“Is something wrong with my baby?”
Robert opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He pressed the back of his hand against his eyes for a moment, then pushed his shaking hand into his coat pocket where the nurse couldn’t see it.
“Nothing is wrong with him,” he managed. His voice sounded like someone else’s.
Joanna’s eyes narrowed.
“Then why are you crying?”
What the Chart Said, What She Had Never Told Anyone, and the Three Words That Changed the Room
He looked down at her chart.
Joanna Ellis. Twenty-eight years old. No emergency contact listed. No spouse. Father of child: not provided.
“May I ask,” he said carefully, “the father’s name?”
Joanna’s fingers tightened around the sheet.
She had spent seven months learning how not to react to that name. Seven months of deliberate training in the specific discipline of not flinching.
