“But I don’t think that’s true.”
“I’ve had six surgeries.”
“How many has Poppy had?”
“None,” I said.
My voice was barely there.
“See?” she said.
“I win.”
The woman in the chair stirred.
She blinked awake.
She saw me and sat up fast.
“I’m sorry, who—”
“I’m Nate Cole’s wife.”
Her whole face changed.
Softened.
Then crumpled.
“Oh,” she said.
“Oh, honey.”
“He told me you’d come someday.”
“He did?”
“He said, ‘When my wife finds out, she’ll come up here.'”
“‘She won’t be able to help herself.'”
I looked down at the card in my hands.
“Are they going to let him back up?” Rachel asked.
“Security won’t let him past the lobby anymore.”
“She asks for him every single day.”
“I tried to tell them.”
“I told them he’s the only one who sits with her.”
“The only reason I ever get to sleep.”
“They said rules are rules.”
She reached over and fixed Maddie’s hat.
“Some church paid off our bills,” she said.
“Did he tell you that?”
“Forty-three thousand dollars.”
“I don’t even know which church.”
“I pray for them every night.”
“I just want to thank somebody.”
I looked at her.
Tired.
Proud.
Thirty-two, maybe.
Working doubles while her daughter lay in this bed.
The number sat in my throat.
Forty-three thousand dollars.
Poppy’s college.
I could have said it.
Right there.
It was mine to say.
“Keep praying for them,” I said instead.
“Whoever they are.”
“I think they need it.”
She nodded.
She didn’t understand.
She didn’t need to.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
A text from Owen.
I’m going to Voss now. Not Friday. Now. Before I lose my nerve.
Then a second buzz.
Nate.
Owen’s here. I’m coming in. I have to stop him.
I stared at the screen.
Nate wasn’t allowed past the lobby.
Voss’s office was on the sixth floor.
I took the stairs.
Two flights.
My lungs burned.
Somewhere on the stairs, I took out my phone.
I opened the voice recorder.
I pressed the red button.
Old habit.
You don’t plan three hundred weddings without learning to get everything in writing.
