Free Counting Stars by Michele Paige Holmes

been in the NICU when Andrew was there.
    “Mrs. Howard. It’s so good to see you again.”
    “Please, call me Marion,” the elderly woman said. “It’s Jane, isn’t it?”
    Jane nodded, and Marion took her hands in a friendly squeeze.
    “How is that little boy of yours?”
    “Andrew is fine. He’s at home with his mother—my sister—right now. Remember, I was just filling in for her when she had chicken pox?”
    “Yes, yes. That’s right.” Marion nodded. “Baking soda paste. Best thing in the world for those, you know. No need to buy any of that expensive pink stuff.”
    Jane smile widened. “Is that how you treated your children?”
    “Every one of them. Common sense and extra loving got them through the pox and much worse. Same thing applies today. All these babies need—” She inclined her head toward the nursery window, “is a little extra loving and they’ll be just fine.”
    “I’m sure you’re right,” Jane said. “Is your grandson still here?”
    “Yes, though he’s so much better. He’s a fighter, that one, got all the spunk of his granddad.”
    “And I see you’re still coming to see him. He’s lucky to have you.” Jane didn’t doubt for a minute that time spent in this woman’s arms would be a powerful healer for anyone. With a pang of sorrow, she thought of her own grandmother who had passed away three years earlier, and she suddenly wished Mrs. Howard would take her hands again.
    “ I’m the lucky one,” Marion insisted. “I’m so fortunate to come here while my Penny is at work. In fact, I’ve enjoyed it so much, I’m even thinking of volunteering here after Jesse is better and goes home. Though—” She leaned in closer to Jane and lowered her voice to a whisper. “My friend Carol says I should work with her down in geriatrics. She thinks her job is the best because of all the widowers there to flirt with. Says it reminds her of nursing during the war.”
    Jane laughed. “I can see it would be hard to choose.”
    “Oh no, not for me. These babies are the best. There’s something special about them.”
    “I agree,” Jane said, turning back toward the nursery window.
    Marion patted Jane’s arm. “So if your nephew is at home, what brings you here today?”
    “My um . . .” Jane realized that she was staring at the answer to her dilemma. Mrs. Howard knew about every baby in the NICU. Not only was she Jesse’s grandmother, but she had been dubbed the NICU grandmother by several families—at least when Andrew was here. Jane doubted much had changed. There was something about Marion’s sweet countenance that made people open up to her. She was a great listener and a genuinely compassionate person. Of course she would know about Paul’s baby.
    “My friend, Paul—Bryant—has a baby here, and I was hoping to see . . .” Him? Her? Jane didn’t even know that much.
    “You’re friends with Mr. Bryant,” Marion exclaimed, looking at Jane differently. “How wonderful. That poor man needs some friends. Losing his wife and no other family to help him . . .” She shook her head sadly. “But which baby did you come to see?”
    Jane gave Marion a puzzled look.
    “After all,” Marion continued, “he has two.”
    * * *
    Depressed at how tired he was, Paul stepped off the elevator and wearily made his way toward the NICU. It was one thing to get winded taking the stairs, but quite another when just getting on and off an elevator took every ounce of energy he had left. Ignoring the nagging worry that his cancer was spreading again, he reasoned it was the painkillers he’d swallowed this morning that were making him so tired. His health couldn’t be declining that fast. Not now. More likely it was those women who had taken it out of him, leaving him physically and emotionally drained.
    He’d hardly been able to stand that last appointment. Sharlene had spent an agonizing thirty-eight minutes on her Grande Mocha Frappuccino. He’d never seen anyone drink so