“I’ll take her personal items with me, but I think I’ll stay at a hotel in Coos Bay for a few days.”
“No other friends or relatives in the area?”
“No. For all practical purposes, it’s just me and my sister. Our mom’s overseas and not very involved in our lives.”
After considering her for a moment, the doctor pulled out a card and a pen and wrote a number on the back. “I don’t often give my cell number to families, but if you aren’t getting the answers you want fast enough, call me.” She held it out.
Devyn took it, throat tightening. “Thank you.”
“And remember, you have a whole team here dedicated to getting your sister back on her feet.”
“I appreciate that.”
“No problem.” The doctor rose. “Now that we’ve talked, I’m going to stop in the ICU and write up orders for the plan we discussed. Why don’t you spend a few minutes with your sister while I do that, then check into a hotel and have a meal? Your sister’s going to need your help during her recovery, so it’s important to take care of yourself.”
The doctor walked back with her to the ICU, detouring to the desk as Devyn continued toward her sister’s room.
Outside the glass doors, Devyn hesitated for a moment.
She owed Mom an update ... but that could wait until she found a hotel. After all, it wasn’t like she could count on their mother to be more than a long-distance cheer squad—if that. Cynthia Lee Dufour wasn’t the type to drop everything and fly more than five thousand miles to pitch in during a medical emergency. As she’d often said, dealing with health issues wasn’t her thing.
Devyn pushed through the door to Lauren’s room, the memory of her own past injuries flashing through her mind.
Like the torn ligaments she’d suffered in her ankle after a bad landing during a rehearsal forSleeping Beauty. Or the painful hipimpingement she’d had to deal with after dancing for too many hours day after day, with insufficient rest in between. Mom had walked a wide circle around those incidents, leaving her in the hands of professionals and encouraging her to take charge of her own follow-up care.
So whatever family assistance Lauren required would have to come from her sister, not her mother.
And that was fine. She’d make this work.
Whatever it took.
After all the disruptions she’d caused in her sister’s life thanks to the demands of her dancing, walking with her through this crisis was the least she could do.
Devyn stopped beside the bed and took Lauren’s hand again. “I’m back, sis. I talked to the doctor. You’re getting excellent care, and I’ll be hovering in the wings. If you can hear me, squeeze my fingers.”
No reaction—not that she’d expected one. Sudden responsiveness would have been too much to hope for.
So as the monitors beeped and the blood pressure cuff whooshed and the oxygen cannula whistled, Devyn shut out the noise, closed her eyes, and sent a silent prayer heavenward for guidance and fortitude.
Both of which she was going to need in abundance during the days—and perhaps weeks—ahead.
2
“You get Isabel settled for the night?”
As his grandfather spoke, Aaron Steele continued across the living room and sank into a chair across from him. “Depends how you define settled. She didn’t want me to leave.”
“I have the same issue on nights you get tapped for the second shift at the mill.” The older man closed the book he was reading. “Don’t you think the clinginess should be lessening by now? Olivia’s been gone almost a year.”
Aaron scrubbed at his forehead, where a slight ache had begun to throb. “Grief works differently for everyone. Dad’s death two years ago was hard enough on her, but losing her mom too?” He exhaled. “Back-to-back losses are tough.”
“On everyone. This hasn’t been an easy road for you, either.”
“Or you.” Gramp hadn’t been all that close to Olivia, but the loss of his housemate son had hit him hard. “Isabel’s only nine, though. Having two of the four most significant people in your life disappear in the space of thirteen months can put a major dent in a kid’s sense of security. I didn’t need the counselor I took her to a few months ago to tell me that.”
“You think it would help to schedule another session? Maybe there’s more we should be doing for her.”
“Like what? I’m already following all the suggested guidelines. Maintaining a predictable routine, being available, listening, drawing her out when she cracks a door, seeing that she gets regular exercise. At our last session, the counselor said the best remedy was time—unless the situation deteriorated. It hasn’t. Isabel is sleeping better, and she doesn’t have as many bad dreams.”
