There were monitors around her and careful voices near the bed.
She was awake, frightened, and exhausted.
“Mommy?”
I went to her so quickly I nearly caught my hip on the rail.
“I’m here.”
“Did I finish my rainbow?”
That question broke something in me that the screaming had not.
I bent over her and pressed my cheek to her hair.
“Not yet, baby.”
She thought for a moment.
“The yellow was next.”
“I know.”
I held her hand until she drifted back to sleep.
The doctors were cautious.
Chloe needed close observation.
The injury was serious, but she was receiving the care she needed.
I listened to every word, asked questions twice when I could not absorb the answer the first time, and wrote things down because I no longer trusted my memory to hold anything reliably.
When I returned to the waiting room, Marcus had finally landed and was on his way from the airport.
My family was still there.
Briana was not sitting anymore.
She was pacing.
The moment she saw my purse, her eyes went to it.
“How is Chloe?” Mr.
Brennan asked.
I told him what I could.
His shoulders dropped with relief that she was awake.
Briana murmured, “Thank God,” but she was still looking at my purse.
Then she said, “Can we please stop acting like I did this on purpose?”
Nobody had accused her of that.
Not yet.
I heard the sentence settle over the room.
So did Mr.
Brennan.
My mother recovered first.
“Of course nobody thinks that.”
I looked at Briana.
“I want to see the video.”
Her chin lifted.
“Fine.”
But she immediately turned to our father.
“Dad, this is ridiculous.”
He nodded.
“We can deal with it later.”
“No,” I said.
“We deal with it now.”
The waiting room television was still playing silently above us.
Mr.
Brennan helped me connect the camera through his phone so we could view the saved clip.
He angled the screen so I could see it while keeping the device close enough that nobody could grab it.
The footage was wide and slightly distant, but my parents’ driveway was clearly visible.
There was Chloe.
A tiny figure on the concrete.
My breath stopped.
Even from across the street, the chalk colors were visible around her.
She had been there well before Briana’s sedan entered the frame.
Not darting.
