by Heather Gray
“Hey. Everything okay?” Zach stood there, concern etched into the lines and curves of his face.
“Yeah.” She began unwinding her scarf.
He moved closer and held something out to her. Rylie forced herself to focus on the item in his hand.
A box of tissue.
“You’re crying.”
She reached up to feel her face, but rather than feel tears on her fingertips, she felt cold leather against her cheeks. Her gloves were still on. Shaking her head in denial, she pulled a tissue from the box and wiped off her cheeks. “Sorry. I’m not sure what came over me.”
“What’s wrong?” His voice whispered through the air.
The irony wasn’t lost on her. The man who couldn’t tell her a single thing about himself wanted her to bare her heart. Uh-uh. Not going to happen. She would take time to sort through her emotions and face each one later. For now, compartmentalization was the order of the day.
“Nothing I can’t handle. When do your volunteers arrive?”
His face tightened and his eyes narrowed as though he was digging in for an argument. He glanced over his shoulder, though, and Rylie realized they weren’t alone. The small foyer overflowed with people displaying happy holiday grins, and she wasn’t beyond exploiting their presence to save her from having to explain herself.
Rylie did what any reasonable adult would do. She walked past the man standing in the entry to her cubicle without acknowledging him and went to welcome his entourage.
He’d either decide she was angry… or blame PMS. The truth was, if she looked into his eyes one more time, she’d lose the small bit of her self-control that still remained. If that happened, there wouldn’t be any way to get the tears — or her emotions — back under control. She couldn’t even risk explaining.
I could use a break here, God. Don’t let me drive away someone who’s trying to help.
“Thank you all for coming. I’m Rylie Durham, and we’re going to have a fantastic day. If everything goes according to plan, you’ll be out of here in time to go home and enjoy your own Thanksgiving dinners.”
A man with a sturdy build, tanned skin, and a fair amount of salt and pepper in his brown hair held out his hand. “My name’s Peter York, and this is my wife Abigail.” He indicated the smiling woman at his side.
Wait a minute… “York?”
Abigail grinned. “Didn’t Zach tell you he was bringing the family? That boy of mine can be as stingy with his words as a miser with his money.”
“I’m standing right here, Mom.” Zach’s exasperation spoke to a long-running joke.
Peter circled toward an elderly couple to his left. “These are my parents, Tom and Bertha York.”
“It’s nice to meet you both. You must be very proud of Zach for working so hard to help the children in our hospital.” Rylie shook their hands but didn’t miss the look all six people exchanged. Without uttering a word, they’d communicated something about the mysterious philanthropist who had shown up in her office all those months ago. Too bad she didn’t speak their silent language.
She pivoted toward the last couple and waited to be introduced. Peter didn’t waste time. “Back here is my brother Sam and his wife Cleo. It’s short for Cleopatra, but she’s not quick to forgive anybody who calls her by her full name, so stick with Cleo.”
The woman in question swatted Peter on the arm before shaking Rylie’s hand.
“So this is a York family reunion then? If I’d realized, I’d have made a sign.”
Abigail smiled. “Not our whole family, but enough to make today a grand success.”
Zach had inherited his mother’s eyes. It wasn’t merely the deep chocolate color, either. Despite their smiles, the same sadness lurked in both.
Rylie clapped her hands and rubbed her palms together. She finally had access to answers about Zach. Of course, she had no intentions of prying. For the most part. It was like receiving a bowl of ice cream while being told she was lactose intolerant.
A light tap at the door drew her eyes. “Mom! You made good time.”
Jessica Durham stood in the doorway. Rylie knew what everybody else would see. Aside from a few lines and a smattering of grey here and there, she and her mom could pass for sisters. They had the same pale skin, green eyes, and straight black hair.
“This is Thanksgiving, dear.” The southern lilt to Jessica’s voice never lost its charm. “The only people on the road are the husbands who forgot to stop by the store and buy a turkey like their wives told them.”
