Lena knew better than to turn coincidence into hope.
Still, she said:
“You weren’t hurting anything.”
Daniel looked at her.
“She never opened her eyes.”
“No.”
“Didn’t move?”
“No.”
Daniel nodded.
Good.
Strangely, good.
He did not want the nurse thinking he had imagined some impossible recovery.
Lena continued:
“But hearing is complicated. Some unconscious patients may still process sound.”
Daniel looked toward Victoria.
“That mean she heard me?”
“It means we don’t know.”
Honest.
Daniel appreciated honest.
He closed the case.
“I need to see Emma.”
“Yes.”
He took two steps.
Then stopped.
He looked back.
“Does anyone sit with her?”
Lena did not answer immediately.
“Sometimes.”
It was enough to mean no.
Daniel nodded once.
Then left.
Emma looked impossibly small in the correct room.
Brown hair tangled around her face.
Oxygen beneath her nose.
Purple stuffed rabbit against one arm because Aunt Rachel had brought it.
Daniel stopped at the doorway and nearly collapsed from relief.
This was his child.
His actual child.
Nine years old.
Freckles.
Bandage on one elbow from the fall at school.
He sat beside her.
“Hey, Bug.”
Emma slept.
Daniel opened the violin case again.
This time there was no confusion.
He played The Brave Little Bird for his daughter.
Halfway through, Emma’s eyelids fluttered.
Not fully awake.
She whispered something.
Daniel leaned close.
“What?”
“Too slow.”
He stared.
Then laughed and cried at the same time.
“You’re criticizing my tempo?”
Emma’s eyes remained closed.
“Mom faster.”
“You have a fever and you’re still rude.”
A tiny smile.
Then sleep again.
Daniel bowed his head over her blanket.
For the first time that night, hope felt larger than fear.
By morning Emma’s fever began dropping.
By afternoon she was awake enough to complain about hospital gelatin.
By evening she remembered almost nothing about collapsing.
“Did I scare you?”
Daniel sat beside her.
“No.”
Emma narrowed her eyes.
“Dad.”
“Terrified.”
“Sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
She picked at the blanket.
Then noticed violin case.
“You brought Mom?”
Daniel understood.
The violin.
Claire.
“Yes.”
Emma looked toward case.
“Did you play?”
“Yeah.”
“For me?”
Daniel hesitated.
Then smiled awkwardly.
“And somebody else.”
Emma looked interested.
“Who?”
“Long story.”
Hospitals make long stories feel short.
Daniel told her.
Not every detail.
Wrong room.
Sleeping woman.
Music.
Nurse.
Emma stared at him.