Four solid days of talking and crying and reading and crying and drawing and crying. And, finally, there was a breakthrough. Finally, LaTonya was talking more about her mom and dad than she was talking about her sister. For the last twenty-four hours, she hadn’t said a word about wanting to go to heaven. What was going on with LaTonya felt good, but I wasn’t really sure how to measure success with such a young child. I was hopeful, but I didn’t know. I did feel, though, that LaTonya was making enough progress that after four days, I could go home. At least for a couple of hours. I needed a bear-size hug and so much more from my husband. As I steered the car out of the parking lot, I thought about calling Jamal. I’d spoken to him this morning, but that was before Dr. Caster agreed that I could take a couple of hours without one of my colleagues being there. I picked up the phone, then tossed it back. Surprising him would be so much better. I’d only driven a block away from the hospital when my cell phone rang, and before I looked down, I prayed that it wasn’t Dr.
