Chapter 8 - Poppy Wakes Up
At 6:30 AM, the first pale rays of sunrise broke over the city skyline, streaming through the panoramic window of Room 402.
The quiet hum of the monitors was soothing now.
Brooke had pulled the armchair right up against the edge of the mattress. She hadn't slept a wink, but the crushing exhaustion in her bones had been replaced by an overwhelming, pure clarity.
On the bedside table, Poppy’s favorite plush rabbit—a worn, gray stuffed animal named Barnaby that Brooke’s assistant had retrieved from their apartment late last night—sat vigilantly on the pillow.
A soft, fluttery movement caught Brooke’s eye.
Poppy’s tiny eyelashes fluttered. She let out a tiny, sleepy sigh.
Brooke leaned forward, her heart leaping into her throat. "Poppy? Sweetheart?"
The little girl’s eyelids slowly opened. Her big hazel eyes, so bright and clear, blinked against the morning light. She looked around the room, disoriented, then her gaze locked onto Brooke.
"Mommy?" Poppy’s voice was tiny, hoarse from the intubation tube, but it was the most beautiful sound in the universe.
"I'm here, baby," Brooke whispered, tears instantly spilling over her cheeks as she gently cupped Poppy’s face. "Mommy is right here. You're safe. You're in the hospital, and the doctors fixed your back."
Poppy frowned a little, her little brow furrowing. "Our car got hit by the big truck. It was really loud, Mommy."
"I know, my brave girl. But it’s over now. The truck is gone. You're completely safe."
Poppy paused, looking down at the heavy blankets covering her legs. A flicker of childhood fear crossed her small features.
"Mommy... can I move my toes? They feel like they're asleep."
Brooke held her breath. Her hands trembled as she pulled back the bottom of the blanket, exposing Poppy’s small bare feet.
"Try for me, baby. Can you wiggle them for Mommy?"
Poppy concentrated, her lips pressing together in that determined little pout she always made when she was working on a hard puzzle.
Down at the foot of the bed, the small toes on Poppy’s left foot curled inward. Then her right toes wiggled freely against the crisp white sheet.
Dr. Lin, who had quietly stepped into the room just moments before with her clipboard, let out a soft gasp of pure professional joy.
"Sensory and motor response intact," Dr. Lin murmured, wiping a stray tear from her own eye. "She’s going to make a one hundred percent recovery, Brooke. A few weeks of pediatric physical therapy, and she’ll be running across the soccer field by spring."
Poppy looked at the doctor, then back at her mother. A sweet, sleepy smile spread across her face. "See, Mommy? Barnaby and I are tough."
Brooke buried her face into the edge of Poppy’s mattress, laughing through her tears as she kissed her daughter’s forehead over and over again. "You are the toughest girl in the whole wide world."
"Did Grandma and Aunt Gwen come?" Poppy asked innocently, glancing toward the door. "Grandma said she was going to wear an emerald dress today."
Brooke lifted her head, smoothing Poppy’s hair back with gentle, steady fingers.
May you like
"No, sweetheart," Brooke said with absolute peace in her voice. "Grandma and Aunt Gwen couldn't make it. But we have each other. And from now on, that’s all we will ever need."
---
