out for basic the moment I finished my senior year, the day before graduation. But I’d seen plenty in movies. I cleared my throat. “The time has come for you to leave the childish, carefree days of kindergarten and embark on your journey in elementary school. When I call your name, please rise and accept your diploma.”
“Beckett, you know I’m the only one here, right?”
I shushed her. “I haven’t said your name yet, graduate.”
She gave me the same look Ella did when she was ready to call me on my crap, and I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing.
“Margaret Ruth MacKenzie.”
She stood, regal as that princess, and walked toward me with her head held high, bringing her IV pole with her. When she arrived in front of me, I crouched down to her eye level. “Congratulations on your graduation.” I handed her the diploma with one hand and shook her hand with the other.
“Now what?” she whispered.
“Now you flip your tassel to the other side.”
She did the mouth and nose scrunch thing again and moved her tassel to the opposite side.
“I now pronounce you graduated,” I said in the most official tone I could muster.
She grinned and laughed, pure joy radiating from her like sunshine. Then she launched herself into my arms as the nurses in the doorway began to clap.
I held her, careful not to squeeze too tight, but she didn’t have that same issue, and hugged me to the point of near strangulation. Man, I loved this kid. Loved her strength, her tenacity, her kindness. She was one of a kind, and I hope she knew how precious she was, not just to her mom, but to the world.
As the clapping subsided, I glanced over to see no less than half a dozen nurses watching Maisie’s graduation. The girl was magnetic—she drew people to her everywhere she went, and I was no different.
“How about a picture?” a nurse who looked to be about Ella’s age asked.
“Yes! Absolutely!” I handed my cell phone to her, and she snapped a few of Maisie and me. “Thank you. Now just the graduate,” I said to Maisie, turning the camera on her as she struck a pose.
“It was Aowyn,” the nurse said with a smile while the other nurses congratulated the graduate. “The princess who slayed the Nazgul. It was Aowyn.”
Busted. “Tolkien fan?”
“Movie fan. Kind of comes with the territory when you work in pediatrics.”
“Think she noticed?”
She shrugged. “It was a good speech. Little girls need more warrior queens.”
“I like warrior queens,” Maisie said, coming to stand next to me. “Is it time for Moana?” As quickly as her joy came on, she sagged a little against me, and I felt the tiredness take over.
“That sounds like a plan to me.” Putting my forearm under her, I stood, lifting her slight weight, and carried her back to bed, her IV in my other hand.
She scooted back, sitting upright, and took off her cap as the nurses left. “Thank you,” she said, playing with the tassel.
“I know it’s not the same—”
“It’s better.” She met me with a look that left no room for argument.
I sat on the edge of her bed, adjusting her IV pole so it was closer to her.
“It’s just the start, Maisie. You have so much ahead of you. The summers, the mountains, the sunrises. The choices you’ll get to make when you decide which college you want to go to, the second you take off on a trip to backpack across Europe. Those are the moments when you find out who you’ll be, and that’s just a glimpse of what’s waiting for you when you’re past this.”
“But what if this is all there is?” she whispered.
“It’s not,” I promised.
Her face twisted, her lips pursing, and tears welled in her eyes. “Am I dying? Is that what’s happening to me? Mom won’t tell me. Please tell me, Beckett.”
A vise gripped my heart, squeezing until I was sure it couldn’t beat.
“Maisie…”
“Please. Am I going to die?”
I thought of the MIBG therapy she needed, the countless drugs, treatments, operations, transplants. Everything that was standing between her and a disease-free body.
“Not on my watch.” I didn’t care what I had to do. I’d find a way for her to get what she needed. I wasn’t watching another kid die if I had the power to change her fate.
“Okay.” She relaxed against the raised bed and took my word like it was gospel. Then she grinned as she played with the strands