Dr. Shoo opened his case and prepared to inject the serum into the IV that ran into Mary’s fragile and bruised arm. Shelly stood next to Wall as Barry leaned in the doorway, holding back the crowd, then eventually shut the door.
“Okay, honey,” Shoo said, “what do you say we change the world?” He injected Mary’s almost lifeless body. Shelly held her breath. All eyes were on the little girl. The room had gone quiet. Across the room, the lone priest prayed.
“C’mon, honey,” Shoo urged and, almost on cue, the medical monitors began to show strength. Her blood pressure was rising. “That’s my girl,” Shelly said.
The room remained quiet with anticipation. Shelly stood with Nick, tears forming in her eyes. Nick reached over and squeezed her trembling hand.
*****
Thirty-six years had passed since Shelly had been released, cancer free, from St. Theresa’s. Throngs of people stood in a warm, Atlanta October breeze facing a priest. Nearby a statue stood alone. Many of those present had been part of Shelly’s amazing journey. Most of the participants wore dark clothes. Small children held single roses in their hands. Nick stood next to Shelly, flanked by Sal and Tanya. Dr. Wall and Dottie were in front of them. Shoo, Barry, and Dennis were nearby, as were Robert Smith, Jerry and Bella. Even Jim Bongero was present. So was Joe Fazio.
Attention was fixed on the clergyman as he spoke. Nick tuned out. He heard little of the priest’s message. A song plays over and over in his head—a powerful tune that ended with a poem that seemed to make what he saw real. The words of Graeme Edge of the Moody Blues resonated in his mind, the poem at the end of “Nights in White Satin” perfectly describing this moment in his life. For all that he had been through, Nick was the one who decided which was right and that today was not an illusion. Today was the journey’s end—the end to chasing a dream, and after it all, catching a miracle.