I Lost My Baby Because My Husband Waited for His Best Friend's Permission novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: The Form

Whitney arrives with roses and a statement for Hallie to sign, and a hospital form says Hallie declined the ambulance. Bev throws the roses out, and Kip says the hospital lawyer is already after his signature.

Kip took his phone back and didn't say anything about the views.

He checked the monitor, then the line in my arm, and he did it slowly, so I could tell him to stop.

"Your mother's on her way," he said. "A nurse called her. She's driving in from Grove City."

"Thank you."

"I have to ask you something medical." He pulled the chair closer. "You have an old scar on your left side. Was that a kidney?"

"I gave one away when I was twenty-one."

"To family?"

"To a stranger. They don't tell you who."

He nodded and wrote something on the chart.

"That's why you went down so fast. One kidney doesn't have much to spare when you lose blood like that." He looked up. "I didn't know it in the lobby. I'm sorry. I'd have moved faster."

"You moved fast enough for me," I said.

It was the first kind thing I had said to anyone since the lobby.

My mother came through the door at seven in her work apron with her car keys still in her fist.

She didn't ask me anything.

She climbed onto the bed in her shoes, put her arms around me, and we stayed like that until a nurse came in and pretended to read the monitor.

At ten, someone knocked.

Whitney Whitbread came in carrying white roses, dressed in black, her blonde hair pinned back, her eyes red.

She looked exactly like a friend who had not slept.

"Oh, sweetheart," she said, and she put her hand on my ankle through the blanket.

Dalton came in behind her and stood by the window with his hands in his pockets.

"I'm so sorry," Whitney said. "I've been sick over it. I have a car waiting. Dalton's taking you home, and my people have already handled everything."

"Handled what?"

"The press. The video." She took a folded paper out of her bag. "We just need your signature on a family statement, so nobody can twist this."

I read it.

It said that Dalton and I were grieving privately, and that in my distress I had asked to wait for my husband before leaving the gala.

"I didn't ask to wait," I said.

"Of course you don't remember it that way. You were in shock."

"I asked him to drive me to the hospital. I asked three times."

"And he was trying to, sweetheart. He just needed to arrange it properly."

She said it gently, so gently that the nurse at the monitor looked at her with sympathy.

Then a hospital administrator I had never met stepped into the doorway holding a clipboard.

"Mrs. Hazard, I'm sorry to interrupt. There's an admission form that needs a signature from your husband as your proxy. It's just a formality."

He handed it to Dalton.

I could read it upside down.

Under Reason for Delay in Transport someone had typed, Patient declined ambulance. Proxy present.

Dalton read it too.

His mouth moved, and he looked at Whitney.

"Dalton," I said.

"It's just the way they word it, Hal."

"I never declined anything. You never called an ambulance. A stranger did."

"I know. But if we put it that way, there are questions. For the hotel. For Whit." He rubbed his forehead. "It's one line."

"Sign it," Whitney said quietly, "and we can all go home."

I felt my mother get off the bed.

She took the white roses out of Whitney's hands, crossed the room, and dropped every one of them into the biohazard bin by the door.

"Visiting hours are over," my mother said.

Whitney smiled at her.

It was a small, sorry smile.

"You're upset, Mrs. Stoltz, and I understand. We'll come back when everyone's calmer." She touched Dalton's sleeve. "Come on."

He went.

He stopped at the door and looked back at me, and for a second I thought he might say something that was his own.

Then Whitney said, "Dalton," from the hallway, and he turned and followed her.

He hadn't even needed to be told twice.

My mother sat down on the bed again, and I lay there staring at the form the administrator had left on the tray table.

The line was typed there, in black.

Patient declined ambulance.

Kip came back at noon.

He didn't knock. He stood in the doorway in clean scrubs and said, "The hospital lawyer is at the nurses' station."

"For me?"

"For me. He's been there since seven." He closed the door behind him. "He asked whether I'd seen you decline transport. Whether I could sign that I had."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him the only person I saw decline anything was your husband."

"Will they make you sign it?"

"They'll try." He rubbed his eyes. "The Whitbread family paid for the wing I work in, Hallie. Her name is on the doors."

My mother stood up.

"Then she can wipe it off," she said, "because I'm taking my daughter home."

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