Chapter 7 - The Blue Band No One Else Noticed
The dressing suite was quieter than the ballroom, but not quiet. I could still hear the music through the walls, muffled and low, and the clink of glasses from somewhere down the hall. I sat on the edge of a velvet chair that was too big for me, my feet not touching the floor, and I held my bear so tight my arms hurt.
The man in the tuxedo didn't sit. He knelt again so we were eye level, the way he had by the sofa. He'd left the door closed but not locked, and he'd kept the light soft, just the lamps by the mirror. I could see his watch catching the light when he moved.
He looked at the bear, not at me, for a long second. Then he looked at me.
"Can I look closer at that blue band?" he asked. His voice was low. "I won't take him from you. He stays right in your arms. I just want to see."
I didn't answer right away. I pressed the bear's head against my cheek. The fur was warm from my hands. The blue band was around his lower leg, thin and kind of shiny, tucked into the fur. I'd picked at it before, but I never took it off because Grace said not to.
"You can look," I whispered. "But don't pull it."
"I won't," he said.
He leaned in slowly, like he was afraid he'd scare me if he moved too fast. He didn't touch me. He just gently lifted the edge of the bear's leg with two fingers, turning it a little toward the lamp light so he could see. I held the bear out just enough. My hands were shaking and I tried to make them stop.
Up close, under the warm light, I could see what he saw. It wasn't a ribbon. It wasn't a toy tag the way I'd thought when I first got him. It was wider on one side and it had that smooth, plastic feel, and the ends were sealed together. There was writing on it, faded like it had been written with a thin marker and rubbed by hands holding it.
He squinted, his brow pulling together. He breathed out through his nose, slow.
"This isn't a toy band," he said quietly, more to himself than to me at first. Then he looked up at me. "Sweetheart, do you know what this is? This is a hospital band."
I shook my head. I didn't know that word the way he meant it.
He turned the band very carefully, just a fraction more, so the writing caught the light.
There were letters in faded black ink. I could make out some of them. G-R-A-C-E. And an edge of another word. And numbers, a date, smeared at the corner where the plastic had creased.
"Grace Bennett," he read, his voice barely above a whisper. "This says Grace Bennett."
He didn't let go right away. He stared at it like he was checking to make sure he was reading it right. His hand was very still.
"It says something else too," he said. "There's a date here. Twelve... twelve seventeen. And letters after it. C-C... comfort program. This is from the children's wing."
I didn't understand all of it, but the sound of her name in his mouth made my chest tighten. I hugged the bear back against my red dress.
"Grace gave him to me," I said. My voice was small and I had to stop and swallow. "She said to keep him safe."
The man nodded, encouraging, but he didn't rush me. He kept his hand near the bear, not on it now, just close.
"When did she give him to you?" he asked.
I remembered the hallway with the bright lights and the chairs that were hard. Grace kneeling down, just like he was kneeling now. Her hands were cold and she smelled like soap.
"She said I had to wait alone," I said. I could hear my own breathing now, quick. "She said the gala was warm and people would find me. She said to hold the bear and not let go until someone who knew her name found me. She said he would keep me safe while I waited."
I looked down at the blue band, at the faded letters I couldn't really read. "She put the band on him so I'd remember. She said don't lose the band."
The man was very still for a moment. I saw his jaw move, like he was pressing his teeth together. His eyes stayed on the bear, then moved to my face.
"She told you to wait alone at the gala?" he asked carefully.
I nodded. The tears that had been sitting in my eyes finally slipped down. I didn't wipe them. I just held tighter.
"She wasn't my mom," I whispered. "She was just Grace. She said she couldn't stay but the bear would."
He reached out then, not for the bear, but to gently steady my hands where they were clenched around it. His fingers were warm.
"You're doing exactly what she asked," he said. "You kept him safe. You kept the band safe. Thank you for letting me look."
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He sat back on his heels a little, but he didn't stand. He looked at the band one more time, memorizing it, then looked at the door that led back toward the ballroom, as if he was thinking about what that band meant and who it proved Grace was.
The bear stayed in my arms. The blue band stayed around his leg, faded but still there, in the lamplight.
