I sat beside Paige for several minutes after the doctor left.
My phone was in my hand.
Kate's name was on the screen.
I had opened her contact information.
But I hadn't pressed the call button.
I wasn't trying to keep Paige's condition from her.
I knew she needed to know.
I simply didn't know how to begin.
How do you tell your sister that the baby she left with you for a shopping trip has a fractured leg?
How do you explain that doctors are concerned about bruising covered with makeup?
I looked at Paige.
Her fingers had relaxed around mine.
She was resting more quietly now.
I watched her chest rise and fall.
Then I pressed Kate's number.
The phone rang.
I stood beside the bed while I waited.
She answered after several rings.
"Hey, Ally."
Her voice sounded ordinary.
That almost made the conversation harder.
"Kate, I'm at the hospital with Paige."
There was a pause.
"What?"
"She was crying really hard. I found something wrong with her leg."
Another pause.
"Why are you at the hospital?"
I tried to keep my voice steady.
"Because she's hurt."
I could hear movement on Kate's end of the call.
Then she spoke again.
"What's wrong with her?"
"The doctors found a fracture in her left leg."
I heard her take a breath.
"A fracture?"
"Yes."
For a few seconds, I heard nothing except faint noise in the background.
I imagined her standing somewhere inside a store.
Maybe Ryan was beside her.
Maybe she was looking at something on a shelf.
I didn't know.
"Kate?"
"I'm here."
Her voice had changed.
She sounded strained.
"How did that happen?"
I closed my eyes.
"I don't know."
"What do you mean, you don't know?"
"I mean she was already crying when I realized something was wrong. She screamed when I adjusted how I was holding her."
Kate didn't answer immediately.
I continued.
"When I checked her diaper, her left thigh was swollen. There was bruising underneath what looked like makeup."
I heard a short breath.
Then silence.
"Kate, did you know her leg was injured?"
"No."
The answer came quickly.
I looked toward Paige's bed.
"Did anything happen last night?"
"What do you mean?"
"You said she was teething and had been restless. Did she fall? Did somebody accidentally hurt her?"
"Ally, she's six months old."
"I know how old she is."
My voice came out sharper than I intended.
I lowered it.
"That's why I'm asking."
Kate was quiet.
Then she said,
"She was fussy. That's what I told you."
"I know."
"I thought it was her teeth."
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
"The doctor says there's a broken bone."
I wasn't trying to argue with her.
I wanted her to understand.
I wanted her to remember anything that might help explain it.
But the conversation wasn't giving me answers.
Kate asked which hospital we were at.
I told her.
She said she and Ryan would come.
I gave her the department and explained that Paige was receiving care.
Then I asked something I hadn't planned to ask.
"Did you see any discoloration on her leg?"
"What?"
"A bruise. Anything unusual."
"No."
"Did you change her diaper this morning?"
There was another pause.
"Yes."
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Did you notice anything?"
"Ally, I told you, she was fussy."
I looked down at the floor.
That wasn't the question I had asked.
I didn't say so.
Not yet.
"Please come to the hospital," I told her.
"We're coming."
The call ended.
I stood there holding the phone.
My hand felt cold.
I hadn't expected Kate to have every answer.
I knew she might be frightened.
I knew hearing that your baby had a broken leg would terrify any parent.
But I had hoped she would remember something.
A fall.
A sudden cry.
A moment when Paige became especially upset.
Anything.
Instead, she had kept coming back to the same explanation.
Teething.
I sat down again.
Paige was still resting.
I studied her face.
I tried to picture what the previous night had been like for her.
Kate had said she was restless.
Was that when the pain began?
Had she been crying because of her leg while the adults around her thought her gums hurt?
I couldn't know.
That uncertainty was becoming its own kind of pain.
The nurse returned to check on Paige.
I told her I'd spoken to the baby's mother.
She asked whether Kate was coming.
I said yes.
I also told her that Kate hadn't given me an explanation for the injury.
The nurse didn't appear surprised.
She simply recorded what I said.
I was beginning to recognize that pattern.
Every person caring for Paige seemed careful about what they asked.
Careful about what they wrote down.
Careful about separating what I had witnessed from what I thought might have happened.
I tried to do the same.
I told the nurse exactly what Kate had said.
I didn't add anything.
Not even the things I had started wondering.
The nurse checked Paige's comfort and explained that further evaluation was being arranged.
I asked whether I could give Paige her bottle.
She said to wait until the medical team confirmed what was appropriate.
I nodded.
I had carried the diaper bag into the hospital expecting to use the bottle inside.
Now even feeding her felt like something I needed help deciding.
The diaper bag sat beside the chair.
I moved it closer so it wouldn't be in the walkway.
Its strap had twisted around itself.
I untangled it.
The small action gave me something to do with my hands.
I thought about opening the bag.
Then I stopped.
I didn't know why the thought made me uneasy.
It was only Paige's diaper bag.
I had been handed it that morning because I was supposed to care for her.
But after finding the makeup on her thigh, I was afraid of overlooking anything.
I decided to leave the bag alone until I knew what the staff needed.
A doctor came into the room and introduced herself as part of the team evaluating Paige.
She spoke gently.
She asked whether I would be willing to explain what had happened again.
"Of course."
I moved my chair so we could speak without disturbing Paige.
The doctor asked me to begin with Kate's arrival.
