“He was distracted when we saw him. It was late. Long day.” My dad slides his phone back into his pocket and sits next to me on the bed, squeezing my hand. “I’m so glad you and Aria are okay.”
“The driver died,” Harry says.
“What?”
My dad frowns. “The guy who hit you. He died at the scene.”
“Drunk driver.” Harry looks at the monitors above my bed.
“What?” I whisper.
“He deserved to die,” Harry adds without a shred of emotion.
My heart feels like it’s being squeezed to death. “Does Flint know?”
Dad nods.
“I …” I shake my head. “I have to get back to the NICU. I need you to find Flint for me as soon as possible.”
“Maybe he’s at the airport. His parents were flying in this morning.”
I nod. “Maybe. But please keep trying to get hold of him for me, okay?”
“Okay.”
I reach over and tug at Harry’s arm. He jumps like usual then settles into my touch. “Do you want to meet your baby sister?”
He shrugs. I’ll take the lack of a solid no as a yes or at least a maybe. I’ll take anything anyone will give me to keep my mind off the fact that Flint is missing. I know it has everything to do with the cause of my accident.
Past colliding with present. His son showing no empathy—no forgiveness. It’s been the nightmare that Flint’s been running from for over ten years.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
It’s been four days. No Flint, in spite of his dad looking everywhere.
The doctor discharged me this morning, but I won’t leave Aria. Then there’s Harry … he breaks my heart. I can tell he’s starting to worry about his dad. What will he do when he finds out that Flint’s running from him? From the truth. From ten years of pacing the gates of Hell.
“She likes that,” the nurse whispers as I hum one of the many lullabies I sang to Aria in the womb.
With a smile, I nod while feeding Aria. I sing and hum to her all the time, watching the monitors to make sure she’s never overstimulated.
After she’s done feeding, I let the nurse examine her while I use the bathroom. When I come out, another nurse stops me.
“Is your husband feeling better?” the nurse asks.
I bite my tongue from saying that he’s not my husband. “Feeling better?”
“It’s heartbreaking to see him at night watching you and Aria from the window.” She nods to the window opposite of where I hold Aria. “I told him to go in, but he said he’s fighting a cold.”
“When’s the last time you saw him?”
She shrugs. “Last night. He’s been here every night. Just … standing there for hours.”
I nod slowly, biting my lips together. Tears burn my eyes. Of course he’s watching over us. He’s always there watching … protecting. He’s my superhero fighting his mortality.
“Elle.”
I turn. “Camilla.” I smile.
She holds up her phone.
FLINT: I’m safe. Don’t worry. Tell Elle I’m sorry.
More tears sting my eyes. “Where’s Harry?”
“Gene needed coffee. They’ll be here soon.”
“We’re here.” Gene holds up his coffee as they walk down the hall toward us.
I blink back my tears and find the perfect smile for Harry. “Are you ready to be Aria’s music therapist today?”
“I’m not a music therapist. You just told me to bring my guitar.” He holds up the case.
I nod toward the entrance. “Let’s play her a lullaby. You’re going to let your fingers whisper to the strings.”
He stares at me expressionless. “O … K.”
I bring her to my chest, letting my heart start the rhythm of the song. “What’s your favorite lullaby, Harry?” I whisper. “Play it.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t.”
“You can. Let your fingers translate what’s in your head.” He can do this. He’s just that gifted. And the wonder of it all is that he doesn’t see it yet.
His brow tenses; a few seconds later his fingers do exactly what I told them to do … they whisper to the strings. He plays “You Are My Sunshine.”
It’s my turn to save Flint. I’m going to piece his world back together. He just needs to hold on. He needs to give me a chance, the one thing Alex never did.
*
After Aria’s next feeding, I ask Camilla to sit with her while I take Harry to the cafeteria for lunch.
“You walk really slow.”
I laugh as we step onto the elevator. “I’m still sore from the accident, and I have an incision on my abdomen from the C-section. Everything’s a little sore when I move, so I move slowly.”
“They cut her out of you?”
“Yes.”
“My mom pushed me out. My dad has a video of it. He had me watch it once. It’s pretty gross.”
We get some food. Harry sticks with a bowl of fruit. He seems lost when Flint’s not around to tell him what’s safe to eat.
“After your mom died, you lived with your grandma. Did you ever wonder about your dad?”
Harry chews a piece of cantaloupe and shrugs. “He was sick.”
“Is that what she told you?”
He nods.
“But then you ended up living with your dad again.”
“He got better.”
“Did anyone ever tell you what kind of sickness he had?” I blow on my hot soup.
“What do you mean?”
“There are a lot of different illnesses: cancer, heart disease, diabetes.”
“No. My grandma just said he was sick, and maybe I could see him if he got better.”
I stare at my soup. It must have been difficult to explain this to a young child. “Well, here’s the truth about illnesses or diseases, most of them are preventable through better choices. Diet, exercise, abstaining from drug and alcohol use. But a lot of these things are addictive. You probably know that tobacco, like cigarettes, are addictive, but so are unhealthy foods. Too much fat can lead to heart disease. Too much sugar can lead to obesity and diabetes. And the more we eat these foods, the more our bodies crave them. Food can be just as addictive and harmful as any drug.”
“My dad thinks I’m addicted to sugar. That’s why he limits it.”
I smile. “But you like sugar, right?”
He nods.
“When there’s a plate of cookies in front of you, is it hard to resist eating them?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s because the feeling you get when you’re eating them is a drug. Just like someone who inhales the nicotine of a cigarette, they get this good feeling in their body. But these feelings are temporary, so to keep the feeling alive, we need more and more. More sugar. More nicotine. More fat. More salty chips.”
“You’re not making cookies anymore, are you?”
I laugh a little. “I’ll make you cookies as long as you can control how many you eat. But if you start to get shaky and moody, or you start to gain an unhealthy amount of weight, then I’ll have to stop baking cookies.”