Chapter 4 - The Car Coming Tomorrow
At the hospital, Lucy repeated the words to a nurse.
“She said I'd live somewhere that fixes bad girls.”
Daniel stood beside the curtain, his phone locked in his fist.
“Nobody is sending you away.”
Lucy studied him with exhausted caution.
“You signed it.”
The nurse looked up.
Daniel didn't answer.
Two weeks earlier, Vanessa had emailed him an enrollment packet for a small residential school.
She had described it as a possible summer program with grief counseling.
He had signed the parent inquiry and told her they would discuss it when he returned.
He remembered doing it in the back of a car between meetings.
He remembered feeling relieved that someone was handling things.
Now his daughter lay beneath a hospital blanket believing he had approved her disappearance.
“I signed a paper without reading it carefully enough,” he said.
“That was my mistake. You did nothing wrong.”
Lucy turned toward Elena.
“Can she stay?”
“Yes,” Daniel said.
A doctor examined Lucy and ordered tests.
Later, she took Daniel into the hall.
Elena could hear only pieces through the curtain.
Dehydration.
Weight loss.
Further observation.
Nobody called it a misunderstanding.
A hospital social worker, Ruth Bell, came to speak with Lucy privately.
Elena waited outside with Daniel.
“How long have you worked for me?” he asked.
“Three days.”
He sat down hard.
“Three days.”
“I hadn't seen her before today. Vanessa said she was contagious.”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“She told me Lucy wanted space.”
Elena could have offered him comfort.
She didn't.
“Then you should have asked Lucy.”
He lowered his hands.
“Yes.”
His phone buzzed.
Vanessa's name filled the screen.
He declined the call and opened their shared household email instead.
There it was.
A pickup confirmation for the following morning.
One passenger.
Lucy Oleso.
He called the school, canceled the pickup, and asked for copies of everything submitted in his name.
When he returned to the room, Lucy was asleep.
Elena sat beside her.
“It's canceled,” he whispered.
Elena nodded toward the bedside cabinet.
A small bread roll sat wrapped in a paper napkin.
“She asked me to hide that.”
Daniel stared at it.
May you like
“Why?”
“For tomorrow. In case being good today doesn't count.”
