Rose's Point Of View
My mother let out a sharp, choked wail, burying her face in my dad's neck, her fingers digging into his skin as if she could hold their entire world together through sheer force of will.
"We can't lose her... James, please, we can't let our baby die..." she whispered, her voice breaking on each word.
Through the small crack in the stiff hospital privacy curtains, I watched my father's massive shoulders heave. He didn't cry… my father never let us see him cry, but his hands clenched so tightly in his lap that his knuckles looked like white marble. The tendons in his forearms stood out like cords of steel, trembling with the effort of holding himself together.
"There is one option, Cherry," my father muttered, his deep voice dropping into a rough, jagged whisper that barely carried across the linoleum floor. He paused, seeming to gather courage for what came next. "One person in this town who actually has that kind of liquid cash on hand. We go to him."
