Chương 13
She thought.
“It came from a little bottle with a squeeze thing.”
A dropper.
My stomach tightened.
“How many times did Grandma give it to you?”
Lily counted on her fingers.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s okay.”
“Lots?”
I kept my face still.
Daniel did not.
He turned away and pressed his hand over his mouth.
Lily watched him.
“Daddy?”
He looked back.
“I’m okay.”
“You look sick.”
He laughed once.
Then his face twisted.
“I kind of am.”
The deputy stepped forward.
“Mr. Whitaker.”
Daniel nodded.
“I know.”
He looked at me.
“Her blood was drawn.”
I held Lily tighter.
“Results?”
“Not yet.”
The deputy’s radio crackled.
He listened.
Then touched the microphone at his shoulder.
His posture changed.
Daniel noticed.
“What?”
The deputy looked at us.
“They made entry at the Lake Mercer cabin.”
My mouth went dry.
“And?”
He hesitated.
“Patricia Whitaker is inside.”
Daniel stepped forward.
“Is she alive?”
“Yes.”
Relief crossed his face so quickly it hurt to watch.
Then the deputy continued.
“She’s conscious.”
Daniel’s shoulders dropped.
“And she has an attorney on the phone.”
The relief disappeared.
The deputy looked at me.
“They also found a table covered with medication bottles, old agricultural chemicals, and handwritten dosage notes.”
Lily shifted in my arms.
I covered her ear with my hand, too late.
Daniel stared at the deputy.
“What kind of dosage notes?”
The deputy’s eyes moved toward Lily.
“I’m not discussing details here.”
That answer was enough.
Daniel sank into the chair by the wall.
For the first time since I had known him, he looked completely without defense.
No argument.
No explanation.
No mother to tell him what reality was supposed to be.
Lily leaned against me.
“Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“Am I in trouble?”
The question broke something inside me more cleanly than anything else that day.
I pulled her closer.
“No.”
“Because I told.”
“No.”
“Grandma said family things stay in the family.”
Daniel made a sound from across the room.
I looked at him.
His eyes were full.
Lily whispered, “She said telling makes bad things happen.”
I kissed the top of her head.
“No, bug.”
My voice shook.
“Sometimes telling is what stops them.”
Lily’s fingers tightened around my blouse.
“Even if Grandma gets mad?”
“Even then.”
She looked toward Daniel as if he were supposed to confirm the rule.
He did.
“Especially then.”
His voice cracked on the last word.
Lily studied him for a moment, then tucked her face into my shoulder.
The deputy stepped into the hallway to take another radio call.
Daniel remained in the chair, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.
I had seen him angry, smug, exhausted, frightened, drunk once at a wedding, and violently embarrassed when he forgot our anniversary.
I had never seen him ashamed.
It made him look smaller.
Not innocent.
Just human.
A pediatric nurse appeared with a sticker sheet and asked Lily whether she liked dolphins or dinosaurs.
“Dolphins.”
“Excellent choice.”
The nurse peeled one off and stuck it to the back of Lily’s hand.
“Your test results are going to take a little while, so we’re going upstairs where there’s a better television and significantly worse pudding.”
Lily looked at me.
“Are you coming?”
“I’m staying here for a little bit.”
Her mouth trembled.
“Why?”
“Because my medicine has to finish.”
“What if Grandma comes?”
My heart kicked.
“She won’t.”
I looked at the deputy through the glass.
“She can’t.”
Lily searched my face.
Children could detect uncertainty the way dogs detected storms.
“Promise?”
I almost said yes.
Then I stopped.
I had made too many promises during the divorce that depended on adults behaving better than they did.
“I promise the hospital knows she isn’t allowed near you.”
Lily frowned.
“That’s not the same.”
“No.”
She was quiet.
Then she nodded.
“Okay.”
The acceptance hurt more than if she had cried.
The nurse offered her a wheelchair.
Lily refused with deep offense.
“I’m not a baby.”
“Didn’t say you were.”
“You brought the baby chair.”
“It is also an extremely fast chair.”
Lily looked interested despite herself.
The nurse lowered her voice.
“I have personally achieved four miles an hour.”
“That’s not fast.”
“Wow.”
The nurse put a hand over her heart.
“Cruel.”
Lily smiled.
It was tiny, but it existed.
She allowed herself to be wheeled out.
Daniel stood to follow.
I caught his sleeve as he passed.
He looked down at my hand.
“Don’t leave her alone.”
“I won’t.”
“With anybody.”
“I won’t.”
“Daniel.”
He met my eyes.
“I won’t.”
I let go.
He took two steps, then stopped.
“Claire.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry.”
The words hung between us.
I felt anger rise immediately.
Not because I did not want an apology.
Because three words were too small for the room they were being asked to cross.
He must have seen it in my face.
“I know.”
He swallowed.
“I know that doesn’t—”
“Go with Lily.”
He nodded.
Then he left.
I sat alone after that.
The hospital continued around me with astonishing indifference.
A machine alarmed two rooms away.
A janitor pushed a mop bucket past my door.
Someone laughed at the nurses’ station about a vending machine swallowing five dollars.
My IV dripped.
My ice melted.
My life had become a criminal investigation, and somewhere nearby a nurse was complaining about pretzels.
I found that strangely comforting.
The world had not ended.
It had simply become unbearable in one small corner.
Dr. Marquez returned forty minutes later.
She had changed her expression before entering.
Doctors did that.
The face outside the door belonged to the hallway.
The face inside belonged to the patient.
“Your confirmatory testing is still pending.”
I nodded.
“But poison control agrees with continued treatment based on the preliminary findings.”
“Okay.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been hit by a bus driven by my mother-in-law.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Specific.”
“I’m trying to help diagnostically.”
“That narrows things considerably.”
I smiled.
Then the smile disappeared.
May you like
“Lily?”
“Her first basic labs are back.”
