Free Prodigal Son by Danielle Steel Page A

her from falling and injuring herself, she was in a wheelchair for several months. It was a small price to pay for the handsome baby boy they named William. She was only sorry that Michael felt she was too weak to nurse, and they took turns giving him bottles whenever Michael was home. He was a strapping, handsome little boy.
    While Michael did his residency in anesthesiology, Maggie managed fairly well. She was walking better again, although it was hard for her to care for the toddler, and she was always relieved when Michael came home to keep him from getting hurt. He worried a lot about Maggie’s nerves. He reluctantly admitted to her that after a head injury like the one she had sustained, she was far more at risk for a stroke or cerebral hemorrhage at any age. The thought of that happening while she was caring for their baby terrified Maggie, and they hired a babysitter to keep him safe and so she could rest more. She missed going to the park with Billy, but she was always waiting with open arms when he came home. He was the joy of her life, as was his father.
    Everything became simpler for them when Michael’s father invited him to join his practice, and they moved back to Ware. She easily found young girls to help her there. When Maggie got pregnant with Lisa, Michael put her on bed rest again, this time for eight months. It weakened her considerably, but once again the delivery was easy, and the baby a healthy little girl. And after eight months on bed rest, Maggie was weak and fell in their bedroom after the birth. Michael insisted that she use a walker after that, which embarrassed her, but he was adamant that he didn’t want her seriously injured, or to hit her head again. He was convinced that she wouldn’t survive it a second time. And a year after Lisa was born, his parents died, and they moved into their house. The only problem was that there were several flights of stairs, which made it hard for Maggie to get around. She was absolutely forbidden to negotiate the stairs on her own. Michael brought her downstairs in the evening when he got home, and gently laid her on the couch where he could keep an eye on her, but he didn’t want her wandering the house, on any floor, while hewas gone. It limited her activities considerably, and it drove her crazy listening to her children playing downstairs with the babysitter, and she couldn’t go down to join in the fun. She had to wait for them to visit her, or until Michael came home and carried her downstairs to the living room.
    Several times she suggested that they buy a house all on one level, so she could get around with the walker, but Michael looked heartbroken at the thought of selling his parents’ house. She didn’t have the heart to do that to him, after all that he had done for her. He had given up his life, except for working as a doctor, to care for her in every possible way. It was why she had listened to him yet again when he insisted that she abort their third child. She trusted him implicitly. Michael was always right when it came to her health. And he was right too that she would grow weaker over the years. Michael had said it early on, and it appeared to be inevitable.
    In recent years, her father’s death had come as a great shock and source of grief to her, as had their son Bill moving to London to go to school several years before. He was twenty-two now and she missed him terribly. He almost never came home, although they called each other often and communicated by e-mail. Michael worried that the shocks she had sustained had once again impacted her health, which had deteriorated noticeably in the last two years.
    Their daughter Lisa was their pride and joy. She wanted to be a doctor like her father, and she was a very efficient nurse whenever Maggie felt weaker than usual, or particularly ill. Her health had been on a slow downhill slide for years, and it was beginning to seem miraculous to all of them that she was still alive at