“Can I see him?” He still looked pretty scary, with tubes everywhere, and monitors flashing and beeping, but she couldn't help wondering if it would be better for Jamie to see him and know for certain that his brother was alive.

“If you really want to. There are a lot of machines around him, they make funny noises, and he has tubes in his arms.”

“What kind of tubes?” Jamie looked curious but less frightened.

“Kind of like straws.” That was close enough.

“Will they let me see him?” There were no children allowed in the ICU, but she decided to ask Bill Webster, and explain the situation to him. He told her he'd be on duty that evening, and she had promised Peter she'd be back to spend the night.

“I'll ask,” she promised, and then gently pulled the child into her arms. “I love you, Jamie. Everything is going to be all right.”

“Promise he's not going away like Daddy?”

“I promise,” she said, fighting back tears. This was still so hard for all of them, not just for her.

“Pinkie swear?” he asked, holding his little finger up, and she linked it with her own.

“Pinkie swear. I'll ask about your visiting when I see the doctor tonight. Why don't we call Peter this afternoon so you can talk to him?” Jamie's eyes lit up at that.

“Can I?”

“Sure,” she promised, and realized that it would be a relief to his sisters too. Jamie came downstairs with her after that, and she rounded up the girls, dialed the hospital, and asked for the Trauma ICU.

They brought a phone to Peter, and he sounded hoarse and weak, but relatively normal in spite of it, he promised to come home as soon as he could, and told his sisters to behave while he was gone. And then he warned Jamie to be careful in the pool, and told him that what he had done was real dumb, and never to do anything like that.

“I miss you guys,” he said, sounding like a child again, and Liz could hear tears in his voice, as she listened on the other phone. “I'll come home as soon as I can.”

“Mom said she's going to ask if I can come and visit you,” Jamie said proudly, and Peter sounded pleased. Liz spoke up then and told Peter she'd be back in a few hours. If he was feeling all right, she wanted to have dinner with the kids.

“That's fine, Mom. Can you bring me something to eat?”

“Like what?” He was still on fluids, and they were talking about starting him on Jell-O that afternoon. He wasn't too excited about that.

“A cheeseburger.” His mother laughed at the request.

“You must be feeling a lot better.” It was a far cry from the day before when she was begging him to open his eyes and talk to her, as he lay there in another world. “I think you'd better wait a couple of days for that, sweetheart.”

“I figured you'd say that.” He sounded disappointed.

“I'll see you later.”

She went back to the other children then, and Jamie sat on her lap for a while, but he looked less upset than he had been. Talking to Peter had helped. And after he went to play outside, she called her office. According to Jean, there was nothing exciting happening. She had managed to postpone a court appearance, and reschedule some appointments for the following week. But it pointed out to Liz again that everything rested on her shoulders now. There was no one to stand in for her, juggle cases with her, it all depended on her. The children, her work, the catastrophe that had nearly befallen Peter, and the destruction it would have wrought if he had not survived. It was an awesome burden. And she was thinking about it as she drove back to the hospital to see Peter that night.

Bill Webster was back on duty by then, and he smiled when he saw her, but he looked harassed, and only waved as she walked by. It was another hour before he drifted in to the ICU to see Peter, and chat with her.

“How's our star patient doing?”

“He asked for a cheeseburger, I think that's a good sign, don't you?” she asked, as she brushed a lock of red hair out of her eyes. She had been gently rubbing Peter's shoulders for him, and he was still complaining about his massive headache, but they had put him on pain medication, which seemed to help somewhat.

“I think a cheeseburger is an excellent sign. How about tomorrow, Peter?”

“Really?” Peter looked thrilled.

“I think so. We're going to start you on therapy for that neck in a few days, and you might as well get your strength up, if your stomach doesn't object too much.” It was good news to Peter, who had hated the Jell-O, and refused to eat it, or the thin clear soup.

Bill Webster checked a few things on Peter's chart, looked carefully at the monitors, and made some notes before he left the ICU again, and Liz followed him out. She wanted to ask him about bringing Jamie to visit the following afternoon.

