For all the urgency she had shown when pushing the wheelbarrow, she suddenly seemed unsure of what she was allowed to do.
Her mother lifted one hand from the blanket.
That was permission enough.
The girl crossed the room and pressed herself carefully against the side of the bed.
Her mother touched the back of her sweatshirt.
Neither of them spoke for several seconds.
Then the child pulled back.
“I took the babies.”
Her mother looked confused.
“Where?”
“Here.”
The mother stared at her.
A nurse standing nearby explained the rest in the fewest words possible.
The wheelbarrow.
The walk.
The emergency room.
The key.
By the time she finished, the mother’s hand was covering her mouth.
“You pushed them here?”
The girl nodded.
Then came the fear she had apparently been carrying since the ambulance arrived.
“Are you mad?”
Her mother immediately shook her head.
“No.”
“I left the house.”
