Her heart melted when a single tear rolled down Toby’s cheek. The boy shook his head.
Anxious to find out what troubled the child, she probed a little deeper. “Are you sad, Toby?”
His tiny fingers on the camera stilled. “I don’t want to go back to the orphanage.” He spoke softly, as if he didn’t want anyone else to overhear his biggest secret.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Hanna sighed. She had to find a way to help the child who’d lost his mother in childbirth, his father to the war. “You know what I do when I’m sad?”
Toby’s blue eyes scoured her face with an intense gaze. The child was far too intelligent to accept the platitudes and false bravery that fooled so many others. She took a breath. Only one thing had brought her a measure of comfort over the last six months. For Toby’s sake, she’d share it.
“I try to help somebody else who’s sad.”
The boy’s thin lips turned down at the corners. “But I’m just a kid. I don’t have anybody to help.”
“You’re helping me,” Hanna confessed. She watched as the small child turned the idea over in his head.
“Are you sad, Nurse Hanna?” he asked at last.
Hanna stared at a spot on the wall over the little boy’s head. “Sad” was an understatement. Sometimes, she thought she’d drown in her grief. But she’d stopped by to cheer Toby up, not to pull him down into despair with her. Deliberately, she shook aside her own feelings. “Everyone gets sad sometimes, Toby,” she pointed out. She summoned a bright smile. “Spending time with you makes me very happy.” When a tiny bit of interest flickered in Toby’s eyes, she leaned forward. Determined to chase away his blues, she let a teasing note creep into her voice. “I bet you don’t know what’s coming tonight.”
A wide, snaggle-toothed grin spread across Toby’s face. “Do, too,” he insisted. Ever so carefully, he twisted a button on the camera.
“Oh, yeah? What?” Hanna challenged, although she wouldn’t have been at all surprised to learn that Toby knew all about the event that had the whole town buzzing.
“The comet!”
“You are so right!” Hanna patted the child’s arm and did her best to hide her concern at his thin frame. Slighter than most boys his age, Toby had lost weight during his stay in the children’s ward. Most kids did. Although the food at the county hospital was good, it didn’t compare to home cooking.
“Is the comet a miracle?” Toby’s little face scrunched as if he was working hard at solving one of the world’s biggest mysteries.
“Hmmm.” She nodded while she made a mental note to contact the orphanage. Someone there needed to make sure the boy spent the holidays with a family in town. “That’s a good question.”
“What’s the difference between a miracle and”—he tapped his chin thoughtfully—“and something that just happens? Like, um, rain. Is rain a miracle?”
Hanna studied the child. She’d known all along that Toby was a smart boy, but his questions dug much deeper than what anyone would’ve expected from a youngster. Beneath the folds of her skirt, she crossed her fingers and wished for a Christmas miracle for Toby. He shouldn’t be in the orphanage. He should be in a home with parents who could give him all the attention and encouragement he deserved. “Maybe everything is a miracle.” She bent forward to tickle Toby’s arm and delighted in his giggle. “Rain. Comets. You. Me. It just depends on how you look at it.”
“People are calling this the Christmas Comet, but that’s not its real name.” Toby straightened against his pillows.
“Is that right?” Interested in this new piece of information, Hanna tilted her head.
“It’s the De Vico Comet. That’s the person who discovered it. I read it in a book,” he said, rather proud of himself. “And you know what?”
“What?”
“It won’t come again until seventy-one years. And you know what else?” The child’s eyes widened.
“What?” she asked, enjoying the conversation.
“I know a secret.” He crooked a finger on his free hand to beckon her forward.
She leaned in, eager to share the little boy’s confidence.
“I think comets are miracles,” he said with very adult-like conviction.
“You just might be right about that.” She favored the boy with a wide smile, pleased to see that he’d pulled out of his sadness. For a while, they talked of other things—what Toby wanted to be when he grew up, the places he wanted to see, the things he wanted to do. Hanna suppressed her doubts when the child talked of college and the discoveries he’d make. Unless he was adopted, the orphanage would farm him out as day labor in a few years or, if he was very lucky, apprentice him to learn a trade. Even though he was a smart boy, the odds were against him graduating from high school, much less getting a higher education.
“Yoo-hoo!”
While she considered possible ways to change Toby’s future for the better, Dottie skipped into the room, all bright smiles and cheery good will.
“Our shift is over, and we’ve been waiting for you! Hurry. We don’t want to be late for the Christmas party.” Dottie danced to the side of Toby’s bed and bent down. The necklace of tinsel she wore around her neck sparkled as she moved. “Do you mind if I borrow her for a while, Toby?”
Toby flipped another lever on the camera. He pondered the matter for a moment before he gave a solemn nod. “Okay.”
Hanna aimed her best smile at the little boy. “I have to go now, Toby. I’ll see you tomorrow, but don’t forget the comet tonight. I’ll be watching for it, too.” A warm spot in her chest expanded at the child’s broad grin.
“Right!” He snapped his fingers and waved good-bye.
Her heart lighter than it had been when she’d walked into the ward, Hanna hurried to catch up with her friend. The truth of the conversation she’d shared with Toby struck home, and she hugged herself. Helping others really did help push the sadness away, at least for a little while.
In the stairwell, the sounds of the party underway on the floor above drifted down around them. Hanna hesitated, her hand on the rail. Struck by a guilty pang, she cast a lingering look at the door she’d just walked through. How could she leave Toby all alone while she went off and had a good time?
“C’mon! They’ve started without us.” Dottie glanced over her shoulder. Her eagerness to join the rest of the group showed in the excited flush of color that had sprung to her cheeks. She tapped her fingers in impatience.
Hanna gave the doorway a final look. Promising to check in on Toby first thing in the morning, she shoved aside her misgivings and sped up the stairs. Dottie hurried ahead, the rubber soles of her shoes striking the risers in time with the Christmas carol someone played on the old upright piano in the staff break room.
In perfect pitch, a man’s strong tenor rang through the stairwell. The volume swelled as others joined in singing a familiar Christmas carol.
“Did you hear that? Dr. Axlerod has such a beautiful voice.” Dottie pressed one hand to her heart. “He’s like an opera singer. Just listen!”