“Anyway, it was a very hard time for his family, but his doctors finally got the results they were after and released him. The day Ben went home, we threw him a little going-away party. Cake, balloons, took up a collection too for a tricycle. He loved the one in the playroom.”
Holly listened, seeing the scenes in her mind as Mrs. Graham described them. She felt very sorry already for the little boy she’d never met. “I guess his cancer didn’t stay away, did it?” she asked, knowing the answer already.
“He was checked in over the weekend. It seems he’s out of remission. And this time, his mother is in the middle of a difficult pregnancy and on bed rest. She can’t stay with Ben. I went to see him. He’s so sad. He just broke my heart. He remembered me, but two years have passed, and I have other duties.” Mrs. Graham’s eyes filled with tears, and so did Holly’s.
Mrs. Graham cleared her throat. “Anyway, I thought of you and I thought how nice it would be if you could take him to that ice cream social and stay with him. You know, make him feel special and maybe not so alone.”
“I’ll go meet him right away,” Holly said, jumping up.
Mrs. Graham grinned broadly. “I thought you’d agree. Introduce yourself to Sue at the desk through the double doors. Tell her who you are and she’ll take you to Ben’s room. And thank you, Holly.”
“I’m glad to do it. Really.” Holly’s heart swelled with pride. Mrs. Graham trusted her and considered her mature enough to take Ben under her wing—more mature than her own parents considered her.
From the moment Holly stepped onto the cancer floor, she knew she was in a different world. For although the walls were bright, and every door was painted in primary colors and patients’ artwork hung from the ceiling on fishing line, nothing could dispel the atmosphere of serious illness that hung in the air like an invisible mist. Holly walked straight to the desk and asked for Sue. A young woman said, “Peggy Graham told me you might come. Ben’s in room sixteen. Follow me.”
The room held two beds; one was empty. In the other, a small child lay curled in a ball, one arm strapped to a board so as not to dislodge his IV line and the other thrown around a large teddy bear dressed as a pirate. Sue said, “Ben, I want you to meet someone.”
The child didn’t stir, just looked straight ahead, his expression the saddest Holly had ever seen.
“I’m Holly.” Holly bent down so that her gaze could meet Ben’s.
His lower lip quivered, but he refused to acknowledge her.
“He’s been this way for two days,” Sue said. “Stay for a while. Maybe he’ll perk up.”
Alone with the little boy, Holly found a chair and dragged it to the side of the bed. “I like your bear. Does he have a name?”
Ben remained mute.
Seeing a label sewn into the bear’s fur, Holly leaned over and read: Adam’s Boo-Boo Bears, a nonprofit organization. “Do you like pirates?” she asked.
Again, nothing from the child.
This was going to be harder than she’d thought. “Can I sit here with you?” she asked. “I’m really supposed to be helping other kids do art projects, but when they told me you might like some company, I wanted to come and meet you.” No response. “Do you like to draw?” Nothing. She reached over and picked up a book from Ben’s bedside table. “This is a great book. My dad used to read it to me when I was small. You know, before I learned to read. Would you like me to read it to you?”
Ben kept silent, but she saw his eyelids flicker. Encouraged, she took it as a yes. She flipped open the book and began to read him The Cat in the Hat, by Dr. Seuss. She read with passion, with inflection, with all the dramatic excitement she could muster. Ben lay still, never once acknowledging that he was listening.
When she was finished with the story, she closed the book, asking, “Did you like the story?”
Nothing.
“You know, I have tons of books at home.” She was remembering the boxes of her picture books stashed away in the attic. “Why don’t I bring some in and read them to you tomorrow?”
Silence.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said, standing. She touched his hair lightly and left the room. In the hall, she drooped, amazed at how much energy she’d used trying to get through to him. She had no idea whether she’d succeeded; she only knew she had thirty-six hours to bring him out from behind his wall of isolation.
“Poor little guy,” Raina said after Holly told her friends about Ben during the ride home.