“I have a favor to ask,” she began cautiously, as he listened. He was wearing blue scrubs this time, and he looked as though he hadn't combed his hair in days. But he'd been dealing with a head-on collision all afternoon, three children and five adults had been injured. Two of the children had died that evening. It had been depressing and ugly, and it was a relief, even to him, to see Peter make such good progress. “I know they don't let children visit the ICU,” she began, and he nodded, looking only faintly impatient. In his opinion, there were good reasons for not having children in the ICU, they were little germ factories, and his patients were not up to fighting off infections. But Liz was looking at him with a serious expression. “We've all been through a lot in the past year, since their father died,” she still hated saying the word, but knew she had to, “and my youngest son is very upset about Peter.”

“How old is he?”

“Ten,” she hesitated, looking at him, wondering how much she needed to tell him, and then she decided to confide in him. After all, he had saved Peter's life. “He's learning-delayed. He was premature, and suffered a severe oxygen loss, and when they gave him oxygen at the delivery, it caused some damage. This is very hard for him, he saw what happened yesterday, and he thinks Peter may not come back, like his father. It would help a lot if he could see him sometime soon.”

There was a long pause as Bill Webster looked at her, and then nodded. She'd been through a lot, he was sure, and so had her kids.

“What can I do to help you?” he asked gently. “You have a lot on your plate, don't you?” The way he said it to her made her eyes fill with tears, and she turned away for a minute to compose herself before she answered. It was just as it had been right after Jack died, when people were kind to her, it broke down her defenses and made her cry.

“Just let him see Peter,” she said softly.

“Whenever you like. What about the others? Are they okay about it?” The family had clearly taken a heavy hit when their father was killed, and he wanted to do something now to ease their burdens. It made him realize what their brother represented to them, and to their mother. It gave him some insight into what he'd seen between them the day before.

“I think the girls understand, but it would reassure them to see him. I just didn't want to push too far. But it's really important for Jamie.”

“Bring him in first thing tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” she said, feeling moved by what he'd said to her, and not sure how to thank him.

She went back to Peter then, and stayed with him until he fell asleep, and then she went back to sleep herself on the couch in the waiting room. It was dark in the room, but she was still awake when Bill opened the door and looked in at her. He couldn't see if she was sleeping, and he was afraid to disturb her. He just stood watching her for a long moment until he spoke.

“Liz?” It was the first time he had used her first name, and she sat up, worried about Peter again.

“Is something wrong?” She set her feet down on the carpet, and tossed off the blanket she'd been given by the nurses.

“No, everything's fine. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to see if you were all right. … I wondered if you wanted a cup of tea or something.” It was the middle of the night and coffee didn't seem like an appropriate suggestion. He was working, but she was supposed to be asleep. “Did I wake you?” he asked in the dark, feeling guilty for disturbing her. But he'd been thinking about her and wanted to talk.

“No, I was awake. My sleep habits aren't what they used to be, before …” The words drifted off, but they both understood. “Maybe some tea would help, or soup or something.” There was a machine down the hall, near his office. She'd bought both soup and tea there before, but as she put her shoes on and followed him down the hall, he offered her tea from a pot in his office.

She sat down in a chair, feeling rumpled and uncombed, but he didn't look like he'd care. He looked worse than she did, after working all night.

“What kind of law do you specialize in?” he asked, as he sipped a mug of coffee.

“Family law … divorce. …”

He nodded knowingly. “I've had a little experience with that myself, but not in a long time.” He didn't look as though the memory was pleasant, but he managed a small, wintry smile.

“Are you divorced?” she asked, and he nodded. “Kids?”

“Nope. No time. I was a resident when we got married, and she was an intern. Some people manage to have kids then, but it always seemed foolish to me. I didn't want to have kids until I could spend some time with them, and enjoy them. You know,” he smiled, “like maybe when I'm eighty.” He had a nice smile, and a kinder look in his eyes than she had at first suspected. She had disliked him intensely when she first met him. He seemed so brusque, so rude, so uncaring, but she realized now that he had more important things on his mind, like saving lives, and sometimes, in his line of work, it was a matter of split seconds, and getting information from patients’ families as fast as you could. The day before he had seemed so harsh and abrupt to her, and now he seemed both pleasant and kind. “I've been divorced for ten years,” he told her then, volunteering more information than she'd asked for, but she was that kind of person. Her clients always told her more than she needed to know too, but sometimes that was helpful. And she found she wanted to know more about him.