Chapter Six
Eliza
I couldn’t stop pacing the small curtained area around Lily’s stretcher, my body moving on autopilot while my mind raced in circles.
The beeping of the heart monitor created a steady rhythm that should have been reassuring but only reminded me how fragile she was.
Lily lay so still, her small chest rising and falling with each breath, her newly immobilized shoulder strapped firmly against her body.
The pink cast on her other arm stood out against the white hospital sheets.
Too many injuries. Too many hospital visits.
And now they thought I caused them all, even though she hadn’t hurt herself in my presence this time.
Cash hadn’t moved from his position beside Lily’s bed, his large hand gently covering hers.
He looked out of place in the sterile environment, his tattooed skin and leather cut stark against the clinical white and pale blue of the hospital room, yet he radiated a steady calmness I found myself clinging to.
The nurses who came to check Lily’s vitals worked around him without comment, perhaps seeing his determination to keep his promise to my daughter.
“They hurt her,” I whispered, more to myself than to Cash. “They took her to protect her from me, and they hurt her instead. Yet, I’m the bad guy in this story.”
Cash looked up, his gaze meeting mine. “You’re not.”
I rubbed my hands over my face, feeling the grit of dried tears on my skin. My hair had fallen from its ponytail hours ago, and I knew I must look as wrecked as I felt. But appearances were the least of my concerns as the doctor approached with his tablet in hand.
He was young, probably still a resident, with dark circles under his eyes suggesting he was hours into a long shift. He nodded politely to me as he checked Lily’s vitals, making notes on the chart.
“How long will she sleep?” I asked, my voice sounding rough.
“The sedation should wear off gradually over the next couple hours,” he replied, his tone gentle. “But she’ll probably be groggy for most of the night. Let her sleep.”
“You’ve brought her in quite a few times in the past two years,” he continued, his tone carefully neutral.
I stiffened, the familiar defensiveness rising in me. “She falls. She gets hurt easily. I’ve been trying to get answers --”
“I can see that,” he interrupted, his voice lacking the accusation I’d come to expect. He continued to study the charts, flipping between pages with growing interest. “These notes from her pediatrician mention requests for additional testing were denied by your insurance.”
“Multiple times,” I confirmed, hardly daring to hope he might actually listen. “I’ve been concerned about how easily she bruises and how severe her injuries are from relatively minor falls.”
The doctor nodded thoughtfully, turning to a fresh page in the chart where the ER staff had documented tonight’s injury. “The shoulder dislocation happened when someone grabbed her arm while she was struggling?”
“Yes. The social worker.” My throat tightened around the words.
“Apparently trying to get Lily to the foster home they were sending her to until they could determine if I a-abused her.” I stumbled over the word, nearly breaking down again.
It was so frustrating to have this conversation so many times.
Cash shifted in his seat, his jaw tightening visibly at the memory. He remained silent, but I could feel his anger simmering beneath the surface.
The doctor frowned at the medical history again, his eyes moving rapidly across the pages.
“Her injuries over the times she’s been here, along with what we got from her family doctor, aren’t typical of abuse cases,” he murmured, just loud enough for me to hear.
“I could be wrong and I definitely want the radiologist’s opinion, but I think there might be an issue with her bone density.
Which would suggest something else might be at play.
If I can see decreased bone density on the regular X-ray we took to verify her shoulder reduction, then there’s a bigger issue than the shoulder injury itself. ”
My head snapped up, hope flickering through me for the first time in hours. “I suspected something like that. I’ve researched it online, but her doctor always said I was overreacting. And I’m fully aware Dr. Google rarely has the correct answers. But I’m desperate.”
“Online research can be problematic,” the doctor acknowledged, “but parents often sense when something isn’t right.
” He gestured to the chart. “Accidents can often be mischaracterized as abuse, but we always want to err on the side of the child.” He laid the tablet on the counter as he leaned against the edge before continuing.
“I know your attorney has set up some testing to further evaluate Lily. Please take her for the testing. I’m no expert, but I really think there’s a chance there is something treatable going on.
