And I Thought I Loved You Then

The paediatric oncology play room was located on the east side of the building. Bright and welcoming in the midst of a the horrors and heartache of the losses associated with terminal illness, and the moments of joy and relief at the miracles of modern medicine, three of the walls were covered from floor to ceiling with colourful, artistically and lovingly created murals. Depicting the events of childhood that so many were unfortunately missing during their often prolonged stays in the hospital. One painting was dedicated to a trip to the zoo. Smiling children of all shapes and sizes and nationalities with balloons attached to their wrists with ribbon and ice cream cones in their hands, surrounded by the various animals. Another was a of children in winter clothes sledding and having snow ball fights and making snow angels and building snowmen.

And the third, Autumn's favourite, was of kids in various costumes going door to door trick or treating on Halloween. As a sickly child herself who'd spent more time in the first ten years of her life cooped up in a hospital bed fighting one illness after another, and having been the mother of a severely premature infant who'd spent nearly two months in the neonatal intensive care unit herself, she knew first hand just how important it was to not only the child's mental well being, but the parents’ as well, to make the hospital as comfortable and cheery as possible.

The far wall was taken up by a massive aquamarine filled with shimmering multi-coloured stones, underwater plant life, and a wide variety fish. Toys were scattered around the room. Everything from walking toys for toddlers to dollhouses to race car tracks and train sets. There were easels for painting and a never ending supply of paper, crayons and markers along with various other craft making materials. The bubble hockey game was by far the most popular item, and it wasn't uncommon to see orderlies either 'battling' one of the children or their siblings, or even other hospital staff.

What had been uncommon however, was seeing a multimillionaire in a hockey jersey, jeans, backwards ball cap and white athletic socks -he'd taken his runners off the moment he'd stepped inside the room, expressing concern about dirtying the carpet- taking on one kid at a time as several others, their siblings and even some of the fathers, gathered around to watch. Most athletes went from room to room visiting the patients. Preferring a more intimate setting and relegating themselves to little more activity then singing some autographs, posing for pictures and maybe reading a story. If the kid was lucky. But it had been Sidney's suggestion to move the kids on Autumn's watch and their families, to the play room.

"If the kids can make it down here," he'd said. Then blushing slightly and giving that sheepish, boyish grin she couldn't seem to get enough of, quickly added, "I mean, if that's okay with you."

Autumn was sure she'd just stood there staring at him, dumbfounded for a moment. She wasn't used to being the own to call the shots during the celebrity visits. Usually their handlers were strict and unshakable when it came to what their clients would, and wouldn't, do. This was a new one for her. Someone of that calibre showing up alone and acting as if he was just some regular guy next door. Surprisingly humble and modest, she was taken back by how 'normal' he seemed. He wanted no preferential treatment and always seemed as if he was embarrassed when someone congratulated him on his Stanley Cup win or commented that he was the next best thing in Pittsburgh sports history to Mario Lemieux.

And she couldn't help but wonder, as she sat relatively unnoticed at a rickety metal table in the far back corner of the room, taking feverish notes on the events taking place around her, if the whole small town, guy next door thing was really an act. If Sidney Crosby was putting on a huge front to protect his reputation. After all, he couldn't act like an obnoxious ass out while out on display. If he walked in there making outrageous demands and bitching and moaning about everything, he knew that word would get out that he was a total dickhead. And his stock in the NHL and in the general public would plummet drastically.

That was the cynical part of her that never wanted to take a day off. Yet her often vacationing optimistic side told her that this guy was the real deal. That he was sincere in everything he said and everything he did. That she was witnessesing something very, very rare. Someone blessed with an infinite amount of talent and a massive bank account acting as if they were just a regular Joe. An average kid.

Who was now sitting on a wooden chair meant for someone a quarter of his size at a children's craft table, balancing Cara -a tiny red headed five year old girl battling leukemia- on his left knee, his arm wrapped securely and protectively around her waist as he helped her and three other kids make Halloween decorations to display in their rooms. Orange and black construction paper, various coloured markers, pipe cleaners and glittered littered the table. The latter even sparkling on Sid's cheeks, hands and the thighs of his jeans. His ball cap long ago. He'd given it to another of the children early. The little boy's eyes widening as it was slipped upon his head. Rapidly balding from intense chemotherapy.

It was a sight to behold. One that Autumn would never forget as long as she lived. Almost as memorable as his laugh. So unique and genuine that it cracked her up every time she heard it.

