Free If I Should Die Before I Wake by Lurlene McDaniel Page B

canoe as it glided up. “He doesn’t feel well,” Deanne called out.
    “I-I’m okay,” Matt whispered weakly.
    “All right, son,” his father said, grabbing him under his arms and hoisting him up. “Lie down inside for a while. You’ll be all right.” He helped Matt into the house.
    Later, Janet fixed lunch, but no one had much of an appetite. They tried to play basketball in the afternoon, but everyone kept thinking about Matt. He still didn’t feel better.
    During supper, there was hardly any conversation. Afterward, they tried to play Hearts. The game seemed slow and boring. No one could concentrate. Janet kept checking on Matt all evening. About nine o’clock she sat down at the table. Her face looked very worried.
    “Chuck,” she said, leaning over toward her husband, “Matt wants to go back to the hospital. I think we should leave right now.”

Twelve
    T he rest of the evening became a blur in Deanne’s mind. They laid Matt in the backseat of the car. Janet sat, holding his head in her lap. “Deanne,” Mr. Gleason said, “you’d better come back with us. You can call your folks from the hospital.”
    Then he turned to Tina and put his arm around her. “Honey,” he began intensely, “we’re leaving you in charge. Mom’s called Mrs. Colwell. She’s on stand-by, if you need her. We’ll call you all just as soon as we get Matt to All-Children’s.”
    “Dad,” Tina began, her eyes filling with tears. “Matt will be all right, won’t he?”
    “Of course, he will!” Mr. Gleason said with a smile. “He’s just overtired. They’ll fix him up at the hospital. Now don’t worry. And get the kids in bed.”
    Deanne sat tensely in the moving car. She watched the darkness speed by. She could hear Matt’s shallow breathing from the backseat. She was scared.
    When they got to All-Children’s, the orderlies whisked Matt upstairs to his room for tests. Deanne and the Gleasons nervously paced the hallway. It seemed like a nightmare to Deanne.
    Hours before, she had been holding onto Matt in a sun-dappled forest clearing. Now, they were back at the hospital. And Matt was very sick. She swallowed the lump in her throat.
    “Deanne, honey,” Janet Gleason said softly. “Maybe you better call your parents and let them know where you are.”
    Deanne nodded and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was eleven-thirty. She didn’t want to call. She didn’t want them to make her come home. Her father answered the phone. Quickly, Deanne told him about Matt.
    “I’ll be right there,” Dr. Vandervoort said. Deanne felt better. Her father would know what to do. All of Matt’s doctors would listen to him. Together they’d make Matt well again.

    * * * * *
    All night long, doctors, lab technicians and nurses went in and out of Matt’s room. Deanne could see the doctors conferring with each other through the door, whenever it opened. Dr. Vandervoort arrived and joined the quiet talks.
    About four o’clock that morning Dr. Vandervoort and the two main physicians on Matt’s case came over to the Gleasons. Deanne stood next to them.
    “He’s stabilized,” Dr. Gallagher told them.
    “Thank God,” Janet said.
    “That’s good, isn’t it, Daddy?” Deanne asked.
    Dr. Vandervoort took her by her shoulders and stared at her with his piercing blue eyes. He said, “Yes, Matt’s holding on. But, Deanne, he is very, very sick.”
    Her heart pounded. “Will he . . . could he . . . ?” she couldn’t say the word.
    “We don’t know. But he’s resting now, and so should you.”
    “Oh, Dad!” she cried. “Please don’t make me go home. Please let me stay till Matt’s awake.”
    He looked hard at her. “I will,” he said. “But go lie down in my office for a while. Someone will come and get you if there’s a change.”
    Deanne nodded numbly. She was very tired. She knew she’d feel better if she got some sleep. She went to her father’s office.

    * * * * *
    All the next morning there was no