Part 4

"Just around the river bend… waiting just around the river bend…."

Sophia and Tony and I were curled up on the floor watching Pocahontas when the phone rang. Mom picked it up in the kitchen, wiping her hands. "Hello? Yes, this is she… what?" she whispered. "An accident?"

I looked up just in time to see her drop the phone. Scooting expertly between the kids, I ran to the kitchen and grabbed the phone. "Hello?"

"Mrs. Abruzzi, are you still there?" a woman's voice asked.

Mom reached for a tissue with shaking hands. "It's Fox River," she whispered. "John…." Her eyes overflowed.

"This is her daughter," I said in a hard voice. "What's happened?"

"I'm sorry, I'm Dr. Tancredi. I work at Fox River. I was calling to tell you that your father has been life-flighted to Chicago Memorial Hospital."

"Why," I demanded.

"We believe that he was involved in a prison altercation –"

"What happened," I insisted.

"His neck was slashed open," the doctor said very quietly. "But I've spoken with the ER doctors there and they've finally gotten him stabilized."

"When can we see him?" I said.

"I'm afraid that's not possible," Dr. Tancredi said apologetically. "It's not policy. I just wanted to let you know."

"Thank you very much," I forced out, and slammed the receiver down into the cradle. "Mom, it's okay," I said, giving her a hug. "He's at Chicago Memorial; he'll be fine."

She finished wiping off all her smudged eye makeup and sniffed. "When can we see him?"

"They said we can't; prison policy." I made a face.

Mom looked at me over her tissue. "When has that ever stopped us?"

I blinked. Sometimes I forget that Mom is a Mob boss's wife.

Sophia and Tony safely on a play date with the neighbor kids, Mom and I drove down town and parked in the hospital parking garage. "Will they tell us his room number at the desk, do you think?" Mom wondered.

"I sort of doubt it," I said. "But there'll be a policeman outside his room, more than likely."

"If I kick up a fuss and distract the guard, do you think you can get in the room?" Mom asked.

I gave her an appreciative glace. "I'm sure I could. It's a good thing I brought along this pair of scrubs." I showed her the blue material in my purse.

"I've always said that you think very well on your feet, Oh," Mom said.

I beamed.

I really didn't think Mom had it in her. We decided to start in the ICU and work our way down. Mom did check at the desk, but the nurse gave her the stink eye. I pulled the scrubs on over my clothes and we gave our best impression of a nurse (me) escorting a person (Mom).

He wasn't in the ICU –or at least there was no policeman. Two floors later, and we struck pay dirt.

Mom headed toward the policeman with a purposeful air and demanded to know if this was John Abruzzi's room, ordering him aside, and generally making life difficult for the poor man who had been peacefully enjoying the paper and a cup of coffee before Mom stormed up. While he was distracted to perfection, I approached from the other end of the hallway and slipped in the door as he tried (unsuccessfully) to herd Mom away.

Easing the door shut without a click, I took a deep breath at the sight of Dad handcuffed to a hospital bed, a large white bandage around his neck and an IV bag of fluid in his arm. "Psst," I whispered, leaning over him.

He opened one eye. "Hmm," he said.

"Hi, Daddy," I said, smiling.

"Is that your mother making that racket?" he said slowly, sounding like he had a strong dose of painkillers in his system.

"Yup, she's giving that officer a lot of grief. Are you okay?"

He waved a way my worried look. "The Lord was with me," he murmured.

"Who did this?" I said.

"Someone I sinned against," he sighed.

"Have you been talking to the chaplain?" I asked, seeing the cross on the side of the table. Someone had buzzed his hair, too. Finally, I thought privately, shooting a glance at the door. The officer was finally gaining some traction in getting Mom to go away.

Dad nodded. "Jesus saved me, Oh."

I smiled. "Praise God."

"Physically and spiritually," he added. "I'm sorry. I need your forgiveness, Oh." I blinked, caught off-guard.

"What for, Daddy?"

"I killed your father."
I blinked, hard. "I –know that."

"Can you forgive me?" he asked, somehow looking older than I had ever seen him. "For taking away your real father?"

I swallowed. "Dad –"

"Please, Oh," he whispered.

"Of course I forgive you; but you are my father. God works everything out for good," I said, stubbornly holding back the tears. "He knew what would happen. He knew how m-much you and Mom would love me." I hugged him carefully. "I love you."

"I love, too, Oh," he said. "Thank you." He hugged me back as well as he could with one free arm.

"You need anything?" I asked.

"No. Give my love to your mother," he said. "Tell her not to worry."

I smiled, a little wobbly. "I'll tell her you got a haircut."

"I'll never hear the end of it," he said, wiping his eyes. "Now go on, before that guard comes in here."

I grabbed a clipboard out of my purse to look official and coughed. "Hey, guess what?" I said. "Ethan asked me to be his girlfriend. We're dating now."

"Don't think you're getting off that easy," he said. "We're still going to have that chat."

"Sure," I said with a wink. "Bye, Dad."