“Ma’am, hand me the child.”
“No.”
“Do not make me repeat the instruction.”
Margaret’s eyes flew toward me.
For years, she had looked through me as though I were furniture.
Now, for the first time, she saw me.
Not clearly.
But enough to be afraid.
“This is impossible,” she whispered.
Officer Bennett removed Noah from her arms. A nurse took him, checked his breathing, and carried him immediately to me.
I pulled him against my chest.
The pain vanished beneath the force of relief.
His face was crimson, his mouth open in a trembling cry. I pressed my cheek to his hair.
“I’ve got you,” I whispered. “I’ve got you.”
His tiny hand caught the neckline of my hospital gown.
Margaret stared.
