end of the driveway, filling the tank while I checked the hospital bag against my list. The receipt from the grocery store was still tucked under the magnet on the refrigerator inside, the total visible through the kitchen window.
“Three shirts,” I said. “Two blankets. Toiletries.”
Daniel looked toward me.
“Car seats?”
“Still in the garage.”
“Good.”
My phone lit up in my hand.
Karen.
I opened the message.
I will be there if you need me.
I read it twice.
Daniel capped the gas nozzle.
“What did she say?”
I handed him the phone.
He read the message and gave it back.
“She knows where to wait,” he said.
I looked at him.
“How do you know that?”
He did not answer.
I put the phone into my coat pocket.
“Karen, what exactly did your mother ask you to do?”
Daniel looked toward the house.
“Call her.”
“I will.”
