Chapter 6

Mrs. Kane waited until the last of the evening's customers had left before gesturing for me to follow her somewhere quieter. I wiped my hands with a tissue and caught Maya's eye. She was already looking at me with obvious curiosity, and I knew she'd want the full story later. 

Mrs. Kane led me into the small, sterile consultation room adjacent to the pharmacy, a space usually reserved for patient counseling. We sat across from each other, the flimsy chairs feeling too formal for the gravity that suddenly settled in the air between us. For a long moment, she seemed unsure of where to begin, her gaze drifting to the institutional posters on the wall before returning to me. "I wanted to talk to you about Sebastian."

I wasn't expecting that. "Is something wrong with his prescription?" 

"No." She shook her head, a decisive movement. "His medications are fine." I waited, the silence stretching, filled only by the distant hum of the pharmacy lights. 

"I've been thinking about what happened yesterday," she continued, her voice lowered. "And about the way you handled it. “You noticed something was wrong, took the time to check it, and didn't simply assume someone else would handle it.” 

“I was just doing my job,” I said, unable to keep the small grin from tugging at my lips.

"I know," she said, and her mouth curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "That's what I like, you don't make a show of it. You simply see what needs to be done, and you do it." 

I wasn't sure how to respond to that, so I remained silent. She looked down at her hands, clasped neatly in her lap, before continuing. 

"Sebastian's care has become… difficult to manage." There was a change in her voice when she said his name, a subtle fraying at the edges of her composure that I hadn't heard before. 

"At first, we all believed he would improve quickly. Then the days bled into weeks, and the weeks into months. His doctors keep telling us to be patient, to have faith. But being patient doesn't mean sitting back and doing nothing." 

I stayed quiet, letting her speak, sensing she needed to.

"I'm there every day when I can be. I know his medications, his appointments, his routines. I know when something is different, even if I can't always explain what it is." Her eyes briefly moved toward the window, looking out at nothing in particular. "But I can't be everywhere at once." And in that moment, I began to understand why she had asked me to help. This wasn't simply about having another person around Sebastian, she needed someone she could trust. 

"What do you need me to do?" I asked, my own voice quiet.

“I need someone I can trust to be around him when I can't be there.” I hesitated, "Mrs. Kane, I'm a pharmacist. I don't want to take on something I'm not trained for." 

"I wouldn't ask you to," she said, leaning forward slightly, her gaze intense and unwavering. "His doctors and nurses will continue handling his medical care. I'm not asking you to replace them, I need someone who can help keep his medications and daily routine organized, someone who will notice if something changes, no matter how small, and tell me immediately." 

That sounded more reasonable, a role I could understand. "Why me?" 

"Because you're careful," she answered, her reply swift and certain. "And because you cared enough to catch a mistake that had nothing to do with you, that no one else was responsible for." I looked down at my hands, feeling a flush of self-consciousness.

I didn't know what to say, so I let the silence sit between us, a fragile but necessary bridge. 

“You'd still work at the pharmacy,” she added, noticing my hesitation. “This would be outside your regular hours, and I'd make sure you're paid for the extra time.” 

The mention of payment made me think of Noah immediately. His medications, hospital visits, tests, and everything else seemed to keep adding up, a mountain of bills that we climbed but never summited, no matter how carefully we planned. 

"How often?" I asked.

"We can work around your schedule," she said, her tone flexible. "I don't expect you to spend every waking hour at my house." 

That almost made me smile. "How long would you need me?" 

"Let's start with a trial period, a few weeks, if you don't feel comfortable, you tell me and we'll stop, no questions asked." 

I considered it, my mind racing. "What would I actually be doing?" 

"Helping with his medication schedule, keeping track of appointments, making sure his routine stays consistent, and letting me know if you notice anything unusual.

Her voice softened, and I understood why this was so difficult for her. I couldn't imagine watching your own child lie in a bed every day and not knowing how much of what you said he could hear.