Chapter Twenty-Seven: A Cold Wind Will Blow Through Your Door
Night will follow day
Sure as the sun and moon
Remember I will always be with you
If I'm out of words to say
And I understand you
When you see a darkness coming through
Remember to keep warm
Take shelter from the storm
The night will not last for much more
I wrote in a small note
Put on your winter coat
A cold wind will blow through your door
Bill Ricchini
…
"Hi, Addie!" Hayden grinned, hugging her as she opened the door, with Meredith and Aida not far behind.
"Hey, Hayden," she smiled in return, lifting the four-year-old up into her arms. Most people found it strange that she was so close to her ex-husband's children, not to mention Derek and Meredith. However, they were, and would always be, such an important part of Elena's and her life. Each time that Derek found out that Meredith was pregnant, Addison had been his first call. She remembered flying out to Seattle for Hayden's birth, being one of the first to hold the tiny little boy in her arms. From the very beginning, she had been there to watch them grow. And, no matter what the past circumstances may have been, the attachment to both Hayden and little Aida was inevitable.
"Sweetie, Addie isn't feeling well. You should get down," Meredith told her son while Aida contently sucked on her bottle, although her big blue eyes were wide open and taking in everything. She knew that Addison was alone that afternoon—Elena was with Derek and Mark was out of town—and probably bored out of her mind, so she'd offered to keep her friend company until Derek brought Elena home.
However, her first round of post-surgery chemotherapy was finally done, and she was feeling surprisingly well. Addison assured her, "It's okay. Really, I feel fine today. Come on it; it's freezing out here."
"You know what?" Hayden began, after a moment of staring intently at Addison.
"What?" she wondered playfully.
"You don't look sick. You look pretty," he said, very sincerely.
At that moment, Addison noticed just how much the little boy was starting to look like Derek. He had Meredith's sandy hair and delicate nose, but his blue eyes were purely his father's. And, of course, he had his father's charm. "You are absolutely my favorite person today," she smiled. Then turning her attention to the little girl in Meredith's arms, she wondered, "How's Aida feeling today?"
"I think the worst of it is over," Meredith answered. For the past few days, the little girl had been fighting off a terrible cold. "She slept through the night last night, and she woke up smiling, so I think we're in the clear. And Hayden didn't catch it, so that's a miracle in itself."
"It's Lydia and Sophie and Oliver's birthdays coming up, so I'm really happy I'm not sick because I want to go to their parties," Hayden explained excitedly.
However, just then, Aida started to get fussy and dropped her bottle onto the ground; Meredith, of course, knew exactly what it meant. "Looks like somebody needs a diaper change. Do you mind if we use your bathroom? Then I promise to be good company and actually come out and socialize."
"Of course I don't mind. Go ahead," Addison permitted, then offered, "Do you want any coffee? I was thinking of making some."
"Sounds great!" Meredith called from down the hall.
Addison sat Hayden down onto the counter while she busied herself making the coffee. "Are you hungry or thirsty or anything? Elle baked cookies last night," she offered the little boy, who had suddenly occupied himself with the roses that Mark had sent to Addison while he was back in New York taking care of a few things before his permanent move to Seattle.
"No, not really. Wanna see what I can do?"
"Okay," she smiled and watched as Hayden deliberately untied his shoe and then proceeded to tie it back, slowly and with deep concentration. "That's great, Sweetheart," she praised him.
"Elle taught me how," he told her happily. "It took kind of long, but she kept showing me, and now I can do it. Did you teach Elle how?"
She nodded and couldn't help but grin at the memory of her determined three-year-old. It had only taken a few tries before she had it down perfectly, her tiny hands moving gracefully and delicately. Even from such a young age, Elena already had that natural ability that some surgeons couldn't acquire even after decades of practice.
"Hey, Addie?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you gonna get better soon?"
"What?" The question caught her completely off-guard. It wasn't any surprise that he would know that things weren't right; she was sure that he had been hearing talk of it for quite some time now. Still, she just hadn't expected him to pick up on it so attentively.
"Elle is sad because she's scared that you won't get better," he revealed, and Addison felt her heart sink with his words. She'd had no idea that Elena was still worried that way. "She was crying one day, and I saw her, and she told me. But she said not to tell." After realizing that he'd just spilled everything, he looked up at Addison and, covering his mouth, said, "Uh-oh!"
"It's okay, Hayden," she assured him comfortingly.
"But if you do stay sick, Addie, I can make sure Elle is okay. I can protect her," he promised, just as Meredith and Aida entered the kitchen.
"All changed?" Addison wondered, although Hayden's words had nearly brought tears to her eyes.
