Chương 9
Wren looked at him.
Dr. Patel turned.
“Do you know what happened?”
Desmond nodded.
“She was trying to get away.”
“From what?”
The boy’s eyes flicked toward Julian.
“Mom.”
Julian felt shame rise hot into his face.
Dr. Patel looked back at Wren.
“Were you scared?”
Wren hesitated.
Then she nodded.
Dr. Patel pulled the sleeve gently back down.
She washed her hands at the sink.
The water ran for several seconds.
No one spoke.
When she dried them, she turned toward Julian.
“The bruise around her eye does not appear to involve the eye itself, and I’m not seeing signs right now that suggest a serious head injury.”
Julian exhaled.
He had not realized he was holding his breath.
Dr. Patel continued.
“But there are multiple injuries at different stages of healing.”
Julian looked at Wren.
Dr. Patel kept her voice even.
“I also have concerns about food restriction based on what Wren and Desmond have described.”
He nodded.
“I understand.”
“No.”
She looked at him carefully.
“I need you to understand exactly.”
Julian sat still.
Dr. Patel folded her hands.
“I am required to make a report.”
Julian stared at Dr. Patel.
The words did not surprise him, but hearing them spoken aloud changed the shape of the day.
Beside him, Desmond shifted in his chair.
Wren looked from one adult to the other.
“What report?” she asked.
Dr. Patel turned to her.
“It means I have to tell some people whose job is to make sure children are safe.”
Wren’s brow tightened.
“Police?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Am I going to jail?”
Julian leaned forward.
“No.”
Dr. Patel answered at the same time.
“No, sweetheart.”
Wren looked embarrassed by the mistake.
Desmond reached over and touched the edge of her sleeve.
Dr. Patel picked up her tablet again.
“I’m going to have my nurse take a few photographs of the injuries for the medical record.”
Julian nodded.
“Okay.”
“I also want Wren to have something to eat before you leave.”
The statement was simple.
Julian felt it like an accusation anyway.
Dr. Patel seemed to notice.
“This is not about blaming you in this room.”
He looked at her.
“I should have known.”
“Maybe.”
The answer was not comforting.
He appreciated that.
She continued.
“But right now, knowing what happens next matters more than deciding what you should have noticed before.”
Julian rubbed his palms together.
“What does happen next?”
“I make the report.”
“And then?”
“I can’t tell you exactly.”
She sat on the rolling stool.
“Someone may contact you today.”
“May?”
“It depends on how they triage it.”
“The bruising and the food restriction are enough?”
Dr. Patel’s expression remained steady.
“The bruising alone is enough for me to report what Wren told me.”
Julian looked toward his daughter.
Wren was studying the giraffe decal.
One corner had peeled away from the wall.
She reached up and pressed it flat with one finger.
Dr. Patel lowered her voice.
“I’m also concerned because there are multiple reports from the children, more than one injury, and behavior around food that appears punitive.”
Julian nodded slowly.
He disliked the clinical language.
He also understood why it existed.
Clinical language prevented people like him from turning facts into a family argument.
“Can I take them home?”
“I’m not the person who decides placement.”
His stomach tightened again.
“But medically?”
“Medically, Wren can leave with you.”
She looked directly at him.
“Do you believe she will be safe if she returns to that house today?”
Julian opened his mouth.
Then stopped.
Wren looked over.
Desmond did too.
The easiest answer would have been yes.
He was there.
He could stay.
Corinne had admitted what she had done.
The locks could be removed.
He could sleep outside Wren’s door if necessary.
But Dr. Patel had not asked whether Julian could physically prevent Corinne from touching Wren.
She had asked whether he believed Wren would be safe.
He looked at Desmond.
The boy’s face gave nothing away.
“I don’t know.”
Wren’s eyes dropped.
Julian immediately wished he could pull the words back.
Dr. Patel did not let him.
“That answer matters.”
“I know.”
“Do you have somewhere else you can stay?”
Julian thought of his brother in Connecticut, three hours away.
His mother’s condo was being renovated.
A hotel would be easy, but the idea of taking two frightened children into adjoining rooms while strangers called and asked questions felt absurd.
Then he remembered the apartment over his company’s old office.
He still owned it.
It had been used for visiting executives years ago and mostly sat empty now.
Two bedrooms.
A kitchen.
Nothing familiar.
Nothing dangerous either.
“Yes.”
Dr. Patel nodded.
“Then I would strongly consider not returning to the house today.”
Wren looked up.
“Can I get Bunny?”
Julian frowned.
“What?”
“My bunny.”
He knew immediately.
A gray stuffed rabbit with one bent ear that Wren had slept with since she was two.
“It’s at home.”
Her eyes filled.
Julian looked at Dr. Patel.
“Can I go get things?”
“I can’t give you legal advice.”
“Right.”
She softened slightly.
“If you return, don’t take the children with you until you know what the safety plan is.”
Julian nodded.
Wren whispered, “I need Bunny.”
“We’ll get Bunny.”
“How?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
She accepted that for the moment.
Dr. Patel called the nurse back in.
The photographs were worse than the examination.
The nurse placed a small measurement guide near Wren’s cheek and wrist while Julian stood against the wall.
Wren asked whether the ruler was for school.
The nurse said no.
Wren asked if she could keep it.
The nurse smiled sadly and gave her a clean paper one from a drawer.
Wren immediately folded it in half.
Desmond looked at Julian.
“Can I have one?”
The nurse gave him one too.
For thirty seconds, both children folded paper rulers into shapes while the adults documented evidence of what had happened in their home.
May you like
Julian watched Desmond make a tiny accordion.
It was such a normal thing that Julian nearly cried.