I told her about the tired look on my sister's face.
The diaper bag.
The green sleeper.
Ryan waiting in the car.
The explanation about teething.
Then I told her what happened after they left.
The bottle.
The walking.
The increasingly sharp crying.
The scream when I adjusted my hand.
The left leg that barely moved.
The powdery floral smell.
The beige cosmetic.
The bruising.
I could feel my voice growing strained as I repeated it.
But the doctor didn't rush me.
She asked how much time had passed before Paige began crying.
I told her approximately twenty minutes.
She asked whether Paige had been quiet when she first arrived.
I thought carefully.
"She wasn't screaming like she was later."
"Was she completely comfortable?"
I hesitated.
"I don't know."
That was the only truthful answer.
I hadn't recognized anything serious when Kate handed her to me.
But I couldn't claim Paige had felt fine.
I hadn't been inside her body.
I had no way of knowing whether she was already hurting.
The doctor nodded.
She asked whether I had changed Paige's diaper before discovering the injury.
"No."
"Did your sister mention any medication?"
"Not to me."
"Did you give Paige anything?"
"No. I warmed a bottle, but she refused it."
The doctor made a note.
Then she asked whether anyone else had been inside my house while Paige was there.
"No."
"Was Paige ever left alone with another person?"
"No."
"Did you see any accident?"
"No."
I could hear myself repeating that word.
No.
No.
No.
I worried it sounded like I was trying too hard.
But I wasn't.
Those were the facts.
The doctor explained that Paige's age, the fracture, and the unexplained bruising meant they needed a careful evaluation.
I nodded.
She mentioned additional imaging and examinations to look for injuries that weren't immediately visible.
I felt my throat tighten.
"Do you think there could be something else wrong?"
"We need to check."
I looked at Paige.
I had thought finding one bruise was terrible.
Then I learned about the fracture.
Now they were examining her for injuries I couldn't see.
I wanted to ask whether all of this was truly necessary.
Not because I doubted the doctors.
Because I was frightened of what they might find.
But I looked at Paige's little hand resting beside her blanket.
And I understood that not knowing wouldn't protect her.
"Please do whatever she needs," I said.
The doctor nodded.
She explained that someone from the hospital's child protection team might also speak with me.
I had heard the words before.
But hearing them in connection with my niece made my stomach drop.
I didn't want to believe Paige might have been deliberately harmed.
I didn't want to imagine someone knowing she was injured and trying to hide it.
Yet the makeup remained impossible to explain away.
A six-month-old baby couldn't apply concealer to her own thigh.
Someone had done that.
And until I knew why, I couldn't dismiss what it meant.
The doctor asked whether I had noticed anything unusual about Kate's behavior that morning.
I thought about her tired face.
Her quick explanation.
Her desire to get going.
I remembered how she had handed me the bag.
Then the small smile she gave me.
There had been nothing dramatic about it.
Nothing I would have questioned at the time.
"She seemed exhausted," I said.
"She told me Paige had been restless all night."
"Anything else?"
I remembered her final remark.
"She said she trusted my judgment if Paige became difficult to settle."
The doctor looked at me.
"How did she say it?"
I thought carefully.
"Like she was giving me permission to make decisions."
"Did she seem worried?"
I shook my head slowly.
"I thought she was tired."
I paused.
"I don't know whether she was worried."
The doctor accepted that.
She didn't ask me to decide what Kate had been thinking.
For that, I was grateful.
I had enough trouble understanding my own thoughts.
After the doctor left, I returned to Paige's bedside.
The hospital noises continued around us.
Footsteps.
Quiet conversations.
A cart moving somewhere down the hall.
A door opening.
A door closing.
Ordinary sounds from a place where people came for help.
I looked at the clock.
I wasn't sure how much time had passed since my call with Kate.
I thought about calling again.
Then I decided to wait.
She knew where we were.
She had said she was coming.
There was nothing more I could tell her until the doctors finished their evaluation.
I leaned toward Paige.
"Your mommy's coming, sweetheart."
Her eyelids moved.
She didn't open her eyes fully.
I adjusted the edge of her blanket where it had slipped away from her shoulder.
I kept my hand far from the injured leg.
That small movement reminded me of the changing table.
Of how I'd once expected a diaper change to solve everything.
I looked at the bag again.
Kate had packed it.
Or at least she'd brought it.
I didn't know who had placed everything inside.
That distinction suddenly seemed important.
I remembered the resident asking who had access to Paige before she arrived at my house.
I began thinking about the previous night.
Kate.
Ryan.
Perhaps someone else.
I didn't know.
I hadn't been there.
I hadn't asked who was home.
I hadn't asked whether someone had helped care for Paige.
Those were ordinary questions before that Saturday.
Now I wished I had answers.
I heard footsteps approaching.
A nurse appeared at the doorway.
She told me Paige's parents had arrived.
I stood immediately.
For a moment, I felt relief.
Kate was here.
Maybe she would finally be able to explain what had happened.
Then I remembered our phone call.
And I realized that having my sister in the hospital would not automatically give us answers.
It would only mean we could begin asking the questions face-to-face.
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: Kate and Ryan Arrived at the Hospital, and the Doctor Asked Them to Explain Paige’s Injury
My Sister Left Her Six-Month-Old Daughter With Me That Saturday, and One Strange Thing She Said Kept Coming Back to Me
Part 6 of 20
