Beside her, Owen’s tiny face was flushed bright red with fever.
His diaper had not been changed.
His weak cries barely reached across the room.
“Hannah!”
Her eyes opened slowly.
She stared at me as though she could hardly believe I was really there.
“They took my phone,” she whispered.
Before I could answer, my mother appeared behind me.
“Oh please,” she scoffed. “Don’t encourage her theatrics.”
Courtney crossed her arms.
“She’s always looking for attention.”
I lifted Owen into my arms.
The heat coming from his tiny body terrified me.
Within minutes, I was racing toward the hospital.
In the emergency department, doctors rushed Hannah and Owen into separate treatment rooms.
A physician examined them and then turned to me with visible anger.
“Your wife and baby are severely dehydrated,” he said.
Then his eyes narrowed.
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