"Like taking me away?"
"Like taking you away," Caden confirmed. "She thought she was protecting you, but she wasn't thinking clearly."
A nurse came back in with some food for Macy, her soft-soled shoes squeaking against the linoleum. The hospital felt smaller than the ones I was used to in Boston—more personal somehow.
"How are we feeling, sweetheart?" the nurse asked, checking the monitors again and scanning her bracelet. Her name tag read "Patricia" and she had the kind of gentle manner that made you feel like your grandmother was taking care of you.
"Tired. And my head feels weird."
"That's normal after a bump like you had. I thought you might want something to eat now, we don't have much up here but I brought you a turkey sandwich, some graham crackers and a pudding. I also found a ginger ale in our fridge that I thought you might like to have." Winking at Macy, she started to lay everything out in front of her on the bedside tray. Thank God for nurses. I swear they do angels' work.
Going to the computer, she took down some notes. "Now don't worry, the weird feeling should go away in a day or two." She made notes on her chart. "Try to get some rest, okay? You've been through a lot tonight. You're a brave little girl." She lightly tapped Macy's shoulder, smiled, and left the room.
As Patricia left, Caden's phone buzzed. He glanced at it, and I saw his expression shift.
"David," he said quietly to me, showing me the text.
David: Emergency custody petition filed. Hearing is 9 AM tomorrow. You don't need to be present - stay with Macy. Police reports and hospital records will help. Send me pics of what you have just for the time being, I will work on official records later.
Relief washed over Caden's face like a physical thing. "He's moving fast."
"That's good," I said. That's exactly what we need—I thought... though I could tell from his expression it was very good.
"Very good. This means we'll have legal authority to make decisions for her by morning. No one can question our right to be here, to make medical choices, nothing."
"What's that about?" Macy asked, her voice small.
"Just my lawyer making sure you're protected," Caden said, moving to sit on the edge of her bed. "He's working to make sure you can stay with us."
"I want to stay with you and Felicity," she said, and something in my chest cracked open.
"Absolutely, honey."
Through the window, I could see the parking lot of the small hospital, mostly empty except for a few cars scattered under the streetlights. The mountains of Western Massachusetts rose in the distance, dark silhouettes against the night sky. It was so different from Boston—quieter, more peaceful. Had it really only been six hours since we'd raced through the night to get here? It felt like a lifetime.
I thought about Jessica, somewhere else in this same building, probably in whatever passed for a psychiatric unit in a hospital this size. I want to say I'm a bigger person and not angry at Jessica—that having a substance abuse disorder is its own trial, but I can't. I am fuming inside.
I know it isn't the same thing, or even on the same wavelength—but I think of how often Caden and I tried for pregnancy, the rounds of IVF, knowing that my body is broken. I was diagnosed with Primary Ovarian Insufficiency years ago. After IUI and then five rounds of IVF, we had to accept that no amount of intervention would ever be enough for us.
I think of how much I have always wanted to be a mom. That it was a dream of mine to someday hold a baby of my own in my hands, watch them grow up, be a part of their lives and see something so beautiful in my child as joy or love. Then I see someone like Jessica—she had that. And she used manipulation to get what she wanted, she stole almost half a million dollars, she exposed her eleven-year-old to drugs. My God! Macy could have taken something, just following what her mom did.