“Paramedics are on the way from Station Four, Captain,” the dispatcher said.Stay on the line.”
“Affirmative,” I said, putting the phone on speaker beside the stainless steel faucet.
I took a small yellow measuring cup from the drying rack and filled it with two ounces of cool tap water.
Holding Lily upright against my chest, I touched the rim to her lower lip.
She took one hesitant sip, coughed against the collar of my service shirt, and swallowed.
After five seconds she took a second swallow, her throat working slowly against my shoulder.“Where’s Grandma Patricia?” I asked, keeping my voice soft against her ear.
Lily didn’t look at the measuring cup.
“Grandma said big girls don’t make noise when the sun goes down.”
My fingers went stiff against the cotton of her shirt.
“Did Grandma come inside the house on Tuesday?”
“She had her shiny shoes on,” Lily murmured, saying the words in the flat rhythm of a lesson memorized in the dark.
