The Silent Housekeeper Who Carried My Children’s Secret and Changed Our Lives
“Is she alright?” I asked, walking quickly out of the study.
“She is regaining consciousness, but her vitals are unstable,” the doctor replied.
“I am on my way,” I said.
I ran down the long hallway, my flashlight beam bouncing off the dark walls.
I didn’t bother locking the front door behind me as I rushed out into the cold night air.
The drive back to St. Mary’s Medical Center was a blur of streetlights and rain.
I parked the car in the emergency lot and ran through the sliding glass doors.
The hospital smelled of antiseptic and floor wax.
I took the elevator to the third floor and walked quickly toward the intensive care unit.
Dr. Shah was waiting outside Claire’s room, looking down at a clipboard.
He looked up as my boots squeaked on the linoleum.
“How is she?” I asked, catching my breath.
“She is awake, but very weak,” Dr. Shah said, lowering his voice.
“Can I see her?” I asked.
“Only for a moment,” he said, nodding toward the door. “She has been calling out for the boys.”