His parents and Gabbie, who had been in chairs around the edges of the room stood and gathered near him, their faces swimming into focus.

  Dan was wild-eyed when he said, “I almost hate to ask, but what are you all doing here? How long was I out?”

  David grabbed his son’s toes through the hospital blanket. “Just a day or so, Dan,” he said.

  Dan sighed in relief. “Well, that’s good,” he said. “At least I haven’t missed anything yet.”

  He clipped that last word as he realized the Eagles were scheduled to have played the second round of sectionals on Thursday, the night before. “The game!” Dan gasped.

  “Don’t you worry about that,” Croft said. “You’ve already got our offense hopping, remember?”

  “So …,” Dan led, and Croft nodded.

  “We won, Dan,” the coach said. “We won big — 13-2.”

  “Wow! That’s great,” Dan enthused. “Addison was supposed to be really good. That means we’ll play on Saturday … who do we play?”

  “Rosedale,” the coach said.

  Dan looked determined. “Well, we shouldn’t have any trouble with them. You know they’ll send Hartenstein to the mound. Hard fastball, but not much else. Can’t wait to see the game!”

  Another realization flashed across his face, before disappointment took its place. “Oh, man,” Dan said. “I knew this would happen! I’m going to be in Cincinnati on Saturday!”

  Croft and David looked at each other, an exchange that didn’t escape Dan.

  “What?” he said. “What??”

  “Dan,” David said in a soft voice. “Doctor Parks wants you to stay here, in the hospital, for at least a little while. They need to monitor your condition and try to come up with a treatment. I’m so sorry, Dan.”

  All the people gathered around Dan put a hand on his arms or legs, and Gabbie kissed him on the cheek. Even though he knew he was getting worse, he was still stunned by the idea he was sick enough to stay in the hospital. His eyes teared up as he thought about all he would miss — Troy’s first Christmas, Gabbie heading off to college, the World Series …again.

  “Well,” he said in a quivering voice after a few seconds, “I guess there’s always next year. And the spring — we can count on that, right? I always come alive on Opening Day.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Nesting

  As Parks and his colleagues predicted, Dan’s bouts of sleep came closer together and lasted longer as the days progressed. When the Eagles won the sectionals on Saturday, he was in the hospital and had been asleep for 16 hours. When they won the regionals on June 16, Dan was in the midst of a three-day sleep, and, as the semi-state loomed on June 23, Dan was sleeping four days for every eight hours he was awake.

  The luck of timing was on his side in one way, though, as he awoke at 10 am that morning of the semi-state game, and he was able to watch the Eagles play the Columbia Knights on the hospital’s cable system. It was a tight game, and South Pickens entered the ninth inning behind 3-2. With a man on first and two outs, Waterman came to the plate and walloped a ball deep into left field. It hit just in front of the fence and rattled around against the wall before the left fielder could get a handle on it. That was long enough for the lead runner to score and for Ted to lumber all the way to third base. The next batter, Sam Rolfe, slapped a single into right field to score Waterman but was thrown out trying to make it to second base.

  It didn’t matter, though, because reliever Ab Ansley pitched a perfect ninth, and the Eagles advanced.

  Dan was out by 8 o’clock that night, and his family didn’t know if he would wake up again. Every time he closed his eyes, it was as if he were leaving forever, and the Hodges were caught in a soul-shredding cycle of mourning and hope that left them exhausted and confused. Even with his solid standing at HBM, David had to keep regular hours at work, but he spent every spare moment he could find in the hospital room with Dan.

  Clara was there all day every day, and her nerves were frayed to the point she couldn’t hold a normal conversation without snapping at someone. That someone was often Gabbie, who came to the hospital several times a day and was struggling to figure out what her future held. She loved Dan, but she was young and had so much to look forward to — she had graduated from high school just a few weeks earlier. Could she really chain herself to a man who might die at any moment and who was not available for her and their son on a consistent basis?

  She didn’t know, but she did know she had to figure it out soon.

  And so it was that David walked into a silent hospital room on the evening of June 28 to find Clara asleep in a chair next to Dan’s bed and Gabbie standing at the window watching the Friday traffic head home after a long work week. She was oblivious to David’s presence and held a slumbering Troy in her arms.

  It had been a long and trying week for the Hodges, and for Gabbie, as it appeared Dan had entered a steady hibernation state. He had not been awake in nearly a week, and, as of Friday morning, was exhibiting no REM sleep and no nocturnal movements. For all intents and purposes, Dan was indeed sleeping like a log.

