I checked both.

The ordinary terror of becoming a mother sat beside the particular fear of what Garrett might do at nine.

My father arrived after dawn.

He had arranged overnight travel from Savannah.

His shirt was creased, and his face looked older than it had on the last video call I remembered.

He carried no instructions for a staff member, no announcement for the hospital, just a small bag he put down when he saw the bassinets.

“Two?”