The next day, the social worker asked to speak with me again.
I had just helped comfort Paige while a nurse checked her.
She had been more alert that morning.
She watched me when I spoke.
Once, she made a soft little noise that sounded almost like the beginning of a laugh.
I smiled.
"There's my girl."
The nurse smiled too.
For a few seconds, I forgot the investigation.
I was simply happy to see my niece responding.
Then the social worker appeared at the doorway.
I knew from her expression that she wanted to discuss something important.
I followed her into the quiet room.
She sat across from me.
She explained that Paige's medical team was planning for the next stage of her recovery.
Her fractures would require follow-up care.
She would need gentle handling.
Her pain would need monitoring.
And the people caring for her would need to understand the instructions.
I nodded.
"I can learn."
The social worker looked at me.
"We've continued assessing the possibility of you providing temporary care."
I felt my heart beat faster.
I waited.
She explained that the appropriate professionals were reviewing my home and circumstances.
No arrangement could begin until the necessary approval was complete.
But my willingness to help remained important.
I nodded.
"I still want to."
She asked whether I'd spoken with Kate about it.
"Yes."
"How did she respond?"
I thought about my sister crying beside the bed.
The fear in her voice.
The question about whether Paige would be taken away.
"She's frightened," I said.
"She doesn't want to be separated from Paige."
The social worker nodded.
I continued.
"I don't want that either, if it isn't necessary."
I swallowed.
"But I want Paige safe."
She asked whether I understood that a temporary arrangement could involve rules about contact with Kate and Ryan.
I said yes.
She explained that any visits or contact would depend on the plan approved by the responsible authorities.
I listened closely.
I didn't want to make promises I couldn't keep.
I knew that if Paige came to stay with me, I would have to follow the arrangements exactly.
Even if Kate became upset.
Even if Ryan disagreed.
Even if the rules were uncomfortable.
That was part of keeping Paige safe.
The social worker asked whether I was prepared for that.
I thought for a moment.
Then I answered.
"Yes."
I wasn't saying it would be easy.
I was saying I would do it.
She asked whether I had any questions.
I looked down at my hands.
"Do you know what happened to her?"
The social worker paused.
"The investigation is continuing."
I nodded.
That was the answer I'd expected.
But I had to ask.
I wanted to know whether the injuries had finally been explained.
Whether the concealer had been identified.
Whether anyone had admitted knowing about the bruising.
I wanted something certain.
Instead, the social worker explained that medical care and safety planning could move forward even while some investigative questions remained unresolved.
I understood.
Paige couldn't remain in a hospital bed indefinitely simply because adults hadn't finished explaining themselves.
Her needs didn't stop while an investigation continued.
When our conversation ended, I returned to Paige.
Kate was standing beside the bed.
Ryan wasn't there.
My sister looked at me.
"Was that about her coming to your house?"
I nodded.
"They're still reviewing everything."
Kate sat down.
Her eyes filled.
I moved closer.
"I'm not trying to take her from you."
She looked away.
"I know."
I waited.
Then she said,
"I just want to hold my baby without somebody watching me."
I felt my chest tighten.
I understood the longing behind those words.
But I couldn't promise it would happen soon.
"Maybe one day this will be behind us," I said.
"But right now they have to make sure she's safe."
Kate wiped her face.
She didn't argue.
I wondered whether she was beginning to understand that the questions wouldn't disappear simply because the family wanted them to.
A little later, the investigator arrived.
She asked to speak with Kate.
My sister followed her.
I stayed beside Paige.
I didn't ask what the conversation was about.
I had already learned that every interview needed to be given carefully.
I didn't want Kate repeating something because she thought I wanted to hear it.
I wanted her to speak honestly.
About the crying.
About the nights she hadn't understood.
About Ryan helping with Paige.
About the morning change.
And about the concealer.
I looked at Paige's hand.
Her fingers moved against the blanket.
I placed mine nearby.
She reached toward it.
I smiled.
"Hi, baby."
She made another soft sound.
I felt tears rise.
That small response meant everything after the days we'd spent hearing her cry.
Later, Kate came back.
She looked pale.
She sat beside me.
For a while, she said nothing.
Then she spoke.
"Ryan told them something about the makeup."
I turned toward her.
"What?"
She wiped her eyes.
"He said he used it."
I felt my whole body go still.
I looked at Paige.
Then back at Kate.
"On her leg?"
Kate nodded.
I couldn't speak.
For days, both parents had denied putting anything on Paige's thigh.
The doctors had documented the coating.
The investigator had found concealer in the diaper bag.
And now Kate was telling me Ryan had acknowledged applying it.
I tried to keep my voice steady.
"Why?"
Kate looked down.
"He said he noticed the bruise Saturday morning."
I stared at her.
"He noticed it?"
She nodded.
"He said he thought it looked bad."
My throat tightened.
That explanation seemed painfully inadequate.
