I nodded, then continued to the car.
At home, I placed the specialist’s notes in the hospital bag and set the bag near the front door.
The house was calm.
The lake carried the last light of the afternoon, and the nursery was ready in the quiet, imperfect way I had wanted.
I stood by the cradle, one hand on its smooth wooden rail and the other resting on my stomach.
The baby shifted again.
“Soon,” I whispered.
My phone rang.
Daniel’s name appeared on the screen.
I answered.
“Claire, I’ve just received a call from the hospital,” he said. “They want you to come in tonight for an
assessment.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Is something wrong?”
“They didn’t say. They only said the specialist wants to speak with you before the morning.”
I glanced at the packed bag by the door.
“Did they call Alexander?”