After taking everyone on a quick tour of the different areas and explaining how their stations would be set up, Rylie assigned volunteers. Thankfully, Blossom and another chaplain stopped in to lend assistance, too. With the added influx of families from the NICU, those extra hands were more than welcome.
Zach’s aunt and uncle and grandparents were sent to the main floor. Blossom and the other Mr. and Mrs. York — Zach’s parents — handled the PICU and NICU crowds. Jessica and the other chaplain took the Intermediate Care Unit, which left Rylie and Zach in Oncology.
Hours later, Rylie was in the midst of dishing up what must have been her fiftieth piece of pumpkin pie to a waiting plate — a plate already filled twice before — when a hand on her shoulder drew her attention. Abigail stood at her side.
“Is the PICU finished? That was fast.” Rylie scooped whipped cream onto the pie as she examined the woman whose grey hair was freed from the obligatory net that still captured her own and scratched at her neck.
Abigail shrugged and resembled her son even more. “The diners in our area came and went pretty quickly. People collected their food then returned to their units. Nobody was inclined to stick around and socialize.”
Rylie was about to ask if the caterers had left yet, but Abigail’s soft voice stopped her.
“I want to thank you for all you’ve done to help Zach.”
What was she talking about? “It’s the other way around. He’s helped us.”
Abigail shook her head and cast a furtive glance over Rylie’s shoulder. “His baby sister moved overseas with her husband and daughter. Our son-in-law’s company transferred him to Japan for two years. As soon as they got settled, Cassidy got sick.”
“Your daughter?”
Abigail shook her head. “Granddaughter.”
Ah… That explained a lot. “Zach’s niece.”
The older woman nodded sagely. “Cancer.”
Rylie resisted the urge to ask how the girl was. For all she knew, this was their first Thanksgiving without Cassidy. The last thing she wanted to do was prod those still-raw emotions in such a public place.
“We’re all so far away, and there’s nothing we can do. Zach took it the hardest.” A heavy weight in her words, Abigail added, “He’s the most doting uncle you’ll ever meet, and he’s used to doing things. He prefers to fix problems rather than watch them. Not being able to do anything was crushing him.”
The movement surrounding them slowed. Sounds became muffled. Colors bled into each other until they blurred. Rylie blinked. She stared directly at Abigail, but all she saw was a memory of pain flashing in Zach’s eyes. Then suddenly, like an airplane taking off, everything sped up. Colors separated themselves out and sounds once again grew distinct, and in that moment, everything about him that hadn’t made sense became clear. It was as if someone had played with the sharpness setting on a computer monitor and brought it all into crisp focus.
“And that’s what brought him to us.” Rylie’s words came out in a whisper.
If a smile were capable of weeping, it would look like Abigail’s in that moment. “Cassidy’s a bright cookie. He asked her what he could do to help, and she suggested he find a local children’s hospital and do something for the kids there. So he did, and he’s brought her along for the journey. They talk every week. He lets her pick what to buy. She told him there weren’t enough stuffed animals at her hospital, so he bought you stuffed animals. Cassidy told him they needed more books
, and he shopped for books. Our poor girl was sad about missing Thanksgiving dinner because it’s Japan and her hospital won’t be serving turkey and stuffing, so her uncle went out of his way to pull this together for the kids here.”
Questions whirred in Rylie’s mind, but Zach was approaching them, suspicion on his face.
Abigail squeezed her hand. “Regardless of whether or not you knew you were helping him, I wanted to say thank you.”
The older woman turned to the next person in line. “Pumpkin or pecan? I think there might be apple, too.”
Laughter at the unit’s entrance drew Rylie’s eyes. Her mom stood with Blossom, Peter, and Zach’s grandparents. They must be done over in Intermediate Care, too.
All that remained were the main floor and Oncology, where things were steadily winding down.
Another glance revealed her mom heading in her direction, determination in her step. Oh dear. The last thing she wanted was an inquisition about the handsome philanthropist. She might have mentioned him a time or two. Or three.
