Chapter Twelve M: The Waiting Room
Maribel arrived at the hospital before Tomas’s ambulance.
Emily came with her because Maribel had called while she was already on the bus.
They waited beneath a television showing a weather forecast neither of them watched.
Maribel stood whenever the automatic doors opened.
She sat down again when strangers walked through.
“What if Alma doesn’t recognize me?” she asked.
Emily looked at her.
“She is a baby,” she said.
“She might recognize your voice.”
“I used to sing to her when Tomas worked late,” Maribel replied.
“I haven’t sung anything since they disappeared.”
A nurse approached and asked Maribel to follow her.
Emily stayed behind until Maribel turned and reached for her hand.
“Come with me,” she said.
They entered a small examination room where Tomas sat on the bed with Alma asleep in his arms.
Maribel stopped so suddenly that Emily nearly walked into her.
Tomas looked up.
“Mari,” he said.
Maribel crossed the room and embraced him without speaking.
Alma stirred between them and made a small protesting sound.
Tomas laughed through his tears.
“She’s tired of everybody making noise,” he whispered.
Maribel took the baby carefully and kissed her forehead.
Emily stepped toward the doorway.
She wanted to give the family privacy, but Tomas called after her.
“Are you Emily?” he asked.
She turned.
“Yes.”
“Lucia told me you helped her on the phone,” Tomas said.
“She said you kept asking what she could see.”
Emily nodded.
“She was very brave,” she replied.
Tomas looked down at his daughter.
“I heard about the diner,” he said.
“I heard about the old man and the twelve cars.
”
Emily smiled faintly.
“The cars weren’t as important as they looked,” she said.
“They brought people who needed help.”
Tomas considered her answer.
“I hope I can thank them properly someday,” he said.
“You can start by resting,” Maribel told him.
The nurse returned with instructions about follow-up care.
Emily waited outside while Tomas and Maribel listened.
She looked at the clock above the door and realized she had missed the bus home.
For once, the delay did not bother her.
When Maribel emerged carrying Alma, she stopped beside Emily.
“You can go now,” she said.
“We’re together.”
Emily smiled.
“That’s what I wanted to hear,” she answered.
Chapter Twelve N: The Cost of a Promise
The next morning, Samuel asked Emily to meet him at a public library near the hospital.
He was seated at a table with a stack of blank notebooks and a paper cup of tea.
“I thought you might want to know what happened after the meeting,” he said.
Emily sat across from him.
“Did the county keep its promise?” she asked.
“They posted the new transfer procedure,” Samuel answered.
“But some families say they still haven’t received an address for next week.”
Emily opened one of the notebooks.
“What are these for?”
“The residents asked us to record questions they want answered before another move,” Samuel said.
“They don’t want their concerns reduced to one person’s summary.”
Emily looked at the blank pages.
“Why ask me?”
“Because you listen carefully,” Samuel replied.
“And because you will tell me when I’m making assumptions.”
Emily considered the request.
She had spent the past days traveling between the diner, the hospital, and temporary residences.
She had barely slept and still needed to find steady work.
“I can’t volunteer every day,” she said.
“I need to pay rent.”
Samuel nodded.
“Then don’t,” he answered.
“Adrian is arranging paid administrative shifts, but you would need to apply.”
“He already gave me a card,” Emily said.
“I haven’t decided what to do with it.”
Samuel closed the notebook.
“You don’t owe us your future because you gave me soup,” he said.
Emily looked at him for a long moment.
“I know,” she replied.
“But I might want to work with people who tell the truth about what they can do.”
Samuel smiled.
“That would be a good reason,” he said.
Emily took one notebook and wrote the date at the top of the first page.
She agreed to help record questions for two hours that afternoon.
Before the first family arrived, she asked Samuel about his injured arm.
“The doctor says it will improve,” he answered.
“Slowly.”
“Then don’t carry those boxes yourself,” Emily said.
Samuel looked toward the stack of notebooks.
“I was going to ask for help,” he admitted.
Emily laughed.
“That’s a better beginning,” she replied.
