Chương 7
There was only a father trying to put clothes on a baby who refused to keep his knees straight.
The bus arrived as Daniel was stuffing the dirty onesie into a plastic bag.
Ruth boarded with him.
“You really can go home,” he said.
“I could.”
“You keep saying that.”
“You keep bringing it up.”
They sat near the middle.
This time Daniel took the window seat and Ruth sat beside him.
Owen rested in the crook of Daniel’s arm.
The city moved past in ordinary pieces.
A man washed the windows of a closed restaurant.
Two teenagers shared earbuds at a bus stop.
A woman in medical scrubs stood outside a pharmacy smoking with her face turned toward the sun.
Daniel checked his phone twice without opening anything.
On the third time, Ruth said, “You’re going to wear a hole through it.”
“I’m waiting for something.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s usually the worst kind.”
Daniel looked at her.
“Why did you stop working postpartum?”
“Retired.”
“You don’t seem retired.”
“What does retired look like?”
“I don’t know.”
“Apparently not this.”
She adjusted the grocery bag between her feet.
“My husband got sick, and I left six months earlier than I planned.”
“Is he okay?”
“No.”
Daniel waited.
Ruth looked out the window.
“He died four years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“There you go again.”
He almost apologized for apologizing.
Instead, he said, “That sucks.”
Ruth smiled faintly.
“Yes, it did.”
The bus turned toward the hospital district.
St. Anne’s rose ahead, twelve stories of glass and beige stone connected to a parking garage by an enclosed walkway.
Daniel’s stomach tightened.
He had entered that building five days earlier carrying Laura’s overnight bag while she stopped every few yards to breathe through contractions.
He had believed the frightening part was beginning then.
The bus stopped.
Daniel stood.
Ruth remained seated.
He looked at her.
“This is you,” she said.
“You’re not coming?”
“No.”
The answer bothered him more than it should have.
“You came all this way.”
“I came far enough.”
Daniel shifted Owen against his chest.
“What am I supposed to do in there?”
Ruth looked at him for several seconds.
“Don’t try to prove you’re a good man.”
He frowned.
“What?”
“Good men get defensive too.”
“That’s comforting.”
“Tell the truth even when the truth makes you look bad.”
The doors opened.
Daniel stepped into the aisle.
Ruth held out the remaining formula bottles.
He took them.
“Thank you.”
“Feed him before he has to ask three times.”
Daniel nodded.
Then he got off.
Inside the hospital lobby, Cynthia Bell was waiting beside the security desk.
She was in her forties, small, composed, wearing the same burgundy cardigan Daniel remembered from the night before.
Mara stood several feet behind her with her arms folded.
Two hospital security officers were nearby.
Daniel stopped walking.
Cynthia approached slowly.
“Thank you for coming back.”
“Where’s Laura?”
“Upstairs.”
“She wants to see Owen.”
“She does.”
Daniel looked at the officers.
“Then why are they here?”
Cynthia glanced toward them.
“Because of the prescription.”
“I’ve never seen that bottle.”
“I understand that’s what you’re saying.”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying.”
His voice sharpened.
“I’m saying the prescription is not mine.”
Several people near the elevators looked over.
Mara moved closer.
“Daniel.”
He ignored her.
Cynthia kept her voice level.
“The pharmacy confirmed it was dispensed.”
“To who?”
“That is something security is trying to determine.”
Daniel’s anger faltered.
“You called the pharmacy?”
“The prescribing physician’s office did.”
“Who prescribed it?”
Cynthia’s expression shifted.
Daniel recognized the hesitation now.
It had been everywhere today.
“Tell me.”
“The physician listed on the bottle says he did not write that prescription.”
Mara unfolded her arms.
Daniel stared at Cynthia.
“Then it’s fake.”
“We don’t know that yet.”
“You just said—”
“I said the physician denies issuing it.”
Daniel looked toward the security officers.
One was speaking quietly into a radio.
“Why would Laura have a fake prescription with my name on it?”
Cynthia did not answer.
“Does she know it’s fake?”
“She knows there’s a question about its origin.”
“And she still says it’s mine?”
“Yes.”
The elevator chimed.
Daniel looked toward it automatically.
A nurse stepped out pushing an empty wheelchair.
For one irrational second, he expected Laura to be sitting in it.
“Let me see her.”
Cynthia glanced at Owen.
“She has asked to see the baby first.”
“No.”
Mara touched Daniel’s elbow.
He pulled away.
“I’m not handing him over until I talk to her.”
“Daniel,” Cynthia said, “nobody is asking you to surrender custody in the lobby.”
“Then take me upstairs.”
Cynthia studied him.
Finally, she nodded.
The four of them rode the elevator without speaking.
Mara stood beside Daniel but did not touch him again.
On the seventh floor, Cynthia led them past the nurses’ station.
Daniel recognized the corridor immediately.
Laura’s room was near the end.
A nurse came out as they approached.
“She’s awake,” the nurse told Cynthia.
Then she saw Daniel and stopped.
Something passed across her face.
Not fear.
Recognition.
“Mr. Mercer.”
Daniel knew her too.
She had been working Monday night.
“Rachel.”
The nurse glanced at Owen.
Then at Cynthia.
“I need to speak with you before he goes in.”
Daniel felt Mara turn toward him.
“About what?”
Rachel’s eyes stayed on Daniel.
“Monday night.”
Cynthia said, “What about Monday night?”
Rachel swallowed.
“I was outside Laura’s room before she crashed.”
Daniel’s skin prickled.
Rachel continued, “I heard them arguing.”
Mara looked at him.
Daniel said, “We weren’t arguing.”
Rachel’s expression tightened.
“I heard Laura tell you to get away from her.”
The corridor went silent.
Daniel stared at the nurse.
“That wasn’t me.”
Rachel did not look away.
“I saw you leave the room.”
Rachel’s certainty frightened Daniel more than accusation would have.
He shifted Owen higher against his chest and searched her face for the small uncertainty people usually showed when memory was being reconstructed under pressure.
May you like
There was none.
“You saw me leave which room?”
