Chương 3
“Stay until they ask what happened,” Camille said.
The paramedics arrived eleven minutes later. During those minutes, Lily asked for water and then did not drink it. Camille sat in a black leather chair with Lily on her lap, while Paul dimmed the music and closed the restaurant’s rear corridor to guests. Daniel brought a clean cloth wrapped around two ice cubes, but Lily would not let it near her wrist.
“It’s cold,” Daniel said gently. “Not medicine. Just cold.”
Lily shook her head.
“That’s okay,” Camille said.
Daniel set the cloth on the table and backed away. His eyes looked red. Camille remembered that he had a daughter in preschool. She knew this because restaurant owners learned pieces of their employees’ lives in fragments—who needed Tuesday mornings off, whose mother was in dialysis, who was saving for nursing school, who pretended not to care about birthdays.
The paramedics examined Lily without separating her from Camille. One of them, a woman named Elena, asked Lily whether she could wiggle her fingers. Lily did. Elena checked color and warmth, then asked who had held her wrist.
Lily stared at Camille’s bracelet.
“You can tell her,” Camille said.
Elena looked at Camille. “Let her answer in her own time.”
The correction landed cleanly. Camille nodded and said nothing more.
“Aunt Bea,” Lily whispered.
Elena asked, “Did she hold you once or more than once?”
Lily’s mouth worked before sound came. “Tonight?”
Camille felt the room tilt.
Elena did not react visibly. “We’re talking about tonight right now.”
Lily touched the green ribbon hanging over Camille’s shoulder. “More.”
Mara closed her eyes.
At the emergency department, a nurse photographed the mark with a measurement guide beside it. A physician checked for swelling and range of motion. There was no fracture, no loss of circulation, and no immediate sign of deeper injury. The mark would likely fade. The doctor did not say this as reassurance until after he had documented it.
Camille sat beside the bed while Lily watched a muted cartoon on a wall-mounted screen. Every few minutes the child rubbed the edge of Camille’s blazer between her thumb and finger. Camille had not changed clothes. The dark green satin dress was creased under the blazer, and one nude heel had acquired a gray streak from the ambulance floor.
A social worker named Denise entered carrying a legal pad and two juice boxes.
“I’m not here to interrogate anybody,” she said. “I need to understand where Lily sleeps, who cares for her, and whether there is an immediate safety concern.”
“She lives with me,” Camille said. “Beatrice was caring for her tonight.”
“How often?”
Camille disliked the question because the answer had numbers.
“Two evenings most weeks. Sometimes three.”
“For how long?”
“About seven months.”
Denise looked at Lily, who was arranging the two juice boxes by color without opening either. “Any overnights?”
“Four. Maybe five.”
Lily said, “Six.”
Camille turned toward her.
“The snow night,” Lily added. “And when the kitchen flooded.”
Camille counted. Lily was right.
Denise did not write immediately. That restraint made Camille feel observed more closely than if the pen had moved.
“Has Lily ever told you she was afraid of Beatrice?” Denise asked.
“No.”
Lily’s eyes remained on the juice boxes.
Camille corrected herself. “She said she didn’t like going there. I thought she was disappointed because I was working.”
“What did she say exactly?”
Camille could hear the answer in Lily’s voice from weeks earlier. Aunt Bea makes everything quiet. At the time, Camille had smiled and said her aunt’s apartment had always been quiet.
“She said Beatrice didn’t like noise. She asked if Daniel could watch her instead once. I told her Daniel had a job.”
Lily pushed the apple juice closer to the orange juice until their corners touched.
Denise asked Camille for Beatrice’s contact information and explained that the hospital was required to make a report. She did not predict what would happen next. There might be follow-up. There might be an interview conducted by someone trained to speak with children. Camille should not repeatedly question Lily or ask her to confirm details.
“What am I supposed to do?” Camille said.
“Keep her safe. Listen when she talks. Don’t fill in blanks.”
The advice was simple enough to sound insulting until Camille tried to imagine following it.
Her phone had been buzzing inside her handbag for twenty minutes. When she finally looked, there were nine missed calls from Henry, three from an unknown number, and one message from Beatrice.
You need to stop this before strangers damage Lily further.
Camille read it twice.
The second message arrived while she was looking at the first.
You are emotional. We can discuss this privately in the morning.
She turned the phone facedown.
Lily picked up the apple juice. “Can we go home?”
“Yes.”
“Will Aunt Bea be there?”
“No.”
“Promise?”
Camille’s throat tightened. “I promise.”
Lily studied her face as if checking whether promises changed when adults were tired.
“Will she be at the restaurant?”
“No.”
“Ever?”
Camille hesitated, and the hesitation was a mistake. Lily’s lower lip moved.
“Not while I’m there,” Camille said. “Not while you’re there. I won’t let her near you.”
Denise, standing near the curtain, watched without intervening.
They left the hospital after midnight. Paul had sent Camille’s car and arranged for another manager to close the restaurant. The driver, Luis, said nothing about the emergency department bracelet around Lily’s small arm. He turned off the radio and took the streets more slowly than usual.
In the back seat, Lily fell asleep against Camille before they reached the first red light. Her right hand rested open on her denim dress. The mark had darkened slightly, a faint red ring beneath the hospital band.
Camille photographed it again, then hated herself for thinking of evidence while her child slept.
May you like
She covered Lily’s hand with her own.
At home, she carried Lily upstairs without turning on the hallway chandelier. The apartment above the restaurant’s administrative offices had been renovated from two smaller units and still had the narrow doorway Camille had meant to widen. Lily’s shoe bumped the frame. She stirred but did not wake.
