AS SOON AS they arrived on the sixth floor of Manhattan West the following week, it was like being in another world. Like being home, in a weird way. Children’s wards were one of the few places, beside the OR, where Thad felt entirely relaxed, entirely himself. Here the temperature was different, the mood was different. Even the lighting was different. Everything felt softer, warmer, kinder. Even if it was all just an illusion.
Several huge Christmas trees dotted the floor. One near the elevators at the entrance. Another at the end of the main corridor. And yet another still filled a corner of the kids’ playroom, its colorful decorations creating a rainbow effect. Beneath each tree awaited a bevy of wrapped gifts for their small patients, brought by family and friends and staff. Paintings made by the kids in the ward decorated the walls with Santa and reindeer and snowmen in all shapes and sizes. And even the kids in isolation because of infection risk had fiber-optic trees outside their windows in the hallway, the ever-changing lights reflecting joyfully back inside their rooms. The staff in the PICU bent over backward to make each child feel special at this time of year.
They always had.
Chest tight, Thad stepped up to the desk at the nurses’ station and cleared his throat. “I’m Dr. Markson and this is Nurse Emma Trudeau. We’re here to see Ricky Lynch.”
The middle-aged Latina woman behind the desk whose name tag read Perla smiled wide. “He’s been waiting for you two to arrive.” She looked from Thad to Emma. “You work down in the ER, right? I think you helped me a month or so ago when I had to bring my mom in.”
“I do.” Emma smiled back. “And I remember you now. How’s your mother doing?”
“Much better, thanks. We finally got her blood pressure regulated, which was a big deal. She’s also on a special diet and moving more, so she’s doing really good.” Perla finished typing something on her computer, then stood. “Right. Let’s go see Ricky. Follow me.”
The atmosphere here was the opposite to what Thad was used to in the high-pressure, competitive world of specialist surgery. Staff in the PICU never held any airs or graces. Never jockeyed for position or shouted orders at one another. In fact, at one time, Thad had considered going into pediatric surgery instead of his chosen field. But that was not good enough for his father, who had always insisted Thad be the best, do the best, have the best, or else he was worthless. Being back in such a gentle, soothing, supportive environment now felt like an opposite universe from what Thad had become familiar with growing up with his horrible father. Still, a part of him deep inside remembered this place, and a tiny sprout of warmth broke through the hardened soil of his soul. Perhaps his heart wasn’t completely dead after all.
Perla pointed toward the end of the main corridor. “Ricky’s in room three. His parents are working today but left word for you to go on in and speak with their son. Oh, and McCoy’s in there too.”
“McCoy?” Thad frowned.
“His emotional support dog,” Perla said, her expression a bit sad. “Helps him deal with things.”
“Right. Thank you.” Thad started down the hall. The floor had been updated since his last stay there as a child, but he still remembered the layout. Emma followed behind him, oddly quiet.
Thad slowly opened the door to the room in case Ricky had fallen asleep so as not to disturb him. Chemotherapy and radiation tended to zap all of a person’s energy. But when he peeked inside, the young boy was wide-awake, talking to the large Lab on his bed. The sprout of emotion in his heart grew larger, choking the air from his lungs. Baxter meant so much to Thad now, the unconditional love and support of an animal. Back when he’d been Ricky’s age and stuck in here, with no one to visit him except Everett, Thad would’ve given anything to have a friend like McCoy by his side.
Both Ricky and the dog looked over as Thad and Emma entered, the dog whimpering slightly because they were strangers. Ricky looked the same as he had in the photo from the project brief. Bald from the chemo, skin so pale it was almost translucent and blue. But a smile so wide and earnest it made Thad’s newly resuscitated heart ache.
“Hello, Ricky,” Thad said, his voice a tad gruffer than normal. “We’re here to talk about your wish.”
Ricky’s blue eyes sparkled with excitement. “Yay!”
