There was a birthday party invitation printed with brightly colored dinosaurs; an identical one was on Lucy’s refrigerator. Toby and Eddie and the rest of the Cub Scout den had been invited to Richie Goodman’s birthday party. The school calendar and the lunch menus for December were neatly clipped in a magnetic holder, along with the rules for constructing the little Pinewood Derby cars the Cub Scouts would race in January. Lucy made a mental note to have Bill help Eddie since Barney wouldn’t be able to. There was a postcard from Opryland that an Aunt Liz had sent last August and a photograph of Barney dressed as a giant bumblebee, which made Lucy grin.

She yawned and glanced at the clock. It was almost ten. She was exhausted, she realized; she had had only a few hours of sleep last night. She checked the TV listings and decided to watch the last hour of It’s a Wonderful Life. Stretching out on the couch with an afghan over her, she watched only a little bit of the movie before she fell asleep.

Thanks to the Moosehead, she woke up around midnight to go to the bathroom. She switched off the TV and turned off all the lights except for the hall and the outside porch light in case Marge came home. She returned to the couch, and next thing she knew sunlight was streaming through the picture window and the phone was ringing.

“Unnnh,” said Lucy in the direction of the receiver.

“Lucy, it’s Marge. Did I wake you?”

“That’s okay. How’s Barney?”

“They took us to Portland last night in the air ambulance. He was in surgery for five hours and I guess they’ve put him back together. They say he’ll recover well from his physical wounds. The problem is that he’s in a coma. He could come out of it anytime, or not at all. We just have to wait.”

“That’s awful!” Lucy blurted.

“I know. I’m just trying to be glad he’s alive. I’m not giving up hope. He’s strong. They said nine out of ten wouldn’t have survived the surgery.”

“He’ll be fine, Marge, I know he will,” said Lucy, struggling to keep her voice from breaking.

“I’ll probably be home this afternoon. I’m going to catch some sleep now, and then Dave Davidson is going to bring me home. He’s coming up after services this morning. I hate to ask—but could you keep Eddie?”

“It’s no problem. Everyone will want to help.”

Indeed, Lucy could see through the kitchen window that a car was pulling up in front of the house. A short figure climbed out and began walking toward the house carrying a foil-covered dish.

“In fact, here comes Franny Small. I bet she’s got a dish of Austrian ravioli for you.”