Chapter 5 - A Song with Two Endings
“Did she give a name?” Claire asked.
Mrs. Alvarez shook her head. “Polite voice. Said she was from an agency. Your mother told her to call you directly, and then she hung up.”
Claire thought of Vivian, who never called anyone without first introducing herself and then introducing her fee. She phoned the staffing office. Vivian sounded genuinely irritated.
“I haven't called your mother. I don't have her current number. Why would I?”
“I don't know.”
“Listen, Claire, the Varricks have asked about extending the placement. Don't start imagining a mystery because you work in a scary house.”
“The house isn't what scares me.”
Vivian lowered her voice. “You know they'll pay the entire month if you stay. You know what that's worth.”
Claire knew. That was the problem.
The next morning Margaret insisted she go back to work for a few hours, promising to call if her condition changed. Claire bought two coffees, one for herself and one for the nurse at Lily's station, and arrived at the pediatric ward with the stubborn weariness of someone who had been awake all night.
Lily was sitting up. Her hair had been washed and tied with a crooked yellow ribbon. She had eaten three spoonfuls of applesauce in a session supervised by Sandra, then refused a fourth. A whiteboard listed that as progress rather than failure.
Claire sat in her usual chair and offered the rabbit.
“Noodle is promoted,” she told Lily. “He's head of the Department of Bad Hair Days.”
Lily touched one of his ears. “He's crooked.”
“He can't help it.”
“Maybe I can fix him.”
Claire reached for a sewing kit, then checked herself. “Not with a needle in this room. We could tie a ribbon.”
Lily considered the idea with grave attention.
Later, with Patel present, Claire asked permission to hum the first four notes of the song. Lily shook her head. Claire stopped. Then Lily surprised everyone.
“You can sing the part about the bird.”
Claire began softly, using the familiar rhythm of “Hush, Little Baby,” a tune her mother had used long before she had grandchildren to sing to. She sang only the first verse and waited.
Lily's eyes fixed on the light fixture. “Mommy changed it,” she whispered. “She sang, 'If that mockingbird can't fly, Mama's gonna sit with you and try.'”
Patel smiled slightly. “That's a lovely change.”
“Miss Celia said that part was stupid.”
Claire glanced at Patel, who made the smallest head movement: don't steer.
“Why didn't she like it?” Claire asked anyway.
Lily curled around Noodle. “Because babies have to be good.”
That was Claire's mistake. She had turned a child's memory into a question about a person. Lily began pulling at the blanket, breathing fast. Patel intervened with a grounding game about naming colors in the room. Lily eventually calmed, but she turned away when Claire asked whether she wanted water.
In the hall Patel spoke plainly. “You noticed something important. You also pushed when she was telling us to stop.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Claire rubbed her thumb over a coffee cup seam. “I wanted to help. I wanted the answer.”
“Those aren't always the same thing.”
Claire apologized to Lily without making a speech. “I asked too much. You don't have to explain things to me.” Lily continued looking at the wall, and Claire accepted that as her answer.
Gabriel came after lunch, still accompanied by two guards though the hospital had its own security. He listened while Patel explained the setback, then asked Claire to step outside.
“You were told not to interrogate her.”
“I didn't think I was. I was wrong.”
“Your being wrong costs her.”
“Yes.”
He seemed startled that she didn't argue. “I can't have mistakes around her right now.”
“You have them around her already,” Claire said. “Including mine. All I can do is tell the truth about it and not repeat it.”
Gabriel looked at the nursing station, where a man was helping his daughter push a toy stroller down the hall. “Celia says your presence is agitating Lily.”
“Then ask Dr. Patel, not Celia.”
“Celia's been with Lily since she was a baby.”
“That could mean she knows Lily well. It doesn't mean she gets the final word.”
Gabriel rubbed his unshaven jaw. “You can stay today. Tomorrow we'll reassess.”
Claire almost told him where to put his contract. Then her phone lit up with another message from the hospital billing office.
At the door to the room, Claire saw Lily trying to fasten the rabbit's bent ear with a yellow ribbon. The knot kept slipping. She had asked the nurse to give her one piece of tape, then tried to attach the ribbon to the rabbit's neck instead of its ear.
“That's a difficult knot,” Claire said.
Lily didn't look up. “It's not listening.”
“Some knots are like that.”
“Are you mad?”
Claire sat down carefully. “I was frustrated with myself earlier. I asked you a question you didn't want to answer.”
“Daddy was mad.”
“He was scared. That's not the same, but it can sound alike.”
Lily rubbed the rabbit's ear. “Miss Celia gets mad if I don't finish.”
“Then we can leave this unfinished.”
Claire put the ribbon down on the bedside table. Lily considered it for a while, picked it up again, and tied a crooked knot on her own. It looked terrible and held perfectly.
“You did that,” Claire said.
“It's ugly.”
“Maybe Noodle likes ugly things.”
Lily glanced toward the door where Gabriel was waiting. “Can Daddy see?”
“Of course he can.”
She didn't ask whether she was forgiven. Claire had begun to understand that forgiveness was a grown-up word that didn't solve a child's immediate question: would this person still come back tomorrow?
She stood and told Gabriel his daughter wanted him. He entered slowly, with his hands visible. Lily lifted the rabbit for inspection. Gabriel tried to straighten the ribbon, and Lily smacked his finger away.
“No. I did it.”
He pulled his hand back. “Sorry. You did.”
Claire left them with that small victory. The blue numbers on her screen felt like a hand around her throat.
She stayed.
That evening, while Gabriel read a book to his daughter and Claire watched from the door, Lily spoke from behind the rabbit's head.
“Daddy?”
May you like
“Yes, bean?”
“Why did Miss Celia say the men were our friends?”
