Page 65 of The Fake Out

I jumped (oh, the irony) and struggled to turn my entire bunny body to see her. The tall Black woman clutching a generic cup of hospital coffee smiled at me. “Nope, not Molly. She couldn’t make it.”

She tilted her head toward Chris and the boy. “That’s my son, J.J. I’m Erika.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Mae. I would shake your hand, but…” I held up a paw.

With a chuckle, she took a sip of coffee and winced. “I swear this stuff is watered-down bayou sludge. I’m glad Chris stopped by. When we heard he was coming, J.J. was upset the doctors wouldn’t let him go to the game room. Too many germs at once.”

“How’s he doing?” I flushed. “Oh, gosh. I’m sorry. You don’t even know me. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Oh, no. It’s alright.” She patted me on my bunny shoulder. “He’s on the mend now. He had a setback but that’s expected. He had a heart transplant earlier this year.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Chris has been a big support through all of it.” She smiled widely. “About two years ago, things were looking grim with J.J. My husband was laid off and, on top of that, our car died. One morning, I look outside and there’s a minivan in my driveway, paid in full. I know it was from him. Never would confess to it though.”

“That’s… wow.” A warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with how hot this rabbit suit was.

“Exactly… wow.” With an affectionate smile, she gave me another pat on the shoulder. “I’m gonna go say hi. It was nice to meet you. Maybe I’ll see you again sometime.”

After she disappeared into the room, I hobbled to the nurse’s station and leaned on it for support. Chris found me there and offered me his arm.

“Where’s your jersey?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Gave it to J.J. I have plenty more where that came from anyway.”

“This is really important to you, isn’t it?” I asked, my voice quiet.

“Yeah, it is.”

I’d always believed a person’s actions spoke louder than their words. My father had shored up that lesson for me early on. Chris’s actions were telling a story. These kids, this place, were his passion.

Chris paused about ten feet from the game room. In the doorway, a little boy with two missing front teeth and giant blue eyes gripped an IV pole and hopped on the tips of his toes with excitement. Chris waved.

He turned me to him, his expression stern. “I need to say something serious right now.”

“Don’t mind the rabbit suit. I have my serious face on.” I twitched my nose for effect.

“Harriet the Heart Hare is a very nice hare. She brings happiness to sick little kids and their families.”

“I get it,” I said, trying and failing to reach an itch on the back of my neck. These giant bunny paws were useless. The Easter Bunny did not get enough credit.

“That means,” he continued, “you’re going to have to push aside your natural inclination to being a grump.”

“Excuse me.” I stamped one of my bunny feet. “I do not have a natural inclination to being a grump. I am a perfectly nice person.”

Chris gave me what could only be called a dubious look. “I don’t know. The other day I’m pretty sure you threatened to shove my phone in a place it did not belong.”

“It was one in the morning, and you wouldn’t stop texting me.”

“Don’t turn this around on me. My point is, you need to be nice to the children. If you make any of them cry…” He shook his head.

“I am not going to make anyone cry,” I snapped. “I work with kids every day.”

That dimple popped out on his cheek. “I know. I just like to mess with you. You kind of have a quick temper there, Freckles.”

I released a big enough breath that my whiskers bounced in response. “You are so irritating.”

He tapped me on my bunny nose and offered me his arm. “Let’s hop to it.”