"It's okay," the assistant assures me. "I'm sure she's just happy to have your company."

I blink up at her, replying without giving it enough thought. "Do you believe she's still in there?"

She freezes, her features morphing to panic before she carefully resumes her clinical smile.

"Well, I don't think any of us really knows for certain." She glances over her shoulder, eyeing the door, and then lowers her voice to a whisper. "But between you and me, how is she still doing all of this? Breathing, functioning, delivering a baby? How could she perform all these miracles if she wasn't in there?"

Her words bring me a long-overdue sense of relief from an unlikely ally. Everyone else has been very careful with their words, cautious about giving me too much hope while trying to draw me closer to accepting what they see as reality. But this woman just confirmed it's not as crazy as it might seem to think otherwise.

"Thank you." I glance at her name tag, which I never bothered to check until now. "Madison."

She smiles and gets to work, lifting the blankets and slowly washing my wife's legs and towel drying them before moving onto her upper extremities. She hums while she works, massaging Ivy's muscles a little, and I think about how much I owe these staff members. It's something that can't be quantified. A debt of goodwill. And at that moment, I make a silent promise to myself. I will find out who Madison, Katie, and all the other nurses are and what they need. Student loans paid. Houses. Cars. Whatever it may be, I will provide that for them because they deserve nothing less for the dedication they have shown my wife.

"Hey, look at that." Madison smiles, pointing at Ivy's arm. "She has goose bumps."

"She does?" I perk up, leaning over to see it.

Madison nods, reaching to lift Ivy's wrist, and then her eyes widen in shock. "Oh my God."

"What?" I move around to that side of the bed. "What is it?"

"She twitched. I swear... I felt her wrist move."

A flicker of hope alights in me as we stand there side by side, staring down at Ivy's arm. It feels like a dream. And the longer we watch with no activity, the more I'm questioning if Madison is insane like me. Seeing things that aren’t there.

"You try." She releases Ivy's arm and gestures for me.

Shifting the baby slightly, I free my right arm and reach for Ivy's hand. But it doesn't twitch. It does something else entirely. Her fingers curl so slightly, I'm certain I must be imagining it.

"Is that just a reflex?" I whip my gaze back to Madison.

She looks nervous but giddy at the same time. "I think we better get the doctor in here."

37

Ivy