Chapter 27
Josephine
Misty’s heels click obnoxiously as she dutifully marches the guys down the too-bright hallway to the next location, carrying on about—god, I don’t even know anymore.
It’s been a feat holding back the eye rolls today. At her comments, at the looks she keeps shooting my way, at her insistence that she accompany us to begin with.
As if we couldn’t possibly navigate a children’s hospital without her guidance.
On my right, Kendrick keeps brushing his hand against mine, catching my pinkie with his and giving me secret little smiles.
On my left, Decker is a stoic, emotionless wall. He’s sent a few wary glances my way, his gaze always filled with worry. I don’t know how many ways I have to say “I’m fine” before he’ll actually believe me, but here we are.
“Knock, knock!” Misty singsongs, pushing open a door marked Family Lounge.
Behind her, we file inside, smiles plastered on our faces as we prepare to greet the next round of patients.
We’ve done this twice already today. First in the burn unit, then on the oncology and hematology floor. Now we’re in a wing marked Palliative Care.
The expectations are simple: the boys greet the kids, take pictures, and sign all sorts of things. I have a dozen permanent markers stashed in my bag for this very reason. The visit was heavily promoted in advance, so siblings and other relatives of the patients have gathered to meet the guys, too.
The best part? Because they’re meeting with minors, the camera crew is nowhere to be found.
According to Decker, Misty tried to move this engagement once she was aware of the scheduling conflict. Both he and Kendrick refused, full stop.
As I follow the guys farther into the room, I take in the scene. It’s far less crowded here than what we’ve experienced so far.
In fact, there are just four kids in the room, along with a nurse who doesn’t look to be much older than us.
The nurse looks up and greets us with a smile. “Hey. You’re the football guys?”
“We are.” Decker’s jaw twitches as he fights back a smile. It’s not often people don’t recognize him. Or, in this case, seem completely unfazed by his presence. The flash of amusement in his eyes makes my heart lift. He’s enjoying the obscurity.
“Well, you can leave,” one girl declares from her seat at a craft table. “There aren’t any boys here.” She doesn’t even bother looking up from the fuse bead she’s placing on the template as she dismisses us.
“Pretty sure her name’s Emilia,” Kendrick says under his breath so only I can hear.
“Girls can like football, too.” I step out from behind the guys.
That garners a little interest. All the girls peek up at me.
Except the designated spokeswoman speaks up again before any of the other girls can get a word in. “They can. But we don’t. You can leave.”
“Well, okay then!” Misty clasps her hands and draws in a breath like she’s eager to agree.
Beside me, Decker holds up a hand. He shakes his head once, effectively silencing her. I have to hold back a laugh as the air deflates from her lungs. Resigned to her fate, she click-clacks to the corner of the room, pulls out her phone, and focuses on the screen.
So much for helping the guys relate to the public.
“I’ve got this,” I murmur, brushing past both boys. “So if you don’t like football,” I start, moving closer to the apparent leader of the group. “What do you like?”
I’m close enough now to make out the butterfly template the little girl is hyper-focused on. She’s working on an intricate, perfectly symmetrical pattern for the wings. I wouldn’t want to be bothered in the middle of that project, either.
She pauses and looks up at me like she’s noticing me for the first time. Our eyes lock, and the authoritative look she gives me makes me stand a little straighter. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so young yet so commanding.
She scans the room, looking at each of the other three girls in turn, having some sort of silent conversation. Finally, she speaks.
“We like crafts. But good crafts, like loom bracelets and fuse beads. Not baby crafts like coloring.”
Noted. No baby crafts.
She can’t be more than seven or eight, but I have to assume, given where they are and the reality of their lives, the last thing they want is to be babied.
“And we like games,” the smallest girl in the corner pipes up. She’s dressed in a hospital gown, but she’s got a bright pink boa draped over her shoulders and heart-shaped sunglasses perched on her head.
“Do you have any games here we could play?”
“Of course we do!” she cheers, hopping to her feet and ambling over to a big storage locker. She wraps her tiny, pale fingers around the silver handle and opens the door to reveal a cabinet practically overflowing with board games and puzzles.
Wow. It’s like being in the toy aisle of a big box store. They’ve got everything.
