Willa stands in her pajamas with her face pressed to the window. Rain streams down the glass. She looks up at her mother. "The beach looks sad, Mama."
"It does, doesn't it?" Winona strokes her hair, tangled from sleep.
"I wanted to swim." She pouts.
"I know, Punkin'. Maybe it will stop soon."
"Do the fish know it's raining?"
Winona has no idea.
Gayle saves her sister from making up an answer when she walks over, phone in her hand. She's frowning. "The weather says this system is going to hang around most of the day." She holds the screen up so Winona can see. "Look. It's stuck right over the Keys. Miami isn't even getting it."
"Go get dressed, Honey," Winona tells Willa, pushing her toward the bedroom. "And bring back the hairbrush so I can do something with that mop."
"Okay, Mama," she says. "Can I wear my bathing suit?"
"Yes, but put the pink sundress on over it, okay?" Winona bites her lip and eyes her sister. "Do you want to head back early?"
"Me?" Shaking her head, Gayle smiles at her. "You want to check on Raylan, don't you?"
"Do you mind?"
Gayle squints out the window at the gray sky. "I don't think we'll be missing anything," she says. "Why don't Willa and I do something while you go see Raylan?"
"Are you sure?" Winona appreciates the offer. It would be nice not to have to worry about her, or explain what's happened to her daddy.
"It'll be fun," Gayle says. "I'll take her to lunch and we could get pedicures after."
"You're spoiling her," Winona says, laughing. "But I know she would love it."
The promise of a grown-up afternoon with her aunt puts Willa in such a good mood that she doesn't even put up the usual fuss while Winona deals with her hair, brushing it out and putting it into two long braids.
Traffic back to Miami is bumper-to-bumper, turning a two-hour drive into a three-and-a-half hour crawl, with Willa singing along to the Frozen soundtrack all the way. By the time Gayle drops her off at the hospital, Winona is doubly grateful for some quiet time.
A smiling older woman in a pink smock gives her Raylan's room number and directs her to the elevators. She shares the ride with a man in jeans and a rumpled t-shirt. He's unshaven and clutching the hand of a dark-haired boy about Willa's age.
The little boy looks up at her with big brown eyes.
"I'm gonna meet my new baby sister," he tells her. "She was just born this morning. Today's her real birthday."
"He's a little excited," his father says.
Winona smiles. "I'm sure he is. Does your new sister have a name?"
"Ivy Elizabeth Wilson," he says. "I'm Harrison John Wilson. I'm almost six."
"My little girl is six," Winona says.
"What's her name?"
"Willa."
"My dad's name is Kevin. What's your name?"
Harry," the father says. "That's not polite." He catches Winona's eye. "I'm really sorry."
She laughs and holds out her hand. "I'm Winona. It's nice to meet you, Harry." The boy shakes her hand very seriously. The elevator comes to a stop.
"This is our floor," the man says. "Come on, Harry."
"Bye, Winona," Harry says, giving her a wave.
She wags her fingers at him in response as the door slides shut.
On Raylan's floor she squints at the room numbers beside the doors. To her they seem to be in some kind of random, indecipherable order. Approaching the desk, she asks a nurse for directions.
"I'm looking for room 412," she says. "Raylan Givens?"
The young woman glances at a chart. "Um..." She looks to the woman behind her for help.
Sensing they might be stingy with information, Winona fibs. "I'm his wife. I've been out of town with my sister and just got back."
"Rosie," she says. "Did they just take the guy in room 412 down for a CT?"
"The Marshal? Yep." A heavy-set, dark skinned woman looks up from her computer. "You just missed him, Honey."
"He told me he had a CT scan yesterday when they brought him in," she says, confused and more than a little worried.
"I just came on shift," Rosie says. "Let me see what I can find out for you." She picks up a phone, pushes some buttons, and starts talking quickly, her back to Winona. "Um hmm. Okay. His wife is here. Alright, I'll have her wait." She hangs up the phone and turns around, coming out from behind the desk. "If you want to wait in the lounge, they'll bring him back up as soon as they're done. The doctor will talk to both of you."
This does nothing to alleviate her concern. "Do you know why they needed another scan?" Winona asks.
"The doctor will talk to you after he reads it." She patted Winona's arm. "I know you're worried, but there's really nothin' else I can tell you. If you want some coffee, or a soft drink, there's a machine around the corner. I'd go for the soft drink. Coffee machine isn't too reliable."
"Thank you," She says, seeing she isn't going to get any more information. In the lounge, she sits on the uncomfortable sofa. It's upholstered with some kind of industrial fabric in an ugly burnt orange color. The floral paintings on the walls are loud and amateur. She picks up one of the tattered magazines from the table. It's two years old. She tosses it back and stands up, crossing the room to the windows.
A grey sky greets her, clouds rolling in. Despite the forecast, the rain has followed them to Miami. She hopes it's not an omen.
-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-
"The nausea and vomiting you experienced this morning are symptoms of a subdural hematoma," the doctor says. "We're going to keep you here for observation..."
"How long?" Raylan asks. "I'm not feeling nauseous anymore."
Winona jumps in, too. "How bad is the bleeding?"
The doctor sits on the edge of the sink. "It's not a bad bleed, but I'm not comfortable sending you home with any bleeding. We'll do another CT scan tonight and if it's stopped, we can talk about releasing you in a day or so."
Raylan takes a shallow breath; wincing.
"Broken ribs are pretty painful," the doctor says. "Not much we can do, and with the bleeding in the brain, we have to be careful with painkillers."
"Isn't there anything you can give him?"
"I'm fine."
Winona looks him over. "You're not fine Raylan. You need to rest and you can't do that if you're hurting."
"I can up the dosage of acetaminophen temporarily." The doctor makes a note on the chart. "They'll keep close tabs on your vitals and page me if anything changes. I'll see you later this afternoon."
The door closes quietly behind him and they're alone. He watches as Winona wraps her arms around herself and paces at the end of the bed.
"Why didn't you call me?" She doesn't look up at him as she asks the question. "You said you'd call if anything changed."
He takes a shallow breath. "I was kinda busy throwing up," he says. He decides to go for sympathy. "Hurt like hell with these ribs, too."
Now her blue eyes find his. "I'm sure it did," she says. Her voice softens.
The nurse comes in with a paper cup of pills. She pours water into his plastic cup. "This should help with the pain," she says. "Try to rest."
Raylan nods and she watches as he dutifully takes the medication. When she leaves, he pats the side of the bed without the railing, the opposite side from his injured ribs. "Come're."
She walks over slowly and looks down at him. "Did you miss me?" A smile curves her mouth and perches gingerly on the bed, careful not to jostle him, and takes his hand.
"I did," he says. She's still smiling, but her eyes are clouded. "Don't worry," he says, squeezing her hand. "I'm gonna be fine."
"I'm glad they're keeping you here."
"Well, that makes one of us," he grimaces. She's quiet, and he knows she's thinking about all the conversations they've had over the years in ERs and hospital rooms. He doesn't have any more reassurances to give her, so he changes the subject.
"Where's Willa?" He asks.
"Gayle took her to lunch. Now they're getting pedicures." Winona takes her phone out and shows him a picture of Willa grinning in the salon chair, one set of toenails already painted a neon pink. "Gayle is really enjoying this."
"That's good." He stifles a yawn and his eyes blink closed.
She leans in and kisses his forehead. "You should get some sleep."
"Stay?" He says, not opening his eyes.
She settles in next to him, leaning on the pillow. "I'm not going anywhere."