Chapter Three
Eliza
I sat beside Lily’s hospital bed, watching the gentle rise and fall of her small chest. The room felt too quiet after the storm of the social worker’s visit.
My mind raced with all the ways our world might fall apart after today.
The bright pink cast on Lily’s arm seemed to glow in the dim hospital lighting, a neon sign broadcasting my failure to protect her.
I had no proof she had something wrong with her to make her prone to injuries, but I knew no one abused her. Certainly not me.
Cash had left nearly forty minutes ago, promising help would come. I wanted to believe the stranger, but hope was a luxury I could rarely afford. Too many promises had evaporated over the years, disappearing like morning mist under the harsh sun of reality.
Movement in the hallway caught my attention.
A woman in a tailored charcoal suit strode purposefully toward Lily’s room, her heels clicking against the linoleum with authority.
I stiffened instinctively, my arms folding across my chest as if I could physically shield myself from more accusations from another social worker.
I damn sure didn’t want to talk to someone from administration coming to discuss the mounting bills I couldn’t pay.
The woman paused in the doorway, her gaze finding mine immediately. Unlike Ms. Winters, whose gaze had been cold and judgmental, this woman’s eyes were sharp but not unkind. She carried a leather portfolio tucked under one arm, her red hair cut in a sleek, professional style framing her face.
“Ms. Jans,” she said, her voice low enough not to disturb Lily. “I’m Lana Thompson. I specialize in family law and work with New Beginnings. Johnny Kingston called me about your situation.”
Johnny. It took me a moment to realize she meant Cash. I nodded, keeping my expression guarded as she stepped into the room. Her shoes were expensive, I noticed. So was her watch. This was no overworked public defender or court-appointed advocate.
“May I?” She gestured to the visitor’s chair on the opposite side of Lily’s bed.
“Sure,” I said, the word barely audible. I glanced at Lily, making sure she still slept peacefully before returning my attention to the lawyer.
Lana settled into the chair with graceful efficiency, setting her portfolio on her lap. She studied me for a moment, her gaze taking in my wrinkled clothes, my unwashed hair pulled back in a hasty ponytail, the dark circles I knew shadowed my eyes.
“Cash filled me in on what happened with the social worker,” she said.
“I want to be clear from the start. I’m not here to judge you.
I’m here to help if I can. I will give you every benefit of the doubt, starting from the assumption you’re telling the truth.
” When I opened my mouth, she smiled and continued.
“Cash said he’d been convinced Lily isn’t an abused child by the way she acted with him. And you.”
“Why?” I asked, my voice rough with exhaustion. “You don’t know me. Neither of you do.”
“No,” she agreed. “But I know the system, and I know when it’s failing someone.”
My guard began to lower, just a fraction. Maybe it was desperation, or maybe it was the way she looked at Lily with genuine concern and not the clinical assessment Ms. Winters had used.
“I don’t have money for a lawyer, Ms. Thompson,” I said bluntly.
She waved away my concern and smiled. “I’m not here for your money. And call me Lana.”
I hesitated, then reached for my purse, the worn leather cracking along its seams. I pulled out a stack of papers held together with a binder clip holding medical bills, insurance denials, and all of Lily’s medical records. My hands trembled slightly as I laid them on the small table between us.
“These are just from the last six months,” I said, the papers rustling as my fingers brushed across them.
“There are more at home. Three years’ worth.
” Lana didn’t reach for them immediately.
Instead, she watched me, giving me space to continue.
I did, but my voice shook with emotion I couldn’t seem to keep under control.
“I work two jobs,” I continued, glancing at Lily’s pink cast, guilt twisting in my chest like a knife.
“Office admin during the day, remote data entry at night. I have insurance through my day job, but it barely covers anything. Every time Lily gets hurt, everyone looks at me like I did it. Or like I’m making up an excuse to not come to work. ”
My voice cracked, and I swallowed hard against the burning in my throat.
“The first time she got hurt she was three. She fell, not even hard, just a normal toddler tumble. But her arm broke. She’s been prone to falls since she started walking, but her balance hasn’t improved and sometimes her legs don’t seem to want to hold her.
