49
Amy waited in the bathroom for thirty minutes, wishing she could turn her phone on. But she had little to no reception in the ER, so she shut it down to conserve the battery. She had no charger with her.
The door opened and the nurse she had seen earlier stepped in. “There you are. Dr. West has been looking for you.”
“How’s my daughter?”
“Come talk with the doctor,” she said, gesturing for Amy to follow her. “And reception has been looking for you, too. There are more forms that need to be completed—this time for your daughter.” She handed her a clipboard and pen, clearly assuming that Amy had already submitted the first set of documents.
West was writing in a chart when Amy arrived at the nurses station. “Ah,” he said, setting the pen down. “Your daughter’s doing fine.”
“Where is she?” Amy asked, looking around the open department.
“Still in radiology. We’re going to keep her here overnight for observation.”
“Here?”
“In the ER. We’ll watch her for twelve to eighteen hours. She definitely has a concussion but no apparent focal neurologic damage. A wet read of her scan shows a hairline fracture of her sphenoid bone. Not bad considering the impact. Could’ve been much, much worse. We’re going to have orthopedics fashion a face guard to wear for a few weeks.”
“A face guard? Like a mask?”
“Like the NBA players wear. It’s clear, protects the facial bones.”
“Is that really necessary?”
“It’s a wise precaution. She’s a young girl and young girls can be active. The swelling will subside over the next few days, the discoloration a week to ten days. She banged herself up pretty badly.” He set the chart down, made eye contact with Amy. “We do this right, everything will heal up perfectly and she’ll be good as new.” He chuckled. “She looks just like you. Bet you hear that all the time.”
“Yeah.” Amy broke out in a cold sweat. “If only you knew.”
“Anyway, it’ll be a little uncomfortable with that mask on, but she’ll get used to it. Assuming no neurological findings crop up during the next twelve to eighteen hours, you’ll be good to go.”
“Can I see her?”
“She’s still in radiology. I’ll have someone take you up.”
The orderly delivered Amy to a room and told her to wait there. A couple of minutes later, a nursing assistant wheeled Melissa in.
“Be right back,” the woman said.
Melissa’s face—bruised, swollen, and abraded—broke into a distorted smile that brightened her face. “Amy!”
She jumped out of the chair and ran into Amy’s arms. They embraced tightly and seconds later Amy realized that Melissa was crying. Amy leaned back to get a look at her. “What’s wrong?”
“I was scared. I didn’t know where you were. I was afraid you’d leave me. And that they’d call my mommy.”
Amy pulled her close, gently cradling her head and stroking the back of her hair. She started to cry. “I’d never leave you. I’ll always be here, no matter what. I love you, sweetie.”
They both wept.
Amy realized she could never keep the promises she just made. Her tears of joy turned suddenly to ones of sadness, of loss. Because she knew her time with Melissa was drawing to a close. Today? Tomorrow? The end was coming soon. It had to. How long could she keep this up?
And just like that, Amy now had clarity. How she could have shut the logic of her situation out of her thoughts, her consciousness, for so long, was inconceivable.
“My mommy never tells me she loves me.”
Amy drew back and looked into Melissa’s tear-filled eyes. She understood the need to feel that your mother cared deeply for, and about, you. “I’m sure she loves you.”
Melissa shook her head. “I wish you were my mommy, Amy. Will you be my mommy?”
Amy choked up and she was unable to speak. She forced her throat to relax, to let the emotion ease enough to say, “What about—what about your daddy?”
Melissa thought about that—but only for a matter of seconds. “We can visit him on weekends.”
I’d take that deal in a heartbeat.
Whatever the case, Amy now knew—understood—that what she had done was beyond wrong. It was unforgiveable. The impact of her actions hit her full on, her impulsive act and subsequent inability to think it through leaving her woefully unable to fix what she had wrought.
Not that Melissa’s living situation was ideal—or even tolerable—but she had now caused additional damage to the girl’s life. It would be hard to get her home to her parents now without causing her substantial anguish—not to mention that any hopes Amy had of seeing her grow up were now dashed. Amy would undoubtedly be facing significant jail time … and maybe even a restraining order restricting or denying access to Melissa … even when Amy was released from prison.
Giselle could testify about Christine Ellis’s abuse. If convicted, that would leave Melissa’s father with custody. But if he was really involved in the clinic fire—and that seemed highly likely based on what Amy knew—he would go to prison himself for conspiracy to commit arson and theft of biologic property. That would leave Melissa … where?
Amy felt guilty for having set in motion a sequence of events that was going to bring to Melissa’s life an awful turn of events with no good solution.
The door opened and the orderly reappeared. “C’mon, dear. The radiologist wants to repeat one of the films. Then we can get you over to orthopedics. You can wait in here if you’d like, Mom. Shouldn’t be too long.”
Amy drew back from Melissa. “Go on. This nice lady will bring you back to me soon as you’re done. Okay?”
Melissa nodded. Amy ran her fingers through her knotted hair. “You need a bath so badly …”
“C’mon now,” the woman said.
When the door clicked closed, Amy dug out her phone. She booted it up and called Loren—who answered on the first ring.
“Jesus Christ, Amy. I’m so happy to hear your voice.”
“Same here.”
“But call me back from a pay phone. Can you do that? Right now.”
“Um … I’m kinda short on cash.”
“If you don’t have enough change, call me collect.”
“Okay.”
“Do it now.” Loren gave Amy the burner number.
“May be a bit. I’ve got to find a phone.”
“Call as soon as you can. But don’t call me on my cell again and don’t use your iPhone anymore. Shut it down and take the SIM card out. Talk to you soon. Love you.”
With that, Loren hung up.
What was that about? Does she know about Melissa? How could she? No, it had to be something else.
Amy walked into the corridor but did not see any pay phones. Despite the ubiquity of mobile devices, she figured the hospital had to have at least one somewhere, in a lounge or waiting room—if nothing else, because there were places where wireless communications were prohibited due to equipment interference. But finding an opportunity to make the call—when Melissa would be left alone—would be a challenge.
As she tried to reason that through, the elevator doors opened down the hall.
And the San Luis Obispo police officer stepped out.