I called Kate again.
She answered this time.
“What?”
Her tone sounded irritated.
“Kate, where are you?”
“Shopping. Why?”
“There’s makeup on Paige.”
Silence.
I heard background noise.
Then Kate said, “What?”
“Concealer. Under her clothes.”
Another pause.
“What are you talking about?”
“I wiped it off.”
The silence that followed was longer.
Then Kate said something that made my blood run cold.
“You shouldn’t have touched that.”
I stood completely still.
“What?”
“I mean, her skin is sensitive.”
“That’s not what you said.”
“Rachel, you’re overreacting.”
“Why was she covered in concealer?”
“She wasn’t.”
“I’m looking at it.”
Kate exhaled sharply.
“Just wait until we get back.”
“No.”
Her voice changed.
“What do you mean, no?”
“I’m taking Paige to the hospital.”
“Rachel.”
“She’s in pain.”
“Babies cry.”
“She screams when I touch her side.”
“Do not take her anywhere.”
There was something in Kate’s voice I had never heard before.
Fear.
Not fear for Paige.
Fear of what somebody might discover.
I hung up.
Then I grabbed the diaper bag and ran to my car.
Paige cried almost the entire drive.
Every red light felt endless.
I kept looking at her in the rearview mirror.
“It’s okay.”
I had no idea whether that was true.
“You’re okay.”
By the time we reached the emergency department, I was shaking.
A nurse took one look at Paige and brought us back quickly.
I explained everything.
The crying.
The pain.
The smell.
The makeup.
The marks underneath.
The nurse’s expression changed.
She asked me not to wipe away anything else.
A pediatric physician examined Paige.
Then another doctor joined her.
I stood in the corner.
Nobody said much.
That scared me more than anything.
Finally, the doctor approached.
“Are you Paige’s mother?”
“No. I’m her aunt.”
“Where are her parents?”
“Shopping.”
“Have you contacted them?”
“Yes.”
“Are they coming here?”
I swallowed.
“I think so.”
She asked if Paige had fallen recently.
“I don’t know.”
Any medical procedures?
“Not that I know of.”
Any diagnosed skin condition?
“No.”
The doctor nodded.
“We’re going to do additional testing.”
My stomach dropped.
“What kind?”
“Imaging. Bloodwork. We need to rule out injuries that aren’t obvious from the outside.”
I sat down because my knees suddenly felt weak.
“What do you think happened?”
She did not answer directly.
“We need more information first.”
That was enough.
Approximately forty minutes later, Kate stormed into the emergency department.
Eric followed behind her.
Kate spotted me immediately.
“What did you do?”
I stood up.
“I brought your daughter to a doctor.”
“You had no right.”
“She was screaming.”
“She’s teething.”
“That’s not teething.”
Eric stepped toward me.
“Where is Paige?”
“With the doctors.”
He looked furious.
“You should’ve called us.”
“I did.”
Kate lowered her voice.
“Rachel, whatever you think you saw, you misunderstood.”
“Then explain the concealer.”
Kate glanced at Eric.
It was quick.
Maybe half a second.
But I saw it.
And suddenly I understood there was something both of them knew.
A nurse approached.
“Are you Paige’s parents?”
“Yes,” Kate answered.
“Someone needs to speak with you.”
Kate looked at me again.
“You made this into something it isn’t.”
I said nothing.
Two police officers arrived less than an hour later.
Then a hospital social worker.
That was when Kate began crying.
“Why are police here?”
The social worker answered calmly.
“Because the medical team has concerns about Paige’s safety.”
Eric became defensive immediately.
“This is ridiculous.”
One officer asked both of them to come speak separately.
Eric refused at first.
Kate begged him not to make things worse.
Watching them suddenly argue with each other told me more than any confession could have.
I sat alone in the hallway.
Then the pediatrician returned.
I stood.
“Is she okay?”
“Paige is stable.”
Stable.
I repeated that word silently.
Stable.
The doctor continued.
“We found several areas of concern.”
My chest tightened.
“Meaning what?”
“Some appear older than others.”
