Chapter 12: The Moon

They let us into the PICU at ten past one.

Timmy lay in a bed too big for him, under a blanket printed with tiny whales.

A thin tube ran from his nose, and a line went into each of his hands.

His chest was bandaged, and it rose and fell on its own.

"We took the breathing tube out twenty minutes ago," the nurse said quietly. "His lungs are strong. Keep your voices low."

Bev stayed by the door with her hand over her mouth.

I took Timmy's left hand, the one with the crescent on the thumb.

It was warm.

Dane stopped at the foot of the bed.

He did not come closer until I nodded.

Then he pulled a plastic chair to the other side and sat, very slowly.

"Is he in pain?" he asked the nurse.

"We're keeping ahead of it. He might wake up. He might not."

The monitor made its small green beeps.

Dane looked at the screen, and then at the boy.

"I read the numbers on every machine in my hospital for six years," he said. "I never knew what they were for."

"Now you do."

"Now I do."

At half past one Timmy's eyelids fluttered.

I leaned over him so he would see me first.

"Mom," he whispered. His voice was dry as paper.

"I'm here, baby."

"Did it work?"

"It worked. You were so brave."

"Do I get popsicles?"

Keep reading free with an account. Start He Broke the Heart That Saved Him from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.