Morales gazed down the road that Alina had walked alone. “That child pushed a wheelbarrow for miles,” he said softly. “With two newborns. Under the heat. Without shoes.”
The officer’s eyes widened. “And the mother?”
“Severe postpartum complications,” Morales answered. “She had no help. No supplies. No one to call.”
They both stood in silence. The kind one never forgets.
. . .
Back at Northbridge General, the medical team fought hard to stabilize the mother. Her name was Delfina Cresswell. She had lost a significant amount of blood. She hovered on the edge of consciousness for hours. Yet something in her refused to surrender. By dawn she stirred faintly. By midmorning she opened her eyes fully.
Her voice was barely a whisper. “My children,” she asked. “Where are they?”
The nurse beside her smiled gently. “All three are safe.”
Tears slid down Delfina’s cheeks. She covered her eyes with shaking fingers. “And Alina?”
“She has not left the waiting room,” the nurse replied. “She fell asleep against a chair.”
When Delfina later saw her daughter enter the room, her whole body trembled. Alina paused near the bed. She looked unsure, as if afraid her presence might somehow cause harm.