Meredith nodded. "I can't wait until this one is potty trained even though I know that once it really happens, I'm gonna cry like an idiot because my baby is growing up too fast," she laughed. "Has he been talking your ear off?"
"We've actually been having a very nice little chat," she replied, and Hayden smiled back at her.
With an impish smile, Meredith wondered, "So, exactly what's going on with you and Mark these days? Inquiring minds want to know."
Addison, who had unfortunately just taken a sip of coffee, coughed as she heard Meredith's question. "Um… well, he's in New York subletting his apartment and selling his practice," she began, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I'm sure you already know, but Preston's hired him to be the Head of Plastic Surgery at Seattle Grace."
"So, are we talking wedding bells or what?" she asked outright, without hesitation. "I mean, he's moving out here, so it's gotta be serious. Is it serious?"
"I think… it might be," she confided.
…
"And then milk came out of his nose," Elena giggled, recounting the eventful lunchroom scene to her father as they walked into Seattle Grace Hospital. "It was pretty gross… but kind of funny at the same time. Of course, he got sent to Ms. Kensington's office almost right away."
Derek smiled, her tiny hand enveloped in his, as they walked through the halls. Elena was quite a little chatterbox that afternoon, much like she had been before all the chaos of the past few months, and he was enjoying every moment of her happiness. It had also been a while since it had been just the two of them spending time together, and now that she was getting older, he knew that those times would soon be even fewer.
"What are we doing here anyway?" she wondered, realizing that he hadn't given a specific reason. "Do you have a patient to check on?"
"You remember Mr. Meyner, right?" When she nodded, he explained, "He was having some numbness in is arms these past few days, so I thought it was best to observe him for a while. Turns out he needs another operation. He's been asking about you, so I thought it would be a nice surprise."
"Will he be all right, Daddy? It would be so awful if he couldn't paint anymore," the little girl remarked worriedly.
But Derek smiled and assured her, "I'll do everything I can for him, Princess."
"Ah, Dr. Shepherd! You've brought me my muse," Mr. Meyner exclaimed happily as Derek and Elena entered his room. "I have a gift for you, Elle," he told her and handed her an age-worn brown leather folder. "Go on; open it."
The little girl gasped in delight as she opened the folder to discover a beautifully drawn charcoal sketch of herself. Done in the fashion of a Leonardo da Vinci sketch, she was captured in a look of distant reflection, a calm, peaceful expression upon her face and her eyes looking away to something that remained unnamed. "Mr. Meyner, this is… Oh, my goodness!" she attempted, at a loss for words to express her awe and gratitude.
"I was wondering, my dear—once your father deciphers the cause of this exasperating numbness—if I may have your permission to add a completed version of your portrait to my collection?"
"That would be amazing!" she said excitedly. Alan Meyner's works were already classics, and Elena knew what an honor it was to be the subject of one of his portraits. As she thought more about it, rarely had she seen portraits in his collections. "Mr. Meyner, I'm very flattered, but… I thought you only painted landscapes."
Smiling, he replied simply, "So many times in life, people do not often enough stop to admire the beauty that surrounds them. My career and my mission is to remind them, in whatever form that beauty may be—whether it is in a flowered hillside or a snowy mountaintop or the innocence of a child."
Derek's pager went off, and he looked up at them. "I need to take this. Mr. Meyner, I'll come by tomorrow before your surgery. Elle, you'll have to sit at the Nurses' Station for a little while so I can deal with this."
"Well, there's no reason for the both of us to be submersed in boredom when we could be having an enlightening conversation," Mr. Meyner reasoned. "If young Elena here wouldn't mind spending a few minutes entertaining a tiresome old man like myself, I'd love to have her company."
"I'd like that very much," Elena confirmed, and Derek smiled and hurried to answer his page. "I did what you asked and painted a picture," she told him, taking a seat in the chair beside his bed.
"Did you, now? Well, tell me all about it."
"It's… of the rain," she told him and explained further, "I know it sounds kind of weird, but it was raining the night I found out that my mommy had cancer, and I felt like I wanted to paint it. It's hanging in her bedroom; she said it was beautiful, but of course she's going to think that."
"Inspiration knows no limits," he said softly, captivated by the child who sat before him. "How is your mother, Elena?"
"She's had chemo and surgery and more chemo, so she should get better. But I still feel funny about it all, like it isn't going to be that easy," she confessed. The strange feeling that she'd had even before she knew about the cancer had never quite left, and a lingering sense of foreboding still remained. "It's never easy."
"My dear," he said, taking the little girl's hand into his own, "I do believe you have already come to the realization that so many are never able to reach."