Page 53 of Falling For You

"Daddy?" Birdie's voice was small and scared. She was standing a few feet away with a paper plate in her hand, staring at Andy on the ground. "What happened? What's wrong with her?"

I looked at my daughter. Her chin was trembling, her eyes filling up. I had about three seconds before she spiraled.

"Hey. Come here." I kept my voice calm. She came to me. "She's okay, sweetheart. She fainted. Her body just needs to rest for a minute. She's going to wake up."

"Why did she faint?"

"Sometimes people's bodies do that when they get a big scare. It's not dangerous. She just needs to lie down."

Birdie looked at Andy, then back at me. "Promise?"

"Promise. I need your help, though. I'm going to carry her to the tent so she can rest. Can you hold the flap open for me?"

She nodded. She was still scared but she had a job now. She ran to the tent and pulled the flap back, gripping the fabric tight.

I lifted Andy off the ground. Her head fell against my chest. I ducked into the tent, laid Andy down on the sleeping bag, and loosened the collar of her flannel. Her eyes fluttered open for a second and then closed again.

"Is she okay?" Birdie whispered.

"She's sleeping. She just needs a little time." I put a folded towel under her head. "Can you stay with her? I'll get some water for when she wakes up."

Birdie nodded. She let go of the flap and sat down cross-legged next to Andy's head. Her scared look soothed by another task.

I stepped outside and filled a water bottle at the spigot. The deer was gone. I stood there for a minute. Andy Walsh had seen a deer and her body had shut down. That wasn't a startle response. That was something old.

When I came back to the tent, I stopped at the opening.

Birdie had Andy's hair in her hands. She'd pulled the elastic off the braid, separated three sections, and started over. Left over center. Right over center. Small fingers working through the pattern Andy had shown her.

I stayed where I was and watched.

Andy stirred. Her eyes opened, blinked, took a second to focus. I could see the confusion on her face—wrong place, wrong position, something in her hair. Then she felt Birdie's fingers and turned her head slightly. She looked at my daughter sitting beside her with a hair tie around her wrist, completely locked in.

"Daddy carried you inside," Birdie said. "I told him I'd take care of you."

She finished the braid, wrapped the elastic around the end, and patted Andy's head. "All done."

Andy sat up slowly. She reached back and touched the braid. "Thank you, Birdie."

Birdie beamed. She threw her arms around Andy's neck and held on tight. "I was so scared when you fell."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Andy's arms closed around her. Over Birdie's head, her eyes found mine. She mouthed two words: Thank you.

That night, after Birdie fell asleep in the tent, Andy and I sat in front of the fire. We'd pulled a blanket onto the ground and were sitting side by side, backs against the cooler, our shoulders almost touching. The fire was low. The desert was quiet. I'd been carrying the question all day, and tomorrow we'd be driving home. This felt like the only time to ask.

"What happened this morning?"

She didn't answer right away. She drew her knees up and looked at the fire.

"It was the deer," she said quietly. "I can't be around them. I haven't been able to since I was seven."

She paused.

"My mother died in a car accident. I was in the backseat. A deer ran across the road and she swerved. The car went off the shoulder and rolled. I walked away. She didn't."

She reached into her collar and pulled out a necklace with a small pendant. She turned it between her fingers while she talked.