“My name’s Dr. Markson, but you can call me Thad.” He stood beside him. “And this is Nurse Trudeau.”
“Emma,” she said. “May I pet your dog?”
“Sure, Emma,” Ricky said, grinning at the Lab. “McCoy loves attention.”
They both greeted the dog, then pulled up chairs to the boy’s bedside. “Now, about the carnival you wished for,” Thad started.
“I want cake,” Ricky said, tossing away the covers and throwing his legs over the side of his bed.
“Cake?” Thad frowned. “We didn’t bring any cake.”
“No, silly.” Ricky shook his head. “There’s cake in the TV room. Come on, McCoy.”
The dog jumped down, trailing along beside the boy, nudging Ricky’s hand with his wet nose to let him know he was there, much as Baxter did to Thad. The boy stopped at the door and gestured to them. “You want cake, too? I’m sure there’s enough.”
Emma shrugged, then glanced at Thad. “Cake sounds good to me.”
They went back down the corridor to a room with several round tables in it and a large flat-screen TV on the wall showing cartoons. On another table against the wall the staff had set out plates of cookies and bottles of drinks and a large sheet cake in the shape of a rocket. Emma got Ricky and McCoy settled, then joined Thad near the refreshments.
“Wow,” she said, scanning the assortment of stuff. “This is quite a spread. I wonder if it was someone’s birthday or something.”
“I doubt it.” Thad shrugged. “They usually keep some kind of food around at all times in this ward. Some of the kids can’t eat at usual mealtimes because of their treatments. Most of the time it’s healthy snacks like veggies or granola or fruit. But considering the state some of these children are in health-wise, they can be lenient, too, and give them sweets as well to keep them happy.” He picked up a plate and filled it with fresh veggies and hummus while Emma grabbed some cake for herself and Ricky. “If the patient is midway through chemo and can’t face regular food the staff will give them anything they want to get some calories in them. I remember when I was in here one time, a nurse made a mad dash at midnight just to find a kid the kind of candy bar he craved.”
The minute he said the words, Thad froze. He hadn’t meant to share so much with Emma. Gaze trained on his plate, he added a few whole-grain crackers to his assortment of healthy snacks, hoping perhaps she hadn’t heard him.
No such luck.
“Do you spend a lot of time up here now?” Emma asked, her intense gaze burning a hole through the side of his head. “Or was this when you were a child?”
Thad grabbed a bottled water. “It was a long time ago.”
Emma looked like she wanted to ask more, but Thad stopped her. “Please not now. We’re here for Ricky. He’s having a good day and I don’t want to spoil that by focusing on me and my past.”
Before she could respond, he rejoined the boy at the table. Emma followed and soon they were discussing everything about the carnival.
Ricky seemed very chatty, asking lots of questions while slipping McCoy bites of his vanilla cake with strawberry frosting. “What about pony rides?”
“No pony rides. Too many health concerns and regulations,” Thad said. He felt for the kid, but there were limits. “Not to mention the cleanup and waste—”
“We’re thinking games instead, Ricky,” Emma intervened, giving Thad a look. “All free with prizes, even if you didn’t win.”
“Oh, I love prizes!” Ricky clapped and wriggled in his seat a little. “What kind of prizes?”
While Emma and the boy discussed the toy options, Thad ate his veggies and marveled at how good she was with people. His mom had been great with people, too. But Thad had never learned that skill. First because of his isolated childhood after his mother’s death, and later because he valued his privacy far more than the risks of social interaction. Of course, he knew people complained about his bedside manner, but once his patients recovered from things others had said were impossible to cure, they forgot about his terseness soon enough. And yes, maybe he did feel lonely sometimes, even with Everett and Baxter there for company. Everyone got lonely. It was fine. All fine.
Normal part of life. Had nothing to do with the sudden appearance of Emma Trudeau in his life or the odd sparks of emotion bursting forth like fireworks inside him whenever she was around. It would pass. It always did.