She bruises so easily.” My voice broke as I spoke so I stopped and took a sip from a bottle of water on the table nearby.
My hands shook and I immediately curled my fingers into a fist to stop the trembling.
“After that, she was in and out of the emergency room every few months. Sometimes she’d have a minor injury, but this last time, her arm… ”
When I had trouble continuing, Lana prompted me. “Obviously, she broke it,” Lana observed. “Why was this time different?” I didn’t get the feeling this woman judged me. She seemed genuinely concerned about both me and Lily and wanted to get to the bottom of the situation.
I cleared my throat. “They said the type of fracture Lily had didn’t happen with a simple fall. There had to have been some pretty bad trauma involved, so they went digging.”
“Digging.”
“Into Lily’s past visits. They called her doctor. They called hospitals in the immediate area, trying to get more records than what I had with me. They found out her father is in prison and…” I took a breath, shaking my head slightly. “He’s not in the picture. We cut ties with him two years ago.”
“You carry her records on you?” Lana looked genuinely puzzled.
“I’m not stupid. I know what the situation looks like.
I talked with Lily’s primary care doctor on multiple occasions about why she had trouble with balance or how she bruised so easily.
He said we’d keep an eye on it, check her ears to make sure fluid didn’t cause balance problems, but she was fair skinned so she might bruise easily.
” I twisted my hands together. “Anyway, the emergency room doctor asked so many questions. Took pictures. Called in a specialist of some kind. I thought they were finally going to figure out what was wrong with her.”
Lana nodded, her expression encouraging me to continue.
I took a few breaths and another drink of water.
The more I spoke, the more I knew I sounded just like the people you see on TV denying all the horrible things they’ve done by making the same lame excuses their abusers adopt because they know better than not to.
I continued. “But then the specialist said it was just a fragile phase she’d grow out of.
Same thing her pediatrician said. When it happened again three months later, a different doctor suggested calcium supplements.
When those didn’t work, another suggested she be evaluated for spinal problems like scoliosis.
” I reached out to gently touch Lily’s uninjured hand, careful not to wake her.
“This time, she tripped over her own feet in the kitchen. I grabbed her arm to stop her from hitting her head on the counter, and I felt her arm snap under my hand.” I looked up at Lana, tears threatening to spill.
“I caused this break. Not because I abused her. I tried to keep her from having a worse injury. Besides, grabbing her was a reflex. Even if I’d known she’d have been better off to fall than for me to grab her, I’m not sure I could have stopped myself. ”
Lana’s face remained composed, but I could see how she watched me closely. I couldn’t tell if she looked for deception or simply took in everything I said with her undivided attention. “You’ve been trying to get answers,” she stated rather than asked.
“Every new doctor we see, I bring up the same concerns. They run basic tests, say her calcium levels are fine, blame it on childhood clumsiness or suggest I’m overreacting.
” I gestured to the stack of papers. “Meanwhile, the bills keep coming. I’ve researched online.
There are conditions that cause exactly what Lily experiences, but getting someone to listen, to order the right tests…
” I trailed off, the familiar frustration rising in my chest. “I’m not a medical person.
And I know Dr. Google isn’t the way to diagnose, but I can’t get anyone to listen.
” Tears threatened as frustration built inside me.
“And now they think you’re hurting her,” Lana finished for me.
“Yes.” The word came out as barely more than a whisper. “I’ll be honest with you. At this point, I feel like I’m going crazy. I didn’t intentionally hurt my daughter. Yes, I grabbed her when she fell, but I intended to protect her.”
Lana crossed her legs and sat back more comfortably in her chair. “Tell me about the social worker’s visit today.”
I recounted the confrontation with Ms. Winters.
As I spoke, Lana continued to give me her complete attention.
Instead of taking notes or something, she really paid attention to what I said.
Even if I could lie worth a damn, I knew I’d never be able to fool this woman.
She especially hadn’t liked I’d been told to leave Lily alone to conference with her doctor.
“Then Cash came in?” she asked.
“Yes. He’d been here before, when Lily was alone. He sang to her. He didn’t have to. Most people wouldn’t bother with someone else’s crying child. Not to mention he probably risked his parole being revoked.”