The nurse led me down a quiet corridor and stopped outside a room with a small window. Through the glass, I saw the driver sitting beside a hospital bed, holding the hand of a pale young woman. A tiny bundle lay in her other arm. “His daughter went into labor eight weeks early,” the nurse whispered. “She had complications, and she kept asking for her father. She would not let the doctors begin until he arrived.”

My throat tightened. “Is she going to be all right?” The nurse smiled through tears. “Because you got him here, she let us operate. Mother and baby are both stable. He promised her he would be there when she woke up, and he was.” She opened the door gently, and the man looked up. His eyes were red and wet. He stood slowly and said something I will never forget.