After about an hour, Ricky yawned and sagged in his chair, pushing his empty plate away. “I think I need a nap now.”
They quickly cleaned up their table, then walked the boy back to his room, making sure he was warm and comfortable in his bed with the dog by his side before Thad and Emma made their way back out to the elevators in the lobby. But instead of leaving right away, she led him over to some chairs behind the large Christmas tree. Thad figured she wanted to go over what they’d learned from Ricky about the carnival, but instead she patted the seat beside her and looked up at him.
“Tell me about being in this place as a child.”
Thad frowned, his guard up. “Why? It has no bearing on what we’re doing here.”
“It could,” Emma argued. “You have personal insight into what these children go through in here. We could use that to make our carnival even more fun for them.”
“I don’t see how,” he groused, reluctantly sitting beside her. This. This was exactly why he didn’t talk to people, open up to them. Because they wanted more. Always more. Poking and prodding and making him feel raw and vulnerable and like he was right back in the dark corners he used to hide in as a child to avoid the wrath of his father and later the intrusiveness of the press and anger of the people his father had cheated. He’d repaid them all, every last cent, and still they continued to hound his foundation. No. Letting people in only meant they could hurt you. His father had taught him that lesson well.
But from the determined expression Emma wore, she wasn’t letting this go until he told her something. Thad sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Fine. What do you want to know exactly?”
“Were you here because of your diabetes?”
“Yes.” He hoped that one-word answer would suffice. It did not. She continued to stare at him until he continued. “Why are we doing this, Emma? I really don’t think it will help with the project at all and I’m not comfortable talking about myself.”
“Because of your family.”
“Because of a lot of things.”
They sat there in silence for a while, staring at the massive tree in front of them. Finally, Emma huffed out a breath. “I thought talking about ourselves might make working on the project go more smoothly, that’s all.” She shrugged. “How about we try a different topic. One not quite so personal? Tell me why you don’t like Christmas.”
Thad hid a wince, barely. In truth, that question was even more personal than the first one she’d asked. He tried to deflect instead. “I never said I don’t like Christmas.”
“Seriously?” she snorted, raising one brow. “You know they call you the Fifth Avenue Grinch, right?”
He gave her a side glance. “How childish.” How true.
Thad’s chest squeezed tight with old pain. As a skinny kid who’d had to check his blood sugar often, he’d been bullied a lot and had the inner scars to prove it. But considering what else he’d been called in his life, especially by his own father, Thad figured a Grinch wasn’t so bad.
She sighed and looked over at him again. “But it’s not true. You’re...”
“I’m what?” He gave her a deadpan stare.
“Complicated.”
He pressed his lips together to stifle a smile. Complicated. He could live with that.
They watched the tree some more, the lights twinkling and ornaments sparkling. It wasn’t often that Thad spent time doing nothing, but it was rather...nice. He was on call, but otherwise there wasn’t anything pressing he needed to get to, other than home.
“So,” Emma tried again. “What is it about the holidays that bothers you so much?”
“Besides the commercialism?” Thad took a deep breath. “Why do you care so much?”
“Because I—”
He shook his head. “Forget I asked.”
She was always so ready to talk, so ready to open herself to anyone who asked, that it made Thad frightened for her. Hadn’t anyone told her of the dangers of letting people in, letting them close? It brought out a strange protectiveness in him, wanting to keep her safe from anyone who’d harm her. Weird that. The only other people he felt that way toward were Everett and his dog Baxter. And his late mother. But she was looking at him again, watching him, and those darned fireworks were bursting in his stomach, urging him to tell her something, to make her happy, so he blurted out, “Something bad happened to me a long time ago around Christmas, so that’s why I hate the holiday.”
