilient. Maybe Dez had already bounced back from all the fear and trauma she’d endured. But what if she was carrying it beneath the surface? What if the trauma wouldn’t come out for months or even years? Would Jade wake up when her daughter was a high-schooler only to learn that Dez’s eating disorders and propensity to self-harm all stemmed back from the past twenty-four hours?
Someone like Ben didn’t have to worry about that. All he had to do was crack jokes and hand over his credit card to the cashier behind the counter. Jade had no idea how much money Alaska state troopers made, but it was certainly more than a thirty-hour-a-week daycare employee.
“You’re doing it again, Mom,” were the first words out of Dez’s mouth when Ben wheeled her out of the store. Jade wasn’t about to argue and risk Ben’s overhearing. She pried her eyes away from him and smiled at her daughter. “Ready to go home, baby?”
Dez nodded. “Yeah. But can we make a quick stop first? Officer Ben’s gonna buy me a big old hamburger with lots of French fries. And ice cream, too.”