“Oh, you’ll see me again,” I promise. And with that, I grab Logan’s hand and we head out into the sunlit morning.
A half hour later, Logan is jumping up and down in excitement as we pull into the parking lot of Six Flags Over Georgia, just west of Atlanta.
“I’ve always wanted to go here!” he says as he bounds out of the car. “How did you know?”
“Roller coasters and superhero rides? Hmm, how could I have ever predicted that a ten-year-old would like these things?”
“Eleven,” Logan corrects with a grin.
“Of course! I forgot that it’s your birthday.” I turn and dig around in the backseat for a moment until I find the cooler I filled up this morning. I pull two cupcakes from it, stick a candle in one and light it with my back still to Logan. When I turn back around, smiling, with a cupcake in each hand, his eyes light up. “Oh wait, I didn’t actually forget at all,” I say.
He laughs and reaches for his cupcake, but I pull back.
“Remember to make a wish,” I say sternly and finally hand it over.
He closes his eyes for a moment and then blows his candle out.
“What did you wish for?” I ask.
“I can’t tell you, or it won’t come true.”
We make it into the park just after it opens for the day, and we spend the next several hours racing from ride to ride, trying to pack in as much fun as we can before Logan gets overtired. We ride the Superman and Batman coasters first, followed by the Acrophobia free fall tower and the Sky Coaster, which is a skydiving-like experience that leaves Logan giggling but makes me want to throw up. We eat a late lunch at the food court, then we take a walk around the park before going on Batman once again and ending our day with the Great American Scream Machine, a classic wooden coaster.
As we walk back to my car, exhausted but happy, Logan slips an arm around my waist and leans into my shoulder. I put my arm around him as I’m hit with a wave of tenderness. “Did you have a good day, buddy?”
“The best, Jill,” he says. “Seriously. This is the best eleventh birthday in the history of mankind.”
“Good. You deserve it.”
By the time we get back to the hospital, with Logan carrying the three balloons Jamie gave him this morning as well as the Daffy Duck stuffed animal that he got at the park, I’m a little nervous about sneaking him back in. Surely one of the nurses on the floor noticed he was missing and raised the alarm. But oddly, there’s little movement on the floor, and as he makes his way back to his room, no one bats an eye.
“See, I’m invisible around here,” Logan says with a wan smile, apparently reading my mind as he climbs into bed.
“You’re not invisible to me.”
“But you’re different, Jill. You always have been.” He yawns and covers his mouth. “This was really the best day ever.”
I sit with him until he falls asleep, watching his chest rise and fall in easy rhythm. There’s a smile on his face, and without his wise-beyond-his-years words, he looks younger than ten. I don’t realize I’m crying until a teardrop lands on my shirt. “I love you, kiddo,” I murmur. “I wish we had more time.”
THE NEXT MORNING, I swing by the grocery store on the way to the hospital, and I’m waiting in the lobby, beneath the tree, when Jamie enters with his enormous cluster of balloons. I watch him fumble through the front doorway, shake his head at himself, and then begin heading toward the elevator. But when he sees me, he stops dead in his tracks, stares for a second, and begins laughing.
“I had no idea I’d be so on-trend today,” he says, gesturing to the cluster of fifteen helium balloons I’m holding.
“You are indeed on the cutting edge of style.” I grin at him.
“Dare I ask what your balloons are for?”
I stand up and extend my hand for an awkward shake, which involves the juggling of balloon strings on both our parts. “I’m Jill. I work on the oncology floor, and I heard a rumor that you were throwing a party for one of the kids on the cardiology floor today. I have a favor to ask.”
“I’m Jamie, and the rumors are true,” he says. “As for the favor, how can I refuse a pretty girl who looks like she’s about to float away?”
I feel heat rising to my cheeks. We’re already flirting comfortably, which both rattles and warms me. “I have a patient who’s turning twelve today. How would you feel about him joining your party?”
He looks at me for a moment, and I go on.