I guess he is kind of cute, she mused to herself, as she paused in her writing and glanced across the room. Not the best looking guy in the world or anything. But there is something hot about him. Too bad he's wearing that jersey though. Because I wouldn't mind getting a look at his....

Stop it! Autumn ordered herself, and giving her head a vigorous shake, went back to her paper work. You've been around tons of hockey players. Especially in New Jersey. And you've always managed to keep your cool. No matter how good looking or build they were. You always stayed calm and professional. So what the hell is your problem now? Why are you letting some twenty-two year old superstar get to you? A kid who....

Kid. That's exactly what he was. A kid. Who, no matter how great he was at hockey, was bound to be immature and arrogant at times. And it doesn't do you any good at your age to be developing a stupid fan girl crush on someone. He's too young for you. Way too young.

And way too out of your league. Guys like that do not bother with someone like you. They go for actresses and supermodels. Not single mothers with borderline OCD and an anxiety disorder.

And a deceased husband.

Sighing, she chewed on the end of her pen. She was irritated and disappointed in herself. She'd let herself become to friendly with him. The innocent flirting and the joking around earlier had been uncalled for. She knew she never should have done it and she was kicking her own ass for even being caught up in the moment.

From here on out, it's pure business, she told herself. Simple as. No matter how cute or charming he is.

Or how adorable that laugh is. Of if he has unbelievably beautiful eyes. Or if he has a killer smile and huge muscular thighs and calves you can see through his jeans or...

The sensation of her Blackberry vibrating against her hip put an abrupt end to all of her potentially dirty, and totally inappropriate, thoughts. Pulling the device out of the right pocket of her laser, she cast a glance down at the call display and immediately groaned in dismay. DR. D. MCBRIDE. The same good doctor who'd all but been promising her always and forever on their first date but turned around and told her how messed up she was when he decided she simply wasn't good enough. She should have seen right through his bullshit when he'd been waxing poetic throughout their first dinner together that she's was unlike anyone he'd ever met. That she'd 'captured him' and 'transfixed him'. In hindsight, she knew she shouldn't have fallen for that ridiculous bunch of crap. From the get go he'd had a reputation around the hospital as a ladies man. With three failed marriages under his belt because of his infidelities. He thought he was God's gift and flaunted his expensive Rolex watch, designer clothes and Porsche each chance he got. And they made him a virtual chick magnet.

Autumn, who'd never been the type of woman to care about material objects, was ashamed for ever being attracted to someone like that. When he'd commented that being with him was the best thing for her because she'd 'never have to go without and would be given everything she'd ever wanted', she'd bluntly informed him that money had no bearing on who she chose to fall in love with. If she was truly happy and adored someone, she didn't care if she was living in a mansion or a two room shack. Money was nice, but nothing more than a safety net. And if she didn't love someone, she wasn't going to be miserable and rich.

He'd literally laughed in her face. Then had called her a 'foolish little girl'.

Douche bag, she now thought, and pressed the ignore button before slipping the Blackberry back into her pocket.

*****

"Hi Miss Autumn!" a tiny, cheerful voice suddenly piped up from the side of the table. Cara stood before her, in her fluffy Dora the Explorer slippers and Care Bear pyjamas, a blue bandana with yellow stars on it covering her head.

She was precocious and adorable, and had captured Autumn's heart immediately. As had her parents. Her mother Erica, a third grade teacher who'd had to quit her job when her only daughter became ill, and her father Bryan, a steelworker. According to her medical charts, Cara had been diagnosed at ten months and had spent the majority of her young life in and out of hospital receiving treatment after treatment. She'd also gone into remission several times, only to have the cancer come roaring back. And that day was the first time in the past two and a half months, that Autumn had seen the little girl that happy.

"Hi sweet cheeks," Autumn greeted. "Are you having a good time?"

"Tons and tons and tons! I made this for you, Miss Autumn...." Cara laid a piece of paper on the table. A colourful picture of a stick figure princess with hair made from brown yard glued in place and a glittering gold crown. "It's you!" the five year old exclaimed. "'Cause you're pretty like a Princess!"

"Thank you!" Autumn smiled and ran a hand over Cara's head. "It's beautiful!"

"Sidney helped me," Cara admitted. "He helped me with the sparkles. Isn't he cute, Miss Autumn? I think he's cute. I wish he was my boyfriend. Do you wish he was your boyfriend?"

"Well...I don't know....if he was your boyfriend you'd have to share him so he could be mine too. And I don't know if you'd want to share."

"Mommy and daddy say to always share with others!" Cara told her. "To always share your toys. I could share Sidney with you Miss Autumn. I don't mind."

