Rushing to the wedding, I bought flowers from a little girl selling them by the roadside. But before the registry office, I found a note inside and called everything off. Son, are you almost there? This was mom’s third call. Yes, mom, don’t worry, I’m on time. Oh, Paul, only you could do something like this, go on a business trip right before your own wedding. Mom, don’t make a big deal out of it.
It was a very important business trip for the benefit of our clinic. You should be thinking about your wedding and your beautiful bride, but you’re all about the clinic. Who did you take after? Mom’s side.
All right, keep your eyes on the road and don’t be late. Paul Gill had been working in the pediatric clinic’s cardiology department for about two years. Their head doctor was a fanatic about his work.
He cared for his department like it was his own child, doing his utmost to equip it with the latest technology. No one asked him to, it wasn’t part of his duties, but Mr. Hawkins was dedicated to the cause. Children need to be treated in the best possible way.
Children are our future, and what that future will be like depends only on us, the adults, said Mr. Hawkins. No one dared to argue with him. When he hired Paul, he immediately recognized a kindred spirit.
The young man clearly had the same outlook on life and on his work. The head doctor wasn’t wrong. They worked together exceptionally well.
I couldn’t find a better replacement for myself, Dr. Hawkins once said, patting Paul on the shoulder. And I couldn’t find a better teacher and mentor, Paul replied with a smile. That day, Paul Gill was returning from a business trip.
He had to travel to a nearby city to negotiate the delivery of new equipment. Mr. Hawkins would have gone himself, but he had caught a severe case of tonsillitis and was bedridden with a high fever. The meeting couldn’t be postponed, so despite the upcoming celebration, Paul went on the trip.
Damn, I don’t even have a bouquet, Paul cursed. I meant to order one in advance, but work has been so hectic. At that moment, he saw a little girl.
She couldn’t have been more than seven or eight years old. She was sitting on an overturned crate with a bucket of small bouquets of wildflowers in front of her. Paul slowed down.
Hi there, sweetheart, are you selling these flowers? He asked her. Yes, sir. They’re fresh.
I picked them early this morning. Aren’t you scared being here alone? This is a busy road. No, sir.
People here are just like us, the girl shrugged. I’ll take this one with the forget-me-nots, Paul said, pointing to a bouquet in the middle of the bucket. He handed her a ten dollar bill.
The girl looked up at him with her sky blue eyes. Take them all, she said. No, I only need one, honey.
Use the money to treat yourself and be happy for me. Today is a happy day for me. Thank you, sir.
I’ll pray for your health, she said in a mature, almost grandmotherly way. Paul stepped on the gas. Time was running out, and he still needed to go home, take a shower, and change.
There weren’t many people in front of the registry office. Paul and Jessica didn’t want a lavish celebration. They just wanted to be together, that was all.
Their parents, however, especially Paul’s, were eager for the wedding celebration as he was their only son. They were waiting for the bride and the gills to arrive. Paul stood in the shade of an old tree, idly examining his bouquet.
Suddenly, he noticed a piece of paper folded several times inside. Probably some trash got in there, he thought, pulling out the paper. No, it wasn’t trash.
The notebook paper had been deliberately folded and placed in the bouquet. The groom unfolded his find. Thank you for buying.
You will save me from the orphanage. Samantha. A chill ran down Paul’s spine, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
He knew all too well what an orphanage was like. As a child, he had spent several years in one until he was adopted by the gills. Paul’s parents had died in a plane crash when he was about four years old.
He remembered how every Christmas the children wrote letters to Santa, asking for kind and loving parents who would love them more than anything, kiss them good night, read them stories, and sing lullabies. Paul wanted that too. He folded his letters the same way and hung them on the tree.
The caregivers helped the kids make special boxes to send their letters to Santa Claus. One autumn day, Paul Webster’s dream came true. He was called to the orphanage director’s office, where Angela and Christopher Gill were waiting for him.