Look Again

Chapter Eighty-two

Dawn came late, the sky dark until well after six, when the winter gloom lifted like a black velvet curtain, revealing yet another curtain, one of dark pewter. Ellen woke up slowly, still cuddling Will, and waited, lying in bed, listening to the hospital come slowly to life, with the nurses talking in low tones about the snowstorm, the skeleton crew, and the mom with the kidnapped baby in Room 302. Today, the reporter was the news.

"Mommy, when we get home, can we make a snowman?" Will asked, after the doctor had cleared them for discharge.

"We sure can." Ellen zipped his hoodie, and he was dressed to go, except for being shoeless. All he had on was a pair of blue cotton socks, stretched out of shape. "What was I thinking last night? I forgot your feet!"

Will giggled, looking down, so that their heads almost touched. "My feet are in my socks!"

"They are? Show me, just to make sure. Wiggle them for me."

"Look." Will's tiny toes popped around in their socks. "See, there they are. Under."

"What a relief. Whew. You know what that reminds me of?"

"What?"

"Of Oreo Figaro, when he's under the sheets. Remember how every time I make the bed, he gets under the new sheets and runs around?"

"He gets lost."

Ellen popped on his hood. "Right, he doesn't know how to get out, and we have to get him out."

Just then the nurse came in with the discharge papers on a clipboard. "Can you give me your John Hancock?" she asked, handing the clipboard to Ellen and smiling at W. "How you doing?"

"I have my feet."

"Good." The nurse smiled. "You need your feet."

Ellen stuffed her purse under her arm, took the pen the nurse was offering, and scribbled her name. "Thanks."

"Just to give you a heads-up, there are reporters out front."

"Great." Ellen managed a smile for Will's sake, then turned to him. "Hear that, pal? You know what a reporter is, don't you?"

"You're a reporter!" Will pointed at her, smiling, and Ellen grabbed his finger and gave it a quick kiss.

"Right, and there'll be lots of people like me out front, only they might shout your name and take your picture. You ready for that?"

"Ready!"

"Good. Let's go home."

"I want to make a snowman!" Will shouted, and Ellen hushed him.

The nurse asked her, "Do you have a ride home?"

"I called a cab. I used my cell phone, so please don't throw me in hospital jail."

"Don't worry." The nurse waved her off. "If I were you, I'd call the cab back and tell him to go to the emergency exit, not the main entrance. The security guard can give you the heads-up. His name is Mel."

"Good idea," Ellen said, grateful. "I'll stall in the gift shop."

"Gift shop!" Will cheered, and both women smiled.

"You know what that is?" the nurse asked him.

"Toys!"

Ellen picked Will up. "Thanks."

"Good luck," said the nurse, her eyes compassionate.

Ellen knew the nurses were feeling terrible for her, but she wasn't feeling terrible because she was still insulated. And she realized then that it wasn't the snow or the hospital that insulated her. It was Will himself. As long as she had him with her, she would keep it together, because she had to, for him. That was what it meant to be a mother.

"Let's go home, Mommy!" Will kicked his feet.

"First, say thank you to the nurse."

"Thank you," Will shouted, waving.

"You're very welcome," the nurse said, leaving.

"Thanks," Ellen said briefly, then carted Will out of the room and down the hall, where he waved and thanked the nurses, all of whom waved back with brave smiles.

"Bye, Willie!" the last one said, sitting at the desk nearest the elevator.

Will scowled. "That's not my name."

Ellen hit the button to go down. "Let's forgive her and go to the gift shop."

"Yay!" Will said, and the elevator came, the doors opening. "I want to push the button!"

"What do you say?" Ellen stepped inside, and Will twisted himself to lean down toward the button panel.

"Please!" he said, and the doors slid closed. When they opened again, Ellen stepped out of the cab and looked for a sign to the gift shop.

"There she is!" a man said, and she looked over, startled. People were rushing toward her, and she raised a hand.

"I have no comment, boys. Not now, not ever."

"We're not the press, Ms. Gleeson," the man said. "I'm Special Agent Manning from the FBI and this is Special Agent Orr."