“Actually, he’s more than just a patient to me. He’s a foster kid whose parents are long gone, and let’s just say that I’ve come to love him like he’s my own. He doesn’t have many friends, and he’s never had a party with other kids. I don’t think he has much time left, so . . .”
“Of course he can join our party,” Jamie says, his eyes warm and his tone suddenly gentler. “But are you sure it’s okay from a germ perspective? I thought the kids with lowered immunity weren’t supposed to interact much.”
“I promise I have zero concern about that. When he wakes up in the morning, it will be like this whole thing never happened.”
Jamie gives me a strange look, but he nods. “Absolutely, then. The kids on my floor are really great, and if I explain that we have a guest from another floor joining us, they’ll be excited. What’s his name?”
“Logan.”
“Well, then, how about you and Logan come up in half an hour? That should give us time to get set up.”
I smile at him and point to the stack of cardboard boxes behind me. “I brought cupcakes, if that helps.”
Jamie raises his eyebrows. “You thought of everything. Well, what are we waiting for, then? Let’s get these party supplies upstairs.”
After I’ve ridden up with Jamie to the ninth floor and deposited my balloons and cupcakes there, I head down to the eighth and emerge directly into Sheila’s line of sight.
“Please tell me you got laid last night,” she says as I walk across the waiting room toward the nursing station.
I sigh. I’m not in the mood for this conversation right now. Besides, I’m on a mission to smuggle Logan out. “Sheila, can we not do this in front of guests?” I ask, nodding to the grandmother in the corner who is glaring at both of us.
“What?” Sheila asks without lowering her voice. “It’s a normal question. You’re a thirty-nine-year-old woman who’s never been married and who probably can’t even remember the last time she had a man in her bed. You getting a bit of action would be a service to society. The whole world would rejoice with you.”
“Or maybe me getting laid for the sake of getting laid would be the worst mistake I could make right now,” I say. I grab my iPad from the desk. “Maybe life is about being kind to the people we love and apologizing when we’ve made mistakes—not merely screwing each other’s brains out.”
She gapes at me, and I hear the grandmother in the corner stifle a laugh. I feel a bit bad—I know I’m hitting close to home for Sheila—but at the same time, I’m out of patience.
“I have that doctor’s appointment today, so I’m going to take the rest of the day off,” I tell her.
She looks confused. “Why didn’t you just call in, then?”
“I wanted to see Logan.”
“Girl, I have never seen a patient take to a nurse the way that kid has taken to you.”
I smile. “It’s mutual. Believe me.”
“Good luck with that doctor’s appointment!” she calls after me as I begin to walk away. “Everything’s going to be fine!”
“You know what?” I say to myself. “Maybe it is.”
“I HAVE A surprise for you,” I tell Logan as I round the corner into his room.
He sits up in bed and yawns. “I don’t think anything can top Six Flags.”
I shrug. “Maybe not. But let’s try. Oh, and happy twelfth birthday.”
&n
bsp; He laughs. “Twelfth?”
“You bet. How are you going to get to be a teenager if you don’t turn twelve?”
He sobers quickly. “Jill, I’m never going to be a teenager. You know that.”
“Listen, kiddo, you know better than anyone that age is just a number. Time doesn’t exist the same way for you and me that it does for other people. So if we decide you’re twelve, then you’re twelve, okay?”
He studies my face for a moment. “Yeah, okay. So what are we doing to celebrate?”
I offer my hand. “Let’s get you out of this boring hospital room, and I’ll show you.”
Logan laughs and heads into the bathroom to change into jeans, sneakers, and a T-shirt. We slip out of his room, sneak past the nursing station while Sheila’s back is to us, and head to the elevator, where I punch in floor nine.
“Uh, we’re celebrating on the cardiology floor?” Logan’s expression is dubious.
