“If she’s hurt…” Robert’s voice trailed off. If something serious had happened to Judge Catherine, their deal was void. He would go to prison. Lily would go to foster care. But more than that, a heavy stone of guilt settled in his gut—he had grown to care for the stern woman who had given them a fighting chance.
“She needs us now more than ever,” Lily said, walking to the door and putting on her shoes. “Her spirit was just starting to wake up, Daddy. Now it’s scared again. But don’t worry. Sometimes the biggest miracles happen when things look the most impossible.”
As they sped toward the hospital, running two yellow lights, Robert prayed that his five-year-old daughter was right. Because if Lily couldn’t help Judge Catherine now, when the darkness was closing in, then maybe miracles were just fairy tales for desperate people after all. The true test of Lily’s gift had begun.
The hospital waiting room was a suffocating box of tension, smelling of antiseptic and stale coffee. Robert sat on the edge of a hard plastic chair, clutching Lily’s hand until his knuckles turned white. Half the town seemed to be there; word of the Judge’s accident had traveled through the community with lightning speed.
Double doors swung open, and Dr. Harrison emerged. His face was a mask of exhaustion and grim professional restraint. Robert’s heart sank.
“How is she, Doctor?” Robert asked, leaping to his feet.
Dr. Harrison sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He addressed the room, but his eyes flickered to Robert. “Judge Westbrook sustained a severe concussion when her wheelchair tipped. She hit her head on a stone retaining wall. She has been unconscious for the past two hours.”
A collective gasp rippled through the room. Robert felt the floor sway beneath him.
“Is she going to be okay?” Mrs. Henderson asked from a nearby chair, clutching her purse.
“We are doing everything we can,” Dr. Harrison said, choosing his words carefully. “But head injuries are unpredictable. The swelling is significant. The next twenty-four hours will be critical. She needs to wake up soon, or…”
He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to. The silence in the room was heavy enough to crush bone.
Robert looked down at Lily, expecting tears. Instead, he saw determination.
“Doctor,” Lily said, her voice clear and piercing in the hushed room. “Can I see Judge Catherine, please?”
Dr. Harrison blinked, looking down at the small child. He shook his head gently. “Little girl, Judge Westbrook is in the Intensive Care Unit. She is very sick. She can’t have visitors, especially children.”
“But I promised to help her,” Lily insisted, stepping forward. “And she needs me right now.”
Robert put a hand on her shoulder gently. “Lily, sweetheart, maybe we should listen to the doctor.”
Lily shook her head, her brown hair flying. “No, Daddy. Remember what I told you? Her spirit isn’t just asleep anymore—it’s lost. The accident scared her spirit so much that it doesn’t know how to find its way back to her body. I need to guide it home.”
The room went dead silent. Everyone stared at this five-year-old who spoke of spirits and guidance with the authority of a priest. Some looked skeptical, rolling their eyes. Others looked desperate, clinging to her words like a life raft.
Dr. Harrison straightened up, his patience thinning. “I’m sorry. Hospital policy is strict. No children in the ICU.”
“Doctor.”
The voice came from the back of the room. Everyone turned. It was David Chun, the prosecutor who had tried to put Robert in jail just days ago. He looked disheveled, his tie loosened, his eyes tired.
“Mr. Chun?” Robert said, surprised.
David walked forward, ignoring the stares. “I heard about the accident on the police scanner. I came because…” He paused, looking at Robert, then at Lily. “Because I wanted to apologize.”
“Apologize?”