“Quite simply what they were designed to do: help her get to sleep. Don’t misunderstand me, it’s still concerning—that a young girl should be so desperate she feels it’s okay to take her father’s medication without him knowing is very serious indeed. That’s a girl who needs some help. But there’s a difference between someone who is tired, grieving, and desperate for a break, and someone who genuinely wishes to cause themselves harm. Your daughter doesn’t pre­sent to me as that sort of person. Her memories of last night are very lucid. She remembers exactly how she was feeling before she took those pills, and she regrets it enormously.”

Kevin stood there quietly for a moment, processing it all. “What happens now?”

Dr. Kennedy pulled out a piece of paper from her pocket and handed it over. “These are the names of some colleagues of mine up in Portland. When you get home, pick one and set up an appointment for Amy. It’s important that you’re a part of this process going forward,” she added.

“Of course. I’d do anything for her.”

“Of that, I have no doubt. But during our talk this morning, I got the sense there’s a distance between the two of you. Amy explained to me that she has difficulty communicating with you. She says it’s been like that for some time, but that this lack of connection has been exacerbated since your wife passed. Those are my words, of course, not hers, but that’s how I interpreted the situation. Would you agree with that?”

“Yes,” Kevin said, dropping his head.

“You mustn’t blame yourself, Mr. Tucker. You’ve both been through an awful lot. You’re grieving, and you’ll be grieving for a while longer yet, but what’s important is that you two find a way to move forward together as a family. That’s what your daughter wants, and I can see that’s what you want too.”

“It is, very much.”

Kevin thanked the doctor for her help and returned to the room. He wheeled the tray away and sat on the bed beside Amy.

“Last night was the scariest moment of my life,” he said. “You’re all I’ve got left. I have no idea what I’d do if I lost you.”

Amy wriggled around and slid up next to him, her legs dangling off the edge of the bed. “I feel terrible. It was a stupid, stupid thing for me to do. I’m so sorry I put you through that.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. It’s me who should be apologizing to you. I’m your father. I should be doing a better job.”

“Please don’t blame yourself for this. It isn’t your fault. You’re doing the best you can. I know that. The last month has been hard enough as it is.”