Daniel's Gift

by Barbara Freethy

  "Jenny, stop."

  "Marriage and children. He's barely begun to live, Luke. This is so unfair."

  Luke moved from the couch to the floor, putting his fingers against her lips, feeling the heat of her anger and desperation on his skin. "I think whatever happens, Jenny, that Danny will be okay."

  Her eyes widened in surprise, confusion. "What -- what are you saying?"

  Luke shrugged, feeling self-conscious, but this was Jenny he was talking to, a woman who believed in miracles more than he did. "I've seen Danny a couple of times. In my dreams. Actually, it seems like a dream, but I'm awake, and he's there. He talks to me."

  "What -- what does he say?"

  "The first time he came was the night he got hit by the car. Must have been hours after his surgery. He called me Dad." Luke's voice caught in his throat as he fought back an overwhelming rush of emotion. "He told me to visit him in the hospital."

  "I don't understand."

  "It sounds unbelievable. I feel like an idiot for even mentioning it."

  Jenny stared at him for a long moment. "You're lying. You're making this up."

  He looked at her in surprise and annoyance. "Why would I make it up?"

  "Danny wouldn't talk to you. He'd talk to me. I'm his mother, his best friend." She slugged Luke in the arm so hard he flinched. "You are nobody to him."

  "I'm his father."

  "Go home, Luke. I don't want you here anymore."

  "He talked to me, Jenny. Danny told me what you wanted for your birthday. He told me where to buy it."

  Jenny touched the angel pin on her shoulder, her expression growing more bewildered by the minute.

  "Danny told me you broke up with Alan. He was actually pretty happy about it," Luke added.

  The tension on her face eased slightly as she looked at him. "Danny and Alan were never friends. What else did Danny say? Is he going to recover?"

  Luke shook his head. "He said he didn't know."

  Jenny shook her head. "This is crazy. Danny is in the hospital in a coma. He is not visiting you in your dreams or anywhere else."

  "I can't explain it, Jenny. I can't touch him. I can't feel his body, but I can see him and I can hear his voice. He talks to me."

  "Can you see him now?"

  "No, and I can't call him up at will. He just appears out of nowhere. He talks about someone named Jacob, but I never see this person."

  "What's Danny wearing in your dream?"

  "Blue jeans, a sweatshirt that's really too big for him. Jenny, I can't believe you let him dress like that."

  "It's the style."

  "And a baseball cap turned backward."

  She put a hand to her mouth. "That's what he was wearing when he was hit by the car." She raced over to the hall closet and pulled out Danny's backpack, the one he had had with him the night of the accident. In it were his schoolbooks, and the clothes the hospital had removed from his body. They were cut and torn, but as Jenny held them out to him, Luke could see that they matched the clothes Danny wore in his dreams.

  "They're the same."

  Jenny sank down on the couch, pressing Danny's sweatshirt against her lips, smelling the scent of her son on the material. "This isn't fair, Luke. I should be the one Danny comes to. I'm his mother. What did I do wrong? Why doesn't he want to see me?"

  "It may not be Danny's choice. For all we know, I'm just having some incredibly vivid hallucinations."

  Luke drew her into his arms. He stroked her hair, wishing he could comfort her, but all he had were meaningless words.

  "I want to go to church," Jenny said abruptly. "I want to pray. I know it's been a long time since I've gone and maybe God's given up on me, but I feel like I need to do this. To throw myself on my knees, to beg for a miracle."

  "I'll go with you."

  "Really? You don't believe in God."

  "I don't know what I believe in anymore."

  "I'm sorry I hit you."

  Luke tilted his head and smiled down at her. "You owe me a million more punches, Jenny. I'll take everything you've got. Just let me be a part of your life. Maybe I don't deserve it. In fact, I know I don't. Let me stay anyway."

  "I couldn't get rid of you even if I wanted to."

  "Do you want to?"

  After a moment, she shook her head. "No. Danny needs you right now. And so do I." She paused. "I feel guilty about your wife, your family. I don't want to come between you."

