Chapter 4
Elmira
Hildy
The flight is only an hour. Sixty minutes suspended in the air between the life I knew and the one I’m about to walk into.
My ears pop when we land, my heart still racing like the plane never slowed.
Claudia keeps a hand lightly on my back as we move through the tiny private terminal, someone already waiting to usher us into a cab like this was coordinated long before I even said yes to coming.
“My first flight was to Brooklyn for an internship. My second over an ocean, with an infant, and then back to Brooklyn. I met Nalani on that flight, and if I hadn’t, Savannah and I wouldn’t have had a place to stay.
He never made the reservation he’d said he did, and there were no rooms available, not that I had the money for one.
My point,” she smiles. “I hate flying too.”
“You didn’t have to come, I’m sorry. I—”
“I did have to.” She states adamantly. “That’s how humanity should work.
You see someone who needs your help, and if you’re able, you step up.
” She nods to the lights in front of us, the hospital coming into view.
“It is never easy accepting help when you’re used to doing it all on your own.
But Hildy, whoever told us or made us believe that it made us weaker was a fool. ”
“I promise one day I will pay it forward.” I force a smile that is genuine, but just doesn’t want to come as easily as it should.
“Girl, I know that.” She winks.
We pull up at the emergency room entrance. My hands shake as I pull out my phone and text Erin.
Me:
I’m here. Where do I go?
Three dots appear almost immediately.
Erin:
Waiting room outside pediatric wing. Fourth floor. I’ll meet you.
The elevator ride feels endless. Every ding makes my chest jump. Claudia stands beside me like a wall, calm, steady, eyes scanning everything the way she does, even when she pretends she’s relaxed.
When the doors open, Erin is already there.
She looks older than the girl I knew. More tired. Kinder though. Her badge swings against her sweater as she rushes forward, hands warm when she grips mine.
“I’m so glad you came,” she says softly.
I nod because I can’t speak yet.
She leads us into a quieter corner of the waiting room, away from the late-night murmurs and vending machines humming in the background.
“There’s something else,” she says gently. Careful. Like she knows it’s another blow, and my stomach tightens to prepare for it. “Lucy… she’s your mother and father’s child.”
“What?” I whisper.
Erin nods, sympathetic. “They reconnected while your mom and grandmother were in Florida. That’s when she got pregnant.” She whispers. “He’s back in prison again.”
Florida. The memory slams into me so hard I have to sit.
My junior year. My mother calling in tears, saying they had no heat, no lights, Grandma is sick, medication too expensive, begging me to take out a student loan because they’d die without help.
I remember sitting on my dorm bed sobbing while filling out the forms I didn’t understand, convincing myself that family came first.
Family….
A week later, I saw the photos.
My mother. My grandmother. Smiling on a beach in Florida, like life was a vacation I funded, and it was.
That was the last time I believed either of them about anything.
“I only talked to them once after that,” I murmur, staring at the floor. “Just once.”
Erin squeezes my hand gently. “I’m sorry, Hildy.”
Lucy. A child born out of lies, irresponsibility, and selfishness. A child who still didn’t deserve any of this. I press my palm to my chest, breathing shallow, grief and anger tangling together in my ribs.
“She’s asking for you,” Erin says softly. “They told her that her big sister was coming. She asked, she really is?”
My heart cracks clean down the middle.
Erin leads us to the last door on the left, her hand lingering on the handle before she opens it slowly. I’m not ready, but my feet move anyway, carrying me forward like they knew this moment was inevitable.
And then I see her.
Small. Fragile. Curled up in a bed that’s too big for her, surrounded by stiff white sheets and machines that beep softly like they’re keeping time with her breathing.
My heart stops. She looks like me. Not just a little.
Not vaguely. It’s like someone pulled a photograph from my childhood and laid it in that hospital bed.
Same red hair, a bit lighter and very tangled.
Same pale skin, marred by angry scrapes and bruises.
One eye swollen, dark, and purple, with a shadow blooming across her cheek that will be unable to hide.
Tiny cuts dot her chin and forehead. Her arm is wrapped, wrist in a cast far bulkier than it should be for something that small.
I can’t breathe.
I’m staring at the child I used to be. The one who waited. The one who learned not to expect rescue because it never came. The one who decided they’d had enough when her grandmother’s boyfriend tried to slide into her bed.
