Page 30 of A Castle in the Sky: Fern & Connor
"Hey, bug," she whispered. "Mummy's here."
Coral's face scrunched, eyes slitting open, unfocused and glassy. "Boo-boo," she murmured, the word warped around the lump in her throat.
"I know, I know." Fern swallowed hard. "They gave you medicine to help, remember? It's going to feel yucky for a bit, but I've got you."
She didn't dare look at Connor. She could feel him, though—his solid presence at the bedside, his guilt and hope a tangible thing. Themattress dipped slightly as he laid a hand near Coral's feet, as if he couldn't quite bring himself to touch her properly but couldn't stay away, either.
Katie checked the monitors, scribbled notes on a chart at the end of the bed, then peeled back the corner of the dressing to have a quick look. Fern held her breath without meaning to.
Fern said, needing reassurance " Dr. Jim said she won’t need a skin graft."
"Not if it keeps healing the way it has so far," Katie said, brisk but kind. "We'll keep reviewing it, of course. But right now, it looks promising. That doesn't mean it's going to be easy, though."
"Difficult couple of days?" Connor asked hoarsely. His voice sounded like sandpaper had been dragged over it.
"At least," Katie said. "She's going to be in pain. The dressing changes aren't fun, and she might fight us because she's scared and uncomfortable. Her sleep will be off, and she may not want to eat much. She'll cling, she'll cry. All of that's normal." Her gaze softened as she looked at Fern, curled on the bed around her daughter. "You're doing the right thing, being here. Just take care of yourself as well, okay?"
Fern nodded, though she had no idea what kindness to herself would even look like anymore.
The next half hour stretched and blurred.
Coral alternated between fretful almost-sleep and irritable, foggy wakefulness. She whimpered in little bursts, legs kicking, fingers flexing and occasionally catching on the IV line and making the monitor beep in protest. Each time, Fern soothed her, whispering nonsense and stroking that tiny, uninjured patch of skin at the edge ofthe bandage. She felt the twitch and jerk of Coral's muscles as the last of the anaesthetic wore off, the way her breathing hitched whenever a bolt of pain or confusion broke through the fog.
Connor fetched water, then forgot to drink it. He adjusted the blankets, moved the plastic chair, sat and stood and sat again. Each time Coral made a sound, his head snapped up, eyes going to the dressing as if he could will it to heal faster.
At one point, Coral tried to lift her head and whimpered when the movement tugged at the bandage.
"Hey, hey, lie still, sweetheart," Fern murmured, cradling her closer without touching the wound. "You're safe. You're in the spaceship bed, remember?" She brushed her cheek against Coral's hair, inhaling the scent of shampoo and hospital.
"Spaceship," Coral mumbled, words slurred but recognisable. "Stars."
"That's right." Fern blinked away tears. "All the way to Andromeda."
Katie returned, checked the observations again, then nodded toward the jug on the locker. "She can have a sip of water in a bit, once she's a bit more with it," she said. "Tiny amounts, though. Little and often."
It took another half hour before Coral was awake enough to realise she was thirsty. And when it hit, it hit all at once.
"Water," she croaked, frowning. "Want water. WantDa."
Fern automatically reached for the plastic beaker, then stopped as Coral twisted away from her, lower lip jutting, eyes searching past her shoulder.
"Da," she said again, more insistent, one hand pushing weakly at Fern's wrist so she could see around her, a little pout on her rosebud lips. "Da."
For a heartbeat, Fern thought about insisting. About saying, "Mummy can do it," keeping this one tiny task for herself out of sheer, brittle possessiveness and spite.
He didn't deserve to even be here!
But then she caught the look on Coral's face. She meant business.
Connor stood frozen at the end of the bed, one hand braced on the rail, the other hovering uselessly in mid-air. He looked like a man standing at the edge of a cliff, waiting to see if the ground was going to give way beneath his feet, so he might as well jump first. His eyes bore into Fern, as if asking permission.
Coral's fingers curled in Fern's sleeve. "Pease," she whispered forgetting the ‘l’, eyes glassy but determined. "Da."
As if, even muzzy with drugs and pain, she could feel that they were at a crossroads and was quietly, stubbornly staking her claim on both of them.
Fern swallowed. Carefully, she shifted, making room. "Fine," she said, keeping her voice level.
He moved like he didn't quite believe what he was hearing.
