Betrayed: She Took My Son novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: Hold

Melanie refuses the lie and demands to see her son's body. Her husband signs her into a locked ward, and through the visitor window she sees her daughter holding a baby in the blanket Melanie stitched.

"Where is my son?" I said.

The doctor kept his hand on my ankle and did not answer.

"I want to see him. I want to hold him. Bring him to me."

"Mrs. Reeve, the hospital handles the remains," he said. "It's kinder if you don't."

"He isn't remains. I heard him cry."

A nurse stepped up on my other side and tried to tuck the blanket around my shoulders.

I pushed her hand away.

"Show me a body," I said. "Show me anything with his name on it."

"I can't do that," the doctor said.

"Then he's not dead."

My voice cracked on the last word, and the whole room went still.

The door opened and Philip walked in.

He had put on a shirt and a tie. His eyes were red.

I thought for one wild second that he had come to take my side.

"Melanie," he said softly. "Honey."

"Tell them to bring me my son."

Philip turned to the doctor, and his whole face changed into a husband's face.

"She found something out today," he said. "A family matter. She was under a lot of strain before the labor."

"Don't you tell them about me," I said.

"You see?" Philip said to the doctor, quietly.

"He's lying. He's lying about all of it. The baby cried. Philip, you were in the hall, you must have heard him."

"I heard nothing, sweetheart," Philip said. "I'm so sorry."

I tore the IV out of my hand.

I made it as far as the edge of the bed before two orderlies took my arms.

I screamed my son's name. I screamed Liam until a needle went into my thigh.

The last thing I saw was Philip holding the doctor's elbow and thanking him.

I woke up in a room with no corners.

The window was thick glass with wire inside it. The bed had rails. A paper wristband was fastened on my arm, tight enough to leave a mark.

AVERY, MELANIE. INVOLUNTARY HOLD, 72 HOURS.

Under it was a smaller line of type.

Placed by: J. Reeve, spouse. Witness: L. Avery, daughter.

I read it three times.

My daughter had signed the paper that locked me in.

My chest hurt. I looked down and saw two dark wet circles spreading on the hospital gown.

My body was still waiting for him.

A woman in a blue smock came in with a paper cup of pills.

"Where am I?" I asked.

"Larkmont Behavioral Center. You're safe, Melanie."

"What day is it?"

"Tuesday."

I had gone into labor on a Saturday.

"I need a phone. My sister doesn't know where I am."

"Your husband has your phone. He asked us to keep calls limited while you settle."

"I'm not sick. They took my baby."

The woman nodded and said nothing.

She wrote on a clipboard.

Later the doctor came. This was a different one, older, with a gray beard and a soft voice.

He sat on the edge of the chair and folded his hands.

"Your husband tells me you experienced a loss," he said. "That you're convinced the baby is alive."

"He is alive."

"Postpartum psychosis can make a mother hear a child who isn't there. It's nobody's fault. We'll treat it."

"I am not psychotic. I want my phone. I want a lawyer."

"Every time you say that, I'm afraid I'll have to increase your dose," he said gently. "I'd rather not."

He stood up and patted the rail of my bed.

He said it all so kindly that I almost thought I was wrong.

On the fourth day, an aide walked me down the corridor to the day room.

My legs were slow and heavy. The pills made the hallway lights smear.

The corridor ended at a glass wall, and past it was the visitor lobby with its leather chairs.

Someone was crossing the lobby fast, with her head down and her coat open.

It was Lacey.

Her sweater hung loose again. Her stomach was flat.

She had a car seat on one arm and a bundle held tight against her shoulder.

A corner of the blanket swung loose as she pushed through the doors.

It was soft blue flannel with a yellow duck on it.

I had stitched that duck myself, on the couch in August, while Lacey slept with her head on my arm.

I had sewn LIAM into the hem in white thread.

I put both hands on the glass.

"Lacey!" I shouted. "That's my son!"

She didn't turn around.

The aide closed her fingers around my arm.

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