And I don’t think you’re abusing your daughter. ” His smile was kind and genuine.
My eyes filled with tears, but for once they weren’t tears of frustration or despair. Someone was finally listening. Someone with medical authority was seeing what I’d been trying to tell doctors for years.
“What does that mean?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “For Lily? For us?”
“It means we need to run some tests.” His expression was serious but not unkind. “Bone density scans, possibly genetic testing. There are several conditions which could explain these symptoms. Some are quite manageable with proper treatment.”
I felt my shoulders straighten slightly, the weight I’d been carrying for years not gone but somehow shifted into something I could bear.
“I’ll make sure we get some preliminary scans while Lily is here to send with you when she sees the specialist. The more information we can gather, the better.
Also, I need to see if there are any other injuries.
The skeletal survey will give the specialist a current view of her bones he can compare with her other images and will give him a point of reference from here on out.
Unfortunately, the ER can’t do the DEXA scan, but it will be part of what the specialist will order.
The DEXA scan will be the major starting point. ”
I nodded, my eyes drifting back to my sleeping daughter. For so long, I’d felt like I was screaming into a void, begging someone to help us understand why Lily kept getting hurt. The relief of finally being heard nearly buckled my knees.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed Cash watching me, his gaze steady and assessing.
When our eyes met, he raised an eyebrow and I realized he could see my distress.
I gave him a nod and a slight smile. With my daughter safe beside me and a doctor finally willing to look beyond the obvious, hope blossomed inside me, dangerous and fragile.
“They’ll be in to take her for some more pictures in a bit. Hopefully, she’ll sleep through most of it.” Then he left us alone.
I moved to Lily’s bedside opposite Cash, gently brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. “We’re going to figure this out,” I promised her quietly. “No more guessing. No more being ignored.”
Cash’s hand remained wrapped around Lily’s smaller one, his presence a silent pledge we wouldn’t face whatever came next alone.
The door opened to reveal a woman in her sixties wearing a tailored charcoal suit, her silver hair styled in a neat bob. She carried a leather portfolio and surveyed the room, her sharp blue eyes missing nothing.
“Ms. Jans,” she said, her voice carrying the weight of decades on the bench. “I’m Judge Evelyn Whitmore.”
I stood quickly, smoothing my rumpled shirt in a useless attempt to look more put together. “Yes, Your Honor. Thank you for coming.”
She nodded once, her gaze moving to Lily’s sleeping form and softening momentarily before returning to its professional composure. “Ms. Thompson briefed me on the situation. I’ve reviewed the preliminary removal order and the circumstances of what happened tonight.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. This woman held our future in her hands. I’d learned long ago hope was a luxury rarely afforded to women like me, but I couldn’t stop it from fluttering weakly in my chest.
“The circumstances of the child’s injury while in state custody are concerning enough to warrant immediate review,” Judge Whitmore stated, opening her portfolio and extracting a set of documents.
“I’ve signed an order restoring full custody to you pending further investigation and medical evaluation. ”
“You’re giving her back to me?”
Judge Whitmore’s expression remained unchanged, but something in her eyes suggested she understood my disbelief.
“Ms. Jans, removing a child from their parent is an extreme measure that should only happen when there is clear evidence of danger. While I understand Ms. Winters’ concern, the fact remains Miss Lily was harmed in the state’s care.
I personally believe things shouldn’t have escalated this far, but there are no do-overs.
Also, I believe Ms. Winters will be more accommodating.
“If you cooperate fully with the medical testing Ms. Thompson is scheduling, I believe this will all be resolved. If there’s a medical explanation for your daughter’s condition, and it sounds highly possible there is, we need to find it. For both of you.”
She extended the custody papers again, and this time I managed to reach for them. My hands trembled so badly the papers rustled as I took them, clutching them to my chest as if they might disappear if I loosened my grip.
“I will,” I promised. “I’ve been trying to get someone to order these tests for a while.”
She nodded, her expression softening slightly. “I know. The system failed you both in this case. Now,” she added, her tone firming again, “Ms. Thompson will coordinate with my office once the results are back.”