Free Rejoice by Karen Kingsbury Page A

cheeks. “I know you’re there. I know you saved her for a reason. But give her back her sight, please. Breathe life into her brain, because she’s in trouble, God. Please . . .”
    Hayley’s crying grew loud again, and she began turning her head from side to side. She still had tubes in her nose where she was being fed and hydrated, so maybe Dr. Martinez was wrong. Maybe she wasn’t looking for Brooke; maybe she was sick of the nose tubes. It was possible, wasn’t it?
    With each minute her daughter’s crying grew louder, and a panic began to come over Brooke. Panic and adrenaline. The same feeling she had once when she was in the house and heard a loud crash in the backyard, followed by Hayley’s desperate cries. In that moment, she’d had a frantic determination to reach Hayley, cradle the little girl in her arms, and rock away the fear and pain.
    It was a mother’s instinct really, and now . . . now even though Hayley desperately needed comfort, Brooke could do nothing to help her. The mother’s instinct was there, stronger all the time. But there was no way to act on it, no way to do the one thing that would bring peace to both her and Hayley.
    The bridge between them was broken in too many places, and now nothing could repair it. Not even an ocean of love for her younger daughter.
    She gripped the rails on Hayley’s bed and raised her voice. “Baby, Mommy’s here . . . it’s okay.”
    More crying, more head turning.
    “Sweetheart, I love you.” She stood and moved her face closer to Hayley’s. “Everything’s okay. Jesus is with you . . . he’s going to make you better.”
    The pattern of her daughter’s wailing stayed the same. Over and over and over again. Deep sorrowful monotone wails, and finally something inside Brooke snapped. As long as Hayley didn’t recognize her voice, she couldn’t do anything to help. Couldn’t be a mother to her own daughter.
    And in that moment Brooke’s adrenaline and panic turned to nausea.
    She gritted her teeth. Enough. She couldn’t stand there while Hayley was suffering, couldn’t take another moment of it. A way had to exist for her to mother her daughter, and somehow, someway, Brooke would find it. Without considering protocol or Dr. Martinez’s assurance that nothing would help her daughter, Brooke released the lock on the bed rail. She eased it down and then climbed carefully into bed beside Hayley and propped herself up against the headboard.
    Then she worked her hands beneath her small daughter and lifted her into her arms. Brooke fought the urge to recoil, because the moment her daughter was completely and fully in her arms, Brooke realized something. The stiffness wasn’t only in Hayley’s hands and feet.
    It was throughout her entire body.
    Hayley had always been more clingy, more willing than Maddie to cuddle with Brooke. Maddie was the independent one, the daughter who would give Brooke a quick hug, then be on her way. But now Hayley fought Brooke’s embrace, pushed against it and stiffened in a way that left Brooke unsure about whether she’d survive the pain.
    “Hayley, it’s me, Mommy.” Brooke lowered her mouth to Hayley’s temple, inches from her daughter’s ear. “Hayley, I’m here, honey . . . I’m here.”
    Brooke hadn’t cried much since the accident.
    She was a professional, after all. Someone trained to think with her head, not her heart. But with Hayley unwilling, unable to respond to Brooke’s arms around her, the tears came like streams. Quietly and without the sobbing some parents showed in emergency rooms, Brooke wept over Hayley, wept for all the missing parts and for the uncertainty of whether she’d ever be whole again.
    “Baby . . . shhh. Hayley, it’s Mommy.” She hugged her daughter to her chest and whispered the words as often as she could, as often as her strength would allow.
    If only Peter had watched her, if he’d stayed with the girls until she got back . . .
    Hayley’s blonde hair was