With Dr. Madsen at her side, Paige led the way to the burn unit hospital rooms the next day—a box of mini chocolate bars in hand. She always brought treats for the kids when she was visiting the ward. The smallest surprise brightened their day. Reaching the desk, she handed the box to the head nurse and said, “These are nut- and gluten-free. Can you hand them out to the kids?”
Clara smiled as she accepted them. “Sure…as long as I don’t eat them first.” She set them aside. “Who are we here to see?” she asked, checking her charts.
“Ashley Morrison. She’s scheduled to meet with Dr. Madsen.”
“I have the appointment right here.”
Paige looked around. “Are both parents with her?”
Clara nodded. “Yes. They came in together just a few moments ago. You can find them in meeting room 406.”
“Great, thank you. And if a…big Saint Bernard is looking for us, wearing a hockey jersey and ice skates…”
Clara laughed. “But only if he’s wearing a hockey jersey and skates…not expecting any others are you?” she teased.
“That’s the only one,” Paige said with a playful swipe at the head nurse. Clara had worked the desk for years, therefore she’d been there for all of Paige’s own surgeries—the good days and the tough ones. A lot of the nurses and doctors on staff in the burn unit were more like friends to her now.
“Meeting room 406 is away from the regular patient rooms,” Dr. Madsen said, leading the way. “That should help ease their anxiety a little.”
Paige nodded. But could anything ease her own anxiety? In three hours, she’d be getting ready for her own procedure. The day before, amid the fun and chaos of the tournament, she’d barely had time to stress over it. But that morning, she’d awoken in a panic, a sickly feeling in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with her required fasting. She felt that way before each surgery. The fear of going under general anesthesia never subsided. And apprehension over the results was hard to keep at bay.
Worrying didn’t make anything better.
She forced a breath, pushing her own concerns to the back of her mind. Right now, she needed to focus on Ashley and her parents. It was three minutes to twelve, but she didn’t see Bernie—or Owen—anywhere. He still had time, though. They would bring him in after they’d talked to the little girl and her parents.
Bernie won’t let you down, Owen had said. She wondered if he’d be there as well?
She hoped not. This situation was tense enough. Her day was stressful enough.
“You okay?” the doctor asked as they rounded the corner toward room 406.
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine…” Turning and seeing the Saint Bernard behind them, and no Owen in sight, she breathed a sigh of relief. “The symbol of hope is here.” She smiled as he reached them. “Hi, Bernie. Thank you so much again for everything yesterday and for being here today.”
Thumbs-up sign.
“This is Dr. Madsen.”
“Hi,” the doctor said, extending a hand.
An oversized paw reached out to shake it, and the doctor laughed. “So it’s Bernie, then, or should I call you something else?”
The mascot shook his head, pointing to the lettering on the back of his jersey.
“Bernie is the strong, silent type,” she told her doctor.
The strong, silent, sexy, mysterious type.
* * *
Standing outside the meeting room door, Owen’s heart ached as he listened to the doctor explain the skin grafting procedure to the little girl and her parents. While the parents had a lot of questions about the success rate, the recovery process, and the complications of opening new wounds at a donor site, the little girl was quiet. He heard tears. Lots of them.
Once the doctor answered all the questions and the room went silent, Paige spoke, and even from out in the hallway, he could feel the energy in the room shift as she told her own story.
“I’m not going to pretend this journey is easy. It can be a long and challenging process, but you are so brave to be starting this today.” She paused. “It took me a lot longer to get to your level of bravery.”
He leaned slightly around the corner and saw her remove her sweater. The long stretches of damaged skin he could see on her shoulder and back of her arm made his chest ache for her. He had scars, too, and he understood the impact they could have on a person. He credited his training in the Marines for the mental toughness he’d needed to get through the first few weeks after the explosion.
Paige was just as tough, and this little girl would be, too.
“My arms and neck have been through a few surgeries like the one doctor Madsen is suggesting. The difference is mine are split thickness grafts, only involving the top two layers of skin. Because you are still growing, we recommend the full thickness grafts. That way the new skin will grow with you and you won’t need future procedures,” she said.
They were thinking long term, not a quick fix. There really was no such thing.
“So, you’ve had these surgeries already, but you still have scars?” the little girl asked.
“Yes. But my burns were a little different than yours, and my skin is older. It doesn’t have the same capacity to rebuild cells the way yours does. And mine actually looks a lot better now.” She paused, and Owen leaned to look inside again.
She was holding several pictures. “Would you like to see before?”
Ashley nodded hesitantly, and Paige handed over the pictures. “Wow. These were the scars before? They look so much better. Not as scary and dark.”
