Caitlin had pictured this moment countless times—the moment she would do irreparable harm to one of her children. But she’d never pictured it like this. Watching the national news or reading parenting magazines, she’d feel physically ill at the stories of parents who’d forgotten their sleeping children in car seats, who’d thought their handguns were stored out of reach, who’d sworn they’d gone back inside just for a second while the child was playing in the front yard. She knew everyone else was thinking, What awful parents. Who could be so irresponsible? But Caitlin felt only fear. Who was she to judge? What if she were to one day make some crucial mistake that brought on that kind of heartbreak and self-loathing from within, that kind of wrath from all around?
Once she’d made it with the boys out of the cabin, past a mercifully unconscious but evenly breathing Finn, the full force of her terror set in. She’d hastily squeezed and strapped Bear’s car seat between the twins’ as best she could with shaking hands, and peeled out in a crunch of gravel and a cloud of dust. The whole drive here to the hospital, she’d silently begged—whom, she wasn’t even sure. Please, she pleaded, over and over, as her eyes flicked wildly from the rearview mirror, where she could see Leo slumped over, eyes closed, in his car seat, to the curvy road ahead, and back again. Please don’t let today be that day. Please don’t let this happen to Leo—my beautiful, perfect, energetic, miracle baby Leo. Please don’t let it happen to Gus, his brother who needs him, or to George, who didn’t ask for any of this, or to Bear, who just needs to go home. Please don’t let it happen to me.
There was also the small matter of entering a hospital with a kidnapping victim. There had been some coverage, though it was light, in Asheville and Cincinnati, but Caitlin wasn’t sure about here in Kentucky, smack between the two. Were health care workers trained to keep a lookout for kids who were missing in the region?
Ultimately, it was futile to try to calculate the risk. She had no choice but to take it.
She told the boys they just had to make sure Leo wasn’t sick. She called it an adventure. And she found, in a stroke of luck, a pair of zip-up hoodies that she’d stashed in her trunk. They were ninja sweatshirts, the kind with flaps sewn in to transform the hoods into pull-down eye masks, gifted to the twins by her mother-in-law a few months ago. Caitlin thought them ridiculous. Not only was she tired of Beverly indulging them with overpriced boutique items that cost more than most outfits she’d worn in the earlier years of her own adult life, but the boys didn’t even yet know what ninjas were. Into Caitlin’s trunk the gift bag had been stashed that day, and there it had stayed.
She told Gus and Bear they could be hospital superheroes, and they pounced on the idea—no matter that it was pushing 90 degrees. Everyone knew that kids this age love to dress up, and besides, the car and the hospital were both air-conditioned. If Bear kept that little mask flap down, maybe it would be enough for him to escape recognition on the off-chance that anyone did remember his face.
The ninjas were sweeping around the tiny waiting room now, “rescuing” each other from under the rows of chairs. The three of them had been led to this smaller area behind a maze of corridors off the main ER, and no one else was here at the moment. Caitlin could tell that the occasional nurses and orderlies cutting through knew better than to pass judgment on unruly children. Not a single person gave her a dirty look, and for that, she was grateful.
Even though Leo had been out cold by the time they arrived, only mumbling and fluttering his eyelids when Caitlin tried to rouse him, even though she’d let down her calm fa?ade in that moment she gathered him into her arms and burst through the lobby doors, Gus and Bear seemed remarkably nonplussed. They were mostly just excited to be at the hospital, and at worst curious about where Leo had gone. Thank goodness they were too young to understand—she could only hope there wouldn’t be any serious explaining to do later.
“From what you’ve told me, it sounds like he’ll probably be fine,” the admitting nurse had said, laying a warm hand on Caitlin’s shaking arm. Of course, what Caitlin had told her was a variation on the truth, but one that approximated the amount of Ambien he may have had. “Try not to panic. We’ll take good care of him.” Somewhere in the maze of hallways off this fluorescent-lit waiting room, they were working Leo over, hooking him up to monitors, running bloodwork. They’d assured Caitlin she could come back to his side just as soon as they knew his status.
“But he’s sleeping so soundly—” Caitlin had started, the tears welling up again.
“Of course he’s sleeping soundly. He had a little Ambien. It’s what it does.” The nurse had looked past Caitlin to the boys. “Would you like me to call someone to sit here with you? To help with his brothers? Cell phones aren’t allowed back here, but there are courtesy phones in the waiting area.”
“Thank you,” Caitlin told her, wiping the tears, trying to pull herself together for the sake of Gus and Bear. “I can handle it. I just … I blame myself.”
“Things happen,” the nurse said sympathetically. She nodded toward Gus and Bear. “I can see you have your hands full. We can’t watch them every second of every day, can we? Now you sit tight, and I’ll let you know as soon as we hear something.”
She seemed so genuinely kind. But Caitlin didn’t know if that was just good bedside manner or a smooth line to evade giving any hints that child services would be notified.
Caitlin knew she should call George. His son was in the emergency room, after all. But she was clinging to the hope that the doctor would come out and say Leo was completely fine, no harm done, they could go home, and then Caitlin could proceed with her original plan and George would never have to know about this terrifying gaffe. Well, she supposed he’d get the hospital bill, but by then … well, either the cats would all be out of the bag anyway, or she’d have had plenty of time to come up with a more reasonable explanation.
If she were to bring George into this, she might as well put Finn’s blackmail plan into action for him.
But what if he’s not fine? A battle waged in her head. If his father misses his only chance to be at his side, he’ll never forgive you.
She had to believe it wouldn’t come to that.
A wail from across the waiting room snapped her back to attention. Bear had tripped and was picking himself up off the waxed linoleum, crying. Caitlin could tell he was fine, just a little bruised and annoyed that his fun had been interrupted. She shuddered to think about the germs on the hospital floor, though. Autopilot kicked in and she swooped over, collecting a dollop of hand sanitizer from the wall dispenser along the way. She gave him a hug, reassured him that he was okay, and rubbed the foam into his little hands as best she could. Gus, who wasn’t typically jealous when she doled out affection to Leo or anyone else, hovered over her shoulder, resting his chin there and peering at her through his long eyelashes. These boys were tired. They were off their routines and out of their element and while they didn’t know enough to be scared here with Caitlin, they must have sensed something wasn’t quite right. Bear quieted down to a whimper, and she led them both to a table spread with crayons and photocopied coloring book pages of doctors and nurses and ambulances. You’d think they’d want to get the kids’ minds off this place, she thought. Just Elmo or some Care Bears would suffice.