Her eyes flutter open.
Green. Bright even through pain.
She studies me for a second, like she’s checking whether I match the story she’s been told about me.
Then her lips tremble into the smallest, bravest smile I have ever seen.
Her voice hoarse and shaking, she says, “I thought you were just a story.” My chest caves in. “But you came.” Her little hand reaches toward me, shaky but determined. “Can I come with you?”
The question slices straight through every wall I built to survive.
I step closer, tears blurring everything, my hand wrapping gently around hers. Warm. Real. Alive.
“Yes,” I whisper, voice breaking. “Yes, Lucy, you can.”
She tries to get up, and Erin laughs. “You can’t leave yet, the doctors and nurses have to make sure you’re okay.”
Her lip trembles as she looks from her to me, “Are you going to leave?”
I don’t even think before I move. I slip off my shoes, climb carefully onto the edge of the narrow hospital bed, and gather Lucy against me like I’ve known her my whole life.
She fits into my arms so easily, small and warm and trembling, her head tucked under my chin as if it always belonged there.
Her body shakes for a minute, silent tears soaking into my sweater, her tiny fingers clutching the fabric like she’s afraid I might disappear if she loosens her grip.
“I’m right here,” I whisper into her hair, rocking her gently. “You’re safe.”
Her breathing slows. The tightness in her little shoulders softens. She presses closer, cast awkward between us, and I hold her carefully around it, one hand smoothing her back in slow circles the way I used to wish someone had done for me.
Within minutes, exhaustion wins. Her lashes rest against bruised cheeks, mouth parted slightly as she drifts off, still clinging to me. Like letting go isn’t an option.
My heart aches so deeply it’s physically painful.
Erin waits until Lucy’s breathing deepens before stepping closer, voice low and gentle.
“She’s been asking about you for hours,” she murmurs. “This helped more than you know.”
I nod, unable to look away from Lucy’s face. “What happens now?”
Erin pulls a chair closer to the bed and sits, keeping her tone calm and steady.
“Because you’re immediate family, the county can place her with you under emergency kinship care.
It’s temporary at first, but it allows her to stay with someone she knows while everything with your mother moves through court. ”
I swallow hard. “I don’t have money for this, but I will figure—”
“You won’t be doing it alone,” Erin says quickly.
“Kinship caregivers receive financial assistance. Monthly stipends, medical coverage through Medicaid, clothing allowance, and food assistance. There are emergency funds for beds, car seats, and just about any supplies for children. The state helps bridge the gap while placement is evaluated.”
Relief and fear collide, as tears burn again.
“And custody?” I whisper.
“If you decide you want permanent guardianship,” Erin explains gently, “you can petition the court after the temporary placement period. They’ll review your housing, income, do a background check, and references. Because you’re her sister, you’d have priority over a non-family foster placement.”
I glance down at Lucy curled against me, trusting me without even knowing me, and me loving her in the same way.
“You don’t have to decide tonight,” Erin says softly. “Right now, she just needs stability. And you gave her that the second you walked in.”
Lucy sighs in her sleep, tiny hand still fisted in my sweater.
“I will figure it out.” I rub my lips across the top of her head. “I’ll do whatever I have to until I finish school, and then it will be smooth sailing.”
I see Claudia smile as she taps on her phone, and Erin steps out of the room.
“She’ll have her own room at the Puck Pad.
You’ll have the whole downstairs to yourself the majority of the time.
” She sits on the edge of the bed. “Noelle says they can make a second bedroom in less than thirty days at her place, and whatever you’re paying at your current residence is all she will take for rent, no more. ”
“That’s insane.”
“She wouldn’t trust anyone else to live there.” She holds up her phone, showing me the text where she says exactly that.
“My gut tells me to say absolutely not. But my heart,” I pause as I feel my eyes burn. “Well, it tells me I’d start an OnlyFans and read the classics naked to be able to take care of her.”
Claudia giggles quietly.
“I wish I were joking.” I close my eyes. “I should never have thought that she was safe. I—”
“Don’t do that, focus on the fact that right now, she is the safest she’s been, and you’re going to make sure she stays that way.
” She reaches up and grabs my hand and squeezes it gently, “And you won’t be doing it alone.
You’re one of us.” Tears spill immediately.
“I know it feels terrifying to trust because I was in your shoes just a few months ago, and I promise you that you can.”