  That was bad enough on its surface since it meant the family was missing out on time with their boy, but it was made all the worse by the decisions it necessitated. In particular, David and Dan’s insurance company had determined they would pay only for ordinary hospital stays, which they described as short-term visits of seven days or less.

  Dr. Parks had done his best to game the system in their favor by checking Dan in and out of the hospital and moving him around every time he woke up, but the insurance company had sent their own doctor to consult with Parks. When the Hodges’ physician detailed Dan’s condition, Poly Health had explained they would NOT pay for an extended stay once Dan went into full-blown hibernation. So, as July dawned, the family would be forced to bring their son home. While that was where they wanted him to be, both David and Clara remembered the uncertainty such a situation created the year before, and they feared they would not be able to handle medical emergencies that might arise.

  Parks had become something of a family friend and vowed to check in on Dan regularly, in person or by phone, but even that assurance did little to quell the uneasiness.

  It didn’t really matter how he felt or how scared Clara was, though, because David knew they had no choice. So, the family would spend one last night together in the hospital and then, on Saturday morning, David would load his son into the car and they would all head home. Gabbie and Clara had already prepared Dan’s room for his return, making space for a heart monitor and IV drip, which would keep tabs on Dan’s condition and keep him nourished while he was asleep. Both women had also learned how to change out the IV, since they couldn’t afford to pay an in-home nurse and since insurance would not cover that expense, either.

  With these thoughts weighing heavy on his mind, David stepped from the hall doorway into the murkiness of Dan’s room and made his way toward his son’s side. Before his eyes could adjust to the darkness, David heard a whisper from the middle of the gloom.

  “Dad,” a hoarse whisper rang out. “Dad … why is it so quiet in here?”

  David lunged toward the bed and leaned in close to Dan to find the boy’s big brown eyes looking up at him.

  “Dan!” David said and hugged his prone son.

  Dan gave his father’s shoulders a weak squeeze and said, “When is it, Dad?”

  “When is what?” David said, standing to focus on Dan’s face.

  “When is NOW?” Dan asked. “Is it over? How long was I out?”

  David shook his head. “No, son, you’ve been asleep less than a week. It’s just late June.”

  Dan squinted, and David knew he was running calculations in his head.

  “How late, Dad?” Dan probed.

  David smiled. “It’s June 28, Dan,” he said.

  Dan’s face brightened, and his eyes widened. “So the semi-state was last week,” he said. “Come on, Dad, tell me: how did the Eagles do?”

  David, still grinning, said, “They won, son. They won.”

  “Yes!” Dan exclaimed and pumped his fist. He tried to sit up but was still too groggy and plopped back down on the mattress. “So they’re playing for the state title?” He could hardly believe it.

  “That’s right, Dan,” David said. “They’re playing Evansville St. Lydia tomorrow evening at 6.”

  Dan adjusted himself in the bed, and determination hardened his face. He fixed David with a steely gaze and said, “I’m going to that game, Dad.”

  —

  “I strongly advise you to reconsider this decision,” Dr. Parks said to the room later that Friday night, looking from David to Dan.

  Clara stood at the doctor’s side, fidgeting with the elbow of his white coat and pleading with her eyes for her husband and son to listen to reason.

  “What do I have to lose, Doc?” Dan asked. “I mean, everyone thought I was done already, right? I’m in extra innings, so I might as well use them to my advantage.”

  “But you’re not well, honey,” Clara said.

  “There’s nothing wrong with me except I can’t stay awake for more than three months at a time, Mom,” Dan protested. “You haven’t found one single thing wrong with me other than that, have you, Doctor?”

  “Well, no,” Parks admitted. “But, Dan, we just don’t know what will happen …”

  “We don’t know what will happen if I just lie here in this bed for the next nine months or a year or THREE years, either!” Dan interjected. “Maybe a cooling unit will fall through the ceiling and crush me as I sleep. Maybe I’ll get a blood clot and die next week. Maybe I’ll sleep for the next 20 years like Rip Van Winkle! You don’t know what’s going to happen, and neither do I, so I might as well live while I can!”

  Dan was breathing hard and fast, his nostrils flaring. He looked from face to face, and Clara, David, Parks, and Gabbie all greeted him with sheepish eyes and down-turned heads. When he glanced at Troy, though, the baby reached forward and gurgled, “Ayeee!” then smiled and laughed.

