Page 97 of A Beach House Beginning

“Hope is doing great, isn’t she? Jace has been so good for her.”

She turned her attention to the pair in the middle of the floor and her hands froze on the quilt top. Jace had let go of Hope’s hands and she was taking a few shuffling steps on her own.

Careful!Christa worried, but her daughter looked radiant at taking those few hesitant steps.

“Look! My balance is better,” she exclaimed, her words almost perfectly clear.

“You’re doing great,” Jace encouraged her. “Just a couple more.”

She moved toward him, her arms as wide as her smile. She turned her head to make sure Christa and Ellen were watching, and in that instant something happened. Christa wasn’t certain whether Hope lost her balance or her legs gave out. Either way, she started to fall and Jace rushed forward to catch her. Their foreheads collided with a loud thud, but he managed to keep her from tumbling to the floor.

“Ow,” Jace said with a laugh. “You’ve got one hard head, young lady. Are you okay?”

She didn’t answer, and Christa, already half out of her seat, jumped the rest of the way, her instincts humming.

The instant she had a clear view of Hope in Jace’s arms she knew what was happening. Hope’s head lolled backward and her arms twitched violently.

The impact of their heads colliding must have triggered one of Hope’s seizures. They had become much less frequent since the initial brain injury, but the signs were still unmistakable.

Ellen knew, as well, and both of them rushed into action.

“Lay her on the couch,” Christa ordered.

He complied, then stood by while Ellen arranged her limbs safely and Christa tilted her head to make sure she had a clear airway.

“What time did it start?” Christa demanded.

“Eight-oh-six,” her mother said promptly. “I’ll get the DIASTAT.”

“Okay, but let’s wait a couple minutes and see if she comes out on her own.”

Oh, she hated this. Of all the trials Hope faced since her accident, the damn seizures were the worst—especially the gnawing fear that Hope would suffer more brain damage after a particularly bad one.

She brushed wispy blond hair out of Hope’s eyes, aching inside at all her child had to endure.

“What can I do?” Jace stood beside the couch, his features pale beneath his tan.

“Nothing,” she bit out.Haven’t you done enough?“Just go home.”

“I can’t leave until I know she’ll be okay.”

Hope wasn’t okay. She hadn’t been since that instant last December when their world changed forever.

This was his fault. He was pushing her too hard. Why hadn’t he been more careful? He was overstimulating Hope just by his presence, stirring her up, making her take dangerous risks she wasn’t ready for.

Christa knew her anger was irrational—the fall had been an accident that could just as easily have happened when Christa or Ellen or one of the other aides was working with Hope. Some part of her knew she was only looking for a convenient excuse to push him away. As far as she was concerned, this definitely fit the bill.

Ellen returned with the DIASTAT before Christa could snap at him to get out of the way and let her take care of her daughter the only way she knew how. Her mother held it out in her hand that only trembled a little, but Christa shook her head.

“I don’t think we’ll need it. I think she’s coming out of it.”

“Oh, good!” Ellen breathed.

“What time is it?”

“Eight-twelve,” her mother answered promptly.

Six minutes. It wasn’t the longest seizure she’d ever had, but, as always, each second seemed an eternity.

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