Page 111 of The Golden Hour

Daisy smiles at her and reaches out, looking at Honey like she is everything.

And she does not just believe it, she knows she has the strength to do this. She can do anything for her daughter.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

HONEY

“They’re not calling you hysterical outright because they’re building a record that will let others reach that false conclusion.”

Lorraine Harrison is a lawyer who has represented doctors and patients in medical malpractice cases, and Honey likes that she has experience on both sides of the fence. It feels like she will know which holes to poke in arguments and which defenses to reinforce. She knows how they will try to twist it before they even open their mouths.

If Honey were to describe Lorraine in a word, it would be sharp.

Sharp tone, sharp eyeliner, sharp pixie haircut, sharp-looking heels, sharp wit. Even the way she sits behind her desk looks sharp, her spine straight, and her pen held between her fingers like a knife she can and will use.

She doesn’t look at Honey with pity or as if she thinks Honey is fragile. Lorraine looks at Honey like she’s a wronged woman who deserves justice and is itching to be the person to deliver it.

Though the whole thing seems cut and dry—the doctors and hospital mishandled her as a patient, their neglect almost killed her and her daughter, they are clearly the ones at fault—things involving money and powerful corporate giants are never that simple.

Honey sits between her parents in Lorraine’s beautiful office. Daisy sits on her lap, her little stuffed elephant’s ear in her mouth—her latest obsession and a gift from her godmother, Fia.

Honey keeps one arm wrapped securely around Daisy’s belly while her other hand rests over her daughter’s chubby thigh. Every few seconds, Daisy wiggles against her, babbling around the soggy elephant ear, completely unaware of what the adults in the room are speaking about, even though she’s at the center of it.

She can practically see the steam rising from her father’s head. The bumblebee tattoo on the back of his hand, faded from years of mechanic work, is stretched taut as his big hand curls into a threatening fist.

Her mother, however, looks even scarier. Melissa’s face is so red as she mutters under her breath creative ways she wants to torture Dr. Mortimer.

Lorraine tilts her computer monitor so they can see the records and reads them out loud. With each word, it becomes more evident what the hospital is trying to accomplish.

They’re not denying Honey complained. But they’re doing something a lot uglier.

“At your twenty-week appointment: ‘Patient reports feeling unwell with nausea, dizziness, and abdominal discomfort. Symptoms reviewed and consistent with normal pregnancy progression. Patient appeared anxious. Reassurance provided. Patient verbalized understanding.’”

Honey’s stomach turns as Lorraine clicks on another one.

“Twenty-eight weeks: ‘Patient reports swelling and headache. Discussed common discomforts of late pregnancy. No acute distress noted. Encouraged hydration and rest. Continue to monitor patient’s emotional wellbeing as due date approaches.’”

Honey swallows hard as her heart pounds in her chest.

Lorraine clicks again.

“Oh, this is my favorite one,” Lorraine sneers at the screen, her dark eyes narrowed as she reads, “‘Thirty-four weeks: ‘Patient expressed fear that something was wrong despite reassurance. Patient appeared increasingly distressed and difficult to redirect. Discussed anxiety in pregnancy and offered supportive resources.’”

A rumbling growl sounds from Phil’s chest.

He reaches a long arm behind Honey to Melissa’s shoulder, like he needs to physically hold onto the woman he loves to stop them both from doing something that will land them on the five o'clock news. Melissa lays a hand over his and reaches out toward Honey, resting a hand on her forearm.

Of course, Daisy thinks this is funny and puts her hand on top of Melissa’s.

Lorraine allows the family to ground themselves before she speaks again, turning the computer monitor back.

“And on and on it goes until…” Lorraine sighs, gesturing toward Honey and Daisy.

She looks down at her daughter, chubby-cheeked and wide-eyed, alive and babbling happily in her lap. Her arms tighten around her daughter, and Honey feels like the lioness her mother called her.

No notes about how she was gripping the cold examination table hard enough for her brittle nails to crack because she felt dizzy and nauseous. No notes about Dr. Mortimer chuckling and patting her like she was being silly when she said she felt like something was wrong. No notes about her crying during her appointments after Mortimer stepped out with a nurse breezing into the room to shuffle her out.

No notes about how first pregnancies made women dramatic, he’d said with a hearty chuckle, like she was in on some big joke.