When June fell asleep at three, he lifted her against his chest. His right wrist, injured years before and never quite healed, throbbed beneath her weight. He refused to move her. He stayed in the waiting room until morning, then spoke to a nurse, who said Tessa was stable but sedated, and that more information would follow after rounds.
By breakfast, Walter had eaten only half a packet of crackers. He gave June the last granola bar in her backpack and told her he had already eaten. She did not believe him. June had always been able to tell the difference between his ordinary voice and the voice he used when trying to protect somebody from bad news.
"Grandpa, your stomach made a noise," she said.
"That's just an old engine starting," he replied.
She tried to smile. Then she pushed half the granola bar back into his hand.
They spent the morning traveling between the ICU desk, a family waiting room, and the hospital chapel. June drew a picture of three people holding hands under a sun with sixteen rays. She wanted to leave it for her mother, but no one was sure when Tessa would be awake enough to see it. Walter folded the drawing into his wallet so it would not get bent.
Late that afternoon, a woman from patient services finally found him and explained that a temporary communication restriction had been placed on Tessa's record while staff confirmed her identity following the crash. The restriction had been lifted, but a message about it had not reached every desk. She apologized, then gave him the direct number to the ICU family liaison.
That evening, June said she was no longer hungry. It frightened Walter more than an ordinary complaint would have. She had always been hungry after a difficult day, especially for anything with potatoes. He felt her forehead for fever. There was none. She said her stomach hurt when she thought about her mother.
"It's all right to be scared," Walter told her.
"Are you scared?"
He considered lying. Instead, he said, "More than I've been in a long time."
June moved her hand into his. "Then I'll be scared with you."
They found a corner near the cafeteria, but Walter saved his money for gas and June's needs. Rent was due on Monday, and he had not dared consider Tessa's rehabilitation costs. Each unanswered question seemed to produce three more.
On the second morning, Tessa's supervisor called, tearful and offering to bring food, clothes, and help with the paperwork. Walter thanked her but said they were managing, though the reassurance sounded thin even to him. He had promised his daughter she would never have to beg for help raising June, and somewhere along the way had confused that promise with never accepting kindness.