room number when you told her the date?”
“Not then.”
“When did she ask?”
“This morning.”
I put the butter back in the refrigerator.
Daniel picked up his phone again. “I can tell her the hospital has visitor rules.”
“Tell her that.”
Inside was a blue hospital folder, the kind with a clear pocket on the front. A typed page showed through the plastic.
I pulled it out.
The first paragraph used the words parental authority.
I read it twice.
Daniel leaned over my shoulder. “What does that mean?”
“It means somebody wants my signature.”
He reached for the page.
I gave it to him.
At the bottom were two blank lines, one marked Parent and the other marked Witness.
“This is not a birthday card, Daniel.”
He read the page again.
“I thought she meant paperwork for the babies.”
“These are not hospital admission forms.”
“Could they be something
