The hospital grew quieter as the afternoon continued.
I could hear the occasional announcement over the speaker and the soft footsteps of staff moving between rooms.
I sat with my phone in my lap.
The read receipt remained beneath my message to Kate.
She had seen it.
She knew Paige was in the emergency department.
She knew there was a serious injury.
And she still had not answered.
I tried to imagine reasons that did not involve the worst possibilities.
Maybe she was speaking with her husband.
Maybe she was overwhelmed.
Maybe she had called the investigator because she believed that was what she was supposed to do.
I could not know.
I reminded myself of that every time anger began to take over.
Then I remembered the way Paige had screamed on the changing table, and my anger returned.
Whatever Kate was feeling, her daughter needed her.
I did not think a parent had to know every answer immediately.
I did think a parent needed to respond when told their baby was hurt.
I had no idea what Kate was doing.
I could only see what she had not done.
She had not called me back.
She had not asked where Paige was.
She had not sent a message asking whether the baby was conscious or receiving treatment.
I tried not to turn those absences into a conclusion.
But they hurt.
A nurse came out and told me Paige was resting.
I asked whether I could sit with her for a few minutes.
The nurse checked with the medical team and then led me to the room.
Paige lay quietly beneath the blanket.
Her face looked tired, and her little hand rested near the edge of the sheet.
I pulled a chair close to the bed.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
She moved slightly when she heard my voice.
I stayed where I was.
I did not want to disturb her.
I wanted to tell her that I was sorry.
Sorry I had not noticed the injury sooner.
Sorry I had not understood what her crying meant.
Sorry that she had been hurt and could not tell me why.
But she was six months old.
She did not need an apology from her aunt.
She needed care, comfort, and adults who would make decisions in her interest.
I sat quietly until the nurse told me it was time to leave.
Before I went, I looked at Paige's hand.
Her fingers were relaxed now.
I hoped that meant she was more comfortable.
I stepped back into the corridor and returned to my chair.
The investigator was waiting near the nurses' station.
She asked me to join her for another brief conversation.
I followed her into the same small room as before.
She asked whether Kate had ever told me about an injury to Paige's leg.
“No.”
“Had you seen Paige limping or refusing to move that leg before Saturday?”
“She can't walk. I've never seen her do anything like that.”
“Had you noticed unusual bruising on her before?”
“No.”
She asked whether I had any reason to believe Paige had been injured while in my care.
“No,” I said. “I didn't hurt her.”
My voice came out stronger than I expected.
The investigator did not argue with me.
She said she needed to document the answer and continue gathering information.
I understood that.
Then she asked me to explain why I had decided to take Paige to the hospital without waiting for Kate to respond.
“Because she was screaming, her leg was swollen, and I found a bruise under makeup.”
I paused.
“I didn't think I could wait.”
The investigator wrote that down.
I wondered whether Kate had given a different account.
I wondered whether she had said that I had mishandled Paige.
I wondered whether she had told them the injury was already present when she left the baby with me.
The investigator did not volunteer those details.
I did not want to invent them in my own mind.
I asked whether she could tell me what Kate had said.
She explained that the investigation was ongoing and that she could not discuss every detail of another person's statement with me at that point.
I nodded.
I did not like the answer, but I understood the reason.
She asked me to keep my account factual and to contact her if I remembered anything important.
Then she let me return to the waiting area.
I sat down and looked at the floor.
I was beginning to understand that the next few hours might not bring the certainty I wanted.
The doctors needed to complete their work.
The investigator needed to speak with the people involved.
And Kate needed to explain what she knew about her daughter's injury.
I could not make any of those things happen faster.
I could only remain available.
I opened my phone and read my first message to Kate again.
Paige is in the ER. Something is seriously wrong with her leg. There was makeup covering a huge bruise. Get here NOW.
I remembered typing it while my hands shook.
I had not tried to make the situation sound worse than it was.
I had not accused anyone.
I had simply told her what I had found.
I looked at the time stamp.
Then I looked at the read receipt.
I had done my part.
I could not force her to do hers.
I put the phone away and leaned back in the chair.
For a few minutes, I allowed myself to be tired.
I had been frightened since the first scream.
I had driven to the hospital without knowing what the doctors would find.
I had answered the same questions repeatedly.
I had watched an investigator write down details about my family.
And I had spent hours waiting for my sister to call.
I felt exhausted.
But I was not going to leave.
Paige was still in the hospital, and I wanted to be there if anyone needed me.
I wanted the medical team to know that someone in her family was paying attention.
I wanted her to have a familiar voice nearby.
Most of all, I wanted the adults around her to understand that her pain could not be ignored.
I had no way of knowing what would happen next.
I could not decide what the investigation would uncover.
But I could keep showing up.
That was the one thing I knew how to do.
Click here to continue reading: PART 8: When the Investigator Returned to Discuss Kate’s Call, I Had to Face the Possibility That My Sister’s Silence Was Only the Beginning
My Sister Left Her Six-Month-Old Daughter With Me That Saturday, and One Strange Thing She Said Kept Coming Back to Me
Part 7 of 8
