The Last Letter(63)

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 of her tassel. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Before I lost my shit in front of her, I leaned forward, pressing my lips to her forehead in a quick kiss. When I pulled away, I forced a smile and blinked back the awkward wetness in my eyes.

“Me, too, Maisie. Me, too.”

…

“Gentry, I’m glad you’re here.” Mark Gutierrez met me as I parked the truck at the trailhead. He was in his early thirties, fit, with a full head of black hair and enough confidence to make him a good unit leader for our search and rescue operation, but he wasn’t arrogant.

I was good with confidence, but arrogance was a deal breaker. Arrogance got men killed…kids, too.

Havoc jumped to the ground behind me, already wearing her work vest. That had always signaled her that play time was over, and I was relieved that our time in Telluride hadn’t changed that. Between the trips to Denver and the days I’d spent in Montrose with Maisie, I’d worried that she’d fall out of rhythm. I’d gone back to Montrose and brought Ella and Maisie home yesterday after being there for a week, and when the call came in this afternoon, Havoc had jumped right back into action.

“Hey, Havoc,” Gutierrez said, moving toward her.

“Nope. She’s in work mode.” I cut off his access. She was on alert and sensitive at the moment, and I really didn’t need to file an accident report that he’d lost a finger.

“Right. Sorry, we’ve never had a retired MWD.”

“No problem. Bring me up to speed.” Havoc stayed close to my side as we moved closer to the group of men. Half were in the Telluride uniform and others in the San Miguel County. “Why are we here if the county boys are, too?”

“They’ve been looking for hours, and the missing hiker is a VIP up at one of the resorts, so we got called in to add some manpower.”