Chapter 17 - Our Daughter
For six minutes, I couldn't breathe normally.
Nurses moved around Savannah. The doctor came in. Machines beeped. Somebody adjusted the monitor while I stood uselessly near the wall, holding Savannah's hand because it was the only thing I knew how to do.
Then our daughter's heart rate recovered.
The doctor looked relieved but serious.
"We are keeping you here. No work. No stress if we can help it."
Savannah laughed once through tears. "We're working on that part."
The doctor didn't smile.
By morning, the contractions had mostly stopped.
I sat beside the window watching sunrise turn the parking garage gold.
Savannah woke and looked at me.
"You haven't slept."
"Neither have you."
"I did for twenty minutes. I'm winning."
I laughed, and it felt strange and necessary.
Then my phone buzzed.
Dana.
The search of Mom's second phone had produced enough evidence for new charges to be considered related to unlawful recording, stalking-related conduct, and document fraud. The clinic employee had also agreed to cooperate.
But Dana warned me not to celebrate.
"Your mother is asking to meet you."
"No."
"Her attorney says she wants to discuss a global resolution."
I looked at Savannah.
"What does that mean?"
"It can mean many things. Possibly resignation from the company, withdrawal of the protective-order petition, cooperation on the trust issue."
"In exchange for what?"
"She wants you to ask prosecutors for leniency."
I stared at the phone.
My mother was finally bargaining.
Part of me remembered scraped knees, birthday cakes, her sitting beside my bed when I had pneumonia at nine years old.
Another part remembered Savannah's hair in her fist.
Both memories were true.
That was the hardest thing.
Bad behavior does not erase every good memory. Good memories do not excuse harm.
"I'll meet her," I said. "With lawyers present."
Savannah reached for my hand.
"You don't owe her forgiveness."
"I know."
"And you don't owe me hatred toward her either."
I looked at my wife.
That was why I loved her.
She wasn't asking me to become cruel. She was asking me to become clear.
Before the meeting could happen, the nurse entered with a wheelchair.
"Savannah, your doctor wants another ultrasound downstairs."
Savannah smiled. "Can Chris come?"
"Of course."
May you like
We were halfway to the elevator when Dana called again.
"Chris," she said, "the trust examiner just confirmed the signature on your father's amendment was forged."
