I also knew it might be difficult.
A hospital discharge didn't erase the trauma of a cardiac arrest.
Daniel would have to learn to trust his body again.
Nora would have to learn that seeing her father rest or feel tired didn't automatically mean another emergency.
And Margaret would have to resist the understandable urge to watch her son every minute.
I thought about all of them.
Then I looked toward the beginner sign-language book resting on my workbench.
I picked it up.
Turned to the page I'd been studying.
And practiced the sign for WELCOME.
My fingers still felt clumsy.
But I kept trying.
Thursday afternoon, I drove to Daniel's house carrying a casserole Claire had helped me prepare.
I had called first.
Daniel said he'd be glad to see me.
He lived in a modest one-story home on a quiet residential street outside Conway.
The front lawn was neatly maintained.
A small wooden ramp led toward the porch.
Several flowerpots stood near the entrance.
And a child's colorful drawing had been taped inside the front window.
The drawing showed three people.
A tall man.
A small girl.
And a ridiculous-looking motorcycle.
I recognized the beard immediately.
I smiled.
Then knocked.
Margaret opened the door.
She greeted me warmly.
“Come in.”
I stepped inside.
The living room was bright and comfortable.
Children's books filled a low shelf.
A purple backpack hung beside the door.
Several framed photographs stood on a cabinet.
One showed Daniel holding Nora as a baby.
Another showed a beautiful woman with shoulder-length brown hair smiling beside them.
Emily.
Nora's mother.
I looked toward the photograph for a moment.
Then heard footsteps.
Daniel appeared in the hallway.
He moved slowly.
He looked thinner than when I first met him.
But he was smiling.
“Ray.”
I set the casserole down.
“Hey, buddy.”
He reached toward me.
I clasped his hand.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he pulled me into a careful hug.
I was mindful of his recovery and didn't squeeze hard.
But he held on longer than I expected.
When we stepped apart, his eyes were wet.
“Good to see you.”
I nodded.
“Good to see you standing.”
He smiled.
Then looked toward the casserole.
“What's that?”
“Something my daughter helped me make.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“You cook?”
I shrugged.
“Under supervision.”
Daniel laughed.
We moved into the living room.
He sat in a comfortable chair.
Margaret brought water.
Then Nora appeared from the hallway.
She wore blue overalls over a white shirt with little flowers.
Her hair was tied into two ponytails.
When she saw me, her eyes widened.
She grinned.