“No. We’re celebrating on the floor of birthday surprises.” The elevator dings and the doors slide open, revealing a waiting area filled with balloons. A banner overhead reads, Happy Birthday, Logan! Happy birthday, Alison! Logan’s jaw drops.
“Is that . . . for me?” he asks as we step off the elevator.
“Of course. It’s your twelfth birthday.”
Jamie walks into the waiting room then, and his eyes light up when he sees us. “You’re just in time! You must be the birthday boy!” He crosses the room and shakes Logan’s hand. “I’m Jamie, and wow, do you have a firm handshake for a twelve-year-old!”
Logan laughs. “I’m mature beyond my years.”
“I can see that. But I hope you still like cupcakes and balloons, because we sure have a lot of them, thanks to Jill here.” He holds my gaze for a beat then claps Logan on the back. “Now what do you say we go see the other kids? They’re excited to meet you.”
Logan grins and heads off down the hall in the direction Jamie is pointing.
“Thank you,” I whisper to Jamie, who smiles broadly.
“Are you kidding? Thank you! The kids are super excited about the cupcakes. I can’t believe I forgot to pick some up!”
We follow Logan down the hall, and Jamie catches up to him and opens the door to the nurse’s break room, which has been turned into a festive, streamer-covered party room. Music pumps from a pair of speakers in the corner, and a dozen kids ranging from about six to eighteen circulate with cups of fruit punch or water in their hands.
“Some of the kids are on more restrictive diets,” Jamie whispers in my ear, “but at least everyone here seems to be having a good time.” He claps his hands and whistles, and the kids turn to him. Someone turns the volume of the speakers down. “Hey, guys! I’d like to introduce our other birthday kid, Logan! Logan is twelve years old today!”
Logan beams as the kids all clap and wave hello to him.
“Logan, these are the kids I spend a ton of my time with. And it also happens to be Alison’s birthday. She’s turning eleven!” He gestures to a tiny girl with a dark pixie cut. She reminds me of a delicate fairy as she smiles, stands up, and goes to give Logan a hug. “What do you say we all sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to Logan and Alison?” Jamie asks.
Everyone cheers, and I join in as Jamie starts the happy birthday song. When we’re done, Logan is beaming from ear to ear. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so happy. He’s usually wearing the troubled expression of a world-weary adult who’s already seen too much. But for now, he just looks like a carefree kid, which tells me that this is the right thing. My instincts were spot-on; in all the time he spent with Katelyn, Frankie, and me, he never really had the chance to simply be a child. And it means just as much to him as I’d hoped it would.
“The kids who are stuck here long-term don’t get to meet many new people,” Jamie explains, handing me a cup of punch, as we lean against the wall and watch the kids joking around with each other. Logan is right in the thick of what appears to be a makeshift dance-off as someone turns the speakers back up again and a Taylor Swift song comes on. “So this is really special for them.”
“It’s special for Logan too. He spends a lot of his time alone.”
“You said he’s in foster care?”
“Sort of.” I explain that Logan’s parents were never really in the picture and that since his cancer diagnosis his foster family dropped him, leaving him a ward of the state. “He’s been in the hospital ever since, with a social worker responsible for signing off on his medical procedures.”
“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” Jamie says. “All kids should have a parent who loves them.”
I hesitate. “I kind of feel like maybe I’m that parent for Logan. Does that sound crazy, considering I’m just his nurse?”
“It doesn’t sound crazy at all. There’s so much more to parenthood than just biology or adoption paperwork.”
“You really think so?”
“I do.” He pauses. “You know, my daughter, Caroline, was a patient here several years ago. She died here.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He shakes his head. “Thank you. What I was going to say was that Caroline had a mother. My ex-wife, Jen. And from day one of Caroline’s diagnosis, it’s like the parent switch was just turned off. Jen wanted nothing to do with doctor’s appointments, hospitals, or dealing with the aftermath of treatments. When Caroline needed her most, Jen disappeared.”
