Where the Sweet Bird Sings by Ella Joy Olsen

Author:Ella Joy Olsen [Olsen, Ella Joy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2017-07-04T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

“I think your phone is ringing.” A man I didn’t recognize, a nurse with an earnest face and round glasses, leaned over Noah to inspect the IV site on the arm closest to me. It was a little startling to see a stranger’s face so near mine and to realize amid the continual muted cacophony of the room that I didn’t even notice my phone, a sound that typically triggered a primal response.

I managed to get it out of my purse and into my hand before it stopped ringing. “Ethan?” I whispered.

“I woke you, didn’t I? I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I was only able to nod on and off through the night anyway. The hospital’s not like a room at the Hilton.”

“Mom texted, and Anusha talked to her for an hour last night, so we know what happened. I can’t believe it. How is he?”

I gazed at my husband, silent and still on the bed. His accident hadn’t been a bad dream. He would appear almost peaceful if he wasn’t taped and tied up like a poorly wrapped gift. In this medically induced tranquility, he could also be mistaken for . . . I turned away. I wouldn’t think of it. “I haven’t talked to a doctor this morning, so I don’t know if he’s any better, but there was no emergency during the night. Ethan, it’s eerie. I keep staring at his face thinking he’ll open his eyes and he won’t. He can’t.”

“I want to see him. To see you.”

“Please come!” I whispered. “Mom and I would love to see you—” I stopped, realizing there were still many questions between the three of us that hadn’t been answered. Of course they mattered, but looking at my husband, the import was insignificant.

“I want to see Noah,” Ethan said quietly. “But I don’t want to see Mom.”

“Could you put this aside for a while?” I tried to stand, to maneuver the recliner so I could leave the quiet room and convince my brother.

There was silence on the line. “Let me talk to Anusha and check my schedule at work.”

“Ethan, please.”

Before I could stand, a neurotrauma surgeon I’d seen the day before walked through the door, and two nurses followed him like a tailwind. One was Talli. She smiled at me. The other was the man who’d checked on Noah minutes earlier. “I’ve got to go, Ethan,” I said before he could respond. “The doctor is here.” I disconnected before I heard his answer. These doctors didn’t dillydally, and I wanted to hear everything he had to say.

The surgeon had a military haircut and ice-blue eyes. I could imagine him healing the infirm using his laser-like vision alone. But when he smiled at me, he revealed a wide gap between his two front teeth, and he was immediately human. I watched silently as he ran his fingers up and down Noah’s arm, checking his pulse, lifting his hand about an inch and dropping it to the mattress. He pulled back Noah’s eyelids, checked the readouts on all the monitors, talking as he worked.

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