Chapter 4
Two days later, Rosie's cries woke me at five in the morning.
Her entire body was burning with fever. The skin around her incision was red and hard, and suddenly she began to convulse.
I dropped to my knees beside the bed and called her name, but although her eyes were open, she did not respond.
For more than ten terrifying seconds, all I could do was cushion her head with a blanket and watch her arms stiffen again and again.
When the seizure ended, every trace of strength seemed to drain out of her. Even her crying faded to a weak breath.
I lifted her pajama top and saw pale yellow fluid soaking the edge of her bandage.
The thermometer stopped at 103.8 degrees.
The doctor told me to bring her back to the hospital immediately, but my car was still with Sloane.
Rosie's fever medicine, care bag, and complete discharge records were all in the trunk because Julian had left them there.
I called him.
It took him a long time to answer.
"What is it?"
"Rosie has a fever. I have to get her to the hospital now."
I heard the clear clink of silverware in the background.
Then Sloane's voice came from beside him.
"Julian, your coffee is getting cold."
He immediately covered the receiver.
I looked at the clock on the wall.
It was 5:47 in the morning.
"Where are you having this meeting?"
"There is a breakfast meeting at the hotel."
"With Sloane?"
"Other people are here too."
He answered too quickly.
"Bring the car back, or come pick us up now."
"Her samples are still in it. I can't bring it back yet."
"Rosie just had a seizure."
"Then take a rideshare to the hospital. I'll come when I'm done."
"She could have another seizure. I need someone to drive, and I need the medical records in the trunk."
"The hospital has her records in its system. Stop turning every problem into another reason I have to rush home immediately."
I heard Sloane call his name again.
Julian did not ask how long Rosie's seizure had lasted.
He did not ask whether she was conscious now.
After he hung up, I sent Hannah my address.
Twenty-five minutes later, she appeared at the door in pajamas and a long coat. She had not even taken the time to change the mismatched socks on her feet.
She held a first-aid kit in one hand and opened the rear door for us with the other.
She did not tell me she had work that day.
She did not ask whether I could wait another ten minutes.
The moment she saw me holding Rosie against the wall, her face changed.
"Where is Julian?"
"In a meeting."
"A meeting at five in the morning?"
"A breakfast meeting at a hotel."
Hannah did not ask anything else.
On the way to the hospital, she kept both hands tight on the steering wheel.
Every time Rosie made a sound, Hannah immediately checked the rearview mirror to make sure she was awake.
At every red light, she turned on the interior light so I could see Rosie's face.
"Clara, this is not the first time."
"I know."
"He did not come the night of the surgery. He gave Sloane your car the day Rosie came home. Now Rosie has a high fever, and he is still at a hotel with her."
"I know."
"How many more excuses are you going to make for him?"
I tightened my arms around my shivering daughter.
"Not one more."
I said it without anger and without tears.
I simply realized that the person who would come at five in the morning would never need me to explain why it was serious.
The doctor confirmed that the incision was infected. Rosie needed an IV and another procedure to clean the wound immediately.
A nurse asked when her father would arrive.
I looked at Julian's final message.
"Don't start imagining things just because Sloane is here. I'll come when we're finished."
I turned off the screen.
"He's not coming."