Free All We Know of Heaven by Jacquelyn Mitchard Page B

I’ve seen no evi dence of that.”
    “In a trauma situation like that, where two kids are so very, very sick, decisions have to be made in seconds. The doctors try everything. It was only a matter of five or six minutes before both of them were in surgery and, from what the paramedics said at the scene, the doctors made the best determination they could of who was who. Neither one had any ID. It was all over the road. They were both giv en a great deal of blood during surgery, but none of it was A-negative; it was type O in the ER because they can trans fuse that for any blood type usually,” Neely explained.
    “And no one looked back over the records.” Neely hesitated. “No.”
    Neely heard a rustling sound.

    The priest told her, “This is going to have lasting conse quences in this parish, and in Bigelow. This town is never going to be the same. Now, I have just been informed that Mr. O’Malley is on his way to pick us up here, so we should be there in less than an hour, Mrs. Cavendish.”
    “Thank you. Please come straight to my office on the first floor, right outside the emergency department.”
    “And . . .”
    “Father?”
    “God bless you, Mrs. Cavendish.”

    Red sweater lady in the hall. Boy-crying in the hall.
    I see them hear them hear the violin-voice tell them, “Right now, we have to make you wait justafewminutes. . . .”
    “But why?”
    “Justafewminutes. We are doing some tests on her.”
    “Is something wrong? Did she have an infection? That . . . care center was a hellhole.”
    “No, it’s not that. Please, just . . . oh listen. That’s Neely Cavendish. The social worker. She would like me to bring you to her office. She would like me to bring you to her office now. Actually, our nurse supervisor, Mrs. Gressley, will take you.”
    Mumble, dribble, mumble mumble.

    Stillness.
    Her lips moistened, lemony. Then a cold toaster. Cold knife. She tasted. “Honey, this is a little spoonful of pudding. Try to swallow.”
    She didn’t have to try to swallow. It was easy. “Good girl!” a guy-voice said. She opened her eyes. It wasn’t Danny, but a guy in a nurse coat with sailboats on it, holding a pudding cup. “Is
    that good?”
    “Go-yes,” she said.
    Then it was cloud-red-hair again. “I don’t know if you can understand me, Maureen. I know it’s you, Maureen. Your mom and dad are coming, Maureen. We know now.”
    “Mo-reen,” she said gratefully. “Yes.” The tears that rolled down her face hurt. She tried to raise her arm.
    “Go ahead,” someone said.
    She did. It was so hard to raise her arm and touch her own cheek that she fell asleep with pudding still in her mouth.
    Someone was running in the hall. Hard- shoes. Outside-people. Someone came in through the door. She opened her eyes. The flame-nurse turned.
    The lady was small and plump. The man with her was bigger, wearing just a blocker, breaker, jacker. The lady had on a long, gray

    winter coat and a hat with a tassel. Hat with a tassel. Hat with a tassel. Striped gray-and-blue hat. Tassel.

    Jeannie knelt at the side of the bed. “That my hat,” Maureen said.
    “Oh, dear God in heaven. Dear God in heaven. Merciful Jesus. Blessed Saint Anne, we are so unworthy. Maury, it’s Mama. Do you know me, Maury?”
    “It siz my hat,” Maureen said. “Fits. Bits.”
    “This kid’s freaking me out,” said Lorelei. “She’s talking in sentences. At the end, she was trying to say it fits you.”
    “She’s very intelligent,” said Jeannie. “I wore it every day because it smells like you. My darling baby. My Maury. Your room is clean and waiting for you, Maury. Maury, I almost gave your clothes away. I almost boxed them all up and gave them away. Father, how can this be? We lost her. This is truly a miracle. We lost our only daughter.”
    “Jeannie. I’m overcome. I have never seen anything like this.”
    “Maureen, it’s Daddy,” Bill said.
    Maureen tried to smile at the guy, but it hurt her mouth. She made the