Flowers for Noah

Lily's POV

Marcus drove faster than I had ever seen anyone drive.

I sat in the back with my phone pressed to my ear, calling Noah's room again and again. Nobody answered. Every red light felt like an hour. Every car in front of us felt like it was trying to kill me.

Ethan sat beside me. He wasn't supposed to be there. Eleanor had told him that if anyone saw him walking into a hospital on his own two feet, the whole plan would fall apart. Ethan had looked at her and said, "Then nobody will see," and put on a baseball cap and a pair of dark glasses and got in the car anyway.

"He's fine," Ethan kept saying. "Carla said he's fine. Breathe, Lily."

"She sat with him," I said. "She sat with my brother and asked about his medicine. The same woman who put poison in your glass last night."

He didn't answer that, because there was nothing to say. He just held my hand so tight it almost hurt, and I held his back.

I thought about the night Noah's heart stopped, the alarms and the nurses running past me. I had promised myself that night that nobody would ever hurt him again while I could stop it. Now I had brought a woman like Margaret Sinclair into his life, and I had done it with my own hands.

When we got to the hospital, I didn't wait for the car to stop. I ran through the doors, past the front desk, and up three flights of stairs because the elevator was too slow. By the time I reached Noah's room, I couldn't breathe.

He was sitting up in bed, watching cartoons and eating a cup of pudding.

"Lily!" His whole face lit up. "You came back! Why are you all sweaty?"

I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. I crossed the room and hugged him so hard he squeaked.

"Ow," he said into my shoulder. "Lily, my stitches."

"Sorry," I said, and I let go, but I kept both hands on his face. He looked fine. His cheeks had more color than last time, and his eyes were bright. "Are you okay? Do you feel sick? Does anything hurt?"

"I'm fine," he said, like I was being silly. "A nice lady came. She brought me those." He pointed at the window.

There was a huge bunch of white flowers in a glass vase. They were the same white flowers I had seen on every table in the Sinclair house.

My stomach turned over.

Behind me, Carla came in with Dr. Patel. Dr. Patel looked serious, but not scared, and that helped a little.

"Miss Carter," he said. "As soon as Carla called you, we checked everything. His medicine, his IV, his food. Nothing was touched. Your brother is safe."

I let out a breath I felt like I had been holding since the phone rang.

"But there's something else," Dr. Patel said, more quietly. "The billing office called me this morning. The person paying for Noah's care has asked to stop all payments, starting tomorrow."

Margaret had kept her promise. One wrong word, and the bills stop on Monday.

"How much is left?" I asked. My voice cracked. "For the rest of his care?"

Before Dr. Patel could answer, someone spoke from the doorway.

"Send every bill to Blackwood Holdings."

Ethan was standing there with his cap pulled low and his dark glasses in his hand. He looked tired from the stairs, but his voice was strong. Dr. Patel stared at him like he couldn't quite believe who he was seeing.

"Mr. Blackwood," he said. "I read that you were..."

"Awake," Ethan said. "And I'd like to keep that quiet, if you don't mind. Every bill for this boy comes to me. His surgery, his room, his medicine, all of it. And I want him moved to a private room today, with a guard outside the door. Nobody visits him unless Lily says so."

Dr. Patel nodded slowly. "I'll take care of it."

Noah was staring at Ethan with his mouth open.

"Lily," he whispered loudly; the way kids think is quiet. "Who is that?"

I looked at Ethan. He looked back at me, and he raised one eyebrow, like he wanted to know what I would say.

"That's Ethan," I said. "He's... my husband."

Noah's eyes went huge. "You got married? Without telling me?"

"It's a long story," I said.

Ethan walked over to the bed and held out his hand to Noah like Noah was a grown man. "It's nice to meet you, Noah," he said. "Your sister talks about you all the time."

Noah shook his hand very seriously. Then he looked up at Ethan and said, "Are you rich?"

"Noah!" I said.

Ethan laughed. It was the first time I had ever heard him really laugh, and it changed his whole face. "A little," he said.

"Cool," Noah said. "Can you get me more pudding?"

"I'll see what I can do," Ethan said.

I watched them together, and something warm and painful moved in my chest. Noah had never had a grown man in his life who was kind to him. And here was Ethan Blackwood, sitting on the edge of a hospital bed, letting my little brother tell him the whole story of a cartoon about talking trucks.

While they talked, I walked over to the window and looked at the flowers. There was a small white card tucked between the stems. I hadn't noticed it before.

I pulled it out. The front had my name on it. Not Vanessa. Lily.

I opened it with shaking fingers.

The handwriting was neat and pretty, the kind of writing you learn at an expensive school.

You have been a good girl, Lily, but good girls get tired. If you want to know who your real mother was, come to the old Sinclair Lake house tomorrow at midnight. Come alone. If you bring the Blackwoods, the truth dies with me. M.

The M had a little curl at the end. I had seen that curl before, on the card Margaret left me in the cafeteria.

I read it three times. Then I folded it and pushed it into my pocket before anyone could see.

"Lily?" Ethan said behind me. "Everything okay?"

I turned around and smiled at him. It was the same smile I had learned in the Sinclair house, the one that never showed my teeth.

"Everything's fine," I said.

It was the first lie I had told him since I promised I wouldn't.