I almost ignored it.
Three other patients were waiting, my shift was nowhere near finished, and I rarely answered unfamiliar numbers.
But something made me check.
“Hello?”
“Ma’am, this is Officer Benny Reyes. I’m calling about your sons.”
My heart nearly stopped.
“What’s happened? Are they alright?”
“Your children are safe,” he answered quickly. “But your older son has been involved in an incident. I need you to come home.”
I gripped the phone.
“Is Logan hurt? Has something happened to Andrew?”
“There’s no immediate danger. Please come home as soon as possible.”
Before I could ask another question, the call ended.
I stood frozen in the hospital hallway.
My seventeen-year-old son, Logan, had been struggling emotionally since his father’s death.
There had been a few misunderstandings with the police, and lately he’d been spending more time alone.
Now an officer was calling me about an incident involving him.
I imagined everything that could have gone wrong.
I hurried to the nurses’ station.
“Denise, I have a family emergency. I need to leave.”
My supervisor immediately stood.
“Go, Rachel. I’ll take care of your patients.”
I drove home with one thought repeating in my mind.
Please let my boys be alright.
But when I pulled into the driveway, I saw something I hadn’t expected.
Officer Benny was standing outside my house.
In his arms was my three-year-old son, Andrew, fast asleep.
His little red rain boots were on the wrong feet.
One hand still held a half-eaten cracker.
I rushed toward them.
“Officer! Where’s Logan?”
Benny looked at me seriously.
“Rachel, your older son did something extraordinary this morning.”
I stared at him.
“What do you mean?”
He shifted Andrew gently in his arms.