Paige had been crying.
Her thigh was swollen.
The bruise was dark enough that someone had apparently wanted to cover it.
And Ryan had known it was there before bringing her to my house.
I took a breath.
"What else did he say?"
Kate wiped her face again.
"He said he didn't know how she got hurt."
I looked down.
That still didn't explain the fracture.
Or the rib injury.
Or why he'd initially denied using makeup.
I tried not to let my thoughts race ahead.
I hadn't heard Ryan's statement directly.
Kate was telling me what she'd learned.
I needed to let the investigator establish exactly what he had said.
"Did he explain why he covered it?"
Kate looked toward Paige.
"He said he didn't want me getting upset."
I felt sick.
"Did you know about the bruise?"
Kate shook her head.
"No."
Her voice broke.
"He said he thought maybe she'd bumped something."
I looked at Paige's left leg.
She was six months old.
She couldn't walk.
She couldn't climb.
She couldn't easily cause herself the kinds of injuries the doctors had described.
And even if Ryan had believed the bruise was accidental, covering it instead of seeking help was something I couldn't understand.
I pressed my hands together.
"Kate, did he tell them everything?"
She started crying.
"I don't know."
I looked at her.
That was the truth.
She didn't know.
Neither did I.
Ryan's reported admission helped explain the cosmetic coating.
It didn't establish how the bones were injured.
It didn't tell us whether he had seen an accident.
It didn't explain the earlier rib injury.
But it changed something important.
Someone had apparently noticed the bruise before Paige reached my house.
And rather than telling me, he had tried to hide its appearance.
I looked toward the doorway.
I wanted to speak with Ryan.
I wanted to ask why.
Why would he put makeup on an injured baby's leg?
Why would he leave her with me without warning me?
Why would he let me believe her crying was caused by teething?
But I stayed in my chair.
I knew anger wouldn't make the facts clearer.
The investigator was already asking those questions.
I didn't need to create another confrontation beside Paige's bed.
Kate leaned forward.
"I didn't know he did that."
I looked at her.
Her face was wet with tears.
I wanted to comfort her.
But I couldn't tell her what I didn't know.
"I believe you're telling me you didn't know," I said.
She nodded.
"I didn't."
I looked down.
"Then tell the investigator everything you remember."
"I have."
I took her hand.
For a moment, we sat together.
We were sisters.
We had been sisters long before Ryan or Paige came into our lives.
I remembered Kate helping me with homework when I was little.
I remembered arguments over clothes.
Shared meals.
Birthdays.
Ordinary family memories.
I didn't want any of those memories destroyed.
But I couldn't let them decide what was true.
Paige had been hurt.
Someone had concealed the bruising.
And the hospital was trying to make sure she wasn't sent back into an unsafe situation.
That had to matter more.
Later that afternoon, the investigator confirmed to me that additional information about the cosmetic substance had been obtained.
She didn't share every detail of Ryan's interview.
She explained that the review of how Paige was injured remained ongoing.
I appreciated the distinction.
A reported admission about the makeup was not an explanation for every injury.
The investigators still needed evidence.
They still needed to establish timing.
They still needed to consider the medical findings and the accounts from everyone involved.
I asked whether Paige would be safe.
The investigator explained that the hospital and relevant agencies were continuing to coordinate an appropriate arrangement.
I nodded.
I wanted her to tell me everything had been solved.
But the most important thing at that moment wasn't whether every question had an answer.
It was whether Paige would be protected.
Near the end of the day, the social worker returned with more information.
My home had been considered as a possible temporary placement.
The necessary approval process was moving forward.
She explained that no transfer would happen until all required steps were complete.
I listened carefully.
I didn't celebrate.
It didn't feel like something to celebrate.
The possibility of Paige staying with me existed because she'd been seriously injured.
Because her parents couldn't yet provide an adequate explanation.
Because professionals were concerned about her safety.
I wished none of that had happened.
I wished the Saturday shopping trip had been ordinary.
I wished Kate had returned to my house a few hours later and taken home a happy, comfortable baby.
But those wishes couldn't change what we knew.
I looked at Paige.
She was resting.
Her face was calmer than it had been when I first carried her into the hospital.
I leaned toward her.
"You're getting better, sweetheart."
She moved her hand.
I touched her fingers.
I knew her bones still needed healing.
And I knew the family had a long way to go.
The investigation wasn't finished.
No one had provided a complete account of how Paige suffered her injuries.
But one question about the makeup finally had an answer that investigators could examine.
And the people responsible for Paige's safety were no longer willing to rely only on promises that she would be fine.
Click here to continue reading: PART 20: Paige Came Home With Me Under a Temporary Safety Plan, and I Finally Understood What That Saturday Had Changed
My Sister Left Her Six-Month-Old Daughter With Me That Saturday, and One Strange Thing She Said Kept Coming Back to Me
Part 19 of 20
