Play On (Play On 1)

Enchanted by her and her cultured Scottish accent, I lowered myself to my haunches and grinned. I whispered, “Why not pretend? Everyone else here prefers Peter to plain old Nora.”

Sylvie appeared to give this serious consideration. And then she nodded. “Okay. But I want to know Nora too.”

A lightness danced across my chest, chipping away at the layers of aching weight. “You got it.”

I stood up and faced the rest of the group who waited patiently for me to begin. “Last night, I went on the greatest adventure. I traveled all the way from Neverland to this magical place called Indiana. There I met a girl called Melanie and she took me on a really cool journey filled with heroes and villains.” I pulled out a book from my bag and showed it to them. “Now I’m going to take you on the same voyage.”

“So … did you fly back to Neverland this morning? And then fly back again?” Poppy squinted at me in confusion.

“I did.”

“But … how is it possible?” Aaron, a ten-year-old recovering from leukemia said, suspicious.

Sylvie piped up, “Because time stops in Neverland.”

“Exactly right, Sylvie. Remember, guys, I told you that in Neverland, dreams are born and time is never planned.”

“I wish we lived in Neverland,” one of the youngest kids, Kirsty, said.

“How do you get to Neverland?” Poppy asked.

“You have to fly there,” Sylvie said. “With pixie dust.”

I grinned down at Sylvie. Someone had clearly read Peter Pan or at least seen the movie. “Exactly.”

“But how do you get there? Where is it?”

“Up there. In the sky.” I pointed upward. “Second star to the right and straight on till morning.”

“Okay, we get it. Nora, just tell us what adventure Melanie took ye on?” Aaron asked, shuffling forward on the couch to peer at my book.

I laughed at Aaron’s reluctance to play along but gave him what he wanted. I opened Roald Dahl’s Matilda and gave them my cheekiest smile. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

We were halfway through chapter three when Sylvie’s hand shot straight up.

I stopped reading and mock scowled at her. “Not enjoying the adventure?”

“Yes,” Sylvie said, nodding vehemently. “But I wondered … can I be Miss Trunchbull?”

In the few months I’d been visiting the hospital, not one of the other kids had asked to read with me. Something stirred inside me. Affection. Immediate affection that made no logical sense. But I felt it as I gazed down at this girl, stunned by the feeling.

“Of course.” I held out my hand and Sylvie grinned at me, taking it, allowing me to pull her to her feet.

From there we began reading together, and I had to try to stifle my delighted laughter at Sylvie’s brilliant and dastardly Miss Trunchbull. She had all the kids laughing at her horrible villain, and my time with them flew faster than ever before.

Jan came in to let me know time was up, and the kids groaned, pleading for me to stay.

“Peter Pan has to get back to Neverland. If he stays away too long, Tinkerbell misses him,” Jan said, coming into the room to take Sylvie’s hand. “Time to wait on your dad, sweetheart.”

“Wait.” Sylvie tugged on her hand and hurried over to me as I packed my book into my bag. She leaned over to ask, “Will you sit with me while I wait for my dad?”

“Now?” I looked over at Jan who nodded. “Sure.”

“Great!”

After I said goodbye to the other kids, I followed Jan and Sylvie back to the nurses’ station. “I’m going to change first.”

Sylvie looked up at me like a little adult. “Okay. I’ll wait right here.” She gestured to two waiting room seats backed up against the wall.

Curious over the little girl who reminded me so much of Mel, I hurried to change into my jeans and shirt, and returned to her.

Her whole face lit up at the sight of me. “Nora.”

I smiled because you would’ve thought she hadn’t seen me in weeks. “Hey, you.”

“Where are you from?” Sylvie asked quite abruptly.

“I’m from America. Do you know where that is?”

“I’ve been.” Sylvie sat up taller, expression brightening. “Uncle Aidan took me and Mum to Disneyworld a few years ago. Is that where you’re from?”

“No. I’m from the Midwest. Indiana.”

“Like in your story about the girl? Melanie?”

“Yeah. Did you enjoy today? You seemed to know an awful lot about Peter Pan.”

“My mum read it to me. It was her favorite book. Uncle Aidan still reads it to me from time to time.” She looked at me with those serious eyes. “She died. Last year.”

It was too much. Too much for any kid. It was moments like these I wanted to kick and scream and rail at the Fates, because how the hell was it okay that a child should be destined to lose her mother before she even reached her teens? I bit down the emotion and said, “I’m so sorry, Sylvie.”

She swallowed hard, like she was trying to hold back emotion. Being brave.

Only ten years old and being brave.

“I live with Uncle Aidan now, and I have a teacher who comes to the house to teach me school. A lot.” She rolled her eyes. “But not on the days Daddy can see me. I stayed at Daddy’s last night but he had to work today and Uncle Aidan is in London because he makes music with famous people.”

It sounded like she didn’t have a heck of a lot of stability and I wondered what the two men in her life were thinking. She should be in school, not being homeschooled, and she shouldn’t come in second to a job and be dumped on her mom’s old colleagues. Irritation made my blood hot, but I hid it for Sylvie’s sake.

“Uncle Aidan says he’ll take me traveling with him when I’m older.” Her eyes were bright with obvious hero worship. I noted the way she appeared to light up when talking about her uncle in comparison to her dad.

“You were so good today, reading the part of Miss Trunchbull. You’re a very talented actress.”

Sylvie beamed. “Really? You too! The kids really believe you’re Peter Pan.”

I hid my smile at the way she referred to the other kids, as if she weren’t one. “Well, thank you.”

“I can’t wait to tell Uncle Aidan about you …”

I listened, giving her my full attention and knowing it was what she needed as she sat and told me about life living with her uncle Aidan.

Not too long later, a harried-looking guy came hurrying around the corridor, his shoulders slumping in relief at the sight of Sylvie. I went on alert as Sylvie stopped talking. The guy was of average height, slim, and was good-looking in a dark, Irish Colin Farrell kind of way.

“Sylvie.” His eyes flicked to me, suspicion in them.

“Daddy …” Sylvie gave him a halfhearted wave.

“Who is this?” He dropped to his haunches in front of his daughter. I noted the dark circles under his eyes and the sweat on his forehead. The man looked exhausted and worried for his daughter, and I felt a little bad for prejudging him.

“This is Nora.”

“Cal,” Jan said, marching down the corridor. She did not look happy. “You were a while.”

He winced and stood up, shooting her an apologetic look. “My meeting ran over. I’m sorry.” His eyes flicked down to me again.

Jan gestured to me. “This is Nora. She’s a children’s entertainer. Sylvie asked her to wait with her.”

“Oh. Right.” His expression eased somewhat. “Nice to meet ye.”

“Likewise.”

“Right, then. Thanks again, Jan.”

Jan gave him a tight-lipped nod.

“Come on, Sylvie.”

Sylvie immediately turned to me. “Will you be back next week?”

My heart ached for her. “I will.”

“Daddy, can I come back next week?”

He grabbed her hand and she reluctantly got up. “Sylvie, this is a hospital. We can’t keep imposing.”

“Nora doesn’t mind.”