Page 62 of Two Weeks
Poor thing.
But there was good news, too. Baby Nathan, the preemie born at twenty weeks—just like their little Sophie—was going home today. He had finally reached five pounds! He would need oxygen at night and a monitor to make sure he didn’t stop breathing. But they all agreed Nathan was going to be fine.
Later that afternoon the baby’s parents came with his grandma and grandpa, aunts and uncles. The whole family was crying as they loaded Nathan into his car seat and thanked the nursing staff.
Lucy watched them go, smiling through eyes blurred with tears. God had given Nathan’s family a miracle.
Now she could only pray along with Aaron that God would give them one, too.
•••
THEO COULDN’T REMEMBERthe last time they’d had music in their house.
When Vienna was alive, there was always a song playing in the background. Theo had talked to Alma about it the other day. Neither of them had noticed how often their daughter had a playlist on. Dance beats coming from her bedroom or Christian songs from the computer in the den. Sometimes it was just a pop list on her phone.
But their daughter loved music. Most of the time it wasn’t just the song playing, it was Vienna singing along. And Theo and Alma had figured the melodies would last forever. Not for a minute did they think there would be a time when their home would be silent.
The way it was now.
Vienna had only been gone a week but everything about their lives was utterly different. Alma had taken a leave of absence through the end of the school year and Theo had asked for time from his company.
They gave him just three weeks. As if a man could recover from losing his daughter in less than a month.
Theo and Alma had somehow survived two memorials. One at the church and one at Clear Creek High. Alma had found a dozen photos of Vienna—some from dance, some from cheer. One of her just sitting at the dinner table smiling. Her eyes bright and innocent and brimming with a limitless future.
In the days after the accident, Alma had worked on those photos like her life depended on it. She had several of the pictures turned into ten-by-fourteen prints, framed in white vintage wood. At each of the memorials, she set them up on a long table covered with lace. Sarah Jane’s mother did the same thing for her.
Theo remembered watching his wife work, seeing her comb through photos on the computer and on Vienna’s phone, which had been recovered from the accident scene. He caught himself thinking that his wife wasn’t supposed to be doing this until Vienna was a senior. The pictures were supposed to be part of a video they’d play at her high school graduation.
Not her funeral.
A thousand people must’ve hugged them and prayed for them and cried with them in the days after Vienna died. They spilled out the back door of the church and into the hallways at the school. Most of them signed the guest books set out on each of the girls’ tables.
Theo wished he could remember everything they said about his little girl, the compliments and anecdotes and declarations of her sweet spirit and bright light at Clear Creek High. But looking back at the memorial, all he could remember was positioning himself near the table of photographs and convincing himself just for a moment that she was still there.
His Vienna.
Especially when he saw the photograph, the one of her at the dinner table. For some reason in that picture Vienna seemed to be looking straight at him.I love you, Daddy.He could still hear her singsong voice. Still see her eyes just like that when she sat beside him on the way to school each morning.
The way Theo would always remember her.
And now... now she was gone. The memorials were behind them. Students had moved on with their lives and in an hour Theo and Alma would attend the dance recital. The one Vienna had been so excited about.
But then what?
He and Alma got ready for the performance quietly. In separate spaces, separate worlds. That was becoming more the norm now. They would wake up, say a few words and set about their days. All in silence. There wasn’t anything to talk about, really. No reason to make dinner, no weekend to plan. No future to be excited for.
All of it had died when the drunk driver crossed the line.
On the drive to the school, Theo couldn’t take the silence another minute. He turned on the radio. Love Songs & Oldies. The station was one of Vienna’s favorites. They were a mile from the campus when Rod Stewart came on. “Have I Told You Lately?”
“Turn it off.” Alma looked at him from the passenger seat. “Please, Theo. It’s too much.”
“No.” Theo shook his head. He didn’t want to argue with his wife, but moments like this didn’t just happen. He turned up the volume, just enough to fill the car. “This ishersong. On the way toherrecital.” He clenched his teeth. “That doesn’t just happen.”
Theo thought he’d cried all he could cry. At some point the healing had to begin. He couldn’t get teary-eyed every hour—the way he’d been since the police officers walked up the driveway. But this time he couldn’t stop himself.
The memory came back to him like it was yesterday. A month before she was killed, Vienna was in this very car with them and this song came on. Somehow, Vienna knew every word. He could hear her voice, feel her presence with them.
