Daniel came to the hospital on the evening of the 4th.
I'd settled my mother for the night and was sitting in the chair beside her bed, looking through lawyers' contact details on my phone. The door opened. Daniel stood in the doorway, looking worn out from traveling, a bag of those much-promised shortbread cookies in his hand.
"Laura."
I locked my phone and looked up.
"What are you doing here?"
"I came as promised."
He stepped inside and put the cookies on the bedside table. His gaze moved to my mother, and he lowered his voice.
"Is Mom asleep?"
"She is."
"Let's talk outside."
The vending machine glowed and hummed in the lounge at the end of the hallway. Daniel stood by the window, his back rigid.
"I'm assuming you were just angry when you said all that on the phone today."
"I
