breathing tube is out and he’s more able to respond.”
JJ shrugged. “I wish that helped, but it doesn’t.” How do you tell someone you love that their life has changed forever? That they are broken in ways that can never be fixed? How do you say that not just once, but over and over again, seeing them react to it with fresh hurt each time? Thoughts tumbled over one another in her head. She felt alone in the room, isolated as if she were back standing in the middle of the Afghan desert with a sandstorm swirling around her.
She tried to mentally reach for something calming—a time and a place when she felt centered and relaxed. The first memory that came to mind was sitting on the dock with Alex. Scowling, she pushed the thought away. Memories of the friendship she’d thought she’d found were not going to help her now.
This felt so far out of her depth that JJ was sure ten hours of pondering wouldn’t prepare her to tell Max what she needed to tell him—and according to Dr. Ryland, she had an hour.
She stood up. “All right, Dr. Ryland, I’ll be the one to tell him with you. But I have no idea how to do it.”
* * *
“You? You hurt my boy?” Mrs. Jones’s anguish was so heartbreaking Alex was regretting introducing himself in the hospital hallway.
“My company is one of the vendors to the show where Max was hurt.” It was a correction he was sure the woman didn’t hear.
She clutched her handbag and glared at him. “You let Max do this to himself. For television. And now look what’s happened! Arnie would run you over with a tank for what you’ve done to our son.”
He said the only thing that might help. “I’m so very sorry for what’s happened to Max. Please believe I’m trying to arrange for every possible assistance and to make sure he gets the best of care. If there’s anything you need...”
“I need my son to get better.” Her words were sharp and filled with anger. JJ looked so much like her mother that Alex felt the sting that much more. “Can you make that happen, Mr. Cushman? Can you?”
She walked away, leaving Alex to slump against the walls and pray for some way to fix the unfixable. He could live a hundred years and still remember that look, surely. A mother’s agony—was there anything more heartbreaking? She wasn’t handling things well, he could tell. Then again, who could handle something like this well? There was pain everywhere Alex looked, with more than enough blame and resentment to go around and nowhere near enough hope.
No wonder he went looking for the hospital chapel.
It was a small room, soft and quiet with muted lighting and lots of wood. A stained glass window depicting a waterfall sent blues and greens into one corner of the room. Not more than twelve padded pews faced a simple cross set atop a draped table. Every pew held a box of tissues. This wasn’t a room for happy ceremonies; this was a place of grief and solace.
He recognized the blond braid in the third pew immediately and almost turned and left the room. It was her sniffle, the small shake of her shoulders, that pulled his hand from the door handle. Her silhouette was completely different from the last time he’d seen her; she appeared deflated rather than defiant. JJ was hanging on by a thread if she was hanging on at all. No one should have to do that alone.
“JJ?”
Her head whipped around and her shoulders snapped straight as if she were embarrassed to be found there. The fire was there in her eyes, but they were the red-rimmed eyes of someone who’d just cried, and cried hard. She gave him a “You again?” glare but said nothing.
“I didn’t come looking for you. I came looking for God, actually, so this seemed a good place to start.” He really hadn’t expected to find her in here. He waited for her to yell at him to leave. When she didn’t, he took another step toward her. “Are you...are you all right?” It was a dumb question—anyone could see she was miles from
JJ shrugged. “I wish that helped, but it doesn’t.” How do you tell someone you love that their life has changed forever? That they are broken in ways that can never be fixed? How do you say that not just once, but over and over again, seeing them react to it with fresh hurt each time? Thoughts tumbled over one another in her head. She felt alone in the room, isolated as if she were back standing in the middle of the Afghan desert with a sandstorm swirling around her.
She tried to mentally reach for something calming—a time and a place when she felt centered and relaxed. The first memory that came to mind was sitting on the dock with Alex. Scowling, she pushed the thought away. Memories of the friendship she’d thought she’d found were not going to help her now.
This felt so far out of her depth that JJ was sure ten hours of pondering wouldn’t prepare her to tell Max what she needed to tell him—and according to Dr. Ryland, she had an hour.
She stood up. “All right, Dr. Ryland, I’ll be the one to tell him with you. But I have no idea how to do it.”
* * *
“You? You hurt my boy?” Mrs. Jones’s anguish was so heartbreaking Alex was regretting introducing himself in the hospital hallway.
“My company is one of the vendors to the show where Max was hurt.” It was a correction he was sure the woman didn’t hear.
She clutched her handbag and glared at him. “You let Max do this to himself. For television. And now look what’s happened! Arnie would run you over with a tank for what you’ve done to our son.”
He said the only thing that might help. “I’m so very sorry for what’s happened to Max. Please believe I’m trying to arrange for every possible assistance and to make sure he gets the best of care. If there’s anything you need...”
“I need my son to get better.” Her words were sharp and filled with anger. JJ looked so much like her mother that Alex felt the sting that much more. “Can you make that happen, Mr. Cushman? Can you?”
She walked away, leaving Alex to slump against the walls and pray for some way to fix the unfixable. He could live a hundred years and still remember that look, surely. A mother’s agony—was there anything more heartbreaking? She wasn’t handling things well, he could tell. Then again, who could handle something like this well? There was pain everywhere Alex looked, with more than enough blame and resentment to go around and nowhere near enough hope.
No wonder he went looking for the hospital chapel.
It was a small room, soft and quiet with muted lighting and lots of wood. A stained glass window depicting a waterfall sent blues and greens into one corner of the room. Not more than twelve padded pews faced a simple cross set atop a draped table. Every pew held a box of tissues. This wasn’t a room for happy ceremonies; this was a place of grief and solace.
He recognized the blond braid in the third pew immediately and almost turned and left the room. It was her sniffle, the small shake of her shoulders, that pulled his hand from the door handle. Her silhouette was completely different from the last time he’d seen her; she appeared deflated rather than defiant. JJ was hanging on by a thread if she was hanging on at all. No one should have to do that alone.
“JJ?”
Her head whipped around and her shoulders snapped straight as if she were embarrassed to be found there. The fire was there in her eyes, but they were the red-rimmed eyes of someone who’d just cried, and cried hard. She gave him a “You again?” glare but said nothing.
“I didn’t come looking for you. I came looking for God, actually, so this seemed a good place to start.” He really hadn’t expected to find her in here. He waited for her to yell at him to leave. When she didn’t, he took another step toward her. “Are you...are you all right?” It was a dumb question—anyone could see she was miles from
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