by Heather Gray
Silence filled the line.
“Zach?”
He sighed. “Tell me your idea.”
Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned his niece. The words had spilled out before she could stop them. “Do you remember Makayla?”
“Teenager, colorful wig.”
“Yeah, that’s her. That girl’s been in and out of the hospital several times. They’re battling her third recurrence with her cancer, and she’s undergoing an experimental treatment.” How much time should she spend softening what she was going to say next? She couldn’t see his face. Was this a bad day, or should she just say it? “She’s afraid this might be her last Christmas. She’ll be in the hospital, too, and won’t get to go to her school’s Christmas formal. This is the first year she’s old enough.”
Rylie blinked back the heartache. “I promised her a formal. Fancy dress, decorations, photographer, the whole shebang. She wants to dance with her dad and get her picture taken all dressed up so her parents will have something to… to remember… in case she doesn’t make it to another Christmas. I was going to create the dance in her room, but I got to thinking over the weekend. None of us is promised next week, let alone next Christmas, but these kids especially are in danger of not living long enough to enjoy it. How can I not give this gift to them? And their parents and families… Those photos matter so much after a child is gone. If it’s in my power to give them some good memories to cherish and some smiling pictures to remind them of those good memories, then I’ll do it.”
Silence rolled across the line.
A technician waved at Rylie to tell her they were ready to head down for the MRI.
She’d been hoping for too much, pushing too hard. “I should go. One of my kids needs me.”
“I’ll help.” The words were short, his voice gruff. “Let’s meet sometime this week and make a game plan.”
Rylie stepped toward Giselda. “Montecito’s?”
“Sure, but I’m trying the flan this time. I can do tomorrow night or the next. Text me the details.”
“Will do.”
He hung up before she could say goodbye, but it didn’t matter. He planned to help. Rylie’s middle hummed with the energy of a high voltage wire. She’d done the right thing. Zach needed this as much as Makayla did. Maybe even more.
Giving her full attention to the young girl in the wheelchair, Rylie put on her brightest smile. “Hey, Giselda. Did anybody tell you what to expect in the MRI?”
The little girl shook her head, eyes wide. Rylie took the girl’s hand in her own and gave it a squeeze. “The M stands for Magnetic. Because the machine uses magnets, there can’t be any metal in the room when it’s running. It’s super noisy, too, but that’s the worst part. Nobody’s going to poke you with a needle or try to draw blood or anything like that. You do have to lie as still as a statue, but…”
“Can you come in with me?” The girl’s voice was small.
Rylie gave a brief shake of the head. “I’m afraid not, but I’ll be in the next room, and I’ll have a microphone so I can speak to you the whole time.”
“Can you read me a story?”
“Absolutely. Which one?”
The girl nodded. “Princess Paige and the Band of Purple Pirates. It’s by my bed.”
Rylie jogged back into the girl’s room and grabbed the book before squeezing into the elevator next to the technician and nurse.
Zach arrived ahead of her. Rylie spotted his beat-up truck as she pulled into the packed parking lot. Montecito’s was doing healthy business for a Tuesday night. Unless he wore a neon sign, she would need a double dose of luck in order to find him.
In a customarily seat-yourself restaurant, a line of people waited for tables. Rylie turned her head from side to side looking for Zach, but it wasn’t until a whistle split the air and drew everyone’s eyes to the back corner that she spotted him.
Their waitress outpaced her by seconds, delivering their nachos. Her water-with-lemon sat on a paper coaster at the edge of her place mat. Rylie slid into the booth, her back to the restaurant, and nodded her thanks to Zach. “You remembered,” she said, indicating the glass.
“It’s not a complicated drink.”
She pulled the notebook from her purse and set it on the table.
“Do you mind if we pray first?” Zach’s voice rolled across the lacquered wood that separated them, catching her off guard.
“N-no, I don’t mind.”
He gave his customary shrug. “I was dealing with some stuff, and… Anyway, someone reminded me recently that I shouldn’t walk away from something I’ve been invested in for pretty much my whole life.”
Quick to bow her head, Rylie folded her hands and hoped her thoughts stayed hidden. Thank you God for keeping Your arms open to welcome him back.
Without fail, whenever she thought she’d realized what God was up to, He flipped everything upside down and sideways. And as was usually the case, the picture He created in the process was stunningly beautiful compared to the one she’d been working on in her own mind.
Zach’s voice drifted across the table, deep and solid. “Thank you, God, for bringing my attention to the needs of pediatric hospital patients. I’m sorry it came about this way, but I’m grateful for the opportunity to help. Thank you for all the work Rylie does for those kids to make their lives easier. Please bless this food to our bodies, and help us to plan a Christmas formal that will put the school’s to shame. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
She smiled. Zach sounded different. Lighter, maybe even happier, but definitely better. She liked it.
“So who should I thank for the reminder you received?”
He stared at her with eyes that reflected hope and helplessness in equal measure. Up to now, his norm had been to reveal as little as possible. Any change in that was an improvement.
Zach blinked, and all traces of the battle waging within vanished. “My niece. She gave me quite a lecture.”
