Ethan turned to her. “Wow, Jos. That’s a lot of ice. And you hauled it all in there yourself?”
“We. Have. An ice machine?”
Ethan nodded, pointing into the shed. “It’s that big black thing next to the freezers.”
“And it’s working just fine?”
“Mm-hm.”
“And you heard me on the phone with Ike yesterday.”
“Yep.”
“Ordering ice.”
“Yep.”
“Which you knew we didn’t need. And that I was going to be hauling at oh-dark-thirty this morning.”
“That was kind of the best part.”
Josie clenched her hands into fists. “You are such an—”
Ike tried to cover his mouth, but a chortle escaped before he could catch it. “Oh boy. I think I’m gonna be going now.” He climbed into the cab of his truck and leaned out the window. “Now, Josie. You know my number if you need more ice. I’ll be back later to tow your Jeep to the garage.” He slapped the door, laughing, as he chugged back down the pathway.
Josie turned on Ethan. “I cannot believe you let me order ice, when you knew we had plenty already here.”
“Well, you were all fired up playing Miss Problem Solver, so what was I to say? You’re the boss’s daughter, after all.” He sipped his coffee, raising his eyebrows in challenge. “Who was I to question you?”
“Jerk.”
“I prefer opportunist.” He turned toward the administration building. “I might need you to work some overtime, though, to pay off all that ice.”
* * *
At eight o’clock Ben’s voice came over the handheld radio on Ethan’s desk, but Josie was the only one in the office. She was still trying to cool down, both physically and figuratively.
She grabbed the radio and pressed the button to talk. “Hey, Ben. It’s Josie.”
“Well, Twinkle-toes. Ethan finally letting you in the office?”
“Not by choice, I’m afraid.”
“Good for you. He’ll adjust. So I need a favor, actually.”
“Name it.”
“I’m stuck out here trying to get that new part into the Twinkle Fairy, and I need somebody to do the upper rounds before we open. You remember how?”
Josie rolled her eyes. “Turn ’em on, make sure nothing falls apart, give the thumbs-up?”
“Yep.” He chuckled. “That’s about it.”
“I think I can handle that.”
“Good to have you back, hon. Over ‘n’ out.”
Half an hour later, when she’d checked all the rides except the Ferris wheel, Josie took a deep breath, looking up the hill toward its gleaming red, white, and green seats. She couldn’t avoid it any longer. The park couldn’t open until all rides had been cleared for takeoff, and that meant she needed to walk up the hill, unlock the controls, and run the wheel around a few times to make sure all was well. There was no way around it.
She started up the hill, but didn’t make it more than five steps before she had to stop, her heart racing like a hummingbird’s.
Dammit, when was she going to be able to do this?
Before Avery, it had been her favorite ride. For most of her childhood, she’d been the first one on and the last one off, every single day. Ben had made sure of it.
* * *
“Ready, Twinkle-toes?” Ben clanked the bar into place across her eight-year-old body in the fading twilight.
“Ready, Captain.”
“I’ll need a full report this evening.”
“Got it.”
“Moon position, star count, number of cars at the bowling alley. It’s league night.”
“I’m on it.” Josie saluted, then checked her pink watch. “Is the train coming through tonight?”
“Yup. Passenger one this time.”
“Where’s it going?” She knew, but always asked.
“Boston and New York City, m’dear.” He made his voice sound like a conductor. “Boston and New York.”
“Will you take me to the city someday, Ben?”
“Absolutely. We’ll do a Red Sox game.”
“And a duck tour!”
“Whatever you want, honey. But y’know what? I think you’ll probably take yourself there before I’ll get a chance.”
“It wouldn’t be as fun without you.”
“That’s nice of you to say.”
She frowned. “Daddy thinks I’m going to be a Snow Princess and stay here forever and ever.”
“Maybe you will, maybe you won’t. Time will tell.” Ben stepped back and touched the lever. “Ready?”
“Ready!”
