“Did you even listen to the doctor? It will cost a hundred thousand dollars to fix her heart, and then the drugs, and the insurance pays ten thousand dollars of it? Where are you going to find the money, tell me that? The money we could’ve been saving if you hadn’t spent it on drinks for the boys, and the whores you screw around with, and—”

Bron’s head seemed to swell with anger. “I will find the money it takes to look after April! You cannot stand there telling me I don’t love my own daughter.”

The woman with the small child approached them timidly. “Can you be a little quieter, please? You’re making my baby cry, shouting like that.”

Sandra and Bron looked at her; the little girl on the IV was crying, silent hiccupping sobs that were more unnerving than a loud howl. Bron and Sandra looked away, which is how Bron caught sight of me.

“It’s goddamn Tori Warshawski. What the fuck were you doing, pushing my girl so hard she went and collapsed?” His voice rose to a roar that brought aides and parents scurrying to the hall.

“Hi, Bron, hi, Sandra, how’s she doing?” I asked.

Sandra turned away from me, but Bron erupted from the alcove, pushing me so hard he flung me against a wall. “You hurt my girl! I warned you, Warshawski, I warned you if you messed with April you’d answer to me!”

People watched in horror as I carefully righted myself. The pain coursing down my left arm brought tears to my eyes, but I blinked them back. I wasn’t going to get into a fight with him, not in a hospital, not with my left arm in a sling, and, anyway, not with a guy so worried and helpless that he had to pick a fight with anyone who looked at him crossways. But I wasn’t going to let him see me cry, either.

“Yes, I heard you. I can’t remember what you said you’d do if I saved her life.”

Bron pounded a fist against his palm. “If you saved her life. If you saved her life, you can kiss my ass.”

I turned to Sandra. “I heard you say it was her heart. What happened? I never saw her weak or short of breath at practice.”

“You’d say that, wouldn’t you?” Sandra said. “You’d say anything to protect your butt. She has something wrong with her heart, it’s something she was born with, but you ran her too hard, that’s why she collapsed.”

I felt cold with a fear that Bron hadn’t inspired in me: these words sounded like a prelude to a lawsuit. April’s treatment would cost more than a hundred thousand dollars; they needed money; they could sue me. My pockets weren’t deep, but they sure hung lower than the Czernins’.