Maybe I don't like to share, Autumn thought, then scolded herself for being so immature and so...infatuated school girl.

"And you know what he told me?" Cara asked in a loud whisper, as she motioned for Autumn to bend down.

"What's that?" Autumn whispered back, as the five year old curled her tiny hand around her ear and leaned in close.

"He told me that you're cute," Cara divulged. "He told me so. I asked him if he thought you were cute and he said yes."

Giggling noisily, the little girl pulled away.

"You and Sidney should be boyfriend and girlfriend and get married!" Cara cried, causing everyone in the room to look over at her. Amused expressions on their faces. "You'd have cute babies, Miss Autumn!"

And with that, the five year old turned on her heel and rushed back towards the craft table. Where she scampered back up onto Sidney's knee and proceeded to tell her everything that Autumn had just said. About thinking he was cute as well and that she didn't mind sharing him.

Autumn noticed how his eyes widened in amusement, and felt her cheeks flush red and her stomach flutter with both embarrassment and faintly veiled attraction, when he looked across the room at her and gave that boyish smile.

Swallowing noisily, she turned her attention back to her work in front of her. Propping her right elbow on the table, she used her hand to hide her face from not only him, but everyone else in the room.

I need to get a damn grip, she thought. Waiting until the butterflies in her stomach disappeared and the laughing and talking at her expense ceased and attention once again was turned towards the children in the room and their celebrity guest, to remove her hand from her forehead. She could only pretend to do work for so long, she realized. And spying the Nietzsche book sitting near the corner of the table, leaned over and scooped it up. Busying herself with flipping through the pages and reading random passages.

When she reached the middle of the book, a piece of wrinkled paper fell out and fluttered down into her lap. Unable to contain her curiosity, she picked it up and flipped it over.

Michelle, it read. 555-7734.

I wonder who Michelle is, Autumn thought. Girlfriend? No. A guy didn't keep his girlfriend's number in a book he was reading. He memorized it or at least programmed it into his cell phone. Some random woman on the street that had passed him her number? That reasoning made more sense. But most guys didn't keep numbers from random girls, let alone respond to them. Unless....

Unless he had every intention on responding to it.

Why do you even care? Autumn asked herself. Who cares what he does with his private life? And why the hell are you going through his things like some obsessed fan girl? Why are....?

xxxx

"Two minutes for snooping," a familiar voice whispered in her ear.

Autumn jumped. Startled by the person hunched down behind her with their chin resting on her shoulder. And totally humiliated she'd been busted. The book and slip of paper both tumbling to the floor.

"I wasn't snooping!" she quickly defended herself, as Gwen laughed hysterically.

"You were!" her boss said. "Admit it! You're curious about our golden boy there and you're going through his things!"

"How do you know this isn't my book?" Autumn asked, as she used her foot to move the book closer to her where she sat so she could bend down and pick it up.

"Nietzsche?" Gwen inquired. "Since the hell when?"

The younger woman shrugged. "I'm expanding my horizons," she reasoned.

"Oh really...." Gwen bent down to scoop up the piece of paper. "Well if that book is yours, then so it this. Who's Michelle?" she asked, holding the number out for Autumn to see.

"It's just someone who I..." she bit her lip nervously. "Just someone that I met while I was taking my break downstairs."

Gwen smirked, and yanking the book out of Autumn's hands, tucked the paper in between the pages and snapped the novel closed. "You are a terrible liar," she informed her young charge, and dropped the book onto the table.

"I was just curious okay!" Autumn huffed. "I was just surprised that someone like him was reading someone like Nietzsche. That's all. I mean, I've got the masters and I've never read Nietzsche for God sakes! And when I saw that someone like him was reading it, I just wanted to see what al the fuss was about. That's all."

Gwen arched a sceptical eyebrow.

"Okay....so I'm nosy," Autumn finally surrendered. "But I wasn't technically going through his things," she added quickly. "I was just checking out what he was reading. It's not my fault that he keeps women's phone numbers in a weird place."

"It's also not his fault that you're the type of person that asks to use the washroom when you visit someone's house and then snoops through their medicine cabinet," her boss added.

Autumn couldn't deny that. "What are you doing here anyway?" she asked.

"I thought I'd come in and check how things were going," Gwen replied, as she slipped into an empty chair on the other side of the table.

"You never come in on your day off to check up on me," Autumn said. "You practically need an ark to get around with all this rain yet you drive forty minutes to come here and see how things are going?"

