Nora agreed to both conditions.
Meanwhile, life upstairs refused to follow anyone's timetable.
Simone remained in intensive care for four days before the team felt comfortable reducing some of the medications keeping her deeply sedated. On the fifth day, her temperature rose, and the physicians investigated an infection; on the sixth, a new scan prompted another long conversation about complications and recovery.
Andre learned an entire language of careful medical phrases he never wanted to hear again. He learned the difference between a change and an improvement, between being stable and being well, between hope that had a reason and hope that demanded a guarantee.
He also learned to accept a thermos of coffee from his sister without insisting on pouring it himself.
Lila went back to school on Wednesday. Her teacher arranged for her to spend time with the counselor, and Patrice picked her up when Andre needed to be at the hospital.
At home, Lila began drawing three people beneath yellow suns. Some pictures showed her mother sitting in bed, and others showed her standing beside the house with both hands stretched toward the sky.
She brought the pictures to the hospital in a folder that was already bent at the corners. A nurse helped her select one to place where Simone could see it if she opened her eyes.
One afternoon Andre found Nora replacing cartons of milk in the cafeteria cooler.
"She moved her fingers today," he said.
Nora turned around. "That's news you wanted to share?"
"The nurse said we shouldn't read too much into one movement. But the hand was warm, and when I held it, it felt like hers."
"Then you can be glad about that," Nora replied. "You don't have to turn one glad moment into a prediction."
Andre looked at her strangely.
"You speak like someone who's had a lot of practice."
"Not enough to make it easy."
He lingered by the cooler, watching her line up the cartons with their labels facing forward.
"I thought being a good husband meant staying beside that bed until she woke up. But I couldn't even remember to feed our daughter."
"You were in a crisis," Nora said. "And you listened when somebody told you what they needed. That's part of being a good father too."
He considered this. "Lila's note is in my wallet now."
"How's she doing?"
"Better when I let her talk. Worse when I tell her not to worry."
"That sounds about right."
He told Nora that Lila had asked whether her mother might have forgotten the recipe for their Saturday pancakes. Andre had tried to reassure her, then stopped himself and admitted he didn't know.
They had made the pancakes together anyway, using Simone's stained recipe card, and burnt the first batch just as Simone always accused Andre of doing.
"Lila laughed," he said. "I nearly cried because I'd forgotten how she sounded when she laughed."
Nora rested her hand briefly against the shelf. "Tell Simone that story when you visit."