Four days after Emily came home from the hospital, my office called with an emergency. Another branch had serious paperwork problems involving missing inventory, a supplier threatening legal action, and documents carrying my signature. My manager begged me to come fix it, promising it would only take four days and warning me the company could lose an important account if I refused.
I told him my wife had just given birth and my baby was not even a week old yet, but eventually I agreed to go anyway.
That decision will haunt me for the rest of my life.
Before leaving, I stood in the kitchen with my mother Linda and my younger sister Ashley while Emily slept down the hall with Noah beside her. The house smelled faintly of dish soap, and the dryer rumbled softly in the laundry room as I explained everything carefully.
“Please take care of her,” I said. “The doctors said she needs rest, fluids, warm meals, and help with the baby.”