“He’s scared,” Kathleen said, matter-of-factly. Holly’s story had taken her instantly back to her own childhood, to the day when the phone had rung and her babysitter had answered, then begun to cry. Kathleen saw with startling clarity the hospital ICU where she’d been taken to peer through a window at her mother on a bed, wrapped in bandages. She had not been allowed to see her father ever again.
There had been a funeral with a casket that she was told held her father. For a long time, she believed that he would come home, that the big box and the funeral had been a mistake. Her daddy would have never gone off and left her and her mother forever. But as her mother slowly recovered in the hospital, as she held on to Kathleen and wept time and again, Kathleen came to understand that he would not be back.
“Earth to Kathleen.”
Raina’s voice snapped Kathleen into the present. “Sorry,” she said with a start.
“Where do you go when you check out that way?”
Kathleen shrugged. “Noplace. I was just thinking.”
“We were asking whether or not Carson was coming to the ice cream event to help out,” Raina said.
“He hasn’t said,” Kathleen answered. In truth, she hadn’t heard a word from him since their dinner date, which left her to wonder why he hadn’t called. What was so hard about picking up a phone and punching in a phone number?
By now, Raina’s car was in Kathleen’s driveway. Kathleen exited the car slowly, her emotions still stuck in a downward spiral of remorse and regret . Had she kissed her daddy goodbye that day? She couldn’t remember. Had she done something to turn Carson off? She didn’t know.
She leaned in through the car window and said to Holly, “I hope you get through to little Ben. If anyone can, you can.”
“Well, thanks,” Holly said, genuinely touched by Kathleen’s sincerity. Sometimes it was difficult to keep step with Kathleen. She was mercurial— up one minute, down the next. “Still waters run deep,” her mother used to say. With Kathleen McKensie, Holly thought that was certainly true. Kathleen was as deep as the ocean, especially when she sat very still and got that faraway look in her eyes.
Ben wasn’t responsive to Holly the next day either. She read three books and talked up a storm too. On the afternoon of the Fourth, an hour before the ice cream feast was to begin, she panicked and tried a new tack.
She breezed into his room and flopped into the chair dramatically. She furrowed her brow and looked directly into the little boy’s face. “Ben, I have a problem.”
He was sitting up, clutching his pirate bear, an untouched tray of food in front of him. He turned his head to look at Holly, which encouraged her.
“Did you know that there’s going to be a big party downstairs and outside on the hospital’s property today? They’re having hot dogs and ice cream. There’ll be some clowns and games too.”
Ben looked at her but said nothing.
“My problem is”—Holly paused and glanced around, as if sharing a secret that was for him only—“I don’t have a date.” She blew air through her lips. “And my dad’s sort of strict. You know, he’s always wanting me to obey his rules.” She added that part because she figured Ben would know about parental rules. “And one of his rules is that I can’t go to parties alone.”
Ben said nothing, but Holly could tell he was listening.
“So I was wondering if maybe we could go together. Just so my dad won’t be mad at me.” Nothing. “What do you think? You’d be doing me a huge favor. I really like ho
t dogs and ice cream. I’d hate to miss out. But if you really don’t want to go, we’ll stay here and I’ll read to you.”
Still, Ben simply stared at her. Her ploy was failing. “Okay, then,” she said, reaching for a book. “I’ll skip the party.”
“I’ll go.”
Ben’s voice was so small that Holly almost missed his answer. “You will? Oh, Ben, this just makes my day!” She rose. “Tell you what. Let me go find the duty nurse and we’ll get you a wheelchair and head down. We’re going to have lots of fun. Trust me.”
He nodded solemnly.
“I really appreciate this, Ben. I really do.” She ran from the room before he could change his mind.
eleven
“WOULD YOU LOOK at that! Those are five of the skinniest girls I’ve ever seen,” Raina said, adjusting the eyepiece on her binoculars. “I could just gag.”
“Will you stop, please? We’re going to get into so much trouble.” Kathleen kept glancing at the closed door of the doctors’ lounge on the seventh floor, positive that they’d be caught spying at any minute.
