Dr. Bledsoe could learn a few things about bedside manner, beginning with his tendency to refer to patients as ailments, but he saved Olivia’s life, so I was willing to overlook that. “Yes, of course. We’re just so happy,” I said, wiping tears from my eyes. “Thank you so much. I just …I wish I had words—” He held up one hand, cutting me off. His face was grim. “Don’t thank me yet. This is a very encouraging development, but we’re still not out of the woods.” My mother clutched my hand so hard I could feel her nails digging into my palm. “But … you said Olivia is going to live.” The doctor shook his head. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to imply anything else. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, Olivia will live. When I first examined her, I didn’t think she had a prayer of regaining consciousness.” “She did have prayers,” Dad said firmly. “Hundreds of them. And they’ve been answered.” “Well, I certainly respect your beliefs, Mr. Matthews,”
