“Baby? What are you doing here?"
“Surprise!” The word leaps from my lips, betraying the calm I practiced. “I thought the kids would love a special story time today—and who better to join me than their favorite doctor?”
The admiration that lights up Lincoln's features is enough to chase away any lingering doubt. He approaches, closing the distance between us as I offer up the stack of books like a treasure trove of adventures waiting to be unveiled.
“Wow, Heather,” he says, his gaze flitting between the titles. “This is incredible. How did you manage to pull all this together?”
“Let's just say I had some help from your admirers.”
“Admirers, huh?” He raises an eyebrow, that soothing chuckle of his filling the space between us. “I had no idea I had such a fan club.”
“Trust me, you're quite the celebrity around here.” I nudge him playfully, comforted by the ease of our banter. “Ready to make some magic happen?”
“Lead the way,” he gestures, his eyes glinting with gratitude and something else—something that whispers of shared moments yet to come.
“I spoke with the hospital and got the okay to warm up the room a bit for the kids. I hope you like it.”
“It's like walking through a rainbow.” His eyes absorbed the murals—galaxies of stars, forests brimming with wildlife, undersea worlds shimmering with imaginary creatures. It is a landscape of hope painted over the stark reality of sterile hospital life.
“Definitely makes the place less intimidating for the kids,” he remarks. His voice carries a tender note, one that resonated with the same warmth he always offered his patients.
“Exactly.” I nod. “A little color can do wonders.”
As we turn the corner, paper lanterns hung in clusters.
The reading nook is awash with sunlight streaming through large windows, illuminating the cozy space set up for today's event. Plush cushions scatter across the carpet inviting the children to sink into stories and dreams, far away from the reality of IV drips and medical charts.
“Wow, you really have thought of everything, haven't you?” Lincoln's voice is ripe with a playful tease, but beneath it, I sense the layers of respect and something akin to awe.
“Maybe,” I allow myself to say, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, a subconscious admission of pride. “But the real magic is going to come from the stories. From the characters that'll leap off the pages because of your voice bringing them to life.”
“Our voices.”
“Hey, look! They're here!” A chorus of young voices rose up as we stepped into the reading nook, their excitement palpable in the air.
“Are you going to read us a story?” asks a boy with a mop of curly hair, his eyes bright despite the pallor of illness. He clutches a teddy bear close, its fur worn from countless hugs.
“Absolutely, Jamie.” He responds.
“Can we start with The Pirate's Parrot?” pipes up a petite girl wearing a bandana adorned with skulls and crossbones. “I wanna hear about the treasure!”
“Treasure it is,” Lincoln chuckles, opening the book with a flourish that draws giggles from around the room. The children settle onto the cushions, their attention fixed on him.
“Once upon a time, in the deepest blue sea,” Lincoln begins, his voice dipping and soaring like the ocean waves in the story. I watch as the children leaned forward, hooked by the rhythm of his storytelling.
As we delve deeper into the tale, the children's hospital room transforms into a distant island filled with hidden riches and swashbuckling fun. Each child has become part of the crew, eager to discover where the map will lead next.
“X marks the spot!” they shout in unison, as the pirates uncover the buried chest brimming with gold and jewels.
“That was the best story ever!”
Lincoln and I exchange glances. There is something truly magical about sharing these moments, about witnessing the joy stories can bring to hearts that need it most.
The children get to pick a book to take back to their room and they take off in different directions in search for the perfect one.
I gather the scattered books, tucking them back into the basket that has become a treasure chest of tales. Lincoln is helping too, his hands gentle and sure as he sorts through the colorful spines.
“Look at them,” I whisper, nodding toward the children, some already dozing off, clutching their favorite book from our reading session. “We did that.”
