That evening, the sky outside the hospital windows turned a dull orange, fading into gray.
Emerie sat beside Emma's bed, one hand resting lightly over the small fist that clutched the blanket. The machines hummed and beeped, a quiet rhythm under the low murmur of nurses' voices outside.
A knock sounded on the open door.
She looked up. Dr. Jenkins stood there with a file in his hands and a tired but hopeful expression.
“Ms. Reed," he said. “Do you have a minute?"
Her heart jumped. “Did you reach him?"
He stepped into the room, closing the door halfway behind him. “Yes," he said. “We finally reached Dr. Richard. He just called back."
Emerie's fingers tightened on the blanket. “And?"
“He's agreed to come," Dr. Jenkins said. “He'll return within the next couple of days. We've blocked o