“Exactly. They are just scars,” Paige said, and he saw her smile as she took the little girl’s hand.
“There really is an incredible difference,” he heard the mother say.
“Yes.”
“Is this as far as you plan to go?” the father asked. “Sorry, I hope that’s not too personal or inappropriate,” he added quickly.
Paige shook her head. “Not at all. I’m actually having a similar surgery later today. And I’m hoping to see even more positive results.”
She was having surgery that day? Owen’s stomach did an involuntary flip.
“Ashley, the main thing I want you to focus on is that things do get better. Where you are today, what you’re feeling, is not where you will always be. These feelings will change. You’re allowed to feel anger and sadness. You’re allowed to get upset and cry. But my hope is that you will also feel the love and support of your family, your friends, Dr. Madsen, and myself. And I hope that each day throughout this process, you can find a reason to smile.”
He swallowed a lump in his throat.
She was an incredibly inspiring woman. She was incredible. The day of her own surgery, she was here providing support and hope for this little girl. And he thought he couldn’t possibly be falling any harder.
“On that note,” she said, excitement creeping into her voice. “We have a surprise for you. A special visitor…Can we ask him to join us?”
Owen cleared his throat, grateful he wouldn’t need his voice. Ashley was depending on him.
“Okay…” Ashley sounded reluctant, but a second later, as he entered the room, her face lit up. Tears filled her eyes, but she also smiled.
Bernie was her reason to smile that day.
* * *
Her own fear and lack of confidence as she was wheeled into the operating room made Paige feel like a fraud. Another little girl had believed her and trusted her that day. Why couldn’t she believe that this procedure could help? She knew the stats on success rates better than almost anyone…maybe that was why.
Her heart rate eased and her mind had no other choice but to start to drift as the medication they’d put in her IV took hold. A familiar sensation—one she didn’t like—one she knew meant in a few seconds she’d be unable to control anything and her fate was in someone else’s hands.
The lights on the ceiling began to blur, and she couldn’t feel her arms or legs. Her eyes drifted closed and reopened slowly. An image of Bernie appeared somewhere in her relaxing subconscious, and she felt her lips curl into a smile.
* * *
Owen paced the hospital burn unit waiting room, cold coffee in an unsteady hand. Two hours since he knew Paige had been wheeled into surgery, and finally the television monitor on the wall, providing updates for family members, now indicated that she was in recovery.
He shouldn’t be there. It wasn’t like he could actually see her. He just hadn’t been able to leave after finding out she was scheduled for surgery that afternoon. He’d put his Bernie costume in the trunk of his car and sat in the waiting room, the same four-hour-old coffee in his hand…waiting.
But now he should go. She was in recovery. If something had gone wrong, they wouldn’t have moved her in there.
He glanced at the monitor. Room 312. Just down the hall. He could ask the nurse at the desk to let him in for just a second. Long enough to see her recovering peacefully. Long enough to see for himself that she was okay.
But the hospital rules were strict—family and close friends only. He was neither. Just some guy falling in love with her.
He tossed the coffee cup into the trash can and headed for the door.
“Owen?” a voice behind him said.
He turned to see Isabelle coming down the hall with an armful of candy bags. “Hi,” he said, shifting uncomfortably. Would Paige’s mother think he was a total creep for being there? He glanced at the candy. “Gummy bears?” He counted five bags.
She smiled. “She’ll never admit to it, but she’s a closet gummy bear eater. They’re her favorite. It’s the only thing she wants after surgery.” Her smile faded slightly, replaced by a look of concern as she glanced at the monitors.
“I guess you’ve been here before, huh?”
“A few times.” She studied him. “Have you been here the whole time?”
He nodded, running a hand through his hair.
“Did she tell you she had surgery today?”
He shook his head. “I kind of overheard her talking to that little girl, Ashley, this morning.”
Her eyes widened slightly, and he knew she knew. “Yep, I’m Bernie,” he said quietly.
Her mother smiled. “I knew it.”
“Really? How?”
“Bernie has a slight limp…same as yours.” She waved a hand. “It’s not that noticeable…I just see everything.” She gave him a pointed look.
“Well, I was just leaving. She’s in recovery now, so…”
“I’d ask you to stay. In fact I think seeing you would do my daughter a lot of good…but unfortunately, what I think is best for her and what she thinks is best for her are two very different things.”
“I understand. I just…couldn’t leave.” He waved goodbye. “See ya, Isabelle.”
“Hey…maybe she’d be okay with a visit from Bernie?”
His shoulders slumped as he shook his head. “Sorry, but it’s not Bernie I want her to need or want.” He gave another wave as he pushed through the door. “Take care of her for me.”