“I’ll be right down here when you’re ready to come down.”
“I know, Ben. You’re always here.”
“You just remember that, young lady.” Josie saw him look away quickly before he pulled on the lever and sent her to the top of the world. “You just remember that.”
* * *
Josie shook her head as she pulled her radio off her waist and called for Ben. She couldn’t do it.
She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to do it.
* * *
“What’s the emergency?” At one o’clock that afternoon, Josie peeked in the backstage door of the live theater, where five teenagers were scurrying around pulling on costumes and grabbing props. One of them had just called the admin office and asked her to come over immediately.
“Ryan’s a no-show.” A reindeer with a bright red clown nose turned toward Josie. “And we’re on in five!”
“Who’s Ryan? And why did you guys call me?”
“Ryan’s the Table Elf. Ethan told us to call you. He said you could be our special guest substitute. And plus, we’re desperate!”
Josie growled internally as she slowly pulled her body through the door. First the ice, and now she had to sub for an AWOL teenage actor? On a stage that had dumped her into a timpani twelve years ago?
“Here.” Santa tossed her an elf suit. “You sit stage left on the stool.”
“You have got to be kidding me.” Josie held up the costume. “Have we not updated any of the costumes in the past ten years?”
“Sorry, Miss Kendrew. It’s all we have that’ll fit you. The Snow Princess dress is already being used.”
Was it Josie’s imagination, or was Santa smirking?
“I thought we never used—never mind.” She dodged behind a changing screen and pulled on the costume. “It’s okay. I can do this. I’ve done the elf thing. Do I have lines?”
“We taped them to the floor by your stool.”
“Thank you. That was very thoughtful.” Josie pulled the hat over her head, which sent her curls sproinging out the bottom edges like an upside-down cupcake. Her straightening iron was turning out to be little match for this week’s Vermont-style humidity.
Santa grimaced and came closer, pointing at her hair. “Can you tuck in your hair? You’re supposed to be a guy.”
“You see that I’m trying, right?”
Dammit. For every curl she got tucked in, two more sprung out.
“But you have to flirt with the Door Elf, and she’s a girl.”
“Maybe you’d like to call Ethan back here and put him in the costume, then?”
Santa turned toward the stage. “No. We’re good. It’s all good.”
Josie looked in the mirror mounted on the wall and made a vain attempt at tucking in her hair, but not before she heard Santa whisper, “It’s gonna be a disaster.”
The Snow Princess looked back. “At least there’s no timpani.”
Chapter 19
Forty minutes later, Josie stormed into Elf Central, determined to find Ethan and give him a piece of her mind. She flew up the stairs and banged into the office, only to find him lounged in his desk chair, feet on the desk as he talked on the phone.
She glared at him from the doorway, but he just smiled benignly and pointed at the phone. He delivered a full two-minute string of uh-huhs and hms and you don’t says w
hile Josie paced and muttered, waiting for him to finish.
Finally she stomped over to the window, and when she did, she could see the readout on Ethan’s phone from behind him. There was no one on the damn phone.
“You miserable, conniving—” She put her finger down to hang up the phone, and he whipped around, barely containing his laughter.
“How was the show?”
Josie put her hands on her hips. “I can’t believe you sent a kid on a fake hardware store errand just so I’d have to go on stage.”
“I really needed those light bulbs.” Ethan shrugged his shoulders playfully and put his palms up. “You said you wanted to work, right? That was work. I’m really sorry. Couldn’t be helped.”
“You know how much I hate that stage.”
He gave her a pointed look that she read perfectly. You hate everything here, Josie, it said. Then he folded his hands behind his head and leaned back. “Did you survive the show?”
“I did. No thanks to you. They made me do a solo. And made timpani jokes.” She spun his chair toward her. “How exactly do they know about the timpani?”
Ethan cleared his throat carefully. “There’s a … a video.”
Josie felt her eyes pop. “There’s a video? Are you kidding me?”
