Chapter 7: The Awakening
Eleanor buried her face in the edge of the mattress, weeping tears of pure, overwhelming gratitude.
She reached for the call button, then turned back to stroke Thomas’s grey hair with gentle, trembling fingers.
""She wore them, Thomas,"" Eleanor cried softly, smiling through her tears. ""She was the most beautiful bride this town has ever seen. She and Julian are downstairs right now in the chapel garden.""
Dr. Harrison and Nurse Maria rushed into the room, checking the telemetry monitors and neurological reflexes with focused, efficient care.
""Pupils are equal and reactive,"" Dr. Harrison reported, a broad smile breaking across his tired face. ""Bilateral grip strength is four out of five. Mr. Miller, you have the constitution of an old-growth white oak.""
Thomas managed a weak, faint smirk beneath his mask. ""Oak... is too brittle, Doc. Heart-pine... bends better.""
Within ten minutes, Clara burst through the door, her face radiant with joy, followed closely by Julian.
Clara fell to her knees beside the bed, wrapping her arms around her father’s neck, pressing her wet cheek against his stubbled jaw.
""You stayed, Dad,"" Clara sobbed happily. ""You stayed for us.""
Thomas lifted his weak, trembling hand, resting his palm against the back of his daughter’s head, feeling the smooth curve of the pearl necklace resting against her collarbone.
""I couldn't miss... the inspection, Clara,"" Thomas whispered, his eyes shining with boundless paternal love. ""The bridge looks... plumb and true.""
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Julian stepped to the foot of the bed, bowing his head with deep, humble reverence. ""Welcome back, Mr. Miller. The bridge in town is framed, and the timber is waiting for your final stamp.""
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