Page 66 of Never Forget
I heard her feet on the floor, then Sam's voice low and warm. The bed creaked as he lifted her onto it.
I washed quickly. The water was warm, and I stood under it longer than I needed to, watching the gray runoff pool at my feet.
Everything we owned was in that house.
The thought landed and stayed. Rosie's toys. Her clothes. The photos on the walls. Jack's things, his uniform, his awards. Our parents' furniture. The kitchen where my mother made Sunday breakfast. The room my father built for me when I was seven.
Gone. All of it.
I turned off the water and pulled on the hospital clothes. When I came out, Rosie was on the bed with her legs dangling over the edge. Sam was crouched in front of her, listening to something she was telling him about the envelope of drawings. She was gesturing with her hands, her face animated, the exhaustion temporarily forgotten.
She looked up when she saw me.
"Auntie Jamie, I was telling Uncle Sam about my pictures."
"I heard," I said.
Sam stood. His eyes moved over my face, checking.
"You okay?"
I nodded. I wasn't sure if it was true, but I nodded anyway.
Rosie yawned. A big one that scrunched up her whole face.
I walked over to the bed and sat down beside her. "You should sleep, sweetheart."
She didn't argue. That's how I knew how tired she was.
I helped her lie down and pulled the thin hospital blanket up to her chin. The envelope stayed clutched in her arms. I ran my fingers through her still-damp hair, smoothing it back from her forehead.
Her eyes grew heavy. Her breathing slowed.
I watched her sleep, and something in me unclenched. We were alive. She was alive. Thankfully I’d had the presence of mind to call 911.
"What happens now?" I whispered.
Sam leaned forward in the chair, elbows on his knees. "The fire marshal will investigate. Then insurance. There's paperwork—I can help you with that." He paused. "But don't think about it tonight. Tonight, you rest."
I looked at Rosie, asleep with her drawings clutched to her chest. Then back at Sam.
"Thank you," I said.
It wasn't enough. Two words for everything he'd done.
But it was what I had.
Sam settled back into the chair. I lay down beside Rosie, careful not to disturb her. The bed was narrow, the sheets were stiff, but Rosie was warm against my side and Sam was in the chair next to our bed, and for the first time since the smoke filled my lungs, I felt like I could breathe.
I closed my eyes.
They discharged us late the next morning.
Jenna caught us on the way out. "If you need anything," she said, "call me."
I nodded. "Thank you. For everything."
She squeezed my arm, then headed back down the hall.
