Butterfly Lane (35 page)

He hugged both of them, kissed Zanny, and then excused himself. “It was a long drive, and the bathroom is calling.”

They laughed, and as Zanny started up the steps, John stopped her. He enveloped her in a hug. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy. Maybe when the boys were born, or when you said ‘I do’ the first time. But this is way up on the list.”

“Me, too.”

As they kissed, he thought if life got any better, he might not be able to stand it. But it was nice to have the chance to try.

Epilogue

October 1993

W
hen his father, his face paper white, walked into his office a little after noon, John knew that whatever had brought Owen there was going to change his life. He didn’t remember rising from his chair, but he was standing, already bracing for the impact.

“Mom?”

Owen shook his head. John could see his father’s throat working as he forced out the name. “Zanny.”

And just like that, the world collapsed.

The drive to the hospital, with his uncle Jack behind the wheel, was a blur. All John could think about was how radiant and happy Zanny had been that morning when he’d left for work. She’d been so bubbly that he hadn’t wanted to leave, and she’d practically had to push him out the door.

That was her first day off for maternity leave. In two weeks’ time, give or take, they would greet their daughter. All that was in jeopardy. John felt as if he were coming apart from the inside out, and it took everything in him to not lash out in pain.

“You said she was still alive, right? Rick said she’s alive?” he asked Jack.

His cousin had been one of the first responders and had called Jack immediately. Owen had happened to be getting his truck serviced at the dealership where Jack worked when the call came in. They’d both rushed over to tell John.

Jack met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Yes. And Eli seems to be okay, just a broken arm.”

“Of all the days for him to get sick, why today?” John asked the universe at large.

The slow traffic caused by the accident detoured their route, so the already interminable drive seemed even more so. When they reached the turnoff to the road that led to the hospital, a sheriff’s deputy was directing traffic at the roadblock. Jack pulled up and waved.

“Dave, we have to get to the hospital. Let us through?”

“Go on around the front bumper. There’s room.”

A couple of minutes later, as they were pulling into the parking lot, John had his uncle stop the car. “Look. Oh, dear God. Is that Zanny’s car?” He pointed down the road.

A truck hauling lumber had t-boned Zanny’s little sedan, and practically the whole passenger side was caved in. As they watched, the wrecker pulled it free from where it was impaled on the front of the truck.

“I’m going to be sick.” Fumbling with the back door, John managed to get it open in time. He emptied his stomach on the ground, his body covered in a cold sweat.

“Pull it together, John. Come on. You have to pull it together.” Owen, who’d been in the front seat with Jack, came to John. “Let’s get inside.”

He handed John a handkerchief, and John managed to wipe his mouth as he climbed out of the backseat.

“I’ll park. You two head in.”

“What if I lose her, Dad?”

“I hope it won’t come to that. Come on. Let’s find Eli.”

Rick and Noah met them at the entrance to the ER. As soon as Noah saw them, he ran for John.

“Dad!”

John knelt and caught him, pulling him in tight. “What are you doing here?” he asked as he stood, Noah in his arms.

“Grandma Molly sent me over from school. Dad, she said Mom’s going to be okay. She’ll be okay. Grandma said so. Eli’s getting an x-ray, and we have a baby sister. I got to hold her.”

Despite Noah’s words, John could hear a thread of uncertainty in his son’s voice. It took a minute for all of it to register. He sat Noah down, but kept his arm around his shoulders. “Molly sent you?”

“Yes. And she was here earlier, when Michelle brought my sister over. She said again that Mom’s going to be okay.”

Rick stepped in to explain, “As this young man said, Eli is in x-ray. Except for a broken arm, he looks to be okay. The baby is fine, Michelle said, and Zanny’s in surgery. That’s all we know.”

Jack came up in time to hear the last part. “We saw the car. What about the other driver?”

Rick shook his head. “Looks like he might have had a heart attack or something. He was gone when we got there. And Burke Lockhart, just so you know, he probably saved Zanny and the baby. He was a few cars back when it happened, and he got to her fast. She’s got a bad cut on her leg, and he managed to get a tourniquet around it. Things would have been very different if he hadn’t been there.”

The doors swished open, and Michelle stepped outside. “John, you’re here. Good. Eli’s coming back up from x-ray. We need you.”

The next few hours were hell on earth as they waited for word on Zanny’s condition. His mother and all his sisters arrived and kept vigil as they waited for word. Anxious to see the baby, but afraid to at the same time, John focused on his sons. They got Eli’s arm set and casted, and after some debate, John elected to send him and Noah home with Amelia and Sarah.

“We’ll stop and get Sydney,” Sarah told them, referring to Emma’s daughter, who was with Sarah’s mother. “And just take everyone to John and Zanny’s.”

John was numb as they rode the elevator up to the surgical floor. Luckily, the waiting area was deserted when they went in, and with a heavy sigh, he sank onto one of the orange plastic chairs. Someone shoved a cup of water under his nose, and he took it.

“Look sharp,” Owen said a short time later. “Michelle’s bringing you something.”

His cousin was holding a bundle wrapped in pink. “Since I’m family, and given the circumstances, I have permission to bring this little one to you. She’s hungry, and we thought you might want to feed her.”

John couldn’t move for a few seconds. His eyes were glued to the tiny hands waving above the edge of the blanket. He was glad he was sitting down, because when Michelle placed the baby in his arms with extra care, he melted.

“Oh, God.”

