I moved beside him.
“Her sister.”
The doctor looked directly at Ben.
“The babies have been delivered. They’re receiving care in the neonatal unit.”
Ben’s knees seemed to loosen.
“Both of them?”
“Both.”
I covered my mouth.
For one small moment, hope rose so suddenly that it hurt.
Then Ben asked the question neither of us could avoid.
“And Rosie?”
“She is still in surgery. The team is continuing to work on her.”
“What happened?”
“I’ll explain what I can, but I need to be clear that we don’t have a final update yet.”
Ben nodded, though he looked as if he hadn’t absorbed a word beyond still in surgery.
Behind us, the waiting room door opened.
“Is she all right?”
Dad’s voice.
He hurried over, with Mom following a few steps behind.
The doctor repeated what she had told us.
Mom began crying.
Dad put an arm around her.
Then his eyes moved to the paper in my hand.
His expression changed.
It was brief.
So brief that, before that night, I would have missed it.
“Where did you get that?” he asked.
I folded the letter.
“Rosie wrote it.”
“Let me see.”
“No.”
Mom looked at me through her tears.
Dad kept his hand extended.
“This is hardly the time.”
I put the letter inside my bag.
“No,” I said again.
His mouth tightened.
The doctor glanced between us.
Ben turned back to her.
“Can I see the babies?”
“A nurse can take you shortly.”
Dad stepped forward.
“I’ll go with him.”
Ben’s answer was immediate.
“I want my wife’s sister with me.”
Dad stared at him.
Then, with the doctor still standing there, he smiled.
“Of course.”
I had seen that smile all my life.
For the first time, I watched it appear.
The doctor returned through the doors.
Mom sat down against the wall, shaking. I knelt beside her and took her hands.
Dad remained standing.
“You’re both exhausted,” he said. “Whatever Rosie has written, we can discuss it when everyone is calmer.”
Ben said nothing.
I looked up.
“What did she write that worries you?”
Dad’s eyes hardened.
“Don’t start.”
Before I could answer, a nurse approached from the desk.
“Benjamin?”
Ben turned.
“I need you to come with me for a moment.”
“Is it Rosie?”
The nurse hesitated.
“It concerns information we were given about her care.”
Dad took a step toward her.
“I explained that already.”
The nurse looked at him.
“I need to speak with her husband.”
The hallway went silent.
Ben reached for my hand.
I stood.
Dad moved between us and the nurse.
“There’s been a misunderstanding,” he said.
But the nurse was holding a folder open against her chest.
And on the page facing us, beneath my sister’s name, was a signature I recognized.
My father’s.
