Chapter 45
Nathan
Hospitals have a way of making time feel unreal.
Ivy sits on the bed in a thin paper gown, her feet not quite reaching the floor, swinging a little as if she doesn’t know what to do with them. A nurse gave her apple juice, a blanket, and a stuffed bear she hasn’t let go of since.
She’s still holding my hand. Like if she lets go, I might disappear.
I’m still afraid this is a dream.
Every few seconds, I look at her face just to make sure she’s still there. Her hair is longer. A little tangled. There’s a faint bruise on her shin that makes my chest ache. But she’s breathing. She’s warm. She’s here.
A doctor will be in soon, they told me. Soon feels like a lifetime.
The door opens. I look up, expecting a white coat.
It’s not.
It’s Maddison.
She’s standing in the doorway like she’s forgotten how to move. Like her brain is still trying to catch up to what her eyes are seeing.
“Ivy?” she whispers.
Ivy’s head snaps up. For half a second, she just stares. Then— “Mommy!” She launches herself off the bed and into Maddison’s arms.
Maddison drops to her knees to catch her, crushing her against her chest like she’s afraid someone might try to take her again.
They’re both crying.
Ivy’s face buries in her mother’s neck. Maddison’s hands in Ivy’s hair, her back, her shoulders—everywhere at once.
“Oh, my God,” Maddison keeps saying. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God…”
I don’t remember standing up. I’m just there watching the two of them hold each other like the world almost ended and somehow didn’t.
Ivy pulls back first, cups Maddison’s face in her small hands like she needs to make sure she’s real. “I thought you were gone,” she says, her voice breaking.
Maddison shakes her head fiercely. “Never. Never. I was always looking for you. Always.”
I feel something in my chest finally crack open and breathe.
They hold each other again.
And for the first time in three years…
We’re in the same room.
A family.
A gentle knock interrupts the moment. A doctor steps in, clipboard in hand, soft eyes. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “I just wanted to let you know we’ve finished the exam.”
We all turn.
“She’s okay,” the doctor says. “No signs of physical abuse. No internal injuries. She’s a little underweight and probably needs some follow-up, but overall she's in good health. She’s healthy.”
My knees give, and I sit on the chair again. “She’s… she’s really okay?” I ask.
The doctor smiles. “She’s really okay.”
Maddison presses her face into Ivy’s hair again.
I close my eyes.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
“There are a few procedural things,” the doctor continues. “The police will want to speak with you, and child services will follow up, but she doesn’t need to stay here. You can take her home.”
Home. The word feels unreal.
A little while later, a police officer comes in. Asks questions. Takes statements. Explains what will happen next.
I barely hear any of it. I just keep one hand on Ivy’s back.
When they finally say we’re clear to go, Maddison helps Ivy change back into her clothes.
Ivy takes my hand and Maddison’s.
And we walk out together.
Through the hospital doors. Into the night.
For the first time since she was taken…
We leave somewhere as a family.