Abigail abandoned the pie station and intercepted Rylie’s mom. Saved! Then reality set in. Her mom chatting with his mom? That couldn’t be good.
Zach cast a thin-lipped frown in the women’s direction.
Rylie needed to get them all out of there, and sooner would be better than later. “I’d say we’re about done here. What do you guys think?” Her question wasn’t directed at anyone in particular, but the two restaurant employees both nodded. They’d each mentioned having family plans for the afternoon.
She yanked her hair net off, freeing her dark tresses, and gave each of the caterers a smile. “Go ahead and start packing up. As long as they’re in disposable containers, I can take the leftovers to one of the nurse’s lounges. We’ll make sure nothing goes to waste.”
The two workers whose names she couldn’t remember wasted no time in moving the remaining food from the stainless steel buffet dishes to the aluminum take-home cartons. Within minutes they were wheeling their portable workstation out the door, and Rylie was left to take stock of her kids.
A few had skipped the meal because of nausea from their treatment. One patient — Makayla — had eaten against doctor’s advice. She’d paid the price with too much time heaving over the toilet in the small bathroom attached to her room.
Most everyone else was smiling. All in all, the day could be counted a success.
“You ready to go, hon?” Her mom stood still, eyebrow raised.
“I should check on the volunteers at the main unit. They’ll be finishing soon.”
“I went and peeked in on them.” Jessica Durham never ceased to amaze her. “The caterers are breaking everything down, and the others are visiting with the kids. They’ll be along shortly.”
Rylie glanced at the room to her left. She should leave, but…
“Go ahead. Look in on her. I’ll wait.”
It wasn’t as if she and her mom had any big Thanksgiving plans. With just the two of them, they’d never seen a need to roast a turkey or devil the eggs, but still, they always spent the day together. Usually with club sandwiches, homemade lemonade, and way too many cartons of ice cream, since they could never agree on a flavor. Christmas was much the same.
“I won’t be long.” Rylie hurried away before she second-guessed the wisdom of her choice. Emotions from the night before were unrelenting and still far too close to the surface. She swallowed them down, though, because one of her kids needed her.
“Hey Rylie.” Makayla’s tired voice greeted her as she stepped into the room.
“Hey yourself. I hear you overdid it today. Feeling okay?”
“Eh. Been better, but that’s how it goes. The drug schedule waits for no man, woman, or child.” Sweat beaded on the teen’s brow, giving her waxy skin an even greater sheen.
Makayla’s parents slipped out of the room, allowing them some privacy.
“So, what made you think today was a good day to go against doctor’s orders?”
The teen’s eyes darted to the large picture window framing the sky before returning to meet her gaze. “It’s dumb.”
“Try me.”
“What if this was my last Thanksgiving? I wanted to enjoy it.”
A fissure ripped through Rylie’s heart, but she couldn’t let that affect her words. “What if it is your last? What then?”
Makayla tugged at the sheet draped over her legs. “Then I’ll spend next Thanksgiving in heaven. I’ve got that Jesus stuff figured out.”
Rylie bit her bottom lip before speaking again. “Was it worth it?”
The teen shook her head. “No, because if I’m not here next year, my parents will be, and their memory of my last Thanksgiving will be of me puking my guts out. It was stupid. I don’t care anymore if I die. At least not for me. But Mom and Dad, they’re the ones who will have to live with it, you know? I should have thought about them today. Like I said, dumb.”
Rylie gave the teen’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “It wasn’t dumb, and neither are you. Not one bit. You’re allowed to think about yourself on occasion. Isn’t that supposed to be part of being a teenager?”
A sullen stare met her words.
“Come on. There must be something I can do to help. The holidays are in full swing. What can I do to make this year special for you and your folks?”
A dull spark began to glow in Makayla’s eyes. “Anything?”
“You name it.”
