Preston’s arm was rock-hard beneath my touch—every muscle tensed—but he managed to keep up appearances, responding curtly, “Thrilled.”
Ignorant of Preston’s thinly veiled irritation, Ms. Dixon smiled politely. “Let’s not waste any more time down here. They’re beyond excited about your visit upstairs.”
“The feeling is mutual. Please, lead the way,” I encouraged, falling in step behind her as she navigated the maze of hallways.
Releasing Preston’s arm, anger radiated off him in waves as we walked side by side, stopping only to travel by elevator to the fourth floor. The sliding doors opened, revealing our destinationwritten out in baby-block letters above a window extending the length of the entire wall before us: Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.
“Here we are!” Ms. Dixon announced with pride. Preston stood silently beside me as we walked up to the giant window, peering inside at the babies, most residing within clear incubators. “As you can see,” she explained, “with the funds generously raised by your family, we have been able to extend the size of our unit, with the capacity to care for up to thirty babies at any given time. Beyond that, we have been able to invest in additional training and equipment for our staff, becoming not only the premiere NICU in Belleston but one of the best in all of Central Europe.”
Jameson’s stint in this very NICU had shone a spotlight on how lucky we were, and my family poured their resources into raising awareness and funds to support advancement in care for the tiniest residents of our great country. Since our involvement, the mortality rate of the unit had sharply declined, and more Bellestonian families were able to leave this hospital whole.
Swiping her security badge on the door to the unit, Ms. Dixon invited us inside. Roughly half the incubators were occupied, with a few open-air infant hospital cribs containing babies as well. Nurses in soothing pink scrubs flitted from patient to patient, checking vitals such as heart rate, blood pressure, and oxygen saturation, to name a few. Decorations had changed since the expansion, and I smiled, noting the cartoon jungle animals hand-painted on the walls. Several upholstered glider rocking chairs were scattered around the room, some containing parents as they kept a watchful eye over the other half of their hearts behind glass.
I was still noting the changes since my last visit when I heard a familiar voice call out in hushed tones, “Well, look who the cat dragged in. If it isn’t Lucky Lucy!”
My eyes landed on the portly woman with her gray hair pulled back into a tight bun. She’d aged in the past ten years, but the kindness in her brown eyes remained the same. Rushing forward, I threw my arms around the older woman who had been our lifeline during Jameson’s time here.
Pulling back, a smile stretched my face. “Nurse Cindy, it’s so good to see you!”
Squeezing my hands tightly in hers, she asked, “How’s our boy?”
“Growing like a weed!” Pulling my phone from my clutch, I brought up a picture taken during Thanksgiving, showing it to Nurse Cindy.
She threw a hand to her chest. “My, hehasgrown! I can remember when he was barely bigger than my hand. How old is he now?”
“He’ll be eleven before spring.” I beamed.
“Will miracles never cease?”
“Natalie sends her best. She will never forget all you did for her.”
Waving me off, she couldn’t help but smile. “Just doing my job.” Looking over my head, she noticed Preston, asking, “And who is the gentleman you’ve brought with you today.”
I was so caught up in the nostalgia that I’d almost forgotten I wasn’t visiting alone. Stepping back so that I was again by his side, I introduced him. “This is Preston Scott.”
Nurse Cindy looked between the two of us. She’d been around long enough to put two and two together so didn’t press for more of an explanation. Addressing Preston, she asked, “Do you know why we call her Lucky Lucy?”
Oh, boy. I could feel the heat creeping onto my cheeks, but Preston simply replied, “No, ma’am. I don’t.”
Nearly bursting with pride, she began to tell the story. “Well, this one here would come to visit her nephew every day afterschool while he was in our care. No matter what kind of day he was having, when Lucy held him in her arms, it calmed him. She had a way of soothing him like no one else. We thought it was a lucky coincidence the first time, but by the time we realized it wasn’t, the nickname had already stuck. So now, she is forever Lucky Lucy.”
Almost embarrassed, I glanced at Preston, who was watching me intently. Under my breath, I uttered, “It really wasn’t a big deal.”
“Shall we test to see if you’re still lucky, then?” Nurse Cindy offered.
“If that means I get to hold one of these precious babies, count me in.”
“Right this way.” She led me to an open glider, encouraging me to sit. I knew the drill by heart and watched as she opened the side of a nearby incubator, pulling out a baby that wasn’t the tiniest I’d seen within the unit but was still smaller than a full-term baby. Carefully managing the cords attached to his monitors, she placed the featherlight infant in my arms before grabbing a blanket to keep him warm.
“This is Silas,” Nurse Cindy introduced the tiny little boy.
“Hello, sweet Silas,” I cooed, rocking the glider, enjoying his slight weight tucked safely against my chest.
“Looks like she’s still got it,” Nurse Cindy announced to those gathered.
I blinked, realizing a crowd had gathered to watch my interaction. I’d almost forgotten the public relations teams present—not only for the hospital but our in-house royal team. As much as I wanted this visit to be more personal and low-key, that wasn’t how the world worked when you were a member of the royal family. Maybe someday, if I could figure out the current mess of my life, but not today.
The photographers were smart enough not to use flashes near such a tiny baby, but that didn’t stop their cameras from clicking away. Then came the questions . . .
