he started sobbing.
Genevieve pulled both children against her as carefully as the tubes allowed.
I stood by the door.
For the first time in two years, the empty chair beside the window was empty for the right reason.
The next seventy two hours were the longest of my life.
The treatment could still fail.
There were fevers.
Blood pressure crashes.
One terrifying night when Jonah stopped responding for almost four minutes.
Then, slowly, their counts changed.
The malignant cells began disappearing.
Yates showed me the laboratory results as if he were afraid to believe them himself.
“The receptor is stabilizing.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means the leukemia is retreating.”
“When can you tell me they’ll live?”
He looked at me.
“Today.”
I sat down.
For the first time since I was a child, I cried without trying to hide it.
The aftermath lasted months.
Prescott Hale was arrested
