Chapter 7 - The Meeting of Two Worlds
At six o'clock that evening, the pediatric recovery wing on the sixth floor of Boston Memorial Hospital was quiet, illuminated by warm hallway lamps and the quiet rustle of evening nursing shifts.
Room 412 was no longer a room of impending death.
The heavy blue ventilators and invasive monitoring lines had been removed. Grace sat propped up against three plush white pillows, wearing a pair of light pink cotton pajamas decorated with small silver stars.
Her blonde hair had been brushed neatly into a ponytail by a pediatric nurse, and though her cheeks were still pale and her body frail from ninety days of immobility, her eyes were bright, clear, and brimming with life.
Dr. Harrison stood near the foot of the bed, reviewing a new set of brain scans with a look of pure, unadulterated professional astonishment.
The door opened softly.
William walked into the room, holding Toby by the hand.
Toby had been transformed. On the way to the hospital, William’s driver had stopped at a high-end children's boutique in Back Bay. Toby was now wearing a thick navy cashmere sweater, dark blue jeans, and brand-new leather winter boots that actually fitted his feet. His dark hair had been neatly combed, his face washed clean.
Yet he still held his small blue canvas backpack tightly in his left hand.
"Gracie," William said softly, stepping into the room.
Grace turned her head toward the door. A radiant, beautiful smile spread across her small face. "Daddy!" her voice was still a bit raspy, but her tone was warm and clear.
Then, Grace’s violet-blue eyes shifted to the small boy standing beside her father.
She looked at his dark hair, his clear gray eyes, and then down at his hands.
Grace reached under her blanket, pulled out the small, smooth river stone with the crude blue butterfly painted on its surface, and held it up in the light.
"You're Toby," Grace said, her voice dropping into a soft, wonder-filled whisper.
Toby let go of William’s hand. He walked slowly toward the side of the hospital bed, his new leather boots making no sound on the rubber floor tiles. He stopped right beside her mattress, looking at the girl he had only known through a prayer in a cold chapel.
"Hi, Grace," Toby said, his voice shy. "I'm Toby."
Grace held out the river rock toward him. "Daddy told me you gave me your stone. He said you prayed for me when I was sleeping."
"My mom said the stone helps God find people in the dark," Toby explained quietly, resting his elbows on the edge of her mattress. "I thought maybe you were lost."
"I was lost," Grace whispered, reaching out her tiny hand and pressing her fingers against Toby’s knitted sleeve. "It was really dark and cold. But then I heard a bell, and I saw a blue butterfly, and I followed it back to Daddy."
Dr. Harrison stood near the wall, wiping a stray tear from his eye with the back of his thumb, completely forgetting his clipboard.
William stood at the foot of the bed, watching the two children—the billionaire's daughter and the orphan boy from Third Street—talking quietly together like old souls who had known each other for a thousand years.
"Toby?" Grace asked, her eyes sparkling.
"Yeah?"
"Do you know how to play checkers?"
Toby grinned, pulling a small, battered cardboard checkers box from his blue backpack. "I'm the champion of Saint Jude's Chapel."
"Daddy!" Grace called out, looking at William with pure delight. "Can Toby stay for dinner? Please?"
May you like
William walked over, kissing the top of Grace's head, then resting his hand on Toby’s shoulder.
"Toby is staying for a lot more than dinner, Gracie," William said.