“I’m finally old enough to go to the winter formal at school, but I’ll be in the hospital. This course of treatment…” The teen shook her head. She’d been accepted into a drug trial, an intensive one. The side effects were severe enough that the doctor running the trial had insisted Makayla be hospitalized for the duration — six long months, an eternity to a teenager.
The teen’s gaze darted away before returning. “In case… You know, in case this is my last Christmas, I want it to be the best one ever. For my parents’ sake. I want them to have pictures of me all dressed up. Maybe even get to dance with my dad. That would make for an awesome Christmas. I’d be okay with it being my last one.”
Coming from any other kid, Rylie would assume that mentioning her parents was a ploy to gain sympathy. Cancer kids learned how to work the system, and who could blame them? Makayla, however, was too blunt. Rylie closed her eyes and battled against the torrent of emotion threatening to break free. Keeping a professional distance was always a struggle, but this young woman, the first patient she’d met upon starting her job with Child Life six years prior, had found her way into Rylie’s heart without even trying.
Once her emotions were under control — or she could at least fake it — Rylie nodded her head and opened her eyes. “I’ll find a way to make it happen.”
The toll that chemo and the day had taken on Makayla faded away as eyes previously lit with a small spark now glowed bright. Her smile spread wide, and she threw her arms around Rylie, squeezing her tight. “Thank you.”
Rylie hoped beyond hope that she wouldn’t let the teen down.
Black Friday was done and gone. Cyber Monday was upon them.
Rylie would spend her day running from room to room. To account for the reduced Thanksgiving staff, all nonessential tests and scans had been put off until the next week. The result? As usual, the Monday following Thanksgiving was a hospital madhouse.
Rylie hadn’t called Zach over the weekend. She’d wanted to, had thought of it at least a dozen times. Sunday’s sermon was a mystery to her. Rather than listening, she’d spent the time mulling over whether or not to reach out to the man she was trying not to think about.
He could have made the decision for her by emailing, but he didn’t. Her computer remained woefully silent all weekend long.
Did he know she knew?
His niece was the secret he’d been keeping. Rylie had seen too much in her job to take his silence on the subject personally. Everyone handled pain and grief differently. Some people talked. Some refused. Others didn�
�t even know how. And then there were those…
Rylie sighed.
When someone was inherently protective of those they loved, and something came into their world that they couldn’t defend against, their whole identity was brought into question. What happened when a protector was robbed of his or her ability to protect? Whether he realized it or not, Zach’s actions — and silence — were a subconscious response to his innate need to protect Cassidy. By not giving voice to the threat she faced, he was attempting to keep her safe from it.
It wouldn’t make sense to someone who hadn’t lived it, but Rylie had seen it before. She understood what he was doing, even if he didn’t.
Her mind wouldn’t stop circling the subject of Zach York.
She should let it go, let him go. He would reach out when he was ready.
Despite the bucket of cold water that common sense wanted to dump over her head, Rylie couldn’t help but feel things for him that didn’t make any sense at all, common or otherwise.
They’d shared conversations and emails, enough that she believed she knew who he was. He liked to tease. He cared deeply for others. He was generous and kind. And when something hurt him deeply, he withdrew, preferring silence on the subject.
Rylie wasn’t sure it was enough of a foundation to call what they shared a relationship. At the same time, to say it wasn’t a relationship felt like a lie.
Between a CT scan for Geoffrey, a newly admitted patient, and an MRI for Giselda, Rylie pulled out her phone. The time had come to stop contemplating and to take action.
“Long time no see. What’s up?” Zach’s voice came across the line, and Rylie was at a loss. A not-so-secret part of her had hoped for voicemail.
“Uh, hi.”
“Hi, yourself. Did you need something?”
She rolled her eyes at her own lack of grace. Good thing this conversation was taking place over the phone. “Listen, I have an idea for December, but it’s just for the Oncology unit. Your mom told me about your niece, and I’m not prying, but I need you to know that if this turns out to be too difficult, you can say no, and there won’t be any hard feelings.”