We find the four of them all squeezed onto her bed with her in the middle of her brother and her father. “Hey there,” we say, and Janet looks up first, seeing us. She sits up on the bed.
“How you feeling, Evie?” I ask her, and she looks at me. She’s wearing her mint green pajamas that she loves with the matching head cap.
“Okay,” she says softly.
“Well,” I start, and now all eyes are on me. “We come with some good news.”
“Great news,” Steve says.
“We work very closely with the Max Horton Foundation,” I say, “and I called them yesterday to ask them if they could do anything for Evie.”
“Oh my god,” Janet says, putting her hand to her mouth.
“There is a new drug out, and we have one patient who will be starting it in two weeks,” I say, and then I look at Darryl, who is quietly sobbing. “We think Evie is a great candidate for this.”
“And?”
“The foundation is going to donate the money for her to get the treatment,” I blurt out not able to keep it inside, and when I do, Janet lets out a sob, her body shaking. I walk to her, grabbing her in my arms as I cry with her. “We are going to give her a fighting chance,” I whisper to her, and she holds me, and her tears soak through my jacket and my shirt.
“Did you hear that?” I look at Evie. “We are going to try to get you all better.”
She just nods her head. “I don’t think she gets how amazing this is,” her brother, Brock says to her. “Squirt, you’re going to be able to come home and play with your Barbies and annoy me and my friends.”
“Will I be able to go watch you play hockey?” She looks at him, and he just nods at her.
“I can’t wait to see you banging on that glass again, telling me to hustle,” Brock says, smiling at her
“So what happens now?” Darryl asks, and I look at them.
I tell them exactly what they are going to do when Janet looks at me. “Is that the same thing that Jack is doing?”
“What?” I ask her.
“Yesterday when they were here, Zack was telling me about the treatment that Jack is doing. When he asked us if we were doing it, I told him that we probably weren’t covered with our insurance.” It all makes sense; everything now clicks into place.
“We can’t discuss the treatment of another patient,” Steve says, and I look at her as she looks down and then grabs my hand, squeezing it.
We finish talking and walk out of the room. “Do you think?” Steve asks.
“I have no idea,” I say, and I take out my phone sending him a text.
You have some explaining to do!
He doesn’t answer me till two hours later when I’m sitting down finishing the charts. The blood drawn from Evie is being prepared to be sent out.
I’ll explain anything you want. What time are you done?
I answer him right away.
I’m done whenever.
Pick you up in thirty.
Okay. Text me when you get here.
Will do.
After I finish my charts, I look down and see he sent me a text twenty minutes later that he was downstairs. I get up, grab my coat and bag, and say bye to everyone, then walk downstairs. He stands leaning against his new truck when I walk out. His feet crossed at the ankle as I take him in. He is dressed exactly like he was this morning. His smile goes from small to big as I walk closer to him.
“Hey, you,” he says. Pushing off the truck and coming to me, he leans down to kiss my cheek.
“Hey, yourself,” I say, and we turn and walk to his truck. He opens the door for me, and I smile when I get in, watching him walk in front of the truck around to the driver’s side. I buckle my seat belt the same time he does, and he pulls away from the hospital.
“So what did you do today?” I ask him, turning to watch him.
“We had training all day. We have a home game tomorrow; are you coming?” he says, watching the road.
“Probably, I have to check,” I answer him. “So is that all you did?”
“Pretty much,” he answers.
“Did you perhaps write a check today?” I ask him, and he turns and looks at me.
“No, not me,” he says.
“You didn’t donate anything today?” I cross my arms over my chest.
“I don’t take care of that. My father does,” he answers with a smirk he tries to hide.
“You donated half a million dollars for Evie, didn’t you?” I ask him, and he turns and looks at me.
“I donated money to a charity,” he starts. “I don’t know what they do with the money I donate.”