“She must be something else. I get the feeling you don’t typically take advice from others.”
The hint of a smile touched his lips and transformed his face into a thing of rugged beauty. “Are you going to tell me the plan or leave me hanging?” He nodded toward her hand. She gripped her pen in the ready-to-write position. Her notebook was even opened to a page full of notes, but she couldn’t recall having turned the pages.
Rylie shook her head to clear it. Important work awaited them, and she couldn’t let herself get lost in the fog of uncertain emotion vying for her attention. “We need to find a place willing to rent tuxedos to our boys at no charge and someplace to get formal dresses for the girls. Decorations, too. What about a disco ball or one of those lights that turns everything into a rainbow? Even if I could afford one, there’s no room for a disc jockey, so we’ll have to figure something else out for music.”
The oncology unit was circular in shape with the nurse’s station in the middle. The outer ring of the circle held all the patient rooms, as well as the small kitchen, and the utility and supply closets. A small waiting room anchored one end of the circle, but other than that, the floorplan was open. The wide walkway between the nurse’s station and the rooms allowed for beds coming and going, as well as foot traffic. Kids walked laps, sometimes accompanied by IV poles. Or if they were younger, they might get pushed by an older sibling or parent in one of the unit’s race cars.
Even with the open and inviting space, fitting in sound equipment would be a stretch.
“Are you going to tell the kids ahead of time, or is it going to be a surprise?”
Rylie ran a pen down her notes to remind herself what she’d decided. “We’ll tell them in advance. Parents will want to plan to be at the hospital that night and maybe even dress up.”
Zach nodded. “Then get song requests from all the kids. Let each one pick a favorite song plus two others. Get me the list, and I’ll buy the music — every favorite plus as many of the others as I can. If I load the songs onto my MP3 player and
bring it and the docking station plus a few external speakers, it should be good enough. I can check with a party supply place about disco balls or other easy-to-install lighting features. Do you know anyone who rents tuxedoes?”
“No, but one of my kids from this last year has a mom who’s a wedding planner. She might be able to help me get that sorted out. I’ll call her tomorrow.”
“And the dresses? Can girls rent dresses? Tuxes, I understand, but I thought women — or anyone of the female persuasion — wanted to own what they wore.”
The man was too adorable for his own good.
“I’m hoping my wedding planner mom can hook me up. A friend of mine dated a soldier. When time came for the Army formal, she wasn’t sure yet if the relationship was going to work out, so she rented a dress instead of buying. If Erin, the wedding planner, can’t help, I can always ask my friend.”
Zach’s eyebrows shot up.
It had made sense at the time. Spend three hundred dollars on a dress to keep and wear again, or spend $100 to rent and get the dress, shoes, and matching jewelry. Now that she thought about it, though, the story did kind of make women sound mercenary. Not every woman determined her clothing budget based on how serious she thought her relationship was, but still…
“What are you going to do to thank the companies that help out? All Miguel wanted was for you to include a little sign at each food station saying which restaurant had donated the meal. The people you’ll be dealing with this time might want more.”
Good point. “Maybe I can print a program? Like an old-fashioned debut or something. Put the kids’ names, say ‘presented by’ and include their parents. Decorate it up fancy and add a page to list everyone who donated something… It could work.”
“But what if a new patient comes in that day?”
Rylie bit her lip for a second. “If I design it and type in everyone’s information ahead of time, I should be able to print and compile the programs the day of. That’ll allow me a chance to make last-minute changes if needed.”
“Sounds good. Are you planning to use the hallway as the dance floor?”
She nodded.
“You might want to check the building’s fire code.”
He was full of sunshiny news today, wasn’t he? Without the hallway for dancing, her plan was as solid as Swiss cheese.
Zach cut into her thoughts. “Talk to whoever you need to at the hospital, and if they tell you it’s going to be a problem, call the mayor.”
Rylie frowned at him. “What can he do?”
He countered her frown with a grin. “In case you didn’t hear him any of the dozen times it came up with the kids during the costume contest, the man used to be a firefighter. He’s the guy who would know which loopholes to jump through. Who knows? You might be required to have a fire marshal on hand, or additional security, or something. Or you’ll have to keep it to no more than twenty people on the dance floor at a time. Regardless, I’d say the mayor is the man to ask if you hit a road block with the hospital.”
Somewhere in the organized chaos of their planning, the nachos vanished, their orders were taken, and now their food made its arrival. Rylie’s fajitas filled the air with their scrumptious sizzle while Zach’s tacos de adobada took an understated approach and offered up a mouth-watering aroma without all the fanfare.
Her first fajita disappeared to the applause of her taste buds before Rylie spoke again. “You might be onto something with the whole mayor thing.”
Zach winked at her as he reached for the little bowl of salsa. “Gotta keep coming up with the good ideas so you’ll keep me around.”
The flutter in her belly was appreciation for the good food. It had to be. His wink couldn’t be that powerful… Could it?
December
Rylie’s phone buzzed to life in her pocket. Zach’s here.
