* * *
Bridget Donovan was a large, raw-boned woman who arrived alone, looking as if she were one step away from falling apart. Connor reluctantly crossed the waiting room to greet her.
“Where’s Mr. Donovan?” he asked, steering her toward one of the hard plastic chairs.
“He refused to come,” she said tightly. “Stubborn old coot. How is she? How’s Heather?”
“She’s in surgery,” he said. “But the doctors are cautiously optimistic. She had a serious concussion, and there’s some swelling of her brain, but they’re going to relieve the pressure. They think she’ll regain consciousness after that.”
Mrs. Donovan sketched the sign of the cross over her chest. “She hasn’t been awake in all this time?”
Connor shook his head, trying to hide his own panic over the same information.
“Anything more?” she asked.
“They didn’t find any internal injuries, just a couple of cracked ribs, but there are two serious breaks in her right leg, so they’re going to put a metal rod in the worst one. She’ll be in a cast for a couple of months, they said.”
Mrs. Donovan paled at his words. “Oh, my poor child,” she whispered.
Connor regarded his mother with relief when she joined them, sitting down next to Mrs. Donovan and introducing herself.
“You must be exhausted,” Megan said. “Why don’t I take you down to the coffee shop and we can have some soup? Someone will come to get us if there’s any news. I think we have a long night ahead of us.”
Mrs. Donovan looked too dazed to refuse. As Connor mouthed, “Thank you,” Megan led her out of the waiting room.
“At least she didn’t shoot you on sight,” Kevin said, sitting down next to him. “I was expecting fireworks.”
“Oh, there will be plenty of time for that,” Connor said, being realistic. “I think she’s in a state of shock right now, just like I am.” He met his brother’s gaze. “Kevin, tell me the truth. Do people recover from injuries like this? I’m talking about the head injury.”
“All the time,” Kevin assured him. “She’s lucky it wasn’t anything more than a severe concussion. She’ll probably have a few headaches, but since there wasn’t any hemorrhaging, her symptoms should be minimal and short-lived.”
“Then there’s not going to be any…you know?”
“Brain damage?” Kevin said, voicing the words Connor hadn’t been able to bring himself to say. “She should be fine, Connor. Of course, there’s no way to know if there will be any long-term effects until Heather’s awake and can be fully tested, but there’s every reason to be optimistic.”
“Then the odds are in her favor?” he persisted.
“If I were a betting man, I’d take them,” Kevin told him. “Come on, bro, keep the faith. Heather’s going to be back to her feisty old self in no time. You’ll be longing for the days when she wasn’t in your face.”
Connor managed a half smile. “I look forward to that.”
“Then focus on it,” Kevin said.
It was another three hours, nearly midnight, when the surgeon came in and told them that Heather was in recovery and that he was satisfied that things had gone exceptionally well in the operating room.
“It’ll be awhile before she comes around, even under the best conditions,” he told them. “Go home and get some sleep. This is just the beginning of what could be a long recovery. The ribs will heal on their own, but that right leg of hers is going to take awhile to mend.” He looked to Connor. “Any questions?”
“Can I stay here with her tonight?” Connor asked.
“You’d be better off at home in your own bed,” the doctor said, then apparently noted the stubborn set of Connor’s jaw. “Then again, it’ll be good for her to have a familiar face close by if she wakes before morning.”
“Thank you.” He glanced at Mrs. Donovan. “Do you want to stay, too?”
Megan immediately interceded. “Bridget, I think after driving all that way alone and the stress it’s put you under, you should come back to the house with Mick and me and get a good night’s sleep.”
Though she seemed reluctant to agree, eventually Mrs. Donovan nodded. “I’d be grateful, if you have the room.”
“Of course we do,” Megan said at once. “Now, let’s get out of here. Nell told me she’d made a big pot of her potato soup. I think that’s just the thing after the day we’ve had.”
Before she left, Megan crossed the room to Connor and gave him a fierce hug. “If Heather wakes up tonight, you tell her we all love her and are praying for her. Be sure she knows her mother came.”
Connor nodded. “I’ll tell her. Thanks, Mom.” He let his gaze rest on each member of his family. “I don’t know what I’d have done today without all of you here.”
“This is where we belonged,” Mick said. “We stick together in a crisis. That’s understood.”
“I can stay here with you tonight,” Kevin offered.
“No, if the doctor’s right about her not waking up till morning, I’ll probably just wind up dozing beside Heather’s bed,” Connor said. “Go home to your family and count your lucky stars they’re all safe and sound.”
“Amen to that,” Abby said, giving him a hug. “Love you, little brother.”
When the waiting room had cleared of O’Briens, the doctor regarded Connor with a commiserating expression. “It must be a little overwhelming to have a family like that.”
“Sometimes,” Connor agreed. “But on days like today, it’s a blessing.”
* * *
Heather felt as if she’d tumbled into a huge vat of cotton and couldn’t fight her way out. She tried to open her eyes, but it seemed to require more effort than she possessed. Her body, at least the parts that didn’t hurt, seemed weighted down, probably under all that cotton.
“Come on, sweetheart, open those beautiful eyes of yours.”
She heard the