“We use it at the beginning of the summer as an icebreaker during training.”
“You use a video of me falling into a big freaking drum as an ice—That is cold, Ethan. Cold.”
“But funny.”
“That was probably the most embarrassing moment of my entire teenage life.”
“Which is why it makes such great viewing.” Ethan smiled innocently.
“I—” Josie’s phone beeped and Mom’s number popped up. She pointed a warning finger at Ethan. “We are not done yet.”
He did a fake shiver, then put his feet down, focusing on his computer as she took the call.
“Hi, Mom. What’s up?”
“Josie! Oh thank God you’re there! Your father! He’s waking up!”
“He’s waking up? Really?” Josie started tossing things in the backpack she’d pulled out of her bedroom closet this morning. “I’ll be right there!”
She clicked the phone shut, then looked at Ethan, her mouth open in shock. “He’s—awake.”
“That’s great!”
“I need to—I have to—”
“Go, Josie. Go see him.”
She finished stuffing things in her backpack, hands shaky, then she sprinted out the door and down the stairs. Speed was key here. If she slowed down, she’d have to think about the hundred or so questions circling her brain. How would he be? What would she say to him? What if—what if he didn’t want her there?
She got to the bottom of the stairs and pressed the crash bar to head outside, fumbling automatically for her keys. Then she stopped, swearing silently as she bounced her forehead softly on the door.
Dammit. She had nothing but a dead Jeep and a bicycle … and the hospital was ten miles away.
“Need a ride?”
Josie squeezed her eyes shut as Ethan came down the stairs, jingling his keys. She turned. “You’d let me borrow your truck?”
“Heck, no.” He pushed the door open and motioned her through. “You were a terrible driver before you moved to the city. I can’t afford to replace my truck. I’ll drive you.”
“You don’t have to do this.” She fell into step beside him as they crossed the courtyard.
“I know.” He shrugged. “I want to.”
Twenty minutes later, they hurried down the hospital hallway toward the waiting room, Josie struggling to keep up with his long strides.
“Ethan, seriously. You should go back to the park.”
“If the park collapses because I’m gone for an hour, we have bigger problems than I want to know about right now.”
He opened the waiting room door for her. “I know you’re big and strong and don’t need anyone … but maybe you will.”
She looked at his eyes, and he was doing that sincere-adorable thing that used to bring her to her proverbial knees, and all she could manage was a soft thank you.
“Hands.” Ida, the hospital-volunteer-slash-waiting-room-guard, pointed at the sink, without looking up.
“Good afternoon, Ida. It’s lovely to see you, too.” Josie flipped on the faucet and squirted soap into her palms, then toweled off as Ethan washed his hands. “Is my mom in with my dad right now?”
“Yes. You can’t go in. One visitor at a time.”
“Thank you. I know the rule. You tell me every time I come.”
Josie found a seat against the wall, and Ethan settled beside her. He leaned over to whisper, “Is she always so pleasant?”
“Every single day, yes. The friendly pink smock is just a disguise.”
“I can’t believe they still only let in one person at a time. It’s a step-down unit, isn’t it?”
“It’s Ida’s unit.”
They sat in silence for a few moments, until Ethan leaned over again. “Are you nervous?”
Josie rubbed her hands together. How had he known? “A little, yeah.”
“Liar.”
“Okay, a lot.”
Ethan reached out a hand toward her knee, but pulled it back like he’d thought better of it.
She puffed out a couple of nervous breaths. “What if he’s paralyzed? What if he can’t talk?” What if seeing me sends him straight into another stroke?
“One step at a time. Don’t worry before you have to.”
“I know, I know. But I can’t help it. He’s been down for so long.”
“You never know. Did Ike tell you the story about his sister?”
“Yeah, he did.” Josie leaned forward, elbows on her knees, hands clenched under her chin. “Let’s hope Dad has the same miraculous recovery.”
Ethan reached his hand across the back of her chair, then touched her back tentatively. Before she could even register its warmth, though, he pulled it back into his lap.
