Chapter 5: The Things He Said to the Security Officer
Julian did not leave the hospital.
Patricia told me this without alarm, the way she told me most things — as information I was entitled to have, delivered without drama.
He had moved from the radiology waiting area to the main emergency desk, where he had spent forty minutes explaining to three different staff members that his pregnant wife was being held against her will by a rogue technician with a personal grudge.
"He used those words?" I asked.
"He did." Patricia made a small note in her folder.
"He also asked to speak with the department head and requested that Caleb be removed from the building."
I almost laughed.
"What did they say?"
"They told him the department head wasn't available and that Caleb was on shift." She looked up.
"He's asked twice to see you.
Both times the answer was no.
He's now on the phone in the corridor."
Caleb leaned against the wall near the door, arms crossed.
"His attorney," he said.
"That's my guess."
"It doesn't matter," Patricia said.
"You haven't been admitted involuntarily.
You came in through emergency.
You have the right to determine who has access to you.
That includes your husband."
Julian's voice reached us again from somewhere down the hall — still controlled, still reasonable, but louder now.
I heard the word *irrational.* I heard *pregnancy hormones.* I heard *my wife needs me.*
Caleb's expression didn't change, but his jaw tightened.
"He's going to try to get to me before I leave," I said.
"Yes," Patricia said.
"He will.
So we're going to talk about what happens when you walk out of this building." She opened her folder.
"I've already spoken with a colleague at Hargrove Family Law.
Her name is Diane Marsh.
She can see you tomorrow morning."
"Tomorrow morning I'm supposed to be home."
Patricia looked at me steadily.
"Where would you like to be tomorrow morning?"
The question sat there.
Simple.
Enormous.
I thought about the marble island in our kitchen.
The way Julian had looked at my arm for one moment before deciding we needed to go to the hospital.
Not horror.
Not remorse.
Just assessment.
"Not home," I said.
"Then we'll make arrangements." Patricia turned a page.
"Your brother has already offered his address.
We can also arrange a safe house through the hospital's domestic support program.
Both are options."
"Caleb's," I said immediately.
Caleb pushed off the wall.
He didn't say anything.
He just nodded once, and I saw his throat move.
Patricia closed her folder and stood.
"I'm going to arrange your discharge paperwork and coordinate with security for your exit.
It will take about thirty minutes." She paused at the door.
"Is there anything in your home you need tonight?
Documents, medication, anything for the baby?"
I thought about the nursery Julian had designed.
The crib he had chosen.
The name he had already decided on without asking me.
"My grandmother's ring," I said.
"It's in the top drawer of my nightstand.
It was my mother's before that."
Patricia wrote it down.
"We'll see what we can do."
She left.
The room was quiet.
Caleb came and sat beside me.
For a while neither of us spoke.
"He's going to say I turned you against him," I said.
"He's already saying it."
"People will believe him.
He's very good at being believed."
Caleb was quiet for a moment.
"Do you remember what you told me when you were seventeen?
When Dad said you couldn't take that scholarship because it was too far away?"
I looked at him.
"You said, 'He doesn't get to decide what I'm capable of.'" Caleb held my gaze.
"You were right then.
You're still right."
May you like
Down the corridor, Julian's voice had gone quiet.
That was almost worse.