“Lighten up. It’s a holiday and no one’s coming up here today.” The suites of doctors’ offices were closed for the Fourth, but Raina had sneaked herself and Kathleen up to the lounge that looked down on the hospital’s lakeside area where the back-to-school photo shoot was taking place.
From this height, the people looked small and inconsequential, scurrying around the photographer’s lights and light-reflecting screens like busy ants. A group of teenage models draped themselves over props brought in for the shoot— blackboards, student desks, bikes and a motorcycle. The site under the great banyan tree was supposed to be an outdoor classroom, but Kathleen thought the sets looked dumb. “We should probably go downstairs and help at the social,” she said, glancing over her shoulder once more.
“Relax. We’ve got over an hour before the party starts.”
Kathleen kept fidgeting. Why had she let Raina talk her into coming up here in the first place? Because you wanted to see Stephanie without her seeing you. She answered her own question immediately. Raina’s mother had inadvertently alerted Raina as to Stephanie’s participation in the shoot when Vicki had shared a routine memo about it. No one was allowed on hospital grounds without a security pass, so the memo listed the names of all people who’d be issued such passes on July Fourth. Stephanie’s name leapt off the paper when Raina looked it over, and she’d grabbed Kathleen and dragged her and a pair of binoculars to the lounge for a look-see.
Raina pressed the binoculars to the window. “Yuck. If that’s what’s being worn in September, I’ll be sticking to my old wardrobe.”
Kathleen saw a trailer off to one side where the models disappeared from time to time to change outfits. “What’s happening now?”
“On the other hand,” Raina said, ignoring Kathleen’s question, “you’ll be right at home, girlfriend. Looks like denim is in, big-time.”
“Are you still ragging on me about my jeans collection?”
“Course not. But now you must have a jeans jacket trimmed in faux fur.”
“You’re kidding.” In Tampa, it was hot as blazes well into the fall.
“Whoa—look at the food on that table.” Raina poked Kathleen with her elbow without lowering the binoculars. “And one of the models is chowing down. She’ll probably be over in the bushes barfing in a few minutes, though.” Raina snorted.
“That’s a hateful thing to say.” Kathleen tapped her foot with growing impatience, and finally, unable to contain her curiosity any longer, she grabbed the binoculars out of Raina’s hands. “Give them to me.” She parked the lenses in front of her eyes and the people came into such close-up focus that she almost jumped backward.
“Hey, don’t break my nose,” Raina said while rubbing it.
Kathleen ignored her and swung the binoculars back and forth, settling first on the photographer, who seemed to be barking orders, then over to the models, who looked bored. Her palms grew sweaty as she swept across the models’ faces. The girls were all attractive. She focused on Stephanie. Her heart sank. While the other girls were attractive, Stephanie was beautiful. In full makeup, with her hair professionally styled for the shoot and the clothing fitting her body perfectly, she outdazzled the others like an exotic flower.
“What’s up?” Raina asked.
“Stephanie,” Kathleen said quietly. “How can I compete against someone who looks like her?”
Raina took Kathleen’s shoulder and turned her till they stood face to face. Kathleen lowered the binoculars as Raina said, “Now, listen up. I don’t know why you feel inferior to that girl. She’s vain, shallow and probably has gotten everything she wants just because she’s pretty.”
“So what’s your point?”
“Pretty doesn’t make for better. I’ve met her, and you’re head and shoulders above her in every way.”
“That’s nice of you to say, but we both know that pretty counts in life. Boys go after the pretty ones. I remember how they hit on you from sixth grade on. Until Hunter came along, that is,” Kathleen added hastily.
Raina’s expression went stony at the mention of the boyfriends who had preceded Hunter, and Kathleen regretted her words instantly. Still, it was the truth—boys had clustered around Raina like bees around a honeycomb. “Sorry. I only meant to say that boys like pretty girls and you’re pretty, and you always have been.”
