Chapter 2 - The Follow-Up That Never Happened
Julian read the discharge packet twice.
The second time, his face changed.
Rachel was supposed to have received a nurse follow-up within seventy-two hours.
She never had.
There was also an appointment scheduled with her obstetrician four days after discharge because her blood count had remained low.
Rachel frowned.
“I didn’t know about that.”
Julian looked up.
“You missed an appointment?”
“I didn’t know I had one.”
Beatrice sighed.
“Oh, for God’s sake.”
Julian turned toward her.
“What?”
“The nurse called. Rachel was sleeping. I told them she was recovering.”
Rachel stared.
“You answered my phone?”
“It was ringing beside you.”
“And the appointment?”
“I rescheduled it.”
“For when?”
Beatrice hesitated.
That was enough.
Julian took out his phone.
“Who’s your doctor?”
Rachel told him.
Beatrice stepped forward.
“You don’t need to turn this into some emergency.”
Julian looked at his mother.
“My wife nearly collapsed on the kitchen floor.”
“She’s exhausted. She has a newborn.”
Rachel tried to stand.
The room tilted.
Julian caught her before she fell.
Twenty minutes later they were driving back into Portland.
Lily remained safely with Julian in her secured infant carrier while Beatrice followed in her own car despite being told not to.
At the hospital, blood tests showed Rachel was significantly anemic.
The physician did not describe it as catastrophic.
That almost made Julian angrier.
This had been manageable.
Rachel needed rest, medication, nutrition, monitoring, and follow-up.
Instead she had spent more than a week being told weakness was laziness.
A nurse asked Rachel privately whether she felt safe at home.
Rachel looked through the glass at Julian pacing with Lily against his chest.
“With my husband? Yes.”
“And anyone else?”
Rachel thought of the bucket.
The stool.
The bassinet being rolled away.
“No.”
Julian heard the answer later.
He didn’t defend Beatrice.
He sat beside Rachel’s bed and stared at the burgundy envelope.
“I thought you had the instructions.”
“I thought you did.”
“My mother told me you wanted space.”
Rachel turned her head.
“What?”
“The first night home. She said you told her I was hovering.”
“I never said that.”
Julian looked confused.
“She said you wanted me to sleep in the guest room so you could rest.”
Rachel had spent that night wondering why her husband had suddenly stopped checking on her.
Her throat tightened.
“Beatrice told me you had an early meeting and I needed to stop making everything about the baby.”
Julian went very still.
Neither spoke.
Something larger than a missing hospital envelope had just entered the room.
Their marriage had not been failing in eleven quiet days.
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Someone had been carrying messages between them.
And changing them.
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