  Dan stopped for a beat, before bursting into laughter. The rest of the adults followed suit, and Dan reached forward to pull his son onto his chest.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  His Own Terms

  Gabbie and Troy left Dan’s hospital room around 8 pm, and Clara followed them shortly afterward. She had been in the room with him for more than 24 hours, and she needed a break whether she would admit it or not. David made it easier for his wife to step out for a while, promising to stay by Dan’s side during the night. Clara could come back in the morning, after which the three of them would make the trip to Indianapolis for the state title game. Gabbie and Troy would also make the journey, but they’d leave from home with Gabbie’s parents.

  After several minutes of persuasion, David was finally able to persuade Clara to head home, but not before a tearful and prolonged goodbye with Dan. After all, she didn’t know if she would ever see him awake again, so parting was especially painful.

  When the two Hodges men were alone in the room, David stood by his son and tussled his hair.

  “Alright, buddy boy,” he said. “Time for you to get some sleep.”

  Dan smiled. “Jeez, Dad, you’d think I was 10 years old or something,” he said. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m not tired. Can we just talk for while? Or maybe there’s a Reds game on TV?”

  Just then, the room door opened again and Dr. Parks walked in.

  “Just the boys now, huh?” he asked, as he picked up Dan’s chart. All three men knew it was an empty gesture, because nothing had changed since the last time Parks was in the room an hour earlier — Dan hadn’t even had a blood test in that period. Nevertheless, Parks made a few scribbles on the paper and hung the clipboard back on the foot of Dan’s bed.

  “Well,” Parks continued. “I still don’t agree with this cockamamie trip of yours tomorrow, but you at least need to get some sleep. Should I get you something to help you calm down?”

  Dan snorted and pointed to his bloodshot eyes. “Do I look worked up to you, Doc?” he asked. “I’m the only kid in America who can sleep for months at a time, and you want to know if I need some knockout drops!”

  Parks hesitated and looked to David, who greeted him with a blank expression.

  “Well, OK,” Parks said in a deliberate voice. “But you’ve got to get some rest.”

  Dan shrugged, “OK, you got it, Doc,” he agreed.

  Parks walked toward the door, then turned to look back at the Hodges.

  “And Dan,” he said. “Good luck tomorrow, and I’ll see you soon.”

  “See you soon, Doc,” Dan said, though he didn’t believe that at all.

  As soon as Parks had closed the door, Dan turned to his father.

  “Dad,” Dan said. “I really am feeling sleepy.”

  David nodded. “You want me to leave? Or I can just sit in the chair there.”

  “No, no! Dad, I don’t want to go to sleep. Not yet.”

  David looked serious and jammed a hand into the pocket of his slacks.

  Dan went on: “It’s just that I don’t know when — or if — I’ll wake up again.”

  David nodded and pulled his hand out of his pocket, extending it toward Dan. In the palm where five tiny green pills.

  “I thought you might feel that way, Dan,” David said. “These will help.”

  Dan looked at the tablets and snatched them up in his fingers.

  “Hold on, Dan,” David cautioned. “Just take one for now, and we’ll see how it goes. I got them from Jim … he says they’re his secret sauce for productivity.”

  Jim was a family friend who had gone to high school with David and who worked at a local factory. He was notorious in local circles for being the most productive member of the assembly line during both second AND third shifts, six days a week, with a first shift thrown into the mix on Sunday. Jim had just barely graduated from high school, but he had made a really good living for himself through hard work.

  “That’s good enough for me,” Dan said, and popped one of the greenies into his mouth, washing it down with a swig of water from the glass at his bedside.

  —

  Father and son talked late into the night, touching on children, school, work, and life, but mostly focusing on baseball. The Reds were six games back in the N.L. West and looked like they might have trouble tracking down the Dodgers. Jeff Burroughs was off to a hot start for the Texas Rangers, which was a shock to just about everyone, and most of the furor around Hank Aaron had died down, which Dan thought was a shame.

  The REAL baseball news, of course, was that South Pickens would be playing for the Indiana state title in just a few hours. The school had been around for just five years, opening just in time for Dan’s freshman year. For most of his childhood, it was a foregone conclusion Dan would go through all 12 grades at Belle Union, but the school corporation had been planning to consolidate for quite a while behind the scenes. By the time Dan entered fifth grade, it was clear there would be a new high school in place before he graduated.

  When he thought about the upcoming game against that background, Dan was more amazed than ever the Eagles had come so far. In half a decade, they had gone from not having a team to three putrid years to one decent season — Dan’s senior campaign — to the title game.

  “Yes, Coach Croft has done a tremendous job,” David agreed when Dan expressed his admiration for the program. “But Dan, you know you have helped enormously, too, right?”

  “Nah, Dad,” Dan deflected. “We did just OK last year, and I’m not even on the team anymore.”