Chapter 3 - Grace’s shoulder
Grace went to the hospital.
I did not ride with her.
She did not want me there.
That hurt.
I respected it.
Another useful fact.
I followed in my own car after police finished enough of my statement to release me.
Victoria stayed behind with her attorney on the way.
Yes.
Her attorney.
She called one before the ambulance left.
I called one too.
Mine was Miriam Sloan.
Forty-six.
Corporate litigator by background.
Now outside general counsel for Cole Meridian and, increasingly, the person who explained where my authority ended.
She met me at Northern Westchester Hospital.
“Do not speak to Victoria about the incident.”
“She’s my fiancée.”
“Currently she is a person under investigation for hitting someone with a wooden object.”
“She says Grace attacked her.”
“Then let evidence work.”
“What about Lily?”
Miriam stared.
“What about her?”
“Grace says she’s mine.”
“Do you know that?”
“No.”
“Then you do not tell hospital staff you are the father yet.”
“She called me Daddy.”
“Children call men Santa Claus too.”
I glared.
“Bad example.”
“Effective.”
Fine.
Grace’s injury was serious enough to hurt.
Not serious enough to become melodrama.
No skull fracture.
No broken collarbone.
No internal injury.
The hockey stick struck the upper right shoulder and back.
Imaging showed no fracture.
Moderate contusion.
Mild acromioclavicular joint sprain.
Significant muscle spasm.
She was placed in a sling for comfort, given pain medication, and told to follow up if weakness or numbness worsened.
Lily was physically unharmed.
Her pediatric assessment showed no injury.
Emotionally?
Different question.
A hospital social worker named Teresa Klein spoke with Grace.
Then Lily.
Then me separately after Grace consented to my presence for limited questions.
Grace sat on the bed.
Lily curled beside her.
I remained six feet away.
Not touching.
Teresa asked Grace:
“Does Mr. Cole have any established legal relationship to Lily?”
“No.”
“Is he listed on the birth certificate?”
“No.”
“Has paternity been adjudicated?”
“No.”
“Is there an acknowledgment of paternity?”
“No.”
I felt something in my chest cave inward.
Grace continued:
“He didn’t know.”
Teresa looked at me.
“Did you know Grace was pregnant?”
“No.”
“Did you have a relationship?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Five years ago.”
Grace corrected:
“Almost five and a half.”
Of course she remembered exactly.
Teresa asked:
“Grace, why did Lily call him Daddy if they haven’t had a relationship?”
Grace looked at her daughter.
Then:
“Because I told her who he was.”
I could barely breathe.
“When?”
Grace finally looked at me.
“Three weeks ago.”
“Why?”
“Because I came back to tell you.”
Then Lily whispered:
“Mommy said Daddy didn’t know me yet.”
That sentence nearly broke me.
Not:
didn’t want me.
Didn’t know me yet.
May you like
Grace had given me more mercy than my own family deserved.
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