Owen had his arm around John’s shoulder, and he leaned into his father, grateful for the support. The baby was squirming, kicking, and starting to fuss, which John guessed would turn into wailing very quickly. Taking the bottle, he held the nipple to her mouth and she clamped on with vigor. She needed only a few tries to figure it out, and then she was greedily sucking down formula.

“She’s really okay?” John couldn’t take his eyes off his daughter.

“She’s perfect,” Michelle answered. “Six pounds, two ounces. She won’t even need to spend any extra time in the hospital, at this rate.”

A nurse stepped into the room. “Mr. Campbell? The OR nurse just called. They’re almost finished, and the doctor will be in very soon to talk to you.”

Michelle touched his arm. “That sounds promising.”

“I hope so.”

Emma knelt in front of them, touching the baby’s hair softly, which came to a peak in one big, soft curl over her forehead. “Look at that hair. Any idea what to name her?”

John nodded. “I know exactly what to name her, as long as Zanny agrees.” When he told them, everyone smiled.

“It fits her. And I think Zanny will like it,” Owen said.

“Yes, it does fit her. And I think she will.”

More than twenty-four hours passed before John was able to ask Zanny what she thought about the name. The surgeon had come in, as promised, and explained in very blunt detail that Zanny’s life had been mere seconds away from being extinguished.

“If the wreck had happened anywhere else, or if that state trooper hadn’t been there, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Late in the afternoon the day after the wreck, he was feeding the baby again. She was coming along exactly as any newborn should—a blessing for which John didn’t have the words to express his gratitude.

He set aside the half-empty bottle, then placed her on his shoulder, the spit-up cloth in place. In very short order, a loud belch made John grin.

“Good golly, Miss Molly. Listen to you. How does your belly feel now?” He cradled her in his arms again, folding the cloth and putting it aside like a pro. Quiet now that she was fed, Molly gave a few good kicks, then settled down.

“Your mommy is going to be so happy to see you,” he told her. “She’s waited for you for so long. And you’re just as beautiful as she is. Yes, you are. Though I don’t know where this red hair comes from.” He touched the curl on top of her head that refused to lie down.

A sound from the bed alerted him, and looking up, he saw that Zanny was awake.

“Hi,” she said, her voice rusty. She cleared her throat. “What do you have there?”

He stood and approached the bed. “I have your daughter. Want to meet her?”

“Please.”

“Let’s get you sitting up a bit more first.” He adjusted the bed, and Zanny managed to situate herself so that she was upright. Mindful of all the tubes and lines coming from her arms, he handed her the baby.

“Don’t let me drop her.”

“I won’t.” He kept a hand under Molly, and touched Zanny’s head with the other. “You woke up a couple of times, but you were pretty out of it. Do you remember that?”

“No. Oh, John, she’s beautiful.” Tears sparkled on her lashes, and she laughed softly as she uncovered the baby, inspecting her hands and feet. “What happened? I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.” John sucked in a breath, and Zanny looked up. “Honey?”

“Well, you were hit by a truck,” he stammered. “You don’t remember?”

Her face reflected her shock. “No. The last thing I…Eli and I had just gotten out of the doctor’s office, and we went to get him a hamburger. Eli? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. Broken arm, some bruises, but he’s fine. Mom and Dad are with him at the house, and Noah. Who, by the way, came over here from school to take care of Eli. Your mom sent him.”

“But they’re okay?”

“They are fine. I’ll call home here in a few minutes, and you can talk to both of them.” He pressed a kiss against her forehead. “It was close, Zanny. We almost lost you.”

He saw that she understood he was serious. “So tell me about this young lady. Did I hear you call her Molly?”

“I did. I think we need to name her Molly. Molly Burke Campbell.”

Zanny frowned. “I don’t have a problem with Molly, but Burke?”

John explained Burke Lockhart’s role in everything. “I don’t ever want to forget how lucky we were that he was there yesterday. And from what you and Emma say, he’s a good man.”

“He is.” She sighed and looked down at the baby going to sleep in her arms. “Molly Burke. Well, I suppose it’s no odder than Molly Dean, and it ought to make your dad happy. At least future generations won’t get her confused with another Molly.”

“That’s true.” He told her the stats on Molly’s weight and all the other numbers mothers always keep close to their hearts. “And she’s been eating like a little pig.”

Zanny winced when she laughed, but her mirth was genuine. “John David, don’t you call our daughter a pig.”

“Well, it fits, I’m proud to say. And she doesn’t hesitate to tell you when she’s hungry. She has a pair of lungs on her. You don’t want to let her get to full-blown wailing. She’ll pierce your eardrums.”

“Those are all such good signs. Here. She’s asleep, and my arms just can’t hold her,” she told him with some regret.

John took Molly and hugged her close before putting her in the bassinet beside the bed. When she was snuggled in, he eased his hip onto the bed and took Zanny’s hand in his. “Please don’t ever do this to me again. I can’t lose you.”

“Come here.”

Very carefully, he lowered himself into her arms. Resting his face against her neck, he closed his eyes. “Love you.”

“I love you,” she whispered back. “I can’t promise you tomorrow, you know that. Any more than you can promise me tomorrow. But I can promise you that in this moment, this very moment, life is good. And this is where we need to live. But God willing, I’ll be here when you’re ninety, chasing you around the nursing home.”

John laughed, though the sound was soggy. “God willing, when we’re ninety-ish, I’ll let you catch me in the supply closet. My Zanny.”

“My John.”

Looking down into her smiling eyes, he let the moment be enough.