Chapter 6 - She Needed Him
Nina watched quietly from the corner.
She had stopped pretending this was normal.
At midnight, Dr. Pierce came in.
His surgical cap was gone. His face was tired.
Sarah stood so fast the box almost fell.
Matthew caught it.
Dr. Pierce crouched.
“Your mom is out of surgery.”
Sarah’s eyes widened.
“Is she alive?”
“Yes.”
The word entered the room like sunlight.
Sarah burst into tears.
Matthew sat down hard.
Dr. Pierce continued carefully, “She is very sick, and she needs recovery, but she made it through the operation.”
Sarah threw herself at Nina first because Nina was closest.
Then at Matthew.
He froze for half a second before wrapping one arm carefully around the child.
Small.
Shaking.
Real.
Not memory.
Not regret.
A child who needed people now.
Matthew looked at Dr. Pierce over Sarah’s head.
“Thank you.”
Dr. Pierce nodded.
“She still has a long road.”
Matthew held Sarah gently.
“Then we start walking.”
Anne woke late the next afternoon.
Matthew did not go in first.
He wanted to.
Every part of him wanted to walk into the room and demand the missing years answer him.
But Sarah went first.
That was right.
Nina brought her in after the nurse checked Anne’s vitals.
Sarah climbed into the chair beside the bed and placed Hope the doll beside Anne’s hand.
Anne cried when she saw it.
Matthew watched through the glass.
He saw Anne touch Sarah’s hair.
Saw Sarah talk fast, hands moving.
Saw Anne look toward the hallway once.
Then again.
Nina came out.
“She asked for you.”
Matthew’s hands went cold.
He entered slowly.
Anne looked smaller in the hospital bed than she ever had in memory.
But her eyes were the same.
Tired.
Clear.
Unwilling to lie once the room demanded truth.
“Matthew.”
“Anne.”
Sarah looked between them, clutching the side of the bed.
Anne said, “Sarah, can Nina take you for pudding?”
Sarah hesitated.
“Are you going to talk secrets?”
Anne smiled weakly.
“Some grown-up things.”
“About him?”
“Yes.”
Sarah studied Matthew.
“He helped.”
Anne’s eyes filled.
“I know.”
Sarah pointed at him.
“Don’t make Mommy cry bad.”
Matthew nodded solemnly.
“I’ll try not to.”
Sarah left with Nina, looking back twice.
When the door closed, the old silence returned.
Matthew stood near the chair.
Anne looked at him.
“You look like your father.”
He flinched.
“That may be the cruelest thing anyone has said to me.”
“It wasn’t meant kindly.”
He nodded.
Fair.
Anne turned her face toward the window.
“You were told I left?”
“Yes.”
“With money?”
He swallowed.
“Yes.”
She laughed faintly.
It became a cough.
Matthew moved toward her, then stopped because he did not know what rights he had in the room.
Anne noticed.
That hurt both of them.
She settled.
“Your father offered money. I refused. Then he offered threats.”
Matthew’s jaw tightened.
“What threats?”
“My scholarship. My clinical placement. My mother’s housing. Your future. He said if I loved you, I would stop being the poor girl who made you choose between romance and legacy.”
Matthew’s hands closed.
“I didn’t know.”
“I know.”
The answer cut him because she believed it.
Not completely.
Enough.
Anne continued.
“I wrote to you.”
“I never got it.”
“I called.”
“My number changed when I moved.”
“I went to your apartment.”
“I had already left.”
“For Chicago.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t come back.”
“I thought you chose money.”
Anne looked at him.
“I thought you chose ease.”
He did not defend himself.
That was new.
Old Matthew would have argued.
Powerful Matthew would have clarified.
The man holding a doll named Hope only lowered his eyes.
“Maybe I did,” he said.
Anne’s face shifted.
“I just told you we were lied to.”
“And I’m telling you there was a part of me relieved to believe the lie. Because if you left for money, I could be angry. If you were forced away and I failed to find you, then I was a coward.”
Anne stared at him.
Tears gathered in her eyes.
“Matthew.”
He looked up.
“Is Sarah mine?”
The question entered the room and changed the air.
May you like
Anne closed her eyes.
“No.”
