When his eyes open, his first reaction is relief. The ceiling overhead is the ceiling of his bedroom, with the frosted glass dome light fixture that Anarosa chose for the room. He closes his eyes again, just for a moment, and lets out a wheezy breath of gratitude before opening them again.
Not dead.
But then he tries to move and cannot manage it. Not a twitch. Fear floods through him and he thinks about where the bullets struck and realizes that he is paralyzed, that one of them must have severed his spine.
Someone moves off to the left of his bed. He hears a soft female sigh and thinks for just a moment that it must be Skyler . . . and then she moves toward him, standing beside the bed, filling his field of vision, and he sees that it is not.
It’s Savannah, whole and beautiful, alive and well. Her hair is tied back tightly and she wears no makeup, but she is so pretty that it fills his heart just to see her. His baby girl. Tears spill from her eyes as she gazes down at him and he wants to take her hand, to hold her and speak a father’s love for his daughter, but he is frozen.
“Oh, Daddy, I’m sorry,” she says, voice breaking. “It was the only way.”
Only when she lifts it to her lips does he see the small bone pipe in her hand, his name scrawled upon it in her blood.
A figure moves to the foot of the bed and he realizes that it is Enoch, also whole and healed.
And Savannah begins to play.