Saving Meghan(58)

The microphone broadcast Zach’s heavy inhale. “They didn’t believe my diagnosis, because I had made too many of them,” Zach said.

“No further questions, Your Honor,” the attorney replied.





CHAPTER 27





BECKY


Becky and Carl made their way down an austere hallway until they reached the entrance to the Behavioral Health Unit, located in the newly constructed Mendon Building. Becky trembled with excitement. It had been four days since she’d last set eyes on her daughter. Questions of how much Meghan had been eating, how thin she’d be, how frail she’d look gnawed at her. When she thought of the possibilities, she was overcome with sadness and grief.

The door to the unit buzzed open, and there was Nash in her white lab coat, arms folded, waiting. Zach had forewarned Becky that Nash would be running the show, even though the Behavioral Health Unit was Levine’s territory. He speculated, correctly so, that the social workers and Meghan’s new guardian would take a supporting role given how this case had the potential to be high profile—and Nash, who could be as ego-driven as any surgeon, would see an opportunity to raise hers at White even higher.

“She’s going to want to control the situation as much as possible, and she’s got the clout with Knox Singer to do just that,” Zach had said. “So whatever she tells you, best to play by her rules.”

Becky took the advice begrudgingly.

Nash’s penetrating gaze shifted over to Carl, and her forbidding expression softened. Becky felt outnumbered. It was as if those two were in cahoots, having secret conversations about Becky’s unfitness as a parent.

As much as she wanted to, Becky and Carl had not reconciled. There was no big “aha moment” after the trial when rose petals tumbled from the sky, trumpets blared, and all was forgiven. There was only nervous anticipation.

They had arrived at lunchtime. Becky observed a large food cart parked near the secured entrance. A group of young people, as diverse as any city high school, dressed in comfortable street attire, retrieved trays of hot food from one of two open compartments below. A stout woman, her dark hair stuffed inside a hairnet, oversaw the self-serve process, repeating that the mac and cheese was in the left compartment, and turkey and gravy in the right. Everyone called her Loretta. She was friendly and greeted each patient by name. She called them “dear” and “sweetheart” and “darling.”

“Meghan’s very excited to see you,” Nash said. “I’ll take you to her in a moment, but first, I have to ask if I can see what’s in your purse. You do understand that you can’t give your daughter anything, no gifts, no items from home, nothing of the sort, unless it is approved.”

Becky snarled in disgust, and even Carl looked mildly annoyed.

“It’s utterly ridiculous,” she scoffed. “Do I need to go through a metal detector as well?” Becky asked, her voice drenched in sarcasm. “Want to pat me down for weapons?”

“No need for that,” Carl said, addressing Becky reproachfully.

“It’s a safety issue,” Nash answered, taking the high road there. “I apologize.”

“You have the soup ready?” Becky asked.

Attorney Leers had found out during a conversation with a social worker that Meghan had not been eating much, so at Becky’s urging, she requested that Judge Trainer grant Becky permission to bring chicken soup from home—a food that Meghan was certain to eat.

Judge Trainer, citing safety concerns, had denied the request, but made a concession to have the kitchen staff at White Memorial prepare the soup to Becky’s exacting recipe. The soup was then to be served in a metal thermos that Becky had provided to Attorney Leers so as to give it the appearance of coming from home. Becky worried that Meghan might reject the meal if she thought it was not homemade, but secretly she did not want her daughter to know that her mother was not permitted to give her anything from the outside—including soup. Thankfully, Judge Trainer had agreed to this further concession.

“Yes, we do,” Nash said. “But you know we do serve three hot meals a day.” Nash directed her attention to Loretta’s food cart. “Meal times are eight A.M., noon, and six. We offer two choices for hot meals and can accommodate special diets.”

“That’s all well and good, but Meghan is a very picky eater,” Becky said softly. “And her disease has diminished her appetite considerably.”

“I understand.”

“I’m afraid as a policy we need to search your purse, or to make it even easier we can just keep it at the nurse’s station until your visit is through.”

Becky held on to her purse a beat too long, as though clinging to the last shred of her dignity.

“Give it to her,” Carl said snippily.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Becky said as she handed over her purse, which Nash took with all of the fanfare of a TSA screener.

“Meghan is waiting for you in Charlotte’s Web.”

“Charlotte’s Web?” Becky said.

“Yes, we named all our meeting spaces after famous children’s books,” Nash explained.

“Are we going to be alone?” Becky sounded a hopeful note.

“No,” Nash replied. “Dr. Levine is in with her, as are Annabel Hope from DCF and Jill Mendoza.”