Chương 2
For the moment, only one sentence mattered.
“We have him stabilized.”
Elena bent over the bed and placed her forehead against Noah’s bare arm.
His skin was warm. That small fact saved her from falling.
Adrian’s hand hovered near her back. She saw it in the polished metal rail, close enough to touch but not touching. After a moment, he lowered it.
The attending physician introduced herself as Dr. Priya Shah. She had dark hair streaked with gray and the blunt, economical manner of someone who had learned that frightened parents remembered half of every sentence.
“We need to admit Noah,” she said. “We also need accurate family medical history. If Mr. Cross may be his biological father, that information could matter before any genetic result comes back.”
“How long does that take?” Elena asked.
“For the rapid panel, potentially a few days. Sometimes longer. We don’t wait for it if his rhythm becomes unstable again.”
Adrian looked at Noah. “What do you need from me?”
“Your family’s cardiac records, if they exist. Your own medical history. A blood sample. None of that proves paternity, and paternity is not my department. I’m asking about medical risk.”
“You’ll have everything.”
Dr. Shah turned to Elena. “We also need to know who is legally authorized to consent for Noah.”
“I am.”
“Then every decision goes through you unless a court says otherwise or you designate someone. Is that clear?”
Elena looked at Adrian.
He did not challenge it. “Yes.”
The answer came too quickly, polished by a life in which people watched how he responded. Still, his eyes stayed on Noah rather than Elena.
Dr. Shah gave them ten minutes while the intensive-care room was prepared. The curtain closed. Hospital sounds continued on the other side: rubber wheels, low voices, the electronic call from another room.
Elena pulled the damaged sweater around Noah’s shoulders even though it no longer closed. She hated seeing his chest exposed. She hated the adhesive pads, the wires, the clean white tape holding the IV against his small hand.
Adrian stood near the sink.
“Why were you outside?” he asked.
She looked at him.
“I don’t mean why were you at the hospital. Why were you sitting outside with him?”
“We were waiting for a rideshare. He said the lobby was too bright.”
“You don’t have a car?”
“It’s in the school parking lot in Fairmont. The ambulance brought us.”
“You were going back there tonight?”
“I hadn’t worked out the rest.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. Elena recognized the gesture. He had done it years ago when an answer irritated him and he was trying not to show it.
“What school rehearsal?”
“The winter music program.”
“It’s October.”
“They rehearse early.”
“I wasn’t criticizing the school.”
“You sound exactly the same when you criticize something and when you’re pretending not to.”
His eyes opened. Something passed across his face, close to anger but not quite. “You waited seven years to tell me I had a son, and we’re discussing my tone.”
“I didn’t wait.”
The room seemed to contract.
Adrian’s gaze moved from her face to Noah’s and back again. “What does that mean?”
“It means I told you.”
“You did not.”
“I sent three letters. I called your office until they blocked my number. Your attorney sent me a document saying you denied any relationship with me and would consider further contact harassment.”
“I never did that.”
“It had your signature.”
“I never did that.”
This time the control left his voice. Noah stirred.
Elena immediately bent over him. “Hey. It’s okay. Mom’s here.”
Noah’s lashes fluttered but did not open.
Adrian stepped backward. His face had gone pale beneath the olive tone of his skin.
“Which attorney?”
“Warren Bell.”
The name affected him. Not surprise exactly. Recognition sharpened by dread.
“He worked for my father.”
“He wrote that he worked for you.”
“He didn’t.”
“He knew the date we met. He knew where I lived. He knew about the locket.”
Adrian looked down at the silver piece hanging against his chest. “My father knew about you.”
“You told him?”
“He had people tell him things.”
“That sounds convenient.”
“It isn’t meant to.”
A nurse entered to transfer Noah. Elena gathered the locket and his cut sweater. Adrian reached for the small canvas backpack beside the bed, then stopped as if afraid even that might be interpreted as taking something that belonged to the child.
Elena handed it to him.
The movement surprised both of them.
“Don’t lose the green dinosaur,” she said. “It’s in the front pocket.”
He nodded with absurd seriousness. “I won’t.”
They followed Noah upstairs.
St. Catherine’s pediatric intensive-care unit had murals of woodland animals painted along the hall, but the foxes and rabbits were softened by dim night lighting. A little girl in a hospital gown walked past holding her father’s hand and dragging an IV pole decorated with stickers. Somewhere, a television played an animated movie at low volume.
Noah’s room had a glass wall, a reclining chair, and a narrow couch beneath the window. Beyond it, the city looked distant and blue.
Elena sat beside the bed while nurses adjusted lines and repeated questions she had already answered. Adrian remained outside the glass until a nurse asked whether Elena wanted him removed.
“No,” she said.
The word came from exhaustion rather than trust.
He entered and set the backpack beneath the couch. The green dinosaur’s head protruded safely from the front pocket.
Marcus appeared at the doorway. “Celia is awake. She’ll send the records from her cardiologist. Your mother’s autopsy file is archived. We may need authorization in the morning.”
Adrian’s mouth tightened. “Tell her why.”
“I did.”
“How did she react?”
Marcus glanced toward Elena before answering. “She asked whether the child has your eyes.”
Adrian looked at Noah.
May you like
Elena did too, though she had spent years telling herself Noah’s eyes were only hazel because hers were. In sleep they appeared darker.
Marcus said, “There are photographers near the east entrance.”
