Free Rejoice by Karen Kingsbury

Brooke held up one hand, her heart ice-cold.
    “Okay . . . no more. I’m sorry.”
    And that had been all. After that her mother didn’t say a word about Peter or the troubles between them. Peter had returned to work the day before, and he’d been in twice that day to see Hayley. Since Brooke was staying at the hospital, Maddie was staying with her grandparents. Peter didn’t feel up to watching their older daughter, not when he was gone until after dinner most nights, anyway.
    Both times he’d been by the hospital that day, Brooke had gone to the waiting room with her parents or Ashley, all of whom had been in at one time or another since morning. On his last visit, he left straight from Hayley’s room, without even stopping in to say good-bye.
    Hayley’s crying grew softer now, and she fell still, the way she did before taking a nap
    “That’s right, baby . . . shhh.”
    Brooke folded her hands on her lap and dug her fingertips into the backs of her hands. She would’ve given anything to blink her eyes and be at home with Hayley, anything to turn back the hands of time and have her little daughter back once more. She no longer had the energy to think about her husband’s behavior. She was completely consumed with watching Hayley, praying for her, trying to see even the smallest bit of hope during her waking hours.
    Hayley’s crying grew even quieter, the pattern slower than before. Brooke stood and leaned over her, searching her daughter’s face, her eyes. She could picture her last moments with Hayley as clearly as if they’d happened only a moment ago. The two of them leaving the car and heading up the walkway to DeWayne and Aletha’s house. Hayley jumping into her arms, and Brooke carrying her to the front door.
    With Hayley close against her chest, Brooke had felt loved and needed, the way she hadn’t felt in weeks. She’d snuggled the child close and felt Hayley take hold of her hand and squeeze it three times. Their secret code for I love you . Then she’d whispered in her daughter’s ear, “You’re a sweet girl, Hayley; do you know that?”
    And Hayley had responded in a similar way. “You, too, Mommy.” Hayley had rubbed her tiny nose against Brooke’s. “You’re a sweetie girl, too. Know why?”
    “Why?” Brooke and Hayley had trailed behind Peter and Maddie.
    “Because—” Hayley had tilted her head, her pale blonde hair shining in the afternoon sun—“I love you; that’s why.”
    Now Brooke took hold of her daughter’s stiff fingers and tears filled her eyes. Hayley . . . where are you, Hayley?
    She swallowed hard and the memory broke apart. Was Hayley, the old Hayley, gone forever? Would she never again have the Hayley she’d held as they headed up the walkway hours before the drowning? Watching her lie there in the hospital bed, drifting to sleep, her brain so damaged she was beyond comfort, Brooke pictured something from her own childhood.
    Her mother had loved to sew back then. Until Brooke was ten years old, Mom had sewn matching outfits for the five Baxter kids, including once when she made the girls floral pantsuits in lightweight cotton with matching headbands. Luke had shorts in the same material, and a white shirt, and together the group looked like some sort of kid band from the seventies.
    The five of them laughed about the outfits now, but they still appreciated the hours their mother put into the effort. Brooke remembered sitting beside her while she sewed, watching her struggle to thread the needle. Once in a while the thread would dance about just below the needle’s eye, until her mother would drop her hands to her lap.
    “It’s right there. I can see it and feel it. I just can’t bring it to the surface.”
    That was how Brooke felt now.
    Hayley was there, just below the surface. But no matter how hard she tried to grab what was there and pull Hayley back, it was no use.
    “God . . .” Brooke whispered the words, ignoring the wetness on her