  "There are a lot of things between us, Jenny. I'd be lying if I said you weren't one of them."

  "You can't have fallen out of love with your wife so quickly. Maybe she needs time to adjust."

  "Denise doesn't want to adjust. I've asked her twice to go with me to see Danny. She always has a reason why she can't go."

  "Maybe she's afraid."

  Luke shook his head. "Denise isn't afraid of anything."

  * * *

  The next day Denise walked through the front doors of the hospital and paused in front of the elevators. She took in a deep breath and let it out. Everything looked normal so far, a few white coats, people carrying flowers -- but nothing really disgusting, at least not yet.

  The elderly man standing next to her began to cough, deep, gasping coughs. She looked at him in alarm. He covered his mouth with his hand, and finally the spasm subsided. When the elevator opened, they both got on.

  He began to cough again. The air grew warm, and Denise tried not to breathe too deeply. The last thing she needed was a cold. When the elevator stopped at three, she was relieved to get off.

  Room 307, the lady at information had said. Denise walked down the colorful hallways of pediatrics, pleased by the pictures of animals and balloons on the walls. She could do this. She could handle it.

  A door opened in front of her. A woman and a man came out. "The woman was sobbing. The man was crying, too. They stopped in the middle of the hallway, lost in their grief. Denise's hand tightened on the basket of flowers she was carrying. She stepped around them, trying not to look at them, to feel their pain.

  She had a dinner to go to later. She certainly couldn't go with red-rimmed eyes and a stuffy nose. Finally, room 307. She took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

  There was a boy lying in a bed, a nurse standing next to him, fiddling with some tube going into his arm.

  "Hello," the nurse said.

  "Hello. Is that Danny St. Claire?" Denise asked.

  "Yes. Are you a friend of the family?"

  "You could say that." Denise licked her lips and took a step forward. The room was small, sterile. It had a funny odor to it. As she got closer, she could see Danny's face, and she remembered him, the way he had looked when she had slammed the door in his face. There was no emotion there now, no anger or shock, just blankness. He almost looked dead.

  Her stomach churned at the thought. Her heart began to pound, and she felt suddenly hot.

  "Are you all right, ma'am?"

  "Yes. Fine. How is he?" Her words came out in short bursts. It was all she could do to get them through her tight lips.

  "He's better, breathing on his own."

  "But he's not awake."

  "No." The nurse walked around the bed. "I'll leave you alone for a moment."

  Denise swallowed hard, suddenly realizing that this child, this son of Luke's, was practically a vegetable. He was being fed by a tube, and obviously had no control over bodily functions. He might stay like this for a long time. Someone would have to bathe him, sit by him, visit him. She couldn't do it. She couldn't mother this child.

  The basket of flowers slipped out of her hand and landed on the floor. She turned blindly toward the door, impatient to leave as quickly as she could. But there was someone blocking her way, a woman. Jenny.

  Denise knew it was her, even though she had never seen a photograph, never seen Jenny in person. This woman in faded blue jeans, a white blouse, and a pink sweater, this ridiculously unsuitable woman was breaking up her marriage.

  Jenny was pretty. Denise h
ad to give her that. And thin, too. Not voluptuous. Not incredibly sexy, but she could see why Luke was attracted to her. There was a softness about Jenny that made even Denise pause. She wanted to dislike her, but she had a feeling this was not a woman who was easy to hate.

  They looked at each other for a long, tense moment. Denise tried to set aside the panic she felt just being in the room with Danny. She didn't want Jenny to see her at a disadvantage. She didn't want Jenny to have the upper hand. Why on earth had she ever come to the hospital? She should have stayed home or gone shopping.

  This wasn't her thing. She didn't even visit her friends when they had babies. She waited until they got home and didn't look so ghastly.

  "Mrs. Sheridan," Jenny said quietly, "I'm Jenny St. Claire." She held out her hand.

  Denise reluctantly took it. "I know who you are. And I'm sorry" -- Denise tipped her head toward Danny -- "about your child."

  "Thank you. I appreciate that."

