Lights in the winter night
Only minutes later, flashing lights appeared through the front windows of the house.
Paramedics entered first, moving quickly but calmly as they examined my condition and placed me on a stretcher.
Andrew stood in the doorway, watching silently while Lorraine tried to explain that everything had been a misunderstanding.
The medical team focused entirely on me.
As they carried me toward the ambulance, I caught one last glimpse of Andrew standing beside the dining table that had once seemed so important to him.
His colleagues had disappeared.
The carefully prepared Christmas dinner sat untouched.
Outside, the cold night air felt strangely calm.
A black sedan pulled up to the curb just as the ambulance doors were opening.
My father stepped out, still wearing the overcoat he had thrown on in haste.
For a moment he looked less like a public figure and more like what he had always been to me: simply my father.
He reached for my hand.
“You’re safe now,” he said softly.
I squeezed his fingers weakly.
“I’m glad you answered the phone.”
He gave a small, tired smile.
“I always answer when my daughter calls.”
