A Texas Ranger's Family. Mae Nunn

you!” Dana inched between the mountain of machines and the bed. Hours of questioning the nurses had familiarized her with the workings of all the equipment. She’d overcome all fear of tripping a wire or kinking a hose.

      “I’ve been waiting for you my whole life. And I’ve been in this room praying for you to wake up for eighteen days! I’ve counted the tiles on this ugly floor and the metal hooks that hold the curtain to that track thing on the ceiling. I know how many beeps the heart monitor makes between your breaths and how many times your IV drips in thirty minutes. I’ve watched while they’ve bathed you and changed your bandages. The scars are wicked now, but they’ll be really cool once they heal.”

      Dana’s words gushed out, a torrent of teenage emotion demanding release. She dared to touch her fingertips to the back of Erin’s closed fist.

      When Dana spoke again her voice was soft, thoughtful.

      “I found out that underneath all that gauze your hair is the same color mine used to be.”

      Daniel’s heart ached in his chest like he’d run a wind sprint. There was no sign of his physical attributes in his child. She had long been desperate to find a connection, a simple resemblance to somebody. Her euphoria over the discovery of something as mundane as her mama’s hair color had reduced Daniel’s sixteen years of single parenting to the value of a toilet plunger. Nice to know it’s there but not something to brag about to your friends.

      Dana continued, “And I need to see whether or not our eyes are the same, too.”

      “I’d like to see that myself.” Erin relaxed her left fist and slowly rotated her wrist, not exactly welcoming but neither brushing away the touch of the girl who seemed brave and outspoken.

      Must have gotten that from her daddy. Erin imagined a female cookie-cutter version of Daniel. Tall and thin, with those naturally expressive brows of his.

      “As a matter of fact, I’d like to see anything.” Erin tried to make light of her blindness when in truth, the skin on her neck crawled at the thought of being witnessed this way. Broken. Scarred. Vulnerable.

      “Waking up to all this is pretty creepy,” Erin admitted. “So I’m sorry about what I said before. I appreciate you being here with me.”

      She tried to make her croaky words sound sincere but the whole situation was like an out-of-body experience. Maybe any moment the going-toward-the-light part would start. No such luck. She was still very much in this life, in this damaged body, in her dark cocoon with her nose twitching from antiseptic cleanser and no ability to scratch.

      “Butter bean, let’s sit over here and give Erin a minute to rest her voice.”

      Feet shuffled away from the bed and Erin thanked God once again that her hearing had been spared. It told her that within arm’s reach, the most thoughtful man she’d ever known stood sentry. She wouldn’t kid herself that his vigil was for her. No, Daniel would provide the best for his child at all cost. But had he ever considered the price might go this high?

      Erin certainly never had. Though she prayed often for the husband and child she left behind, it had never crossed her mind that one day they’d cross her path. And now they were a stone’s throw away, not that she could toss a rock if her life depended on it. Her bandaged eyes burned with the notion.

      A door creaked and more footsteps thumped against the floor.

      “Hello, Ms. Gray.” Another voice joined the room. “I am Dr. Agawa.”

      Fabric rustled on the bed as shoes and chairs bumped about. Erin assumed a path was being cleared for his approach.

      “I see your Texas visitors are here again today. You are fortunate to have such loyal friends.”

      “How are you, sir?” Daniel’s greeting was personable, followed by the sound of palms slapping together as the men shook hands.

      “I am good, Daniel. Excited to see our patient alert, as I’m sure you and Dana are, as well.”

      The words were like poking a fresh bruise. Strangers had been attending to her most personal needs. Not only had they invaded her privacy, they seemed to have bonded right under her itchy nose. For the first time she felt kinship with the images in her portfolio of suffering individuals helpless to change their circumstances.

      “My ophthalmic team has been treating the thermal burn to your corneas. You are healing very well, indeed. Time for a look,” Dr. Agawa announced.

      “You’re going to remove the bandages?” Erin was hopeful and horrified in the same breath. She’d be brought out of this darkness before an audience.

      “Yes, and if all is what I expect, we won’t reapply them,” the doctor reassured her.

      An electric motor hummed as the head of the bed began a steady incline. The shifting of her spine and the repositioning of her weight was painfully pleasant. A loud groan accompanied her long sigh.

      The movement stopped. “I’m sorry to hurt you,” a woman spoke from the foot of the bed. “This is the first time we’ve raised your head since we brought you out of the coma.”

      “Actually, it’s lovely to change positions. Please continue,” Erin encouraged the attendant.

      “That is very good to hear, Ms. Gray.” The doctor seemed pleased. “Having you upright will make it easier to remove the compresses. I believe you will see fairly well. But if your vision is blurred for a time, do not be overly concerned.”

      Her heart’s naturally slow rhythm shifted like a souped-up Humvee. Her cardiac monitor beeped into high gear. Someone leaned past the bed and turned down the volume.

      “There is nothing to fear,” the kindly doctor promised.

      Fear? There was no way this pounding of her heart was a sign of fear. She’d been calm when she’d photographed the execution of Saddam Hussein. She’d never broken a sweat when her World View crew had come under guerrilla fire in Somalia, and not even a close encounter with Brad and Angelina in a Parisian restaurant had made Erin’s pulse quicken.

      No, she’d survived the worst fear had to offer at nine years old, when her drunken father had beat her mother to death. Since then there hadn’t been a threat Erin couldn’t look in the eye while she kept a steady hand on the shutter release.

      “May I have a sip of water?”

      “I’ll do it,” Daniel’s daughter insisted, shuffling closer to the bed, rattling more ice into the cup and angling a straw into Erin’s mouth.

      The liquid was a cool blessing. She curved her lips in a smile of gratitude.

      “What was the last thing you recall seeing before your convoy was ambushed?” Dr. Agawa made conversation as he helped to gently raise her head away from the mattress.

      “Actually, not much. We were in the middle of an Iraqi sandstorm. Our battalion had pulled to the side of the road outside of Kirkuk to wait for it to pass. The center of those storms is as black as any darkness you’ve ever encountered. So, we never saw it coming.”

      Scissors snipped through thick tape and confident hands unwound the long strips that secured soft pads to her eyelids. As she waited for the pressure of the bandages to abate, a warm hand covered her fingers that had gone cold and trembling with anticipation.

      Would her eyesight be the price she paid for the talent that had earned her a Pulitzer prize? Had her bizarre drive to validate her life’s purpose by capturing a miracle on film come to a fruitless end?

      “Ms. Gray, please be patient and keep your eyes shut for a moment longer.”

      The compresses fell away revealing a sense of light just beyond her closed lids. Then darkness covered her face as the florescent fixtures were extinguished.

      “Open your eyes and look toward the ceiling, please,” he instructed.

      Fluttering her eyelids was wonderful,