“Oh, Thad.” Emma reached over and took his hand, shocking the hell out of him. “I’m so sorry. Christmas can be rough for so many people. If there’s anything I can do—”
“Unless you can bring back my dead mother, there isn’t.” He tried to tug his hand free from her, embarrassed and raw from saying way more than he’d intended. He never talked about his mother’s death anymore. Thad had buried it so deep he rarely thought about it. He’d thought he’d put it all well and truly behind him, but apparently not. What was it about this woman that unearthed all these painful things inside him and brought them rushing to the surface? Emma didn’t say anything more, just sat there, holding Thad’s hand while he battled the roiling emotions inside him for control. Fierce grief, fresh as the day he’d lost his mother, clawed his throat, making it burn. He blinked at the tree, forcing the words out before they choked him. “I was ten when she died of cancer. It all happened so quick. Six months from diagnosis to death. There was no time to process, no time to prepare.”
There. He’d answered her question; now they could get up and get out of here.
Except his heart pounded against his rib cage like it wanted to escape. His temples throbbed and his gut knotted. Thad stared at the tree again as he returned to the awful day of her passing. Christmas. A time when the whole world rejoiced. But not the Markson residence. In his mind, Thad still heard the ringing phone, the sound of his father’s voice as they’d told him his wife was gone, the smell of coffee and raw anguish curdling the air. “She was only thirty-eight. Too young.”
“Oh, Thad.” Emma’s voice caught on a sob and she squeezed his hand, her skin warm against his chilled fingers. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize or I never would’ve asked.”
Without thinking, he found himself turning his hand over to entwine their fingers, the need to comfort her, too, suddenly overwhelming. “I associate the holiday with her death. All the decorations, all the people so happy, only reminds me of what I lost. My mother, the center of my universe.” His face twisted slightly. “My father went downhill after that, too.”
Part of him screamed for him to stop talking, stop spilling all his secrets to this woman he barely knew, but Thad couldn’t seem to stop himself. There was something about Emma that made him want to open up, want to be vulnerable. It both terrified and tempted him to do more, be more, with her.
Another small eternity of silent seconds passed before she scooted slightly in her seat to face him, reaching up slowly to smooth the hair at his temple. “Thank you for telling me that, Thad. I know it wasn’t easy for you and I appreciate your trust.”
Trust? Thad looked at her then, as if seeing her for the first time, this woman who’d crashed into his life out of nowhere and somehow, suddenly made it...better. For the first time it dawned on him, that yes, he did trust her. As much as he trusted anyone these days. But there was still so much about her that was a mystery. He’d been vulnerable, now it was her turn. “What about you?”
“What about me? I love Christmas. Obviously,” she smiled and sat back, her hand falling away from his face. Thad missed the touch immediately.
“No, I mean what was it like raising your younger sibling?” Now that Thad had started asking about her past, he couldn’t seem to stop. “Do you resent having to give up your dreams for her?”
“What? No. Of course I don’t resent Karley.” Emma frowned. “She’s my sister and I love her. We’re the only family each of us has left. We have to stick together. The accident that killed our parents wasn’t her fault. She was only seven at the time.”
He nodded. “Still, it must’ve been hard for you. Thinking about what might have been.”
She crossed her arms and scowled at the tree. “Not really. Honestly, I don’t think like that.”
“How can you not?”
“Because it’s a luxury we couldn’t afford. At eighteen, I had to step up to the plate and be the adult. I couldn’t sit around wallowing and feeling sorry for myself.” She shook her head. “Don’t get me wrong. I still grieved. Hell, sometimes I still cry for my parents because I miss them, especially this time of year. But I had to keep moving forward for Karley’s sake. To take care of her and to set a good example.”
“Eleven years is a big age gap between kids,” he said, doing the calculations in his head, way more interested in Emma’s life than he’d let himself be in another person’s in a long time. “Did your parents plan it that way?”
“Not really.” She smiled and glanced over at him. “They tried for a while to have another kid, but it just didn’t work out. Then, one day, when they’d stopped trying...there came Karley.”
“Huh.”
“Yeah. Funny how things work out sometimes, isn’t it?” she asked, smiling at him again.
