I crossed the hall.
A lamp glowed beside the bed.
Ethan lay in the same position, his face turned slightly toward the window.
The nurse sat near the door reading from a tablet.
She looked up.
“Mrs. Thornton.”
“How is he?”
“Stable.”
“Did the tests show
anything?”
“The doctor will discuss the results with the family tomorrow.”
I almost pointed out that I was his family now.
The words felt too strange to say.
“Can I sit with him?”
The nurse hesitated.
“Of course.”
I took the chair beside the bed.
For nearly twenty minutes, I said nothing.
The nurse returned to her reading.
The river beyond the windows reflected the moonlight in broken silver lines.
Finally, I leaned closer.
“I know you’re awake.”
No movement.
“I saw you close your eyes when the nurse came in.”
His breathing remained even.
“You told me not to call anyone.”
Nothing.
I glanced toward the nurse. Her attention was on the tablet.
“If you’re pretending, you’re making this very difficult.”
Ethan’s little finger moved.
Once.
Relief and fear struck me at the same time.
I lowered my voice.
“Can you understand me?”
His finger moved again.
One tap.
Yes?”
Another tap.
I swallowed.
“Can you open your eyes?”
Nothing happened.
I waited.
Then his eyelids lifted slowly.
He looked exhausted.
His gaze drifted toward the nurse.
“She can’t see,” I whispered. “Not from where she’s sitting.”
His lips moved.
I leaned close enough to hear the breath of his words.
“Name.”
“My name?”
A slight blink.
“I’m Clara.”
He stared at me.
“Clara Bennett. Or Thornton now, apparently.”
The corner of his mouth moved.
It was not quite a smile, but it came close.
“You know we’re married?” I asked.
His eyes closed briefly.
When they opened again, he looked toward my ring.
“So that’s a yes.”
His throat tightened as he tried to speak.
I poured a little water onto a sponge swab from the bedside tray and touched it carefully to his lips.
He seemed grateful.
“Why can’t I call the doctor?”
