Chapter 4 - The SamaritanThe man, whose name was Sam, was a trucker who had seen more late-night breakdowns than he cared to remember. He didn't ask questions. He put them in his cab, wrapped Lily in a thick wool blanket, and turned the heater to the maximum.
"St. Catherine's?" Sam said, hearing their story. "That’s right on my route. I’ll take you."
The ride was a blur of warmth and relief. Sarah sat in the back, her eyes closed, murmuring a prayer under her breath. When they finally pulled into the parking lot of St. Catherine’s, the hospital glowed like a beacon in the storm.
"Thank you," Sarah said, reaching out to touch Daniel’s arm. "I don't know how I can ever—"
"Go," Daniel said. "Run."
Sarah bolted from the truck. They watched her sprint toward the double doors of the Emergency Room, her hair wild, her coat soaked, a desperate figure disappearing into the sterile light of the hospital.
"She’s a good kid," Sam said, looking at Daniel. "You did a good thing, brother."
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Daniel looked at his daughter, who was asleep against his shoulder. He felt a profound, aching fatigue, but beneath it, a strange, quiet peace. He had followed his wife’s instruction. He had been kind.
"Yeah," Daniel whispered. "I think she is."
