“No problem.” Holt took a step away. “I’ll wait over there.”
As he moved, I heard Luna’s voice from her bay—“Mr. Wheaton!”—her tone brightening in a way that defied how sick she was. Holt looked at me questioningly. I nodded, and he disappeared behind the curtain as the doctor led me over to the nurses’ station.
“I’ve arranged an appointment with the oncology team in Denver for December 30,” he said once we were seated. “I know that’s a week away, but they’re fitting us in as soon as they can. In the meantime, we’ll monitor Luna closely. I’ll send you home later with medication to manage her fever.”
The word “oncology” made my stomach clench. “I thought you said you wanted to rule out cancer?”
“Based on her symptoms and the preliminary results, it’s one possibility, but other conditions can present similarly. The specialists will conduct bone marrow tests and more comprehensive blood work.”
I gripped the arms of my chair. “And if it is…?”
Dr. Patel’s expression softened. “Pediatric acute lymphoblastic leukemia—or ALL—has one of the highest success rates among childhood cancers. Over ninety percent of children achieve remission with proper treatment.”
“As in chemotherapy? Radiation?” The words felt foreign on my tongue.
“Potentially, yes. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The first step is a definitive diagnosis.”
“When can I take her home?” I asked, struggling to process it all.
“We’ll keep her for a few more hours to make sure the fever stays down and to finish the IV antibiotics.”
I paused outside the curtain of Luna’s bay, struck by the scene inside. Holt sat in the chair by the bed, guitar balanced on his knee, playing a soft melody while Luna watched with wide, enchanted eyes.
“Then the unicorn said to the little girl, ‘If you can find the secret pond where the stars swim at night, I’ll show you how to hear the music of the forest,’” Holt was saying, weaving a story between gentle strums of his guitar.
“What happened next?” Luna asked, completely captivated.
“Well, the little girl searched high and low. She climbed mountains and crossed rivers. And when she was about to give up…”
“She found it!” Luna exclaimed.
Holt grinned. “How did you know?”
“Because she didn’t give up! That’s what Mommy always says. Don’t give up.”
Something in my chest cracked open at her words. I stepped into the bay, and Luna’s face lit up further.
“Mommy! Mr. Wheaton is telling me a story about a magic pond!”
I smiled, the gesture pulling at muscles tight from crying. “I heard. It sounds wonderful.”
Holt looked up at me, his eyes asking silent questions. I gave a small shake of my head, a promise to explain later.
“Can Mr. Wheaton finish the story before we go home?” Luna asked.
“Actually, sweetie, we need to stay a bit longer. The doctors want to make sure your fever stays down.”
“But I feel better now.” As if to prove her point, she sat up straighter, though the effort clearly cost her.
“I’m glad,” I said, sitting beside her and taking her hand. “But we still need to listen to the doctors.”
Holt stood. “I should let you rest.”
“No!” Luna protested, her fingers reaching for his sleeve. “Please stay. Please finish the story.”
He glanced at me, and I surprised myself by nodding. “Stay. Unless there’s somewhere else you need to be.”
The relief on Luna’s face was worth whatever complications I was inviting by allowing this beautiful, magnetic stranger deeper into our lives.