That tug of connection Thad felt for her tugged tighter. “How do you do it?”
Emma gave him a puzzled look. “Do what?”
“How do you remain so positive when you’ve lost so much in your life?”
She took a moment, then shrugged. “I mean everyone loses something in life eventually, right? It’s how we choose how to deal with it that matters. I guess I choose to be happy.”
Thad couldn’t look away from her, his chest buzzing with warmth and compassion for this brave, beautiful woman who’d stepped in when no one else could. First for her sister, then with him. They were close now, so close her warmth breath fanned his face. He heard a catch when she inhaled and saw her pink lips part, and his long-dead heart jumped with excitement, swelling bigger in his constricted chest until he thought he might die from the sheer anticipation. He closed his eyes, whether to sear this memory into his brain or because it felt like too much, too soon, he wasn’t sure. Whispered her name like a prayer, “Emma.”
Then suddenly they kissed. He wasn’t sure who leaned into whom, but Thad couldn’t get enough. He cupped her cheeks, her skin silky and hot beneath his fingertips. Emma stilled at first, then clutched his shirt, right over his heart, in her fist, keeping him right where he was. Time slowed and the world narrowed to only them, only now, only this kiss.
Ding!
The elevator doors nearby whooshed open, reminding him of where they were, who they were. Thad pulled back, resting his forehead against Emma’s, their rapid breaths still mingling between parted lips.
What the hell am I doing?
Unfortunately, Thad had no answer to that question because he had no clue. Disoriented and unsettled, his skin felt too tight for his body. But he couldn’t let her go. Not yet.
Neither moved nor spoke for a long while, hidden behind the tree. Until, at last, Thad sat back, inhaling some much-needed oxygen. Words stuck in his throat, which was probably good because he feared anything he said right then would sound ridiculous. Kissing Emma made no sense. Neither did telling her about his past. But he didn’t regret it. Not yet anyway. He stared down at his hands in his lap and managed to croak out, “Thank you for setting this up today.”
“Of course,” she murmured, looking anywhere but at him, seemingly as flustered as him. “Ricky’s a great kid. I’m glad we can make his wish come true.”
You could make my wish come true.
And if that wasn’t a sign to get the hell out of there, Thad didn’t know what was.
He stood fast and raked a hand through his hair. “We should...uh...” Stop stammering, idiot! His father’s cold voice resonated through Thad’s head. “We should go.”
Emma nodded and stood, following him to the elevators. “Yeah. I guess we should.”
Thad spent the rest of the ride down to the first floor berating himself. All his good intentions, all the barriers he’d spent years building around his life, his heart. All thrown out the window over one kiss. Was it worth it? His newly awakened heart said yes. But his mind, ever wary, wasn’t so sure at all.
Restless after she left Manhattan West, Emma wasn’t ready to go home yet, even though she had the day off. She needed some time and some space to think about everything that had happened in the PICU, especially the kiss with Thad. It was warmer today and sunny, so she got on a train for Brooklyn and decided to stop by the cemetery to see her parents.
She got off at the Ninth Avenue station and stopped at a street vendor to buy two small pretty poinsettia wreaths, then headed across the street into Green-Wood. The place was peaceful, as always, a tiny oasis in the chaos that was Brooklyn. A layer of freshly fallen snow covered the ground and many of the historical markers there. Her parents had loved this place when Emma was little and had brought her there often for walks in the summer, pointing out graves from the Revolutionary War onward. Some were huge and ornate, others small and quiet. But all marked lives that had been important to someone. They had outdoor concerts here in the spring and summer, too, and there was even a public art exhibit here, where people could write their innermost secrets and put the note through a slot in the special headstone to help them release whatever was troubling them.
