“Great.” He locked his phone and lifted his hips to slide it back into his pocket. He glanced over to see Lauren’s eyes on him, but she quickly looked away, pink staining her cheeks.

He grinned.

Soon Lauren pulled into the parking garage connected to Children’s Hospital. They rode the elevator to the eleventh floor, which housed walls painted floor-to-ceiling with clouds and bright flowers. Lauren greeted several people wearing scrubs as they passed.

Finally, they reached a large, open space that reminded Andrew of the youth room at the church he’d attended as a teenager. Each wall was painted a different color, and there was a television at each end of the room, flanked by overstuffed chairs and sofas. A foosball table sat against the wall, and in the middle were several stations with varying activities just as Lauren had described.

The second they entered the room, a little boy jumped up and yelled Lauren’s name. He was thin, looked to be seven or eight years old, and completely bald. Based on how excited the boy was, Andrew wondered why he stood there looking at Lauren expectantly—Alva would have run and jumped into her arms by now.

That’s when he noticed the IV line taped to the boy’s arm, and the tall, metal pole parked next to him, a large bag of fluid swaying slightly with his movement. Lauren made a beeline for the boy and knelt down to wrap him in a hug.

Andrew’s eyes scanned the room, and his chest tightened. Several children were present, ranging in age from toddler to teenager. About half were in the same situation as the boy Lauren was talking to, rolling an IV pole around wherever they went. Others had nothing visibly attached to them, but most rocked the hairless style like Andrew.

Emotion rose up inside him unbidden, and he suddenly regretted his decision to do this. These were kids…and they were going through something so horrible…it was almost too much to bear.

A hand touched his arm, and he found Lauren back at his side.

“Look at their faces,” she murmured, looking up at him with worried eyes.

“What?”

“Their faces. They’re smiling.” She squeezed his bicep gently. Another time he would have been embarrassed that the muscle she touched was smaller than usual, because he hadn’t been able to keep up his usual regimen at the gym, but right now he didn’t care. She continued in a near whisper. “Yes, they have cancer. But they’re happy. They’re playing. Focus on their smiles, okay?”

He swallowed and nodded.

“We can leave if you want to.”

“No.” He swallowed again, forcing down the lump in his throat. “I’m fine.”

He settled his gaze on her eyes, allowing himself to find calm in their green depths.

She smiled and tugged at his elbow. “Okay, then. Let’s go color.”