  Another long silence. "You can stay if you want," Jenny said. "I can come back later. I'm here most of the day anyway."

  "No. I just brought some flowers." Denise saw Jenny's eyes travel to the bouquet lying on its side on the floor.

  Jenny picked them up and set them on the bedside table. "They're lovely."

  "I have to go." Denise turned to leave, but Jenny's voice stopped her.

  "I don't want anything from Luke," Jenny said. "I don't want to interfere in any way with your family or with your relationship."

  Denise sent Jenny a brittle, bitter smile. "It's a little late for those words."

  "I do mean them."

  "Maybe you do." Denise shrugged. "Unfortunately, you've given Luke something that he desperately wants -- a son. I can't do that. I can't compete."

  "We don't have to compete. We can work this out."

  "You're an idealist, a romantic. That's what Luke likes about you, I'm sure." Denise paused, her eyes tearing in spite of her efforts to maintain control. "I'm not really concerned with what you want. I'm more concerned with what Luke wants, and it's the strangest thing, but I think he wants you."

  Denise slipped out of the room, leaving Jenny with something else to think about. Hearing Luke say the words was different from hearing Denise say them. They were more real, more concrete and absolutely more terrifying.

  She wasn't sure she was ready to have Luke back in her life. But then Jenny looked at Danny and thought about how happy he would be to have the two of them together.

  "It might happen, buddy," she said quietly. "What you wanted most might just happen. But if Luke and I get together, this time it will be on equal terms. He'll need me as much as I need him. We'll both give, and we'll both take. See what you've taught me, Danny? I'm standing up for myself. No more wimpy mom."

  She squeezed his hand. "How come you don't talk to me -- like you talk to your dad? You're not still mad, are you? Please, Danny, say something. Come back to me, dammit."

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  On Friday morning, Alan and his partner drove down Jenny's street in their patrol car. Alan pulled over in front of the house just as Jenny walked out the front door. He turned to Sue. "I need five minutes, Spence. Do you mind?"

  "Of course not. I'll wait here. Better hurry, looks like she's leaving."

  Alan got out of the car and hurried across the street, calling Jenny's name as he did so. She looked up in surprise.

  "Alan."

  "You're going to work?" he asked, noting her McDougal's Market smock.

  "Until one."

  "I've called you several times."

  "Alan, we've said everything there is to say."

  "I can't let you go, Jenny. I won't pursue Matt. I'll drop the case. Whatever you want." Alan heard the desperation in his voice and felt like a fool, but he didn't know what else to do short of throwing himself at her mercy.

  "I'm sorry, Alan." She smiled at him with big, sad eyes. Pity. God, he hated pity.

  "Forget it."

  "I didn't mean to hurt you. But I can't pretend to feel something that isn't there. You know I would drive you crazy over the long haul. If you think about it, I've been getting on your nerves for weeks. I'm a messy housekeeper. I can never find my keys and I'm always ten minutes late."

  She paused, waiting for him to say something, but he couldn't speak. Deep down, he knew she was right, but time was running out for him. He was beginning to feel like he would never find the right woman, never have a chance to be married or have a family.

  "And Danny would light your fuse in a day," Jenny added. "You two never hit it off."

  "I tried," he said finally.

  "I know you did. And I appreciate everything you've done for me."

  "It's that guy, isn't it? All these years, you've been waiting for him to come back. I'm surprised you didn't take Danny to see him years ago. It would have saved everyone a lot of grief."

  She paled at his words. "That was cruel, Alan."

  He knew he should apologize, but he couldn't. He just stood there and watched her get in her car and drive away.

  Sue got out of the patrol car and walked across the street to join him. "Are you okay?"

  "Yeah, fine."

  "Want to talk?"

  "No."

  Alan looked at Jenny's house. He had spent some happy times there, and some not so happy times. But her house had always seemed like a home to him, filled with her presence, her joy of life. Now, the doors were locked, and he was on the outside. Where had he gone wrong?

  "Love sucks," Sue said.

  He reluctantly smiled. "You got that right. Come on, let's get out of here."

