Chapter 2 - The Family of Three
Ellie woke in Levine Children’s Hospital with an oxygen cannula beneath her nose and her aunt Rebecca sitting beside the bed.
Her first question was not whether the house survived.
“Where’s Noah?”
“Down the hall. He’s okay.”
“Mom?”
“Okay.”
“Dad?”
“Okay.”
Ellie stared at the ceiling.
Rebecca waited.
“Do they know I’m awake?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t let them in.”
Rebecca’s expression tightened.
She was Caroline’s older sister and one of the few adults who had never told Ellie she was being dramatic when she complained about something being unfair.
“All right.”
Ellie looked toward the window.
“Mom said they could only choose one.”
Rebecca said nothing.
That scared Ellie.
“She really said it.”
“I believe you.”
“And Dad pushed me away.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“The firefighters separated everybody when you got out. Your father told them what happened.”
Ellie turned sharply.
“He admitted it?”
“He said he panicked.”
“What about the masks?”
Rebecca paused.
“What masks?”
That was the first time Ellie understood nobody else knew.
She told her everything.
The burgundy bag.
Three masks.
Mark returning for it.
No mask for her.
Rebecca’s face changed slowly.
Not disbelief.
Recognition.
“Have you seen that bag before?” Ellie asked.
“Yes.”
“How many masks were supposed to be inside?”
Rebecca looked down.
“I don’t know.”
“You do.”
“I remember four.”
Ellie’s stomach tightened.
“When?”
“Last summer.”
That had been before the renovations.
Before contractors removed the old window seat from Ellie’s bedroom and temporarily blocked access to the emergency ladder stored beneath it.
Rebecca stood.
“I’m going to find your doctor.”
“That isn’t why you’re leaving.”
“No.”
Rebecca leaned down.
“I’m going to speak to the hospital social worker too.”
Ellie knew enough to understand that meant something serious.
“Aunt Rebecca?”
Rebecca stopped.
“Why did Noah always get saved first?”
The question broke something in her aunt’s expression.
She sat again.
“When Noah was three, he had a respiratory emergency.”
“I know.”
“You were five.”
“I remember the ambulance.”
“What you probably don’t remember is that your parents thought they were going to lose him.”
Ellie did remember pieces.
Caroline screaming.
Mark carrying Noah.
Rebecca arriving and taking Ellie to her house.
Adults whispering that she needed to be “the big girl.”
Afterward, Noah became the child who could not be frightened, tired, hungry, cold, late, uncomfortable, or disappointed.
Ellie became the child who could handle things.
Rebecca touched her hand.
“Your parents never stopped living like Noah was still three.”
Ellie swallowed.
“So they chose him.”
“In the fire?”
Rebecca looked toward the door.
“I think we need to understand exactly what they chose long before the fire.”
A knock came.
The hospital social worker entered with a Charlotte fire investigator.
Behind them stood Mark.
Rebecca immediately rose.
“You can’t come in.”
Mark looked past her at Ellie.
“I just need five minutes.”
Ellie stared at her father.
May you like
Then she noticed what he carried.
The burgundy emergency bag.
