Both of us had adored the essay Zack had written about his love of family and his desire to make the world a better place. We’d been impressed that he volunteered at Habitat for Humanity and wanted to do pro bono work when he got his law degree. The photo of him as an eight-year-old had shown off his dimple and his vivid blue eyes, and I think we’d both fallen a little in love with him when weheard the tape of his voice. He’d been answering the question, “Who is your role model?” and he’d been talking about his dad.
“That’s crazy.” Zack grins and shakes his head. “This whole situation is crazy.”
Yeah, and you don’t know the half of it.
A country song belts out of a cell phone at the next table, where two men in scrubs are eating. One of them picks up the phone and turns it off. “That’s the ringtone for my ex-wife,” he tells his companion. “‘Crazy,’ by Patsy Cline.”
Zack glances over at the men, then looks back at me. “That’s weird, isn’t it? I just said the situation was crazy, and then that song played.”
“That’s the universe’s way of confirming something.” I smile as if I’m joking, but I mean it. I’m sure it’s a sign, but I don’t know if it’s a good one or a warning. Given the events of the day, it’s most likely a warning.
All of the warm feelings I had while thinking about Brooke suddenly freeze into worry. I worry how Margaret’s doing in surgery and if she’ll be okay. I worry how Lily will handle her great-grandmother’s hospitalization. I worry about why Margaret contacted Zack, why he’s here, and what that means to Lily. I worry what all this means to my baby.
I’m suddenly freaking out all over again about the fact that I’m carrying Zack’s child. I just met this man, yet his child is growing inside me. How crazy is that?
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m just worried about Margaret.”
And you, I think.I’m very worried about you, and how you could affect the lives of those I love.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Margaret
I’M SPINNING, SPINNING,spinning, like a soap bubble circling a drain. Only... the drain is upside down, and enormous. And instead of being full of water, it’s full of light—warm, loving, beckoning light.
Light, and people. I squint against the glare, trying to see. I can only make out shadows, but they’re familiar. I recognize the way they move. Is that my darling Henry? Oh, yes, that’s him—I’m sure of it! I pirouette and jeté—I’m suddenly able to dance like the most talented ballerina, even though I’ve never had a lesson! Henry is dancing, too—dancing toward me. The images become clearer: there’s my daughter, Julia, and—oh, just look!—there’s Brooke. And my mother and father, and my grandparents, and my younger sister. They’re all smiling and waving. I’m happy, so happy to see them. I’ve never experienced such intense peace, such profound joy.
I try to move toward them, to enter more fully into the embracing light surrounding them, but I can’t break out of this circular current. I’m locked in a holding pattern, going around and around the entrance.
“Mrs. Moore?”
All of a sudden, the warm, loving light drains out, pulling my loved ones with it. I open my eyes and see a stranger’s face looming over me, backlit by blinding fluorescent tubes on the ceiling. I close my eyes, wanting to go back to the other light, but I just see red through my lids.
“Can you hear me, Mrs. Moore?”
I try to talk, but my mouth is so dry I can’t push words out of it. I make a noise that sounds like an animal’s grunt.
“Mrs. Moore, you’re in the hospital. I’m Melanie, your nurse. You had a heart attack and broke your hip.”
I grunt again. Her words trigger no memories.
“You’re in ICU,” she says. “You just came out of surgery. Everything went very well and now you’re recovering.”
“Henry here?” My voice is a croak. “Julia?”
“Are those family members?”
“Yes.”They were with me a moment ago, I try to say, but can’t.
“There are two people waiting for you. Would you like to see them?”
“Yes.”
“All right. Let me check a couple of things on you, and then I’ll go get them.”
Happiness bubbles inside me. Something squeezes on my arm—a blood pressure gauge, I think.
