OVER AN HOUR HAD PASSED SINCE CORA FOUND A SEAT IN THE CROWDED emergency room. She was surrounded by people who were either waiting to be seen, or were waiting—as she was—for news. Every ten minutes or so, the ER doors would glide open, and along with the wind, leaves, and rain, another stretcher would be whisked in. “Must be a full moon,” a nurse behind the desk said.
Moments later, a slender Asian woman appeared in the doorway and looked down at her iPad. “Cora Grant?” she said, glancing around the crowded room. Cora waved her hand, and clutching her bag, hurried over.
“How’s Harper?” she asked anxiously.
Seeing Cora, the woman frowned. “I’m guessing you’re not her kin.”
Cora shook her head. “No, Harper has no kin we know of. She’s in the custody of the state. I’m her case worker. How is she doing?”
The woman nodded. “I’m Dr. Chu. Why don’t we go back to one of the consultation rooms?”
Cora followed her through the doors, and Dr. Chu guided her to a small private room and they sat across from each other.
“Harper is stable,” she said with a smile, “and she’s feeling much better, but we need to run more tests. Do you know where we can get copies of her medical records?”
Cora took a deep breath and shook her head. “DFCS usually uses Dr. Hack at Savannah Pediatrics, but not all the kids go there, so I’m not positive and I don’t even know how complete Harper’s records are. She didn’t come to us until she was three—her mother died of a drug overdose, and we’ve never been able to find her father.”
“All kids get sick from time to time. Do you happen to remember a time when she didn’t feel well?”
Cora shook her head. “I keep track of so many kids, it’s hard to keep ’em all straight.”
“It would help tremendously if you could remember.”
Cora rubbed her forehead, thinking. “I know she’s had strep a few times—it’s very common with all the kids comin’ and goin’ . . . oh! and she’s also allergic to nuts—just so you know . . . but I think, one time, she might’ve had strep and not had the usual symptoms—just had a headache.”
“Did she have a fever?”
“She may’ve, but I don’t know that we have a record of that. She’s been in and out of so many homes the last couple years—she’s kind of a tough cookie, you know.” Cora shook her head, trying to remember. “I’m sorry, but I’m really not sure.”
Dr. Chu nodded as she tapped notes into her iPad. “Thank you, that’s more helpful than you know.” She looked up. “Harper’s chest pains seem to be caused by a weakened heart, but we won’t have more details until we have all her test results back.”
Cora frowned. “A weakened heart? What in the world would’ve caused that?”
“Well, she may have been born with it—congenital heart defects are more common in children than most people realize, and if she didn’t have regular checkups as a baby, it may never have been diagnosed. There are other possibilities, too, though. You said her mom died of a drug overdose? She may very well have been a user when she was pregnant with Harper—and that could’ve played a role. Also, a fever that goes untreated can damage the heart—it’s hard to say without her records. We will run more tests and reach out to the doctor’s office to see if they have any records, but until we have all of the information, we really won’t have a complete picture.”
Cora nodded. “Can I see her? I have her teddy bear,” she said, holding up the tattered bear. “I promised I’d come.”
Dr. Chu smiled. “Of course, but just for a few minutes. We’re also going to be keeping her overnight. In fact, we might keep her longer, depending on what we find and how she feels.”
They stood up and walked to Harper’s room.
“Hey, Harper,” Dr. Chu said cheerfully as they walked in, “I brought someone to see you.”
Seeing Cora, Harper mustered a weak smile. “Are you feeling better?” the doctor asked as she checked the most recent readings on her monitor.
Harper shrugged. “I guess.”
Dr. Chu nodded. “I’ll let you two chat, and then we’re going to take you upstairs for more tests.”
Harper nodded, and as the doctor stepped out, Cora pulled a chair up next to the bed. “How’re you really feeling?”
“A little better,” Harper said.
“Rudy made sure I brought Bear with me,” she said, tucking the bear next to her.
“Thanks,” Harper said, lightly fingering the pink heart. She looked up and her lip trembled. “What’s wrong with me, Cora?”
“Nothin’, baby,” Cora whispered, her voice choked with emotion.
“I heard the doctor say there’s something wrong with my heart.”
Cora swallowed and reached for Harper’s hand. “Don’t worry, baby. They’re goin’ to do some more tests and find out what’s going on, and then they’re gonna fix you up like new. Don’t you worry one bit.”
Tears spilled down Harper’s cheeks. “Am I going to die?”
“No, baby, you are not going to die,” she said, squeezing her hand. “You are much too stubborn for that!”
Harper half smiled, and Cora gently brushed her tears away.
“That’s better. . . . Now, promise me you won’t worry.”
Harper nodded.
“Everything’s goin’ to be okay,” Cora said, sweeping Harper’s copper bangs out of her eyes, and Harper pressed her lips together and nodded.
Just then, a young technician peered around the door. “Harper Wheaton?” he asked. Harper looked up and nodded, and he stepped into the room. “I’m Bryan and I’m going to be taking you for a couple more tests. . . . But don’t worry, they’re easy . . . not like math or anything.” He helped her into a wheelchair. “Ready, my friend?”
Harper nodded and then looked worriedly at Cora. “Will you be here when I get back?”
“I have to go home and check on Rudy and the boys, but I’ll come back as soon as I can.”
“Okay,” Harper said, and as Bryan clicked off the brakes on the chair, Cora leaned down and gave her a hug. “Don’t worry, baby,” she whispered.
“I won’t.”
“Promise?”
“Cross my heart,” Harper said, pulling Bear against her chest.