"It went well," Okafor said. "The repair held. She's in recovery now, and she'll be groggy for hours, but her heart is working the way it should."
Ethan made a sound like air leaving a balloon, and then he was crying into Michael's shoulder, hard, shaking sobs, and Michael held him and didn't say anything at all, because there was nothing to say.
Lily patted Ethan's back with great authority. "See? Told you. Dr. Okafor is very good at his job."
"He is," Ethan said, laughing and crying at once. "He said so himself."
Karen had tears in her eyes and was pretending she didn't. "Don't look at me," she warned Michael. "I'm dehydrated."
They couldn't see Claire until late afternoon, and when they did, she was pale and groggy and beautiful to all of them. Ethan climbed carefully into the chair beside her bed and held her hand and didn't let go.
"Hey, baby," Claire whispered.
"Hey, Mom," Ethan whispered back. "Your door closes right now."
She smiled, eyes closed. "Good door," she murmured, and slept.
In the corridor, Michael called Rachel. "She's out. It went well."
"Thank God." A pause. "Michael. About the letter. I'm sorry."
"Already forgotten."
"Liar," she said fondly. "But thank you."
He hung up and stood there a moment, watching through the window as Lily showed a sleeping Claire the stegosaurus, as if she might want to know Spike was on duty. Ethan hadn't moved from the chair. The blue hair tie was still on his wrist.
Michael thought about nine days ago: a fountain, a paper bag, a question. He thought about how little he had known, and how much he knew now, and how the knowing had nothing to do with tests or paperwork.
He went back in and sat down with his family, and waited for Claire to wake up.
Outside, October was doing its best impression of winter. Inside, everything was warm.
Chapter 13: Recovery
The ICU allowed two visitors at a time and no children under twelve, which Ethan regarded as a personal insult.
"That's discriminatory," he told the nurse.
"It's policy, sweetheart."
"Policies can be wrong," Lily said. "Mrs. Delgado has a policy about no running, and Tommy Tran runs anyway."
"Tommy Tran eats paste," the nurse said. "Don't be Tommy Tran."
"I'm very mature for eight."
Lily, who was seven and therefore disqualified twice over, nodded vigorously. "He is. He's the most mature eight I know."
Michael negotiated a compromise: Ethan could stand at the ICU window for five minutes every hour, and Lily could draw pictures for the nurses to tape to Claire's wall. It wasn't enough for either of them, but it was something.
Claire was a maze of tubes and wires, pale and still, and seeing her like that undid something in Michael every time. On the second day they moved her to a regular ward, and Ethan took up residence in the chair beside her bed and refused to leave.
"You have school," Michael said.
"Mrs. Figueroa brought my homework," Ethan said, producing a workbook. "I can do it here."
"Ethan—"
"I'm not leaving." His voice was quiet but absolute. "What if she wakes up and I'm not here?"
Michael looked at Dr. Okafor, who shrugged. "Let him stay. It's good for her. Talk to her, Ethan. Hearing helps."
So Ethan stayed. He did his workbook. He read the planets book aloud. He told his sleeping mother about the vending machine and about Lily's globe and about Spike standing guard on the windowsill at home.
Michael worked from the other chair, laptop balanced on his knees, phone on silent. He reviewed briefs between nurse rounds. He took calls in the corridor, keeping his voice low.
On the third day, Briggs called.
"Rourke. The Morrison appeal is fine, Keller's handling it. But the Halden merger just landed on my desk, and it's yours if you want it. Biggest fee this firm has seen in three years."
Michael watched Ethan read to his unconscious mother through the ward window.
"Give it to Keller too," Michael said.
"You're sure? Halden could double your book."
"I'm sure. Keller's ready, and I'm where I need to be."
A pause. "Michael. This is the kind of case that makes a partnership vote."
"This is the kind of week that makes a father. I'll take the vote as it comes."
"You've changed," Briggs said.
"I've been changed," Michael said. "There's a difference."
He hung up and went back inside. Ethan looked up. "Was that work?"
"Work can wait."
"Can it? Really?"
"Really." Michael sat down. "Want to know a secret? For fifteen years I thought work was the most important thing. Then a boy at a fountain asked me a question, and it turned out I'd had the list upside down the whole time."
Ethan considered this. "What's at the top now?"
"You. Your mom. Lily. In no particular order."
"That's three things at the top."
"It's a very wide top."