The heavy wooden chairs in the waiting area squeaked as a nurse pushed a rolling cart past us.

“I was standing right there in the kitchen with her when she got sick,” I said.

“You’re always in the kitchen when accidents happen, sweetheart,” Patricia said.

She adjusted the silk scarf around her neck and looked at the closed double doors of the intensive care unit.

“I took the first flight back from Denver because I knew you’d be falling apart,” Daniel said.

He checked his watch again, sliding the band up and down his wrist.