Chương 9
That person had never existed.
The investigator asked, “Would you make the same decision again?”
Claire thought of the locked supply room.
The baby crying under fluorescent light.
Emily shaking.
A metal door between a newborn and half the hospital.
“No.”
The investigator looked up.
“No?”
“I would activate the identity hold first. Call the supervisor. Keep the baby in an appropriate monitored space.”
“So you believe your action was wrong.”
“I believe part of it was.”
“Which part?”
“The concealment.”
“And stopping the scan?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because the scan could have attached another irreversible electronic event to an already disputed identity.”
He nodded.
Claire realized she was sweating.
The investigator closed one folder and opened another.
“Did you have any prior conflict with Margaret Hale?”
“Yes.”
Claire surprised herself.
He looked interested.
“What kind?”
“Administrative.”
“Explain.”
“Four months ago I objected to reducing overnight obstetric coverage.”
“Did she make the decision?”
“She supported it.”
“Did you argue?”
“Yes.”
“Publicly?”
“At a medical staff meeting.”
“Any disciplinary action?”
“No.”
“Personal animosity?”
Claire almost said no.
Then remembered the audit she had promised herself.
“Some.”
The investigator nodded.
“That matters.”
“I know.”
“Thank you for saying it.”
Claire left the room feeling worse than when she entered.
Emily was waiting on the floor outside with two vending-machine crackers.
“You look terrible.”
“So do you.”
“I threw up.”
“I remember.”
Emily handed her a packet.
Claire took it.
They sat against the wall.
For a minute neither spoke.
A custodian pushed a mop bucket past them and gave them an irritated look because they were blocking half the hallway.
They moved their feet.
Emily opened her crackers.
“Am I going to lose my license?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re supposed to say no.”
“I’m trying to stop lying to people today.”
Emily stared at the cracker.
“I liked you better yesterday.”
“Most people did.”
Emily ate half of one.
“Margaret said she was going to destroy me.”
“When?”
“Not those words.”
“What words?”
“She told me that incomplete recollections can have professional consequences.”
Claire sighed.
“That is different.”
“Not when she says it.”
“No.”
Emily folded the empty wrapper into smaller and smaller rectangles.
“I should’ve checked the band.”
“Yes.”
Emily looked at her.
Claire continued, “You should have.”
“I was hoping you’d say anyone could make that mistake.”
“Anyone could.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
“No.”
Emily nodded.
Oddly, she looked calmer.
Claire ate a cracker.
It tasted like drywall.
Daniel appeared at the far end of the hall carrying a folded pale-blue blanket.
Claire stood.
“What happened?”
“Nora’s with him.”
“With the baby?”
Daniel nodded.
“They let her hold him.”
His eyes were red.
“She wanted me to bring you this.”
He held out the blanket.
Claire recognized it as the one that had been in the bassinet.
“Why?”
Daniel shrugged.
“She says it isn’t ours.”
Claire looked at him.
“What?”
“They changed it before bringing him in. Fresh blanket. She said this one belongs to the evidence pile or whatever.”
Claire almost smiled.
“That sounds like Nora.”
“She’s extremely annoying.”
“Also sounds like Nora.”
Daniel’s mouth moved.
Then his face sobered.
“She asked me if I wanted to hold him.”
“And?”
“I said no.”
Claire waited.
Daniel looked embarrassed again.
“I couldn’t.”
“Why?”
“What if I dropped him?”
“You won’t.”
“That’s what everybody says before somebody drops something.”
Claire looked at the blanket in his hands.
“Do you want me to come?”
“Is that allowed?”
“I can ask.”
Daniel stared at her.
“I thought I’d feel better when they proved he was ours.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
“That’s normal.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
Claire paused.
“Because certainty doesn’t erase what happened before it.”
Daniel looked down.
“I believed they were dead.”
“I know.”
“For almost an hour, I believed I didn’t have a wife or a son.”
Claire said nothing.
“How am I supposed to just walk into a room and be his dad now?”
“You don’t have to feel anything on schedule.”
Daniel rubbed his thumb over the blanket seam.
“Nora already looks at him like she knows him.”
“She carried him.”
“Exactly.”
“You cut the cord.”
“Badly.”
“She mentioned that.”
Daniel looked offended.
“She did?”
“She said your hands were shaking.”
“They were not.”
“They were.”
“You weren’t there.”
“No.”
He breathed out.
Some of the tension left his shoulders.
Claire nodded toward Nora’s room.
“Come on.”
Daniel held his son eleven minutes later.
At first he sat rigidly in a chair with both arms positioned exactly as the nurse showed him.
The baby rested against his chest, face turned toward the muted blue-gray shirt under Daniel’s jacket.
Daniel did not speak.
Nora watched from the bed.
Claire stood near the doorway.
After a minute, Daniel looked up.
“He’s really small.”
Nora said, “That tends to happen with newborns.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do.”
“What if his head—”
“Support it.”
“I am.”
“You’re holding him like a bomb.”
“He feels more expensive than a bomb.”
Nora laughed and immediately winced.
“Don’t make me laugh.”
“You started it.”
The baby opened his mouth and made a small protesting noise.
Daniel froze.
Nora said, “There. Mad cry.”
Daniel looked down.
His face softened so slowly Claire almost missed the moment it happened.
“Hey.”
The baby settled.
Daniel’s lower lip trembled.
He bent his head.
Not far.
Just enough that his cheek touched the top of his son’s cap.
Claire left before the moment became something she was stealing by watching.
Outside the room, Margaret was waiting.
Claire stopped.
Margaret looked through the glass.
Daniel was still holding the baby.
Nora had one hand on Daniel’s arm.
Margaret’s face was unreadable.
Then Laura appeared from the elevator.
She had changed into loose clothes a nurse had found for her. Her steps were slow. A folded bereavement folder was tucked under one arm.
Margaret turned.
“Laura.”
Laura walked past her.
Margaret caught her elbow.
Laura stopped.
“Please.”
Laura looked at the hand.
May you like
Margaret released her.
“I need to tell you something.”
