“The children’s medical trust is now fully active,” Margaret said, her voice softening. “We have allocated twelve million dollars for their immediate care.”

“We can get the private pediatric specialists from Boston?” I asked.

“They are already on a private flight,” Margaret said. “They will arrive here by seven o’clock tonight.”

I looked at my babies.

For the first time, I felt like they had a real chance to thrive.

Suddenly, a loud commotion came from the hallway outside.

I heard raised voices and the heavy thud of security boots on the tiled floor.

“You can’t keep me out of here!” a voice shouted.

It was Grant.

I stood up from my chair, my body still aching from the emergency surgery.

“Stay here,” Margaret said, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“No,” I said. “I want to see him.”

I walked slowly to the heavy wooden door of the private room.

I pulled it open just wide enough to see into the corridor.

Grant was standing near the nurses’ station, his face red and his coat dripping water onto the clean floor.