Chapter 5 - The Waking of Helen
Seventy-two hours later, the private pediatric intensive care suite on the tenth floor of Presbyterian Hospital was filled with the soft, golden light of a clear autumn afternoon.
The mechanical ventilator had been removed twelve hours prior. The chest tubes were gone, replaced by simple sterile dressings.
Helen lay propped up against clean white pillows, wrapped in a soft lavender blanket Michael had chosen for her from the department store down the street. Her fever had broken completely, her cheeks glowing with a faint, healthy pink, and her two mismatched eyes were open, clear, and bright.
Michael sat on the edge of the mattress, carefully peeling an orange, handing her small slices with patient, gentle care.
Richard stood by the window, watching them.
In his hand, he held the small silver star locket. He had spent the previous afternoon at a master jeweler's workshop on Madison Avenue, having the silver polished to a brilliant mirror shine, the tarnished chain replaced with solid platinum.
He walked over to the bed, sitting down on the edge of the mattress.
Helen looked up at him, her dark curls resting against her shoulders. She reached up with a thin, small hand, her fingers lightly touching the silver watch on Richard's wrist.
"Are you the man from the gold spoon?" she whispered, her voice soft and sweet.
Tears welled in Richard’s eyes, but this time they were tears of clean, unburdened love.
"I am your Uncle Richard, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice rich and steady. "And you never have to go back to the street again. You are coming home with us."
He opened the silver locket.
Inside, the jeweler had set two photographs: on the left, a faded picture of Helen’s mother laughing in their childhood garden; on the right, a new photograph of Michael and Helen sitting together at the hospital window.
Richard gently fastened the platinum chain around his niece’s neck, letting the silver star rest over her small heart.
Helen touched the polished metal, her mismatched eyes widening with pure, unshadowed wonder.
"Mama said you had a big house with lots of music," she smiled softly.
May you like
Richard leaned down, wrapping his arms around both Helen and Michael, pulling his son and niece against his chest in a fierce, protective embrace.
"We have a big house, Helen," Richard whispered, kissing her soft hair. "And from now on, it’s going to be filled with music every single day."