I know bits and pieces about Jen already because of what Jamie has said to me on previous versions of today, but it doesn’t make it any easier to hear. “I’m so sorry,” I say. “I can’t imagine leaving a child like that.”
“Which is exactly why I suspect you’re more of a parent to Logan than Jen ever was to Caroline—even though Jen was Caroline’s biological mom. Families aren’t always put together in the way we expect. My advice? Let Logan know how much you love him, and how you’d do anything for him. He’ll remember that. I think—well, at least I hope—that Caroline knew that about me at the end. I think it brought her some comfort. I was always going to be on her side, no matter what.”
“That’s really good advice. And believe me when I say I’m one hundred percent sure that Caroline felt your love.”
Jamie blinks a few times, and I can tell that he’s trying not to cry. “I sometimes wonder about how life can be so unfair. How do kids like Logan and Caroline get dealt such a raw hand? Not only are their lives filled with doctors and hospitals, which has to be kind of scary, but they both had to deal with losing parents. It doesn’t feel fair.”
“Then again, maybe there’s more going on beneath the surface than you know,” I say carefully. “I don’t believe that life is that unfair either. Maybe some kids get to live fuller lives than we think.”
Jamie stares at me. “Caroline said almost those exact same words to me the day before she died. But what do you mean? I never understood what she was talking about.”
“Life works in mysterious ways,” I tell him. I don’t know what else to say; certainly he wouldn’t believe me about the tree.
We’re interrupted by Logan bounding over to show me an iPhone video game one of the other kids introduced him to, and when I’m done talking to him, I look up to find that Jamie has disappeared.
12
“THAT WAS THE most fun day ever,” Logan says a few hours later as I settle him into bed. “Even better than Six Flags.” We stayed on the cardiology floor until the patients there had to be moved back to their rooms, and then we helped Jamie clean up before heading back downstairs. I caught Jamie looking at me with a puzzled expression several times, but he didn’t ask me anything else, and I didn’t volunteer.
“How much do you think I can tell Jamie about the tree?” I ask Logan once he’s tucked in and occupied with surfing through the channels on his television.
“I don’t know. You know w
e’re not supposed to talk about it. But if Jamie is Caroline’s dad, maybe it’s okay if he knows after all. Maybe she’d want him to.”
“How much do you know about Caroline anyhow?” I ask. “Are you sure she’s the one speaking through the tree?”
“I think so. I mean, I’ve always assumed, anyways. Who else would it be? And even though the advice she gives is wise, it’s also easy to tell sometimes that she’s just a kid like us. I know she watches Jamie every time he waters the tree, and I’ve heard her crying before.”
“Crying?”
Logan nods. “When her dad leaves. I think she misses him.”
“Or maybe she’s upset that she can’t let him know she’s okay. Maybe she sees how much he worries about that.”
Logan shrugs. “Maybe. But I don’t think she can ever talk to him. I think she can only talk to people she’s helping, people who are dying. And it’s not like Jamie’s going to believe you if you tell him some crazy story about how the tree talks, and how it’s actually his daughter controlling it.”
I think about the expression on his face when I said that some kids get to live fuller lives than we think. “But maybe he would.”
“I really like him, you know,” Logan says after a moment. He yawns, and I can see his eyelids growing heavy. The party tired him out. “Jamie, I mean. Caroline was lucky to have him as a dad.”
“I think so too.”
After spending a bit more time with Logan, I avoid Sheila again and head down to the lobby, where I sit beside the tree. Logan and I made a pit stop on the way back from the party to ask the tree for one day more, so there’s no real reason to be here now except that I’m curious about Caroline’s connection to the tree—and the tree’s connection to Jamie.
I hesitate for a moment before reaching out to touch the warm bark. “Can you hear me?” I whisper after a moment. A passing couple gives me a strange look, but I ignore them. “I’m just wondering whether the voice I keep hearing is Caroline’s. Caroline, is that you? I’m friends with your dad, Jamie. Well, I sort of am.”
How to Save a Life Page 12