I stayed by Poppy’s side as she was wheeled into an oncology room. My heart beat as quickly as the doctors and nurses moved—a blur, a mass of activity.
I fought back the lump blocking my throat. I held the numbness inside me at bay. Poppy was being poked and prodded—blood taken, temperature taken, too many things to count. And my baby fought. As her chest became erratic with her inability to breathe properly, she stayed calm. As unconsciousness tried to pull her down, she forced her eyes to remain open … she forced her eyes to stay fixed on mine, mouthing my name whenever she almost slipped under.
I stayed strong for Poppy. I wouldn’t let her see me fall.
She needed me to be strong.
Mrs. Litchfield was beside me, holding my hand. Mr. Litchfield came running in, briefcase in hand, his tie in disarray.
“Ivy,” he said in a hurried voice, “what happened?”
Mrs. Litchfield chased her tears away from her cheeks and took her husband’s hand. “She collapsed on Rune, on the way home from school. The doctors believe it’s an infection. Her immune system is so low she can’t fight it.”
Mr. Litchfield looked to me, as Mrs. Litchfield added, “Rune carried Poppy in his arms all the way home. He ran and called for an ambulance. He saved her, James. Rune saved our girl.”
I swallowed hard as I heard Mrs. Litchfield’s words. Mr. Litchfield nodded, I assumed in thanks, then ran toward his daughter. I saw him squeeze her hand, but the doctors quickly ushered him out of the way.
It was five minutes before a doctor spoke to us. He stood still, his face blank. “Mr. and Mrs. Litchfield, Poppy’s body is trying to fight off an infection. As you know, her immune system is severely compromised.”
“Is this it?” Mrs. Litchfield prompted, her throat tight with grief.
The doctor’s words seeped into my brain. I turned my head away from him as I sensed a pair of eyes watching me.
The doctors had cleared a space, and through that space, I saw Poppy’s pretty face covered in a mask, IVs in her arms. But her green eyes, those green eyes I adored, were on me. Her hand hung out to the side.
“We’ll do all that we can. We’ll give her a moment before we put her under.”
I heard the doctor say they were putting her into a medically induced coma to help her try to fight the infection. And that we had to see her before they did. But my feet were already moving. Her hand was held out for me.
As soon as I took Poppy’s hand, I saw her eyes searching for mine and her head shook weakly. I briefly closed my eyes, but when they opened I couldn’t stop the tear escaping down my cheek. Poppy made a noise below her oxygen mask, and I didn’t need to take it off to know what she had said. She wasn’t leaving me yet. I could see the promise in her eyes.
“Rune, son,” Mr. Litchfield said. “Can we have a moment with Poppy, to kiss her and speak with her some?”
I nodded and went to move aside, when Poppy made a sound and shook her head again. She squeezed my hand again. Because she didn’t want to let me go.
Leaning forward, I pressed a kiss on her head, feeling her warmth on my lips, inhaling her sweet scent. “I’ll be just over there, Poppymin. I won’t leave you, I promise.”
Poppy’s eyes tracked me as I stepped away. I watched as Mr. and Mrs. Litchfield spoke quietly to their daughter, kissing her and gripping her hand.
I leaned against the wall of the small room, clenching my fists as I fought to hold myself together. I had to be strong for her. She hated tears. She hated to burden her family with all this.
She wouldn’t see me break.
Mrs. Litchfield disappeared from the room. When she came back in, Ida and Savannah followed. I had to turn away when I saw the pain in Poppy’s eyes. She adored her sisters, she wouldn’t want them to see her like this.
“Poppy,” Ida cried and rushed to her side. Poppy’s weak hand drifted down her younger sister’s face. Ida kissed Poppy on her cheek, then stepped back into Mrs. Litchfield’s waiting arms. Savannah went next. Savannah broke down on seeing her sister, her hero, this way. Poppy held her hand and Savannah whispered, “I love you, PopPops. Please … please don’t leave, not yet.”
Poppy shook her head, then looked back my way, her hand struggling to move in my direction. I walked over, feeling like every step was a mile. Inside of me was a flurried storm of darkness, but as soon as my hand slipped into hers, the storm calmed. Poppy blinked up at me, her long dark lashes fluttering on her cheeks. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I leaned down and pushed the hair back from her face.