The brick buildings of the hospital looked dark against the gray sky.

I parked in the visitor lot.

I got out and opened the back door, lifting the boys out one by one.

They held my hands tightly as we walked through the sliding glass doors.

The lobby smelled of antiseptic and wet coats.

We took the elevator to the fourth floor.

Dr. Shah was standing near the nurse’s station, reviewing a chart.

He looked up and saw us walking toward him.

“Mr. Whitmore,” Dr. Shah said, closing the chart.

“I did not expect you back so soon.”

“How is she?” I asked.

“She is awake,” Dr. Shah said.

“She is still very weak, but her vitals are stabilizing.”

“Can the boys see her?” I asked.

Dr. Shah looked at Lucas and Owen, then back at me.

“Only for a few minutes,” he said.

“She needs her rest.”

He led us down the hallway to room 412.

The door was slightly ajar.

I pushed it open slowly.

Claire was lying in the bed, her face pale against the white pillows.

An IV line was connected to her back hand.