Today was the day. Well, not the day, but one of the days.
Zach had connected with Petra Mayhew, a photographer he’d crossed paths with on a residential construction job the previous year. The homeowner had hired her to take before, during, and after shots with the hope of getting their place into some sort of homes-of-the-rich magazine. Petra was donating a day to them and was coming to the hospital to take photos of the kids in all their dance finery. She had already been booked elsewhere for the night of the party, but in the long run, this would work better. Doing the glamour shots ahead of time would mean there wouldn’t be a line of dressed-to-the-hilt children waiting to get pictures done while their friends from the unit danced and enjoyed themselves. The photographer was also willing to come back for a makeup session in case anybody wasn’t up to having their photo taken today.
With the help of nurses and technicians, the small oncology waiting room had been converted to a studio. If it weren’t for the cramped quarters and complete lack of any usable lighting, it would put the finest studio in Northern Virginia to shame. Thank goodness Petra had her own lighting equipment. At her suggestion, though, they’d cleared out the cluttered furniture and draped some neutral material along the back wall. A couple of stools remained nearby so Petra could create different poses as needed. In addition to taking the photos, she planned to provide each family with a digital copy of the three best shots and an eight-by-ten of her personal favorite.
The day flew by, and from formally elegant to slapstick silly, the children made it through their photo sessions. The parents would either be moderately pleased or absolutely thrilled with the results. The day could be marked down as a win.
Thanks to Erin, the wedding planner mom, clothes for the boys and girls were out on a three-day loan agreement so they could accommodate the schedule for photos and the dance.
All eight boys on the unit wore first-rate tuxedos. Erin had contacted a tuxedo shop to which she often referred her grooms. In return for all the past business she’d sent them — and with the hope of future business — they were happy to contribute. The manager of the store had even told Rylie they’d be able to accommodate any last-minute changes or additions that came up. Apparently a group of boys who didn’t care whether or not they matched each other was a dream job compared to some of the big weddings and overbearing mamas they often dealt with.
As for the girls — the entire unit had filled with squeals of delight when the dresses had arrived. The company providing them had left them with some extras, too, just in case any new girls were admitted to the unit.
Rylie took a moment to reflect as she checked yet one more item off her to-do list. Thank you, God. None of this would be possible without You. At every turn, You’ve put people into my path in order to make this event a success. Again, thank You.
If Suzie hadn’t invited the mayor to participate in the costume contest two months before, Rylie wouldn’t have been able to call on him and ask for an introduction to a few willing firefighters. As it turned out, their dance wasn’t breaking any official building code. The hospital legal team had been nonetheless reluctant to agree to it. A couple of firefighters volunteering their time to be on site during the festivities had turned out to be the perfect persuasion technique to convince the lawyers to sign off on the dance.
If Zach hadn’t sought help from Miguel for Thanksgiving dinner, she wouldn’t have known who to ask for donated beverages. Miguel even threw in the fancy fluted plastic drinking glasses she never could have afforded otherwise.
If she hadn’t known of a wedding planner mom, she would have been lost when it came to finding tuxedos and dresses for everyone.
If Abigail hadn’t mentioned her granddaughter Cassidy, Rylie wouldn’t have been aware of a hospital in Japan that housed a young patient Zach cared for so deeply. And she wouldn’t have been able to work out the surprise she had in store for him.
Oh, yes. There was no denying God’s hand had been in this from the beginning.
The big night, after much anticipation, arrived. The dance was scheduled to start soon.
Thank goodness for the short days of winter. They
couldn’t keep the kids up too late but wanted it to be dark enough for the disco lights to have an effect. A five o’clock sunset was exactly what the doctor ordered.
Lighting was set on low in each of the patient rooms. Small disco balls hung at intervals around the doughnut-shaped dance floor. Two firemen were stationed at the entrance to the unit. They would make sure the unit didn’t go over its capacity and would clear the area should an emergency — medical or otherwise — occur.
The oncologist-on-call arrived clad in a tuxedo. The nurses wore scrubs designed to look like tuxedoes because the evening gown scrubs had all been sold out. The nurses would break the ice and get the party started when it was time. What shy three year old in pig tails would say no to dancing with her favorite nurse, especially when that nurse wore funny tuxedo scrubs?
Parents and teens alike had their cell phones out and in camera mode. The teens had even picked a hashtag to use so Rylie could later track down their pictures on social media.
One of the hospital administrators had pushed for the event to be held in the cafeteria, but Rylie was glad she hadn’t been swayed. Nobody wanted to dance with the stale odor of broccoli and fried chicken hanging in the air. Besides, they wouldn’t have been allowed to decorate as much down there. It might be a larger space, but it wasn’t their space. Most of these kids handled their health with aplomb. For some of them, though, the diagnosis was still new and being away from the relative safety of their hospital room scared them and worried their parents.
She had made a good call by insisting the dance be held on-unit. The smiles on the faces of her kids were well worth the minor bureaucratic scuffle.
A hush fell over the crowd, and Rylie searched to find the cause.
Ah, that explained it.