I scan the selection, racking my brain for memories of rules and objectives for the games I recognize.
My hunt doesn’t last long. As soon as I see the box, I know.
“Anyone who wants to play a game, come over here!” I announce.
The smallest girl is still by my side, and another rushes over. A third stands slowly, then, with the help of the nurse, wheels her IV stand and oxygen cart over to join us.
Their leader is the lone holdout.
“You can join in at any time if you change your mind,” I tell her. Shifting slightly, I survey Decker. As I expected, he hasn’t taken his eyes off me since we arrived.
I give him a small smile, then turn back to the girls surrounding me.
“Come closer,” I mock whisper. I eye the guys and cock a brow, making it clear they are not supposed to hear. Kendrick bites back a smirk. He has little sisters. He can probably guess how this is going to go.
“Make room.” At the command, the circle widens a bit, and the leader joins us.
Everyone loves a secret.
I smile at her so she understands that she’s welcome and wanted and that it’s okay to be standoffish or even skeptical. Those are facts of life I know all too well.
Crouching low, I take each of the girls in, then smile up at the nurse who’s also joined us.
“Here’s my idea.” I keep my voice low as I explain what we’re going to play and who is going to play with us.
“The boys won’t do that!” one of the little girls exclaims.
I can’t help but grin.
“Oh yes they will,” I singsong, turning to reach for the game box.
Princess Decker and Princess Kendrick are glaring at each other over the game board. Each man is locked in and determined to win. They’re seated on opposite sides of the craft table, their massive frames comical in the kid-size chairs.
“Come on, Crusade,” Ciara bemoans. “You have to get an earring.”
“I know, I know,” Decker mutters, glowering at the game board as he flicks the spinner.
Collectively, the girls hold their breath.
The air whooshes out audibly when the all-star quarterback comes up short.
“Yes!” Kendrick shouts, high-fiving Morgan and Sawyer with such enthusiasm the green clip-on earrings dangling from his ears sway.
The green team wins, and after another moment of celebration, I encourage the girls to get together and pose for a picture with their princess.
“Oh, good thinking!” Misty chirps, popping up from her perch in the corner.
I shoot her my surliest scowl I can muster. “These pictures aren’t for the public. They’re just for us.”
She scoffs, indignant, but I turn back to the team and ignore her.
Ciara—the leader of the bunch—is explaining to Decker what he should have done differently when he landed on Put One Back a few turns ago.
He harrumphs, his attention fixed on K as Ciara chirps in his ear. Kendrick doesn’t notice. He’s too busy teaching the girls the victory dance he typically reserves for the endzone. I fight back a grin as he eagerly poses with them, still fully decked out in his green costume jewelry.
“That was an unexpected turn of events,” the nurse comments, stepping up to adjust the settings of the one child’s IV drip.
I smile as my chest inflates with a sense of pride.
“Do people come in like this often?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Most of our visitors on this floor are the regular hospital volunteers. It’s rare to have anyone under fifty interested in volunteering, though. It’s a shame. All it takes is a background check and a commitment to a minimum of one shift a month.”
Her words tumble around in my mind as Kendrick comes to stand beside me.
“Yo, Cap. Your crown’s crooked,” he teases.
Decker brings a hand to his head, then rolls his eyes.
Kendrick snickers. “Oh, that’s right. You didn’t win a crown,” he chirps, twirling the piece of bejeweled plastic around his finger.
“Be nice,” I warn, though I can’t fight the smile splitting my face.
“You’re a genius, you know that?” he asks, wrapping his arms around me from behind and dropping his chin to my shoulder. “Look how happy they all are.”
They are happy. Every one of them is smiling and chattering. The scene makes my heart squeeze in my chest.
“You’re so good with them, Mama.” His praise is a whisper, the words meant only for me.
Beaming, I run my fingers over his hands and sink into his hold.
“I used to think I wanted to work with older populations, like I did with hospice,” I tell him. “But maybe I want to do something with kids.”
“You’d be great at that. You could go into social work. Or hospital administration?”
I nod, still spinning ideas around in my head.
With a featherlight kiss below my ear, Kendrick releases me. “You’ll figure it out, Jojo. And we’ll be here to support you every step of the way.”