“We’re doing it together.”
That afternoon, after Andrew fell asleep, Logan and I sat on the back porch.
The old wooden swing set Daniel had built years earlier stood in the yard.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then I asked, “How did you know what to do?”
Logan shrugged.
“The dispatcher helped.”
“I know. But you must have learned something before today.”
He stared at his hands.
Finally, he nodded.
“I took a CPR class.”
I turned toward him.
“When?”
“Last fall. At the community center.”
I frowned.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He hesitated.
“Because of Dad.”
I felt my throat tighten.
“I kept thinking about what happened on the road,” he continued.
“I know the doctors said everything happened quickly. I know they said there might not have been anything anyone could do.”
He paused.
“But I kept wondering what would’ve happened if someone nearby had known CPR.”
I reached for his hand.
“So you took a class?”
He nodded.
“On Tuesday evenings.”
I stared at him.
“Those were the nights you said you were with Marcus.”
“Yeah.”
Suddenly, months of worry came rushing back.
All those evenings I’d imagined him getting into trouble.
All those nights I’d wondered whether he was keeping dangerous secrets.
He’d been learning how to respond to emergencies.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He gave a sad little smile.
“Because I knew you’d cry.”
I covered my mouth.
“And you already cry enough, Mom.”
I laughed through my tears.
Then I asked something else.
“What about those late-night walks?”
He looked surprised.
“You heard me leaving?”
“Logan, I’m your mother.”
He sighed.
“Sometimes I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about Dad, and everything feels too loud in my head.”
He looked toward the backyard.
“So I walk around the neighborhood until I feel calmer.”
My heart ached.
“You could’ve told me.”
“I didn’t want to worry you.”
I moved closer.
“Sweetheart, you never have to protect me from your feelings.”
He looked at me.
“If you’re sad, tell me. If you can’t sleep, come talk to me. Even if it’s three in the morning.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
I squeezed his hand.
“And if I cry, that’s alright too.”
He smiled.
“Deal.”
The following morning, I took both boys to St. Agnes Hospital.
Walter Henson was recovering in the cardiac unit.
When we entered his room, he was sitting upright with his reading glasses on, working on a crossword puzzle.
He looked toward the doorway.
Then he saw Logan.
“Well,” he said warmly, “there’s the young man I’ve been waiting to thank.”
Logan immediately looked embarrassed.
“Hi, Mr. Henson.”
Walter reached for his hand.
“They tell me you helped keep me alive until the ambulance arrived.”
Logan nodded.
“I just did what they told me.”
Walter smiled.
“Sometimes doing exactly what’s needed is the bravest thing a person can do.”
His eyes filled with tears.
“I remember hearing someone’s voice. I don’t remember every word, but I knew someone was beside me.”
He squeezed Logan’s hand.
“I thought I was alone. You made sure I wasn’t.”
I turned toward the window, trying to compose myself.
Then Andrew stepped forward.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a slightly squashed butterscotch candy.
Walter often gave him those candies when we passed his house.
Andrew held it out.
“For you.”
Walter smiled.
“For me?”
Andrew nodded seriously.
“For your heart.”
Walter accepted it gently.
“I usually give these to you.”
Andrew smiled.
“Now it’s my turn.”
Everyone in the room laughed.
On the drive home, Logan was unusually quiet.
Finally, he asked, “Mom?”
“Yes?”