"I wanted to see if you'd dragged him into a supply closet and took advantage of him yet," the older woman teased. "See if you've used your feminine wiles to corrupt him."

Autumn snorted. "I'm not the type to kidnap and forcibly confine someone to have my way with them."

"I noticed you didn't deny that you wanted to have your way with him."

Autumn sighed exasperatedly. "He's cute okay! He's not bad looking!"

"Girl, do you need a stronger prescription for your glasses? That boy is completely and utterly hot and any woman would be tossing themselves at his feet. If he said it was master of some perverse universe and the cool thing to do is throw yourself off a cliff? Women would do it. If he was to whip up a batch of poisoned Kool-Aid..."

"Most women would drink it willingly," Autumn finished. "I get it. Women of all ages think he's hot. Even perverted old wenches like yourself."

"Hey!" Gwen snapped. Then gave the younger woman a playful wink. "I resent being called old."

A grin tugged at Autumn's lips. "Look...I admit...he's very, very attractive. And he's obviously nicely built and...."

"Nicely built? Girl, what is wrong with you? Nicely does not even come close!"

"...but I am not like all those other women, okay?" Autumn continued. "I'm not going to fall at some guy's feet 'cause he's hot and he's got lots of money. I don't care how famous he is, alright? Or how good looking he is. And he's a really nice guy and I can honestly say that he's totally surprised me. I was expecting this stuck up jerk and instead I got saddled with someone who acts like they're still stuck in their tiny one horse town."

Gwen leaned back in her chair, and crossing her arms over her chest, narrowed her eyes as she waited for the younger woman to continue. "I'm waiting for the part where you tell me exactly why you wouldn't get mixed up with someone like him."

"Well...." Autumn considered it. "For one...he's only twenty two."

"And you're only twenty six," her boss pointed out.

"Twenty seven in April," Autumn told her. "He was born in August which means I'll turn twenty seven before he turns twenty three."

"And three and a half years makes you Mrs Robinson?" Gwen asked. "I don't get why you're making a big deal out of such a small age difference."

"Second, I'm normal," Autumn continued. "Or relatively normal, at least. I'm not some supermodel or actress of singer or someone famous in any regard. I'm just...I'm just me."

"And you just being you? That's a huge deal, A. I mean, look at you. You're intelligent, you're witty, you're fun to be around. And in case you haven't looked in a mirror lately, you're stunning."

She snorted.

"You are. Regardless of what some jackass doctor says about you."

"Guys like that?" Autumn nodded in Sid's direction. "Guys like that don't go for girls like me. They just don't. I'm the girl that guys want to hang out with. Be buddies with. Not the type they want to get involved with. Or they think because I've got a kid and I'm not married that it makes me easy and I'll just jump into bed with them."

"You know what I think?" Gwen asked. "I think you're coming up with a shit load of excuses to why you can't get involved with someone instead or letting yourself just do it. And I'm talking with any guy. Whether it's someone like Sidney Crosby or some regular guy walking down the street. You're scared to get mixed up with someone. You're scared to feel things for someone because you're afraid you're going to get hurt."

Autumn rolled her eyes. "And I think you're reading too much into things," she retaliated. "Why would you even think he'd be interested in me in the first place?"

"Want a list?" Gwen asked.

"I want you to just leave my personal life alone," Autumn replied. "Because it's just that. Personal. Besides, he's not interested in me. He never will be. We come from two totally different worlds. We're two completely different people. And together? Together we just wouldn't mesh. At all."

"Because you're too afraid to take the chance to see if you will mesh," Gwen concluded. "Because honestly? You're terrified of it working. Of anything between you and any guy working."

"Are you done now?" Autumn asked, her lips pursed tightly as she scribbled feverishly on the papers in front of her.

"Not even in the slightest," Gwen told her cheerfully as she jumped to her feet. "Just call me Cupid," she said, and patting the younger woman's shoulders affectionately, journeyed across the room to introduce herself to the superstar in their midst.

"Don't do anything stupid," Autumn warned her. "If you value your life that is."

Gwen smiled and winked at her over her shoulder.

Nosy old bat, Autumn thought and stabbed at the paper with the pen in her hand. Giving a frustrated and irritated sigh, she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, like a spoiled teenager throwing a tantrum over not getting her own way.

Her eyes fell on the book sitting within reaching distance. And a frown covered her face as she agitatedly drummed her fingernails on her biceps.

I wonder who Michelle is, she mused.

How old is she? What does she look like?

And why can't I just mind my own business and let it go?