“But it’s you that Carson is coming after.”
“Then why hasn’t he called me?”
“Who knows why guys do anything? Why don’t you call him?”
“I wouldn’t know what to say to him.”
“Wouldn’t you think of something to say if he called you?”
“I—I guess.”
“Then I rest my case. If he’s not here today helping at the ice cream party, call him.”
Kathleen said nothing but raised the binoculars and twirled the focus wheel toward the photo shoot. Without warning, Stephanie’s face came into full view, filling up the lenses and looking for all the world as if she were staring straight into Kathleen’s eyes. Kathleen gasped, jerked the binoculars away from her face, thrust them into Raina’s hands and fled the room.
A number of canvas canopies had been set up in the hospital’s garden area along the walkways on the south grounds. Under each stood tables for games and activities to amuse and entertain the pediatric patients. There were face painting, fortune-telling, magnetic fishing games, finger painting and plaster hand casting. One special canopy hung above picnic tables with brightly colored table cloths, a popcorn machine, a cotton candy machine, a slush maker and a large cooler holding tubs of ice cream.
“Some spread,” Kathleen said as she and Raina pushed two kids in wheelchairs along the path.
“Mom said some grateful father is paying the bill this year,” Raina told her. “She also told me that sometimes the Pink Angels have fundraisers for these parties. They have a big one at Christmas. Can you imagine being stuck in the hospital over the holidays?”
“I guess we’ll be helping at the Christmas party, then, won’t we? I mean, since we’re signing on for the extended program.”
“You too?” Raina asked, surprised. “I wasn’t sure you would. I mean, you really weren’t that crazy about the idea when we started.”
Kathleen shrugged. “I’ve changed my mind. The place grows on you and besides, it’s a credit.”
“Hey, wait up!” Holly called from behind them. Both girls turned to see her pushing a small boy in a wheelchair. “This is Ben,” she said with a beaming smile. “He’s my date this afternoon.”
Ben had large, luminous blue eyes and a head of curly blond hair. Kathleen waved, but Ben looked away shyly. She introduced her wheelchair patient, Darla, an eight-year-old girl with a compound ankle fracture set in a cast to her knee. Raina introduced Sally, a seven-year-old whose burned hands were wrapped in gauze.
“Your date, huh?” Raina said.
“It w
as the only way I could get him to come,” Holly whispered to her friends.
“How about some face painting?” Raina asked.
Raina’s and Kathleen’s charges agreed enthusiastically. Ben remained quiet.
They went over to the tables and after parking the chairs, each girl grabbed a brush and a tray of watercolors. “What would you like me to paint?” Raina asked Darla.
“How about you, Ben?” Holly asked. “Anything special?” His little shoulders rose in a shrug. “How about a bear?”
“You can draw a bear?” Raina looked skeptical.
Holly grinned. “Decals. For the artistically challenged.” She picked through an assortment on the table until she found a smiling bear cub.
But Darla wouldn’t hear of such a shortcut. She wanted Kathleen to hand-paint a flower on her face. And so did Sally. The girls set to work. Kathleen was leaning close, concentrating on painting the flower’s petals, when Darla said, “You sure have a lot of freckles.”
Kathleen sighed. “I know. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have so many.”
Darla kept staring. After a time she said, “I like them.”
“Really?”
“I like them too.” Carson’s voice so startled Kathleen, she almost dropped the brush. “Nice work,” he said.
“I—I didn’t know you were here.”
“I’m dishing ice cream.” He motioned toward the cooler. “I do it every year. It’s fun and the kids like it.”
She wouldn’t have expected it of him. He’d been invisible ever since their date and now suddenly, here he was, looking at her with his heart-stopping grin and sexy brown eyes. She would have liked to ignore him but couldn’t. “How nice of you,” she said coolly.
“I’m on a break right now. I saw you and figured I’d invite you over for an ice cream sundae. You are planning on eating ice cream, aren’t you?”
“It’s up to Darla.”
Darla glanced between them. “Do you like each other?”