Chapter 2 - The doctor asked a question my family had already lied about
At Lakeshore Regional Hospital, time stopped behaving normally.
Ten minutes became an hour when Mara stood outside imaging. Thirty seconds lasted forever when Juny cried behind a curtain while a nurse attempted to start an IV in an arm she kept pulling away because she was terrified. Every sound became too sharp: wheels rattling over tile, monitor alarms, the low conversation of staff who had learned how to discuss frightening things without sounding frightened themselves.
Davina called three times.
Mara declined every call.
Elanora sent one message.
She’s always had a low pain tolerance. Don’t scare her unnecessarily.
Mara read it once.
Then blocked her mother’s number for the night.
Dr. Lena Patel arrived shortly before eleven. She was a pediatric surgeon in dark blue scrubs, compact and direct, with the calm expression of a person who understood that frightened parents did not need theatrics.
“Your daughter has appendicitis,” she said. “But there’s more inflammation than I would expect if this truly began this morning. Imaging suggests the appendix may have perforated or begun leaking earlier. We’re taking her to surgery.”
Mara’s hands went cold.
“Is she going to be okay?”
“We caught it before she became unstable, but she is quite sick. She’ll need antibiotics and monitoring after surgery.”
Mara sat down because her knees could no longer be trusted.
Dr. Patel continued gently. “I need to clarify something. Has Juny been evaluated in the last forty-eight hours?”
Mara thought of the restaurant.
“Yes. I think so. She said she was.”
The doctor frowned. “We found adhesive residue on her wrist consistent with a medical identification band. There’s also a small puncture mark where blood may have been drawn recently.”
Mara stared at her.
“What?”
“One of our nurses noticed when she removed her bracelet.”
The room tilted.
Mara pulled out her phone and called Davina.
This time her sister answered immediately.
“Mara, listen, everybody’s upset and—”
“Where did you take Juny yesterday?”
Silence.
Not confusion.
Silence.
Mara’s fingers tightened around the phone. “Davina.”
“It wasn’t a big thing.”
A sound escaped Mara that barely resembled a laugh.
“My daughter is going into surgery.”
“I didn’t know it was that serious.”
“Where.”
“Lakeview Urgent Care.”
Mara closed her eyes.
“When?”
“Yesterday afternoon.”
“Why?”
“She complained she was hurting while you were on that work call. Mom said we should get her checked so you wouldn’t worry.”
The cruelty of the logic left Mara speechless.
“You took my thirteen-year-old daughter to urgent care without telling me.”
“We were going to tell you.”
“When?”
Davina’s voice sharpened defensively. “They said it could be appendicitis, but they were being cautious. You know how clinics are. They tell everyone to go to the ER because they don’t want liability.”
Mara stopped breathing.
“What exactly did they tell you?”
Another pause.
Then, much smaller:
“They recommended the emergency room.”
“Recommended?”
“They said she should be evaluated.”
“Immediately?”
Davina said nothing.
Mara’s voice dropped.
“Did they say immediately?”
“Yes.”
The word felt like physical impact.
“What did you do?”
“We left.”
“Why?”
“Juny said she felt a little better after they gave her something for nausea, and Mom thought—”
“Mom thought?”
“Mara, we had the reservation. Dad had already paid a deposit. The kids were excited. We thought if she got worse, we’d take her.”
Mara stood so quickly the chair scraped backward.
“You took my child away from a clinic that told you to take her to an emergency room because you didn’t want to miss dinner?”
“That’s not fair.”
“No. What’s not fair is that she spent another night in pain because you decided a doctor was being dramatic.”
Davina began crying.
Mara felt nothing for it.
“Where is the paperwork?”
“I don’t know.”
“You had it.”
“Mom may have taken it.”
Mara remembered the restaurant.
The yellow purse.
Davina slipping it into her handbag.
“Why did you take Juny’s purse tonight?”
No answer.
“Davina.”
“I was picking it up.”
“You hid it.”
“Mara, stop turning everything into something sinister.”
There it was.
The family reflex.
If Mara described what happened plainly, she was making things ugly.
She ended the call.
Dr. Patel was still nearby. Mara told her everything.
The doctor’s face remained professional, but the stillness around her mouth changed.
“We’ll obtain the urgent-care records directly.”
Mara nodded.
Then a nurse came through the doors.
“They’re ready to take Juny upstairs.”
Mara followed until she was stopped before the operating suite.
Juny looked impossibly small beneath the blankets.
Her eyes opened.
“Mom?”
Mara bent close.
“I’m right here.”
“I’m sorry.”
The words broke something inside her.
“For what?”
“I shouldn’t have complained so much.”
Mara felt tears spill before she could stop them.
“No. Listen to me. You never apologize for telling me you’re hurting.”
Juny looked at her with that cautious expression she had worn since childhood whenever she wanted to believe something but feared the cost.
Then she whispered:
“Aunt Davina took the paper.”
Mara froze.
“What paper?”
“The doctor paper. Grandma said you’d ruin the trip if you saw it.”
The orderly began rolling the bed toward surgery.
Before the doors closed, Juny added one more sentence.
“They made me promise not to tell you until after tomorrow.”
After tomorrow.
Mara turned toward the hallway.
Tomorrow was not simply another vacation day.
May you like
Her mother had scheduled a “family paperwork meeting” at the lake house at ten in the morning.
Cliffhanger: Elanora and Davina had deliberately hidden an emergency referral from Mara because they needed her to remain at the lake house until a mysterious family meeting scheduled for the next morning.
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