— “I didn’t say that,” Linda clarified quickly. “I just said I know the stories. But I will say this… I noticed something this afternoon after Lily was here.”
— “What?”
Linda bit her lip, caught between her professional training and what she’d seen.
— “When Lily splashed that water earlier, I checked the monitors a few minutes later. Pete’s O2 sats had ticked up slightly. Just a point or two, but enough to notice. His heart rate stabilized a bit, too. I told Dr. Miller, but he said it was just a normal physiological fluctuation. He’s probably right.”
— “But what if he isn’t?” Robert asked, a spark of hope catching in his chest. “If there’s even a tiny chance, a fraction of a percent…”
— “Mr. Harrison, I don’t want to give you false hope,” Linda said softly. “Dr. Miller is one of the best. If he says the body is shutting down, it usually is.”
— “But you can’t guarantee the water *isn’t* helping,” Lily chimed in. “You can’t, right?”
Linda looked at the girl, then at Robert. She knew she was on thin ice.
— “No,” she admitted. “Scientifically, the placebo effect and emotional connection can do things we can’t always explain. I can’t prove it’s *not* doing something.”
Robert went quiet, looking at his son. Pete did look better. Maybe it was just his desperate imagination. Or maybe, just maybe, something more was happening—something tied to the will to live.
— “Can she stay a little longer?” Robert asked Linda. “Just a few minutes.”
The nurse hesitated but finally nodded.
— “Okay, but just for a bit. And Lily, after this, you go straight home. Deal?”
The girl nodded. Linda left the room, quietly closing the door.
Robert sat back down and watched Lily return to the bedside. She took Pete’s hand again and just stood there, silently watching her friend.
— “You really care about him, don’t you?” Robert asked softly.
— “He’s my best friend,” Lily said, not looking away. “We always play together. He lets me use his toys, and I share my lunch with him. Once he fell on the playground, and I helped him up. And when a big kid was mean to me, he gave me a hug.”
Robert felt his eyes sting. He hadn’t even known his son had a friendship like this. Karen had kept it all from him. And now that he finally knew, it might be too late.
— “Tell me more about him,” he asked. “I want to hear everything.”
Lily smiled and started talking. She talked about their days at the community center, the games they played, the stories their teacher, Mrs. Gable, told them. She talked about how Pete would laugh so hard during hide-and-seek that he’d give himself away. How he’d share his snacks with everyone, even though he had the “fancy” ones.
— “He’s really kind,” Lily said. “Not like some of the other boys. Pete never wants anyone to be sad.”
Listening to her, Robert realized he was learning about a side of his son he’d never seen. At home, Pete was quiet, well-behaved, a bit shy. Robert thought that was just his personality. But at daycare, Pete was a leader, a friend, a happy kid. And Robert had missed it all.
Hours passed. Lily kept talking to Pete as if he were awake. She told him about school, about a kitten she saw, about the drawings she made. Robert just listened. Every now and then, he’d glance at the monitors. And maybe it was just his mind playing tricks, but the numbers seemed a little more stable.
As the sun began to peek over the horizon, Linda returned.
— “Lily, you really have to go now,” she said. “Your mom is going to be frantic.”
— “Can I come back tomorrow?” the girl asked, looking at Robert.
He should have said no. He should have sent her home and focused on the “real” medicine. But when he looked into her eyes, so full of hope and genuine love for his son, he couldn’t do it.
— “Yes,” he said. “But only after school, and only if your mom says it’s okay.”
The smile Lily gave him was so bright it warmed the room. After she left with Linda, Robert was alone with Pete. The sun filled the room with orange and pink light. Another day was starting. And according to the doctors, there were only four left.
He picked up the gold bottle Lily had left on the nightstand. A simple piece of plastic. But why did it feel like it held something more? Robert opened it and sniffed. No smell. Just water. He dipped his fingers in and touched Pete’s forehead, making a small cross, the way his own mother used to do when he was sick.
— “If there’s anything to this, please save my son,” he whispered, feeling a bit foolish. But in desperation, any hope is a lifeline.
Pete suddenly opened his eyes, startling Robert. The boy looked at his father and, for the first time in weeks, he smiled.
— “Daddy,” he said in a tiny voice, “was Lily here?”
