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“I know how much this place means to you. And I know how much Dylan’s fall scared me, even if it wasn’t anything compared to what these kids face every day. I wanted to do something to make them happy.”
Time froze as people swirled around them. Dylan lunged out of the crowd and swung his arms around Ethan, whooping, then Liam joined them, and all three flopped to the floor beside Gen as the dog wagged her entire body, surrounded by her favorite boys.
“It looks like Gen will be busy for a while.” Scott quirked a half-smile at the four of them. “Take a walk with me?”
Abby slipped Gen’s leash out of her loose grip and handed it to Cara. She glanced again at the smile lighting Liam’s face, then turned to Scott and nodded. “I know a good place.”
The hospital had originally been built as a squat, rectangular building, red brick and white mortar, with a small parking lot tucked behind. Over the years, it had been renovated and added to, until only a few years before when it had undergone a major overhaul. Now, the original wing had grown several stories taller, redone in a modern tone with expansive panels of glass, while the two wings to the east and west kept the original brick tones.
The northern wing, now called the North Tower, vaulted overhead, the opus of the new facility. It soared several stories above its sister wings, while still maintaining an ethereal quality of grace and delicacy. It also housed some of the most advanced diagnostic and treatment facilities in the state.
Abby described the changes to Scott as they took the elevator to the ground floor, then wound their way to a set of glass doors with ATRIUM etched across them.
The gem of the new hospital was the enclosed central courtyard. Filled with gardens, a play structure, a few benches, a winding pathway, and a coffee stand, it opened to the sky but remained protected by the surrounding buildings. It provided a perfect place for children to play while a hospitalized relative slept, rehabilitation patients to relearn how to walk, and doctors and nurses to take a much-needed respite from the stresses of the day. A small fountain tucked away in a corner played its tinkling music and streamed into a small rivulet, which then flowed into a rock-lined pool to one side of the coffee stand. Large koi swam lazy circles and searched for treats and tidbits from the surface or flagged their fan-like fins in the current.
“You’ve been here a long time.”
Abby nodded. “I started as a volunteer when I was sixteen. I always wanted to work in healthcare, so when I needed hours for high school, it made sense. That was...” She paused, tipping her head to one side. “Wow, fifteen years ago. Almost half...”
She trailed off, swallowing hard. Half her life.
Half her life, so far.
But at just past thirty, she had more than half her life still to live.
Emptiness spooled out ahead of her.
Three years of barely surviving and she couldn’t imagine another thirty... forty... fifty.
Her breath stuttered, her inhale ragged, and she closed her eyes, but the vacant black behind her lids did little to reassure her. Popping them open again, she spun toward Scott, grasping for normalcy before her brain could spin and spiral.
Eight
SCOTT ABSOLUTELY KNEW you didn’t ask women their age. It wasn’t a mistake he’d ever made, fortunately, since his mother had taught him manners as a child, but with some quick math, he could make an educated guess.
A bit younger than him, but not as young as he’d initially assumed, given her air of delicate vulnerability.
When she abruptly spun toward him, eyes wide and breath catching, he struggled to read her reaction. She’d talked the whole way down here, but she’d yet to say anything about his visit, though her words to Jimmy, upstairs, seemed to imply she appreciated it.
“I don’t know what to say,” she gasped, the words tumbling over themselves as she raced to speak them. “It’s so much for you to have done this. The jerseys, the footballs...”
Scott shook his head. “It really wasn’t anything. We always keep boxes of stuff lying around, especially all the leftovers from last season, to give away like this. The team likes the publicity. I just made some calls.”
Abby snorted, the wildness slowly fading from her face. “I’m sure the hospital appreciates the publicity, too.”
Scott paused, weighed his words, then continued. “Dylan had his appointment with Dr. Hastings last week. I explained how I wanted to help, too. Like you do. You... inspire me.”
Abby’s eyes widened, then the corners of her lips fell, and her voice turned flat. “I’m no one’s inspiration, believe me.”
She turned away, but Scott caught her arm. “Hey, I mean it. What you do here? It matters to these kids. To their parents. It’s important work.” She didn’t move, but tension hummed through her frame, stiff and unyielding beneath his touch.
He waited. Most people appreciated a compliment, even if they wouldn’t accept it, demurring with false humility, or shrugging it off. Abby, though, didn’t do either. She seemed genuinely hurt by his words. His brows knitted as he studied her, trying to unravel her mysteries.
Her eyes shimmered as she answered him fiercely, “No, what matters is the doctors who heal them. The research they need to destroy the things that are killing them. What Gen and I do? It’s not enough. It will never be enough.” Her breath hitched, speeding up.
Abby’s words were layered with weight, with meaning Scott couldn’t grasp, and he negotiated his way through them, trying to find the missing piece. It eluded him, so instead he reached for her hand. “You may not be able to heal their bodies, but you heal something even more important: their souls.”
She wrenched away, pain pinching her features.