  As he turned to leave, the garage door opened next door, and Gracie backed her old white Lincoln out of the driveway. Alan stopped and stared as the older woman knocked over trash cans and weaved into the street like a drunken sailor.

  "What the hell is she doing?" he asked.

  Alan ran to the patrol car, and Sue slipped in next to him. They followed Gracie down the street with the lights on. She drove straight through a stop sign. Alan put on the siren. Gracie ran her car up over the curb, stopping abruptly in front of a tree.

  When Alan got to the car, Gracie sent him a blank look as she clutched the steering wheel.

  "Are you all right?" Alan opened the door.

  "I -- I." She put a hand to her temple and rubbed it.

  "Did you hit your head, Gracie?"

  "No. No, I don't think so."

  "You're not supposed to be driving. Where are you going?"

  "Going? Why, I'm going to pick up Doris from school. She called and said her ride didn't come, and you know she's such a shy child, she hates to sit alone in the playground."

  Alan looked over at Sue.

  "Who's Doris?" Sue asked.

  "Her thirty-two-year-old niece."

  "Oh. I'll call for an ambulance."

  "No." Alan shook his head. "That will just scare her. I'll drive her back to the house. It's only a few blocks. We'll get someone to stay with her until we can find Doris."

  Sue smiled as she took the car keys from Alan. "Are you going to give her a ticket?"

  "Maybe," he growled. "She did break the law."

  "She certainly did."

  "Slide over, Grace. Let me take you home," Alan said.

  Grace moved over to the passenger side. "I forgot how much you like to drive, Harold. Next time, I'll remember. Did I tell you how much I love you?"

  Alan stared at her and realized that Grace wasn't seeing him but her deceased husband. "Yeah, you told me."

  Grace put a hand on his arm. "I remember the day we first met. You were so handsome, strong -- and so shy," she said with a laugh. "I practically had to beg you to dance. You were afraid you'd step on my feet. I just wanted to be in your arms and dance for the rest of my life. Do you still think I'm as pretty as the day we met?"

  Alan looked over at her and smiled. "I think you're prettier."

  "You always know the right thing to say."

&n
bsp; Alan drove Grace back to her house, pulled the car into the driveway, and shut off the ignition. He helped her out of the car and up the steps to her house.

  When she got to the front door, she turned to him, her eyes suddenly clear. "You're not Harold, you're Alan."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Grace looked over at the car. "Are you borrowing my car?"

  "You don't mind, do you?"

  "No, of course not."

  A cab pulled up in front of the house, and Doris stepped out, her face flushed, her movements hurried. She looked from Grace to the two police officers and hastened up the drive.

  "What's wrong? What's happened?"

  "Nothing's happened, dear," Grace replied. "You're such a worrier. Alan just wants to borrow my car.

  "I wonder if I could have a glass of water," Sue interrupted. "I'm thirsty."

  "Of course," Grace said, motioning for Sue to follow her into the house.

  Alan looked at Doris. "Grace was driving." He handed Doris the keys. "I suggest you put these where she can't get to them."

  Doris took the keys out of his hand. "I am so sorry. I got delayed at the doctor's office, then my car wouldn't start. I called and told her I'd be right home. I can't imagine what she was thinking."

  "She was thinking you were seven years old and needed a ride home from school. Grace's sick, isn't she?"

  Doris nodded, her expression turning sad. "Yes. She has Alzheimer's. That's why I'm living with her now."

  "She could have hurt someone, could have hurt herself," Alan said. "You may have to take stronger measures."

  "I know. But I can't stand the thought of putting her in a home. When she's clear, she's as sharp as any of us. Think what being in an institution would do to her spirit. No, I can take care of her. I'll just watch her more closely. Is she in trouble? Is she getting a ticket?"

  "No, but I want her car taken away, and your keys to be locked or hidden at all times."

  "She wouldn't try to drive my car. It has a stick shift."

  Sue joined them on the porch. "All set, partner?"

  "Yes."

  Gracie followed them outside. "Just bring the car back any time, Alan. I don't drive anymore, you know."