Emma followed the trails through the huge 478-acre park, passing the frozen pond and gorgeous sculptures, until she reached the little ridge where her parents rested side by side. She placed the wreaths on their headstone and cleared the snow from atop the granite marker, then took a seat on the little bench nearby. She’d come here at least once a month—sometimes with her sister, sometimes separately—since they’d died, just to talk to them and clear her head and heart. Today was no different.
Sounds of the winter birds and the distant clop of horses’ hooves from the carriages that ran through the cemetery lulled her into a more meditative state. She smiled softly at her parents’ graves and said quietly, “Hello. It’s me. Back again.”
Some people might think it was silly, talking to dead loved ones, but Emma found it comforting. Like they were still there, looking out for her even though she couldn’t see them.
“Things are going well,” she said, nudging the snow with the toe of her boot. “Karley’s applying for colleges. Fingers crossed she gets into Howard this fall.”
Hushed voices nearby had her glancing up to see a small group of people walking by on a tour. She waited until they’d passed, then turned to her parents again. “Work’s been busy,” she said. “I’m working on a special project. Granting a Christmas wish for a sick child.” She huffed out a laugh, the sound frosting on the air. “I have a partner. His name is Thad. He’s...different.” Emma thought about that for a second. “Surprising. Maybe that’s a better word.”
Yep. Thad had surprised her all right. And it wasn’t just the kiss earlier, either. Though that had been something. Sitting here, her lips still tingled. She raised a mittened hand to them, remembering the feel of his mouth on hers, the warmth of his nearness, the soft flick of his tongue against hers.
Heat prickled her cheeks despite the cold temperatures.
Other things about Thad surprised her, too. She’d always had this vision of how wealthy people lived, formed mainly through what she’d seen on TV and in social media. That they had entourages and people around to do their bidding. But Thad had money, lots of it if the town house was anything to go by, and yet he lived quietly and alone. Other than the dog and Everett.
But the most surprising thing about Thad was how vulnerable he was just below his tough surface. Not only because of his illness, but also all the things he’d been through. He kept most people at bay and the fact he’d let her in felt, well, special. It pulled at her heartstrings, which both terrified and thrilled her. For a woman who’d done it all on her own for so long, could she afford to let him in now?
“Do I want to?” she asked aloud.
She realized she did. She liked Thad Markson. He was bright and interesting and sometimes stubborn to a fault, but then wasn’t everyone. He could be an ass, but he could also be immensely kind and caring, too. He saved lives. He needed saving himself.
Emma. If she closed her eyes, she could still him whispering her name, so much hope and hesitation there. She felt the same emotions coursing through her, too, about him.
A gentle wind rustled through the bare tree branches above her, and one lonely leaf fell, bright red, into her lap, like a sign from above. She chuckled and picked it up, holding it out toward her parents’ headstone. “Is this supposed to be a sign?”
“Tweet, tweet,” a bright red cardinal chirped from atop a cross on the graves next door.
Red had been her mom’s favorite color, too.
And while Emma wasn’t a member of any particular religion she considered herself quite spiritual and took a hint when one was given. “Okay. Fine. I do like him. Probably more than I should. Not that I’ll go crazy over him because that’s not me. But I might give him a chance. See what happens.”
“Tweet, tweet!” the cardinal said before flying away, as if his mission was done here.
Emma smiled and snuggled down in her coat, standing to straighten the wreaths once more before stepping back. “Well, I should go. It’s cold out here and I need to get home to Karley. I’ll come back around the holidays. Love you both and miss you.”
She blew them kisses, then headed on toward the exit, underneath the massive Gothic archway, leaving the haven of Green-Wood and walking toward home. She didn’t have many more answers than when she’d started, but she felt more settled, as if she had guardian angels on her shoulders, watching out for her.
Thad was a puzzle, wrapped in an enigma. Each layer she peeled back revealed another. But the longer she spent with him, the more she wanted to know him. And if they kissed again? Well, she wasn’t the type to make out with virtual strangers, but there was something between them—warm and precious and unexpectedly real—and she wasn’t ready to close the door on that special gift just yet.