been trying to find out the names of the paramedics who were first on the scene of an accident I was in with my daughter three years ago. I’ve made a couple of other calls in recent weeks but I’ve never heard from anyone.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Mrs. De Luca,” a woman on the other end says. “Have you checked over your own medical records from the accident?”
Jen dumps the diced potatoes into the pot and adds a container of chicken stock. “I have but there’s no indication of who the paramedics were.”
“Do you remember who you left a message for?”
Jen adds some salt and pepper to the pot. “Monica.”
“Let me find her for you.”
Please, not another voice mail, Jen thinks, adding parsley and stirring.
“Mrs. De Luca, it’s Monica. I’m so sorry I didn’t get back to you before now. You had said that the paramedics were the first responders that night?”
Jennifer leans against the kitchen counter, remembering. “Yes.”
She hears computer keys clicking in the background. “According to hospital files, paramedics arrived shortly after the local fire and rescue unit.”
“That was the tall hat…” Jen says, her voice fading.
“I’m sorry?”
“I remember a tall hat. I didn’t realize that fire and rescue was there as well. Thank you so much.”
She hangs up the phone and turns to click off the TV and sees Avery, who has been listening.
“Who were you talking to?”
Jen sits at the kitchen table and reaches for Avery’s hands. “A woman at the hospital, who is trying to help me find everyone who helped us the night of our accident.”
Avery’s face closes and her mouth draws in. Her eyes are dark with what looks like fear. “Why are you doing that?”
“Because I think it could help.”
Avery is shaking her head as tears fill her eyes. “No, no, no, no, no!” She yanks her hands from her mom and tries to get away.
Jen stands and reaches for her arm, turning Avery so she can see her face. “One of those people who helped us actually cared enough to say a prayer and give you the angel doll. I remember it and want to say thank you. I think it will help me.”
Avery’s face is red and puckered. “It won’t. You keep bringing up all this bad stuff but it never helps.”
Jen pulls her toward the table and lifts her onto her lap, as she sits. “I don’t keep bringing it up. It’s just here. All the time. And so many things remind me of that night and of your dad. I need to do something to help myself and I think that by thanking all of those people, I’ll get one step closer.”
“You won’t.” Her little face is defiant, unbelieving.
Jen rests her head on top of Avery’s. “I might.” She says it almost like a prayer and breathes easier for the first time in ages.
ELEVEN
Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.
—D ESMOND T UTU
“You brought her in before the appendix burst so we’ll be able to go in and remove it.” The doctor looks at Sofia lying on the exam table, tapping her on the leg. “And that means you’ll be feeling better very soon.”
Dr. Hernandez is kind, with small lines feathering out at the edge of his eyes and flecks of gray highlighting his thick shock of brown hair.
“What is an appendix?” Sofia asks.
“It’s a finger-shaped pouch that sticks out from your colon right down here,” he says, touching her lower belly on the right side.
“But if you take it, what will happen to me?”
He smiles and leans against the table. “Nothing.” He shrugs. “You won’t even miss it, and do you know why?” She shakes her head. “Because we’re not totally sure what it does.” Her eyes are big. “It’s true. It has to have a function, right?” She nods. “But after years and years of medicine no one really knows what it is! Some believe it helps our immune system. We do know that sometimes it can get blocked and cause lots of pain. It can also leak and rupture, but your dad
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Mrs. De Luca,” a woman on the other end says. “Have you checked over your own medical records from the accident?”
Jen dumps the diced potatoes into the pot and adds a container of chicken stock. “I have but there’s no indication of who the paramedics were.”
“Do you remember who you left a message for?”
Jen adds some salt and pepper to the pot. “Monica.”
“Let me find her for you.”
Please, not another voice mail, Jen thinks, adding parsley and stirring.
“Mrs. De Luca, it’s Monica. I’m so sorry I didn’t get back to you before now. You had said that the paramedics were the first responders that night?”
Jennifer leans against the kitchen counter, remembering. “Yes.”
She hears computer keys clicking in the background. “According to hospital files, paramedics arrived shortly after the local fire and rescue unit.”
“That was the tall hat…” Jen says, her voice fading.
“I’m sorry?”
“I remember a tall hat. I didn’t realize that fire and rescue was there as well. Thank you so much.”
She hangs up the phone and turns to click off the TV and sees Avery, who has been listening.
“Who were you talking to?”
Jen sits at the kitchen table and reaches for Avery’s hands. “A woman at the hospital, who is trying to help me find everyone who helped us the night of our accident.”
Avery’s face closes and her mouth draws in. Her eyes are dark with what looks like fear. “Why are you doing that?”
“Because I think it could help.”
Avery is shaking her head as tears fill her eyes. “No, no, no, no, no!” She yanks her hands from her mom and tries to get away.
Jen stands and reaches for her arm, turning Avery so she can see her face. “One of those people who helped us actually cared enough to say a prayer and give you the angel doll. I remember it and want to say thank you. I think it will help me.”
Avery’s face is red and puckered. “It won’t. You keep bringing up all this bad stuff but it never helps.”
Jen pulls her toward the table and lifts her onto her lap, as she sits. “I don’t keep bringing it up. It’s just here. All the time. And so many things remind me of that night and of your dad. I need to do something to help myself and I think that by thanking all of those people, I’ll get one step closer.”
“You won’t.” Her little face is defiant, unbelieving.
Jen rests her head on top of Avery’s. “I might.” She says it almost like a prayer and breathes easier for the first time in ages.
ELEVEN
Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.
—D ESMOND T UTU
“You brought her in before the appendix burst so we’ll be able to go in and remove it.” The doctor looks at Sofia lying on the exam table, tapping her on the leg. “And that means you’ll be feeling better very soon.”
Dr. Hernandez is kind, with small lines feathering out at the edge of his eyes and flecks of gray highlighting his thick shock of brown hair.
“What is an appendix?” Sofia asks.
“It’s a finger-shaped pouch that sticks out from your colon right down here,” he says, touching her lower belly on the right side.
“But if you take it, what will happen to me?”
He smiles and leans against the table. “Nothing.” He shrugs. “You won’t even miss it, and do you know why?” She shakes her head. “Because we’re not totally sure what it does.” Her eyes are big. “It’s true. It has to have a function, right?” She nods. “But after years and years of medicine no one really knows what it is! Some believe it helps our immune system. We do know that sometimes it can get blocked and cause lots of pain. It can also leak and rupture, but your dad
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