Sawyer had never seen Isabella in action before. Well, he’d seen her in action, all right, but not in this way, in the very act of being a princess.
“Any chance you can sneak me down that way, maybe make it look official since I’m in this wheeled contraption?”
The attendant looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to them. “I probably shouldn’t, but since no one told me I couldn’t do it, then why not?”
“Great,” Sawyer said. “If you could keep it discreet, so maybe the princess doesn’t actually see me, that would be even better.”
“I’ll do my best.”
He turned down the corridor and wheeled Sawyer into a large open foyer, painted in soothing pastel colors with cheerful images of animals and flowers and cartoon characters on the walls. One corner had a large screen with video game controls on a nearby table. Another spot had a table strewn with crayons and magic markers and drawings the kids must have made. A third area was filled with overstuffed pillows and chairs and rows of books.
And that’s where he saw Isabella sitting on a cushion with her legs tucked behind her, a girl of about eight snuggled up in her lap. She was reading a children’s book to her, with about twenty other children gathered around her, all enthralled and grasping onto her every word. Some were tethered to IV tubes, others had the telltale hairless scalps of one undergoing chemotherapy. Many of the children looked frail and tired. Sawyer couldn’t tell for what reason the girl in Isabella’s lap would be in the hospital—outwardly she appeared fine. She was beaming as Isabella read to her about a baby kitten with an affinity for cookies. The hospital staff and children’s family members surrounded them, shooting photos with their smartphones. For once, the camera flashes were not from any professional photographers. Sawyer was glad this wasn’t a big photo op for the palace but rather an intimate visit from someone who could help to cheer up these children and their families, even if only for a short while.
Sawyer relished hiding in the background, watching his princess being so kind and loving with the children; he could see what a wonderful mother she’d be with her own kids one day. And then, just as Isabella began to turn the page, the girl in her lap started to shake, her body losing control as her arms and legs thrashed about—she was having a seizure. Isabella didn’t flinch for a second or panic but instead held the girl as carefully as she could while protecting her from hitting the floor until a nearby nurse came to help out. Only then, did Sawyer see the child’s family members rush over to do what little they could: it was Louie Petard and a woman who appeared to be his wife, judging by the way they were holding each other and crying. Crying over their daughter, whose medical condition was clearly bad enough for her to be hospitalized for who knew how long.
Sawyer saw the upset in Louie’s eyes and felt awful for him. Sure, the guy set out to cause him financial harm, but who knew what drove someone to do bad things sometimes? As he stared at them, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do under the circumstances, he glanced at Isabella, only to see her staring at him. She cocked her head, looking at him with questioning eyes. The last thing he could deal with right now, hopped up on pain meds and feeling very conflicted about so many things, was Isabella.
He turned his head and motioned to the hospital aide. “I’m ready to get to my taxi now, thanks.”
And with that he was wheeled away, leaving the scene of confusion in his wake.
~*~
Isabella was mystified about what the hell Sawyer was doing sitting in a wheelchair watching everything unfold. And then to see that man from the birthday party, the baker who was somehow involved with the cake. It was all so very strange, and seriously, was this all coincidental? What was going on?
It really didn’t matter so much, because she was here to help out. As soon as some nurses took over with Ava, the little girl she’d been reading to, Isabella helped move the other children, ushering them to another corner of the playroom so the staff could assist the little girl.
When she stood up, she realized that her outfit was soiled from what had happened, but it didn’t matter to her. Someone handed her a blanket, which she placed over her lap, and two more children sat down to hear her stories. She stayed a while longer and did some crafts with the older children and coloring with the little ones. It made her so happy to see smiles on their faces; she knew these children had it rough, and if she could do anything to ease that burden, it was what she wanted to do.
As she was preparing to leave, Louie, the chef from the party, came up to her.
“Mademoiselle, I must thank you for your help with my daughter,” he said. He’d been crying, and his eyes were red and puffy.
Isabella waved her hands. “It’s not a problem at all,” she said. “I was happy I could help.”
“But under the circumstances, I would not have blamed you for doing nothing at all.”
Isabella cocked her head, squinting her eyes, unclear about what he meant.
“Circumstances?”
“With the cake,” he said, hanging his head. “I am afraid that was all my doing. It wasn’t intended to hurt you, however, I know that was collateral damage from my actions.”
“So you’re the one who switched the cakes?”
He nodded his head as his wife came over, apologizing profusely.
“He is an idiot,” she said, introducing herself as Marie-Claire with a thick French accent. “I could not believe he could be such a fool. He had a reliable job for all those years and then poof, like that, he throws it all away.”
“Ahhh,” Isabella said. “So you lost your job that night?”
“Monsieur Patterson was very angry with me.”
“And who could blame him, you fool.” His wife swatted at him with her hand. “He leaves us with all of these mouths to feed and no work to be had and now medical bills we cannot pay.”
Isabella looked at them both, trying to gauge their truthfulness. “But how will you pay for all of this?” She motioned to the hospital, the equipment, the staff.
He shrugged. “I do not know. I have very little in savings and it is depleting rapidly.”
Sophie interrupted Isabella. “I’m so sorry, Your Highness, but the car is waiting,” she said. “We need to get going immediately.”
Isabella nodded. “We’ll be in touch,” she said to the husband and wife, asking for their contact information. “I’d like to hear how your daughter is doing.”
As she left the building, she wondered if she needed to be that person to help the very man who shamed her so publicly, and if this would prove her mettle as a royal who truly wanted to help someone in need, circumstances be damned.