Page 97 of Nothing to Fear

“Third floor west, room three nineteen. Do you need me to—”

“No, I’ll find him. Thank you.”

All she needed was to be pointed in the right direction. The elevator took too long, so she vaulted up the stairs instead.

Third floor, left or right? Choosing right, it was disconcerting not to see anyone in the corridor.

Light signaled the space opening out to a nurses’ station. Two women sat there, not so pleased to see her, but she kept going and they didn’t stop her. Fourteen, fifteen, left, right, eighteen, she stopped.

The next door was slightly ajar. The susurration of voices, male, came from in there. The blinds were down on the nearest window. This was family.

Why hadn’t that occurred to her?

No one called her. This wasn’t her business. She sat in the middle seat in a row of chairs against the corridor wall. Intruding would be wrong, barging in on the private scene would be the epitome of insensitive. Someone would come out eventually and she’d offer support. Not condolences. No. Whatever happened, they couldn’t be saying goodbye. It didn’t bear thinking about.

The floor was quiet, the lights low. Maybe it was a floor reserved for VIPs. Further down the corridor, light glowed from some of the windows by doors. Were they private rooms? A door, a long window, was that a whole room? Quite big. Weren’t hospitals supposed to be bustling? Desperate for space?

The Breckenridges admitted donating to the hospitals in the city. And if the situation was serious enough, it might even make the news.

A couple came out of a different room and disappeared around the corner.

A half hour went by. Was she crazy to be sitting out there? The Breckenridges had been kind to her, supported her. Being on hand was the least she could do.

As she inhaled and her head turned, she saw it. Saw him. Entertaining himself, little Buoy spun into view in the crack of the door. She almost screamed with joy. The littlest one was okay, suiting himself, hopping, jumping, spinning. Joy filled her cheeks.

He stopped and froze, then tilted until his little eyes blinked to hers. She raised just her fingers from her knee in a semi-wave. Without a word, he flipped a one-eighty and re-appeared with a tiny superhero backpack.

The door didn’t move as he squeezed his little body through the gap.

“Hey, sweetie,” she whispered, suddenly aware of the echoing peace of the medical halls. “How are you doing?”

“Color with me.” He pulled a couple of books from his backpack and dragged out a bunch of bright markers. “Can we share the frogs? I saved it…”

Flipping through the pages, seeking the picture, he showed a flurry of others already completed.

“You’re an amazing artist,” she said, sinking down to sit on the floor by him.

He found the frogs page. There were two of them on adjoining lily pads.

“You do this one.” He handed her a blue pen and pointed at the closest frog. “I’ll do the big one.”

“Okay.”

Only a few seconds went by before a stern male voice intruded.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Wow, tall, severe, whichever Breckenridge this was, he didn’t kid around.

“Sav-nah is my friend.”

“Sav-nah?” he quizzed.

“Savanna!”

Alice’s exclamation brought her immediately to her feet. Thank goodness she was okay.

“Oh, Alice, I’m so sorry.”

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