Chương 13
Mark continued.
“I scared you.”
Sophie said nothing.
“I scared your mom. I did things I shouldn’t have.”
“Why did you kick them?”
Mark closed his eyes briefly.
“I wanted you to stop.”
“Why?”
“Because I was afraid.”
“Of me?”
“No.”
“Of the babies?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Mark rubbed his face.
“Of what would happen to me.”
Sophie stared at him.
“That’s dumb.”
“Yes.”
“You could have helped.”
“Yes.”
“You could have called.”
“Yes.”
“Mommy almost died.”
“I know.”
Her face tightened.
“You always say you know.”
Mark looked down.
“You’re right.”
“Mom says it too.”
He nodded.
Sophie began twisting the edge of her sleeve.
“I miss your pancakes.”
Mark’s face changed.
The supervising social worker looked away.
“They were good pancakes.”
“The ears were too big.”
“They were supposed to be.”
“No.”
Mark smiled weakly.
“Okay.”
Sophie’s eyes filled.
“I don’t want to see you.”
His smile disappeared.
“Okay.”
“But I miss you.”
Mark covered his mouth.
When he lowered his hand, his eyes were wet.
“Okay.”
“You can’t say okay to everything.”
“I don’t know what else to say.”
For once, Sophie accepted that.
The call ended without forgiveness.
Without hatred either.
That was harder for nearly everyone.
Daniel saw the family again six weeks after the hospital entrance.
He was leaving the emergency department at the end of a shift when the automatic doors opened and Sophie walked in beside Rachel.
For one horrible second his body reacted before his mind did.
His eyes went to Sophie’s hands.
No wheelbarrow.
No blood.
No babies.
Rachel was carrying a paper bag.
Sophie saw him.
“Dr. Carter!”
He stopped.
“What happened?”
Rachel blinked.
“Nothing.”
“Why are you here?”
Sophie held up the paper bag.
“We brought muffins.”
Daniel stared at them.
Rachel began laughing.
“You look terrified.”
“I work in an emergency department. People rarely arrive recreationally.”
“We were upstairs.”
“Why?”
“Lily had a follow-up.”
Daniel’s chest loosened.
“Everything okay?”
“Everything’s good.”
Sophie opened the bag.
“Blueberry.”
“I don’t like blueberry.”
She looked offended.
“You said you did.”
“When?”
“At the hospital.”
“I did not.”
“You said hospital muffins should be blueberry.”
“That sounds unlike me.”
Claire appeared behind the reception desk.
“He’s lying. He loves blueberry.”
Daniel looked at her.
“Why are you here?”
“I work here.”
Sophie laughed.
For several minutes they stood in the lobby where the wheelbarrow had nearly tipped.
The floor had been cleaned hundreds of times since then.
No mark remained.
People passed through the doors without knowing anything had happened there.
A man carried flowers toward the elevators.
A woman argued softly with someone on her phone.
A child dragged a stuffed dinosaur by one leg.
Rachel gave Claire a muffin.
Sophie looked toward the reception desk.
“Where’s the wheelbarrow?”
Daniel knew immediately what she meant.
“I think it went back to your building.”
“It did,” Rachel said. “Mr. Gonzales has it.”
Sophie nodded.
She seemed relieved.
Daniel crouched beside her.
Then caught himself.
He stood again.
Sophie noticed.
“Why did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Almost kneel.”
“I used to kneel when I talked to you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
She studied him.
“You still do stuff you don’t have to.”
Claire coughed to hide a laugh.
Daniel took a muffin.
“Thank you for this.”
Sophie shrugged.
“Rachel bought them.”
“I picked them,” Rachel corrected.
“With Mom’s money.”
“Why are you exposing the entire financial structure of this gift?”
Sophie smiled.
Then she asked Daniel, “Do you remember when I said doctors were supposed to know?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t know a lot.”
“No.”
“My new doctor doesn’t either.”
“That is reassuring.”
“No, it’s not.”
“It should be.”
Sophie frowned.
“How?”
“Doctors who know what they don’t know are usually safer than doctors who think they know everything.”
She considered that.
“That sounds like something adults say when they don’t know.”
Claire laughed openly.
Daniel handed the muffin back.
“I’m done with this conversation.”
Sophie grinned.
Emily arrived a few minutes later pushing a double stroller.
Daniel almost did not recognize her.
She had gained some weight back. Her hair was cut to her shoulders. She wore jeans, a plain gray sweater, and no makeup.
She stopped when she saw him.
For a moment neither knew whether to hug, shake hands, or pretend the relationship was more formal than it had become.
Emily chose neither.
“Dr. Carter.”
“Emily.”
“Thank you.”
He disliked the weight of the words.
“You don’t owe me that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No.”
She looked at him.
He added, “Sophie got them here.”
Emily glanced toward her daughter.
“I know.”
There was pride in her face.
Also pain.
The two had apparently stopped canceling each other.
Noah began fussing.
Emily leaned over the stroller.
“Your sister’s awake. That’s why you’re upset?”
Sophie peered in.
“He hates when Lily wakes up first.”
“That is not scientifically established.”
“It is.”
Emily looked at Daniel.
“She’s developed many unsupported medical theories.”
“I’ve met her.”
Sophie ignored them.
Lily opened her eyes.
She was still small for her age but healthy.
Daniel placed one finger near the stroller.
Her hand closed around it.
For a moment the lobby disappeared.
Not literally.
Daniel remained aware of footsteps, phones, automatic doors, an overhead page for respiratory therapy.
But something old and painful moved through him without taking over.
Grace’s hand had once closed the same way.
He did not push the memory away.
He did not follow it either.
Lily released his finger.
Daniel straightened.
Emily watched him.
She did not ask.
He was grateful.
“How are you?” he asked.
Emily exhaled.
“Tired.”
“Good answer.”
“My therapist says I need more words.”
“She sounds demanding.”
“She is.”
Rachel said, “She’s excellent.”
“You met my therapist once.”
“I liked her.”
“You like anyone who tells me I’m wrong.”
Rachel smiled.
“Also true.”
May you like
The babies’ follow-up had gone well.
Emily had moved into a small two-bedroom apartment closer to Rachel. She was working part-time remotely for the insurance office where she had been employed before the twins were born.
