The tiniest sip of water is startling, trickling down my parched throat. I’m not sure I could move a single limb if I tried.
But there is light.
And there is more. A tone once distant is drawing nearer and as my cracked voice tries to say her name, her face comes into blurry view.
“It’s okay, Lenora. Please don’t try to talk if it hurts.”
But I try again anyway. “Ma . . Mar . . .”
She cups my right hand in both of hers, and I’m not sure if it’s the wetness of my tears or hers on my cheeks. “Yes, I’m here. I’m so glad you’re awake. I’ve missed you so much.”
It strikes me that I’m not in my own bed. I’m in a hospital. Nurses and doctors bustle about the space above me as the darkness surrenders to shapes, color, and the slow-burning certainty that George will have to keep waiting for a time.
I hear another woman’s voice. A nurse? She picks up a plastic cup from the bedside table. “I’ll give you three a couple minutes alone, okay? But I’ll be right outside at the nurse’s station.”
You three? Is someone else with Mara?
Mara reads the question in my eyes. “Your uncle’s here too, Lenora. You found him. He’s been at your bedside all these weeks making sure you got the best care.”
Weeks? I try to speak again, but this time, the strain is too much.
“Would you like another drink, Elean—Lenora? I can get the cup back from the nurse.”
This . . . this must be my uncle’s voice. I heard it in the dark. There’s something about it—the timbre, the way he stretches his vowels—that reminds me of Mom.
I barely move my head, just enough to see the shape of him, backlit by stripes of sunlight that edge through window blinds. There’s something merry about the curve of his thin lips and all those lines on his face—even more than mine. I try to smile.
He takes my left hand. “I knew as soon as I saw you that you had to be Jeane’s girl. I have so many questions for you. Right now I can’t tell you what it means to me to be in the same room with you. Family.”
Family.
If only George could see me now. I bet he’d never tease me again about seeing a mystery in everything.
And Mara—oh, there’s much I want to say to her. I want to make sure she knows that even as I searched for my roots, hoping there might be something left of my old family, I was so very aware God had given me the gift of a new family. A daughter to stand in the place of all the children I never had.
Please, God, return my voice to me soon.
“Are you actually smiling, Lenora?” Mara leans closer to me, a plastic cup with a straw in her hands. “You are. Trust you to wake up after eight weeks of unconsciousness and flash a grin.”
Eight weeks. Heavens.
My uncle is standing and I see he walks with a cane, its tap and drag slow across the floor. “I’ll ask the nurse about that cup of water.”
Mara only nods, still grasping my hand. “I have so much to tell you about the Everwood. And you have to meet Marshall. He’s been staying there, but he’s not exactly a guest. . . Well, it’s hard to explain, but I think you’ll like him.”
I’ve seen moments of happiness pass over Mara’s face in the months since I met her last summer. But this—this bright-eyed glaze of sheer joy—this is new. And I don’t think my awakening is the only reason for it.
“There’s something else.” She leans in even closer. “Lenora, I emailed my dad. Just a couple days ago. I haven’t told anyone else, not even Marsh. I’m not sure why I did it. But I opened the door and I took a step through it.”
I see tears glistening in her eyes, and oh, I know what this means for her. I wish I could give her a hug. Make a cup of tea and talk for hours. Soon.
Mara blinks. “They said I could only stay in here for a few minutes, but I promise I’ll be back as soon as they let me. Did they fill you in on why you’re here before I came in? It was a horrible stroke—several actually—but you’re going to recover. I’m sure of it.”
I feel sure too. Down deep in these old bones. Someday, George. But not now.
I try to squeeze my fingers around Mara’s.
But then I realize there’s someone behind her. He approaches slowly, softly, without a word. He isn’t looking at me.
I swallow and try to whisper. “Who—”
But Mara’s hand is yanked from mine. I hear a muffled squeal and I try—oh, I try so hard—to raise any sound at all.
And then . . . she’s gone.