“Hey-hey! Come here, sweetie. I’m okay. Just a bump on the back of my head . . . it’s not your fault. I don’t know why on earth you think it would be.”
They were still resolutely standing a couple of inches out of arms reach. “Come on,” I coaxed, and Andrew came up to hug me around the middle. I brushed my hand from the top of his head to the nape of his neck. “I love you, Drews,” I said, getting choked up.
“Me too, Katie . . . I love you, too.”
I looked over to an almost comically miserable-looking Mikey. “Okay— your turn.” I threw my arms wide, and he came forward with his need for me warring with his need not to break me. At last, after he was sure I really wouldn’t break, he gingerly laid his head on my lap. Then started sobbing.
“Shhhh . . . I’m fine. Everything’s okay,” I crooned to him while stroking his back.
Nurse Gloria came in a few minutes later with Pete, who had quietly slipped out of the room. “Hey-hey. None of that cryin’ now,” she commanded sternly. “What’d I tell you? She’s fine. Just needs a little TLC for the next few days. You can help with that, right?” Serious head nods followed by “yes ma’ams” and shimmers of tears all around.
“Okay, Miss Connelly, you are officially discharged. Your father’s waitin’ for you in the waitin’ room. Here is the instructions.” She handed me what looked like a master’s thesis amount of paperwork. “Make sure he reads it— not you—and does everything he’s supposed to do tonight and tomorrow especially. As much as I’ve enjoyed your visit . . . we don’t wanna see you back in here.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I smiled. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now I have to wheel you on out now—rules is rules. But it don’t say nothin’ ‘bout helpers.” She eyed my brothers. “Which one of you strappin’ young men would like to help push?”
Two hands shot up. “Me! Me!”
Nurse Gloria chuckled. “That’s about what I thought. Come on . . . I guess we’ll do one on each side.”
I was wheeled—slowly and carefully—out the swinging double doors and into the waiting room. That reminded me: I’d have to let Norma know I couldn’t work this weekend. A smile lit up my face at the thought of a whole week taking it easy. That smile lasted as long as it took my eyes to register Daddy, the lone stander in the waiting room. Arms folded, he glowered down at me like he’d been called in to pick me up from the principal’s office.
“Hi, Daddy,” I squeaked.
He nodded at me, cleared his throat. “You alright, Katie-girl?”
I nodded my head. (The first time I’d voluntarily moved it since the accident.) “Just a concussion.”
“Well that’s somethin’ good I ‘spose.” Daddy’s lips pulled into line formation. One, two, three beats: “Do you have any idea how much this little stunt’s gonna cost me?” Unable to keep it in for all the tea in Texas.
I drew in a shaky breath, aware of awareness from others of our situation. “I was only tryin’ to help” came out the same time Pete came striding through the double doors. He was carrying a plastic bag most likely containing my soiled clothes and a handful of paperwork.
“Nothing,” he said, his timing so impeccable I had to wonder if he was hiding out behind the door eavesdropping. “It will cost you nothing, because it’s already been taken care of—compliments of The Academy.”
“Oh, hey, Pete . . .” Daddy faltered. “I didn’t know you was still here.” He thrust a hand out for Pete to shake. It looked to me like Pete would rather shake hands with that dead rat I yanked from the tank, but he rallied quickly enough, coming forward to shake hands cordially, if stiffly.
“I gotta say thanks, Cadet Davenport. You saved the day once again.”
“Don’t mention it,” Pete said.
An awkward pause ensued that Daddy filled with some cringe-worthy babbling. “Boy!—kids.” He shook his head. “You gotta watch ‘em all the time, or they get into trouble ever’ minute.” This as though I’d been off breaking windows with stones in my spare time.
A thundercloud appeared on Pete’s face that he couldn’t quite seem to manage to stave off. Meanwhile, Daddy was going on, quite oblivious to the fact that not only was he singing off key, but he was singing to the wrong choir entirely.
“I told her I’d take care of the tank problem.” Daddy spared a glance at his injured daughter. “But you know young ladies . . . impetuous as the day is long.”
“Hey!” Mikey interjected hotly. “That’s not twue!” I immediately grabbed his arm, but he simply stepped out of my grasp.
Daddy turned the color of summer beets, smiling like a criminal before a jury. “Young man, where are yer manners? You do not in’errupt grown-ups when they’re speakin’.” He looked at Pete as though for support, but Pete’s face remained unmoved as the Statue of David.
“Anyhow,” Daddy went on, clearing his throat and switching gears. “As much as we appreciate the offer . . . we don’t need no charity from yer academy. We take care of our own bills. Always have . . . always will.” He clamped a hard hand on my shoulder, making me aware that I had an ache back there. “Katie will pay it back from the money she earns waitressin’. Right, Katie-girl?”
“Yes, sir.” I nodded my head earnestly up at Pete. “That’s what I was plannin’ on doin’ anyhow.”
“You see?” Daddy beamed at me proudly like I’d finally hit my mark. “That’s the way I raise up my children—to be real responsible. I bet she won’t be so careless next time,” he crowed.
I saw the thundercloud shadowing Pete’s face again, and worried, like lightening, he was about to strike. His jaw worked back and forth until he got it together enough to release the tension so he could speak.
“Well, we can get the trivial matter of the bill settled later. For now, the important thing is your daughter’s recovery.” He looked, I thought, a bit too sternly at Daddy. “She will need full bed rest for forty-eight hours minimum. After that, if there are no complications, she can gradually add light activities back—no calf feeding, no heavy lifting—only light housework. I’ll let her teachers know of her condition.” He addressed Nurse Gloria: “Would you be so kind as to get a note from Dr. Shaw?”
“Yessir, boss man.” Nurse Gloria graced Pete with her gap-toothed smile. “I see you got this.”
“Thank you.” Pete turned back to Daddy. “In the meantime, go ahead and get her home. I’ll pick up her prescriptions.”
“I don’t really think that’s necessary. You done enough already, Pete. Anyhow, I think we got a coupl’uh Advils rollin’ around somewhere in the back of the medicine cabinet . . . does the job just fine when my leg’s actin’ up.”
“No Ibuprofen,” Pete swiftly countered. “It could cause bleeding. Acetaminophen is okay, but a prescription strength pain reliever is best. She’ll most likely wake up to the biggest headache of her life in a couple of hours when the morphine wears off.”