But taking our daughter to the home of a woman I had never heard of?
That was not an accident.
Teaching Chloe to hide those visits?
That was not an accident.
Lying to paramedics while they were treating her?
That certainly wasn’t an accident.
The older paramedic said Chloe needed to go to the hospital for observation.
“One parent can ride in the ambulance.”
“I’ll go,” Ryan said immediately.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“I’m going with her.”
“Maeve, I’m her father.”
“And I’m going with her.”
“You’re upset.”
“Our daughter could barely breathe ten minutes ago. Of course I’m upset.”
He stopped arguing.
The ambulance doors closed with me beside Chloe and Ryan standing outside.
During the drive, I held my daughter’s hand.
Her skin was cooler now.
The hives were beginning to disappear.
But under that hospital blanket she looked impossibly small.
“Mommy?”
“I’m right here.”
“Are you mad at me?”
That question hurt more than anything Ryan had said.
“No, baby. Why would I be angry with you?”
Her lip trembled.
“Daddy said I wasn’t supposed to talk about Miss Dana.”
I kept my voice calm.
“What else did Daddy say?”
“He said the visits would make you sad.”
“Visits?”
“We go to her house on Sundays.”
My fingers tightened around the edge of the ambulance seat.
“Instead of the park?”
Chloe nodded.
“Sometimes we go to the park first. Just for a little while.”
She paused.
“So I can say we went.”
Those words stayed with me.
So I can say we went.
“How many Sundays?”
She tried counting on her fingers.
“I don’t know. A lot.”
I wanted to ask a thousand questions.
Who was Dana?
How did Ryan know her?
What happened in that house?