He cleared his throat. “Do you want a coffee or something?”
“I think if I have any more today, I’m going to jump out of my own skin.” Josie sat back up, but couldn’t seem to figure out what to do with her hands.
“Well, if you hadn’t started at six o’clock this morning…”
“Do not get me started, mister. I’m not going to be able to move tomorrow, after tossing all that ice around.”
He laughed softly. “It’s a lot of ice.”
“Shut up.”
Ida looked up. “Ms. Kendrew? The doctor’s in the conference room with your mother. They’d like you to come in.”
Josie’s stomach jumped. “Doctor? Oh. Wow.” She fumbled for her backpack. “Okay. This will be okay. O-kay.”
She stood up, shaky on her feet, and immediately Ethan was beside her, a steadying hand on her elbow.
“You all right?” His eyes were serious now, all amusement gone.
Josie took a deep breath. “I’m fine. It’s—fine. I’ll be fine.” She adjusted her backpack. “You should go back to the park. This could take—a while. I think. I don’t know. I guess I really don’t know.”
God, she hated how she felt right now—like she wanted to grab his hand and pull him down the hallway with her.
“I’ll be right here, Jos.”
She looked up at him, and as much as his words sent rays of warmth right through her, she also felt a keen sense of danger.
She didn’t want him to wait.
No. That wasn’t right.
She didn’t want to want him to wait.
* * *
“Mrs. Kendrew, I realize this is all a little scary, but I want to assure you it’s normal.” The neurologist took off his glasses and set them on the tiny round table in the family conference room half an hour later. Josie had popped into Dad’s room quickly on her way down the hallway, and she was still shaking. Dad wasn’t … Dad.
“But he looks so confused. I don’t think he even knew
me.” Mom’s eyes teared up again. “He didn’t know Josie, either.”
Josie spun her coffee cup slowly on the table, holding it with both hands. Ethan had just brought it in and left, probably to do Ida-penance if he’d sneaked by her. He’d made it perfectly—two sugars, three creams—without even asking her. In this little universe where everything seemed topsy-turvy, the small gesture gave her a comfort she hadn’t expected.
Danger.
She shook her head, focusing on the neurologist.
“Again, that’s not unusual, and it’s also not necessarily indicative of the way things will play out. His brain’s had quite a traumatic injury, so it’s going to take some time to see what his function level is.”
Mom nodded, but swallowed hard. Josie stopped spinning her coffee and spoke for the first time. “Can you give us any idea at all what we might be looking at here? Just so we can try to be prepared?”
He nodded slowly. “Well, with a right cerebral hemorrhage like his, we’ll generally see most of the impact happening on his left side. He may also have some trouble speaking, especially at first, and might have trouble understanding you.”
He handed Mom a small pile of papers and brochures. “It’s a lot to take in, I know. We’ve talked about it over the past couple of days, and now we’ll really be able to start figuring out where he’s at so we can make plans to get him better.”
He tapped the brochures. “There’s a lot of good information in these resources, so when you have time, take a read-through.”
Josie watched Mom carefully. So far she’d been holding it together, but it looked like her string was about to snap.
Josie took a deep breath. “Dr. Edelman, what’s the worst-case scenario here?”
He smiled gently. “I really hate to focus on the worst case, only because there’s so much we can’t tell yet about how your dad will recover.”
“Well.” She tapped nervously on the table. “I think we’re sort of expect-the-worst kind of people. That way, if the worst doesn’t happen, it’s kind of a bonus.”
Dr. Edelman looked from one of them to the other, not answering.
“We need to know. Please.”
“Okay.” He paused. “Well, worst-case scenario is significant paralysis, speech impairment, memory loss, incontinence, seizures … but again, we just don’t know yet. And sometimes, many of the early impacts can be mitigated with therapies. We just don’t know. Your dad could end up experiencing all of those things, or none. Only time will tell.”
Forever This Time Page 14
