“If this is what she wants, take her,” he said. “Just tell me exactly where you’ll be in case I need to reach you.”
So I did.
I want to see the Grand Canyon at sunrise.
***
Two days later, I put blankets, her medication, and everything she might need into the car.
We drove through the night.
By five in the morning, we were sitting together near the overlook, wrapped in blankets.
Hailey was exhausted, but smiling.
“I knew it would be beautiful,” she whispered.
Take her.
The sky was turning pale when a park ranger hurried toward us.
“Are you her mother?”
My stomach tightened. “Yes.”
“Her doctor called the park office. He said I had to reach you before the sun came up.”
I stood so quickly the blanket fell from my shoulders. “What happened?”
It would be beautiful.
The ranger reached inside his jacket.
Then he pulled something out and held it toward me. “Ma’am, your daughter’s doctor said you need to see this before she watches that sunrise.”
I stared at it. “That’s it?”
I had to reach you before the sun came up.
“That’s everything Dr. Carter asked us to give you. He said it was medical and he didn’t want anyone here discussing it with you.”
