Denise and Kyle were still in the hospital and had been allowed to sleep in the same room. Overnights were mandatory for both of them (or, rather, what was left of the night), and though Kyle could have been discharged the following afternoon, the doctors wanted to keep Denise in for an extra day of observation.
The noise in the hospital made it impossible to sleep late, and after another examination of both of them by the doctor on call, Denise and Kyle spent the morning watching cartoons. Both were on her bed, pillows behind them, wearing ill-fitting hospital gowns. Kyle was watching Scooby-Doo, his favorite. It had been Denise's favorite as a child, too. All they needed was some popcorn, but the very thought made Denise's stomach turn. Even though the dizziness had subsided for the most part, bright lights still hurt her eyes and she had trouble keeping food down.
"He's running," Kyle said, pointing at the screen, watching Scooby's legs turning in circles. (Eez runny)
"Yes, he's running from the ghost. Can you say that?"
"Running from the ghost," he said. (Runny fraw ah goz)
Her arm was around him, and she patted him on the shoulder. "Did you run last night?"
Kyle nodded, his eyes still on the screen. "Yes, eez runny."
She looked at him tenderly. "Were you scared last night?"
"Yes, he's scared." (Yes, eez scairt)
Though his tone changed slightly, Denise didn't know whether he was talking about himself now or still talking about Scooby-Doo. Kyle didn't understand the differences among pronouns (I, you, me, he, she, and so on), nor did he use verbal tenses properly. Running, ran, run . . . it all meant the same thing, at least as far as she could tell. The concept of time (yesterday, tomorrow, last night) was also beyond him.
It wasn't the first time she'd tried to talk to him about the experience. Earlier she'd tried to talk to him about it but hadn't gotten very far. Why did you run? What were you thinking? What did you see? Where did they find you? Kyle hadn't answered any of her questions, nor had she expected him to, but she wanted to ask them anyway. One day maybe he'd be able to tell her. One day, once he could talk, he might be able to think back and explain it to her. "Yeah, Mom, I remember. . . ." Until then, though, it would remain a mystery.
Until then.
It seemed as far away as ever.
With a slow push, the door squeaked open.
"Knock, knock."
Denise turned toward the door as Judy McAden peeked inside.
"I hope I'm not coming at a bad time. I called the hospital, and they said you both were up."
Denise sat up, trying to straighten her wrinkled hospital gown. "No, of course not. We're just watching TV. C'mon in."
"Are you sure?"
"Please. I can only take so many hours of cartoons without a break." Using the remote, she turned down the volume slightly.
Judy walked to the bed. "Well, I just wanted to come by to meet your son. He's quite the topic of conversation around town now. I got about twenty calls this morning."
Denise angled her head, glancing proudly at her son. "Well, here he is, the little terror. Kyle, say hello to Miss Judy."
"Hello, Miss Judy," he whispered. (Hewwo, Miss Jeewey) His eyes were still glued to the screen.
Judy pulled up the chair and sat beside the bed. She patted him on the leg.
"Hello, Kyle. How are you? I heard you had a big adventure last night. You had your mother really worried."
After a moment of silence Denise prodded her son. "Kyle--say, 'Yes, I did.' "
"Yes, I did." (Yes, I di)
Judy glanced at Denise. "He looks just like you."
"That's why I bought him," she said quickly, and Judy laughed. Judy turned her attention to Kyle again.
"Your mom's funny, huh?"
Kyle didn't respond.
"Kyle doesn't talk too well yet," Denise offered quietly. "He's delayed in speech."
Judy nodded, then leaned in a little farther as if telling Kyle a secret.
"Oh, that's okay, isn't it, Kyle? I'm not as much fun as watching cartoons, anyway. What're you watching?"
Again he didn't answer, and Denise tapped him on the shoulder. "Kyle, what's on TV?"
Without looking at her he whispered, "Scooby-Doo." (Scoody-Doo)
Judy brightened. "Oh, Taylor used to watch that when he was little." Then, speaking a little slower: "Is it funny?"
Kyle nodded exuberantly. "Yes, it's funny." (Yes, eez fuh-ee)
Denise's eyes widened just a little when he answered, then softened again. Thank God for small favors. . . .
Judy turned her attention to Denise. "I can't believe it's still on the air."
"Scooby? He's on twice a day," Denise said. "We get to watch it in the morning and the afternoon."
"Lucky you."
"Yes, lucky me." Denise rolled her eyes, and Judy chuckled under her breath.
"So how are the two of you holding up?"
Denise sat up a little higher in the bed. "Well, Kyle here is healthy as can be. From the looks of him, you'd think that nothing at all happened last night. Me, on the other hand . . . well, let's just say I could be better."
"Will you be getting out soon?"
"Tomorrow, I hope. Body willing, of course."
"If you have to stay, who's going to watch Kyle?"
"Oh, he'll stay with me. The hospital's been pretty good about that."
"Well, if you need anyone to watch him, just let me know."
"Thanks for the offer," she said, her eyes darting toward Kyle again. "But I think we'll be okay, won't we, Kyle? Mommy's had enough separation to last for a while."
On the cartoon, a mummy's tomb suddenly opened and Shaggy and Scooby were off and running again, Velma close behind. Kyle laughed, without seeming to have heard his mother.
"Besides, you've already done more than enough," Denise went on. "I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to thank you last night, but--well . . ."
Judy raised her hands to stop her. "Oh, don't worry about that. I'm just glad everything worked out the way it did. Has Carl stopped by yet?"
"Carl?"
"He's the state trooper. The one from last night."
"No, not yet. He'll be coming by?"
Judy nodded. "That's what I heard. Taylor told me this morning that Carl still had to wrap up a few things."
"Taylor? That's your son, right?"
"My one and only."
Denise struggled with the memory from the night before. "He was the one who found me, right?"
Judy nodded. "He was trying to find some downed power lines when he came across your car."
"I guess I should thank him, too."
"I'll tell him for you. But he wasn't the only one out there, you know. They had more than twenty people by the end. People from all over town went out to help."
Denise shook her head, amazed. "But they didn't even know me."
"People have a way of surprising you, don't they? But there are a lot of good people here. To tell you the truth, I wasn't surprised at all. Edenton's a small town, but it has a big heart."
"Have you lived here your whole life?"
Judy nodded.
Denise whispered conspiratorially, "I'll bet you know practically everything that goes on here."
Judy put her hand over her heart like Scarlett O'Hara and slowly drawled out the words.
"Darlin', I could tell you stories that would make your eyebrows curl."
Denise laughed. "Maybe we'll have a chance to visit sometime and you could fill me in."
Judy played the innocent southern belle to the hilt. "But that would be gossiping, and gossiping's a sin."
"I know. But I'm weak."
Judy winked. "Good. I am, too. We'll do that. And while we're at it, I'll tell you what your mom was like as a little girl."
An hour after lunch, Carl Huddle met with Denise and finished up the remaining paperwork. Lighthearted and far more alert than the evening before, Denise answered everything in detail. Even then--since the case was mo
re or less officially closed--it didn't take more than twenty minutes. Kyle was sitting on the floor, playing with an airplane that Denise had fished from her purse. Sergeant Huddle had returned that as well.