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days to see if he wakes on his own.” She forced another too-bright smile. “Why
don’t you go on in and talk to him a minute? I think he’s sick of hearing my
voice.”
    Margaret and Davy obediently
trooped in and stood at Handel’s bedside. Billie saw tears shimmer in his
sister’s eyes before she reached for his hand and held it gently.
    “Hello, big brother. Davy and I
drove all the way here to talk to you and you’re still sleeping. You promised
to help coach Davy’s little league team this summer. We know you hate baseball
but isn’t this a little over the top just to get out of it?”
    There were a few moments of awkward
silence. Billie waited, knowing it took a while to feel comfortable having a one-sided
conversation with a man.
    “Hey, Uncle Handel,” Davy finally
said, his voice boyishly gruff. “I helped at the winery today. Mostly I just
ran errands for Sally, but it was fun. Hey, Adam got a gig at some place called
The Screech Owl. He said they were gonna pay him and everything.”
    The fingers of Handel’s left hand
twitched. Billie was sure of it. For long seconds she stared, wishing for a
miracle that never seemed to come. She stepped to the other side of the bed and
nodded, urging Davy to keep talking.
    He kept up a constant patter of
one-sided conversation seemingly oblivious to the turmoil her heart was in. She
finally pulled the chair close to the bed and sat down, stroking her palm
lightly over Handel’s whisker rough cheek and across his forehead pushing the
hair off his temple. He had some cuts and scratches on his face from flying
glass, but nothing that would leave a permanent scar. She was careful not to
put pressure on the bruise over his left eyebrow.
    Margaret sat in the chair on the
other side and listened as Davy told Handel about all the boxes he’d carried
and stacked behind the winery and how he’d even gone with Levi to pick up
supplies in town. “Levi said while he was gone on vacation for the next two
weeks, that I could be in charge of the goats and moving them around the
vineyard to keep the weeds down.” His gaze shifted upward from Handel’s closed
and bruised eyelids. “Is that all right with you, Billie?”
    “Of course. I trust Levi’s opinion.
If he left you in charge, then I’m sure you’ll do a fine job.” Levi was a
twenty-year-old farm boy from Wisconsin who showed up at the winery a year ago
looking for work. He was a natural with animals, so the care of Jack and Jill,
their weed eating goat couple, was in his capable hands. She’d forgotten that
he was flying out to visit his family this week.
    Davy’s face lit up for a second at
the simple acknowledgment, and then he seemed to remember why he was there. He
leaned closer to Handel, his fingers curled around the metal bar of the
guardrail, and lowered his voice. “Don’t worry if you can’t coach this time,
Uncle Handel. Really. Just get better. Okay?”
    Handel lay as quiet as before. They
watched him, hoping for a response. Any response. Billie was sure he would
react to his nephew’s presence. They were always so close. He would do anything
for the boy. Without a word, Margaret stood and wrapped her arms around her
young son from behind and together they listened to the steady beep of the
monitor fill the quiet of the room.
    Finally, Billie couldn’t take
anymore. “I need to make a call,” she said, and barely escaped before tears
fell. What was wrong with her? She was falling apart. She was always the strong
one in her family, the one who forged ahead and made the best of a situation.
But there was no best in this situation. Handel was the buoy in her life now,
the lifeline. Without him she felt lost at sea.
    She dashed at the tears on her
cheeks and started walking down the hall without a clear destination in mind. A
breath of fresh air would be nice. Maybe she could think straight without all
the recycled oxygen clouding her brain and turning her emotions inside out.
    “Ms.