I love her more than words can say, more than the stars in the sky, and there isn't a force in this universe that could ever change that.
"You exist," I tell her, leaning down to press a kiss to her head. "That's reason enough."
???
Two days later, Wendy is moved to a regular room, for which we're all very thankful.
The ICU allows only 2 visitors in the room at a time, so when the boys visited, they had to go in one at a time. Liam had sent his brother in first, even though I knew that he was itching to see his Mama.
Noah had presented Wendy with the painting he made for her, a fiery field of orange and red and yellow flowers. She had gasped and said she loved it, asking me to hang it up for her.
It's now pinned above her bed in her room, to be admired by all.
Liam's reunion with her was more emotional, as he cuddled into her side with a couple of tears trailing down his cheeks.
She just held him with her right arm and kissed his head. I had warned the boys that she's okay, but she's hooked up to a bunch of machines and can't walk, which can be a little scary.
They reacted perfectly, not even blinking, just completely focused on their smiling Mama.
However, Liam had asked Dr. King so many questions when she came back to explain Wendy's further recovery to my parents and sons, who were there. He showed a real interest, which made my wife and I share a curious look.
Maybe if the basketball dream never takes off, he might be interested in a medical career.
My parents bring the boys by for a couple of hours now, and seeing her has really soothed their anxieties.
Now, I know they're at the house with their Aunt Taylor, who came by earlier to visit Wendy. They're grabbing some clothes for a sleepover, and Taylor said something about taking them and Birdie to the movies.
Wendy is sleeping. The doctors have said it's the best way to heal—to sleep as much as she can and move as little as she can.
I know she's itching to come home, but I have Trace working on the house, installing a wheelchair ramp and moving our bed downstairs so Wendy doesn't have to go up and down the stairs as much.
Mabel has delivered groceries to my parents' house and cooked meals to the hospital, so we don't have to eat awful hospital food, for which we are very grateful.
The way everyone has just dropped everything to help...
It just makes me feel even more fortunate to have this community of people willing to help us.
"Hey, baby brother."
The voice makes me freeze.
Turning to the doorway, I see my older brother there, looking healthier than the last time I saw him.
There's none of that grief-laden despair in his eyes, the darkcircles gone, the gauntness of his cheeks gone. My brother stands there, smiling softly at me, eyes flicking back and forth between Wendy on the bed and me.
I'm moving before I even realize it, walking right into my older brother's open arms.
"Si..." I gasp, the tears welling up and spilling over fast.
"I'm here," he says, his voice firm. "It's gonna be alright. I'm here."
"How did you—"
"Mom called me, I'm sorry it took a little bit to get here," Silas says, clapping my back. "The girls are with Carrie's parents. They send their love for their Aunt Wendy and their Uncle Atlas."
"Why are you here?" I ask, pulling back to meet his eyes.
Silas shrugs his broad shoulders, putting his hands in his pockets. He's always been the more taciturn of us, hard for him to admit his feelings and be vulnerable.
