Chapter 3 - One Name
A nurse stepped out of the room while he was still talking, a clipboard held against her chest. She looked between the two of us. "Are you his wife?"
"I am."
She nodded gently. "Ma'am, I think this might help." Help what, I nearly asked. Instead I waited.
"When she was going," the nurse said, "we asked if there was anyone we could call for her. She wasn't fully conscious by then. Not really. But she kept saying one name." She tipped her head toward Gary. "His. Over and over. Nothing else."
Eleven years. She'd married another man. Built a whole separate life. Been abandoned inside it. And at the very end of everything, the only name she could still reach for was a boy she'd trusted with her future half a lifetime earlier.
My first thought should probably have been jealousy. It wasn't. I thought about fear. A woman dying alone. A newborn a few rooms away. No mother. No husband. No family in the hallway. And one old name still reachable somewhere down in the fog.
"How did they find him?" I asked.
The nurse answered. "She managed to get out enough of his last name before she lost consciousness. Social services went through her records and belongings and found an old emergency contact entry buried in some previous paperwork, with his full name on it."
Gary nodded. "They called me about an hour ago."
I stared at him. "You came right away?"
"Yes."
"Did you see her?"
He shook his head. "She was already gone."
That sentence flattened everything in the hallway.
The baby made a small sound in the room behind us. All three of us turned. The nurse's face softened. "She's doing well."
I looked at Gary. He was terrified — not of the hospital. Of me. That's when I finally understood that whatever he was about to ask had nothing to do with Renata wanting him back. Renata was dead. This was about the baby.
Gary took one breath, then another. "She has no one."
I didn't move.
"Her father's not coming. Social services already reached him. He signed something saying he isn't seeking custody."
My mouth went dry. "Already?"
"He left months ago. Apparently he doesn't want any involvement."
Anger flashed through me so fast it almost felt clean.
"The hospital social worker explained what happens next," Gary went on.
"What happens?"
"Temporary placement, while they search for relatives and sort out guardianship." He looked at the glass. "They don't think there are any relatives left."
I already knew what was coming. It still felt enormous when he said it out loud.
"I want us to ask to be considered."
I stared at him. "For what?"
He looked at me. "For her."
My eyes filled instantly. "Gary."
"I know how this sounds."
"No, you don't."
"I probably do." He reached toward me, then stopped himself. "I already told the social worker I'm married. That I'd never make a decision like this without you. That this isn't something I get to promise on my own."
I looked through the glass. A nurse had moved the bassinet closer. Tiny face. Dark hair. Eyes shut.
"I want to apply for her," Gary said. "Whatever the process is called — foster placement, guardianship, adoption later if that's even possible. I want to bring her home." His voice dropped. "If this is too much, tell me, and I will never bring it up again."
I laughed once, through tears. Not because any of it was funny. Because I finally saw what he'd been bracing himself for.
"You think I'm jealous?"
He said nothing.
"You thought I'd hear Renata's name and assume this was about her?"
"I didn't know what you'd think."
I wiped my face. "I thought she might be your baby."
His eyes went wide. "Okay. That's worse."
Despite everything, I laughed again. Then I cried harder. Gary reached for me, and this time I let him.
I kept thinking about Renata. Not the woman Gary had almost married. Not some ghost of a relationship before mine. A woman alone in a hospital bed, using the last clear thought she had left to make sure her daughter didn't disappear into the world without a single soul knowing she existed.
She got one name out. She spent it on her child.
May you like
"Can I hold her?" I asked.
Gary looked stunned. The nurse smiled. "I'll ask."
