The Woman in Room 417
I barely remembered driving to the hospital.
When I arrived, Dr. Kline was waiting outside the maternity floor.
She was probably in her early fifties, calm but direct.
“Before you see Ms. Rowan, I need you to understand something.”
I nodded.
“She has been through most of this pregnancy without a partner beside her. Whatever happened between the two of you belongs outside this room.”
The words bothered me.
“I didn’t know she was pregnant.”
Dr. Kline studied my face. Then she said something I would remember for years.
“According to Elise, she tried very hard to tell you.”
That was the first crack in the story I had been telling myself.
I entered room 417.
Elise looked smaller than I remembered. Her dark brown hair was loosely tied behind her head. There were no earrings, no makeup, none of the confident energy she normally carried into a room.
She looked exhausted.
But when she opened her eyes and saw me, something changed in her expression.
“You came.”
I stepped closer.
“The hospital called me.”
She nodded.
My throat tightened.
“You listed me as his father.”
Her eyes filled.
“Because you are his father.”
I sat beside the bed. There were a hundred questions I could have asked. Only one escaped.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Elise stared at me for several seconds. Then she whispered:
“Caleb, I tried.”
