SOFIA
The heavily tinted windows on the car, combined with the back streets Lady Arabella requested of the driver, made it very difficult for Sofia to actually see any of Ducklenburge.
So far, her impression of the small country was the back of a bunch of old stone buildings. But it didn’t allow for any real sense of the architecture, or of the citizens, let alone any orientation of where they were. Or where they were going.
The longer the drive took, the more Sofia wondered if Lady Arabella might attempt to “disappear” her. Maybe she should have brought Grace. If it weren’t for the guard in the passenger seat, and the car following behind with more, Sofia might have believed the slight paranoia that was starting to set in.
Lady Arabella had been silent the entire ride. Her hands properly folded and in her lap. Her posture had discouraged Sofia from attempting conversation, and really, what was there to say that she hadn’t already tried to?
Finally, the vehicle stopped behind a large building with soaring towers, spires, and buttresses. Sofia reached for her door handle but—
“Wait.” Lady Arabella’s stern voice halted Sofia’s movement. “You must always wait for your detail to secure the location.”
Sofia released the handle and turned to see the protection officers exiting the follow-vehicle. Three of them entered the building, while one stood outside the door. The guard in their car also exited and stationed himself beside Sofia’s window.
As they waited, Sofia thought of all the little errands in her life that she’d taken for granted. If this was the protocol for a princess-on-the-move, then she’d have to come to terms with it and say goodbye to things like running to the grocery store or taking a drive simply for the pleasure of discovering where she ended up.
After a few moments, her security opened the car door. Lady Arabella cleared her throat as she flipped her hood over her head. Everything but her nose and mouth disappeared beneath the fabric, and Sofia mirrored the action.
At Lady Arabella’s nod, Sofia exited the car.
Her impression of the back of the building was that while the architecture had the presence of the cathedral that she’d first encountered in Ducklenburge, it didn’t serve the same purpose.
Though there wasn’t much to suggest what this place was, yet. Or why she got that feeling.
“Come on.” Lady Arabella said without pausing in stride. Sofia followed the click-clack of her hooded guide’s heels on the tiled floor as they made their way through the stark white hallway.
A man in a lab coat, dressed up with a tie, waited for them at an elevator. “Milady. Your… royal highness.”
The man bowed, but Lady Arabella interrupted him smoothly, “Thank you, Mr. Downing, for arranging this unofficial visit so swiftly. The Crown Prince will be pleased to hear of your welcome… and discretion.”
Mr. Downing accepted the praise with a blush of pleasure and ceased his attempts of peering around Lady Arabella for a better look at Sofia. “It’s our honor, milady.”
“With regret, we will need to keep this visit brief.”
“Of course, right this way.” Mr. Downing pressed the elevator button, stepping in, when it opened. Sofia followed, standing towards the back as the guards filed in, and the doors shut.
When the ding announced their arrival on the third floor, Sofia reflexively moved forward, but Lady Arabella’s hand reached out to still her. It was a light touch. A gentle unspoken reminder to wait. Right. Of course, Sofia had forgotten. A flash of shame swept through her, and she found herself glad for the deep hood that hid the flush of embarrassment on her cheeks.
If Sofia couldn’t remember a simple thing like waiting for a security sweep, what hope did she have to learn everything Lady Arabella still had to teach her? The woman must think her completely hopeless. Lord, help me. Guide me, please.
Two guards filed out, while three remained on the elevator. As she waited, Sofia took in the sight revealed by the elevator’s opened doors.
They were in a hospital.
Evidenced by the nurse’s station that was directly before them, and the bustle of activity as nurses, doctors and orderlies went about their business efficiently.
But instead of the all-white starkness of the back entrance, this floor was a riot of cheerful color.
The walls were covered in lovely murals depicting children playing. Some of the painted kids were blowing bubbles or pulling each other around in little red wagons. While others sat beneath a blackthorn tree listening to a story being read.
Behind the nurse’s station, a gleaming plague proclaimed:
Princess Ava’s Angels
Children’s Center
Why had Lady Arabella brought her to a hospital? If she wanted Sofia to see Ducklenburge, this was an unusual place to start a tour.
The advance guards returned with a nod, and Mr. Downing led them off the elevator. He acknowledged the curious staff who stopped to stare at the hooded guests and security entourage, but he didn’t slow down to make introductions.
Instead, he spoke quietly as they made their way down a hallway, “This phase of renovations has completed ahead of schedule and within budget. A miracle, really, when one considers that the floor was operational during the remodel. Each patient’s room has been customized per the specifications –”
Open patient doors gave Sofia glimpses of equally vibrant rooms. Careful not to stare intrusively as she walked by, she noticed that while every room held a hospital bed with standard monitoring equipment, each was outfitted with whimsical rugs, comfy chairs, and shelves lined with toys and books. Giving the feel of a child’s bedroom at home, instead of a typical hospital room.
Farther down the hall, a large window provided a view of an indoor playground, which Sofia stopped to observe.
“Play therapy, as well as our fully outfitted sensory room, are utilized to help our patients process their emotions as they receive treatment. Their visits can be overwhelming at times, and we want them to still be able to enjoy some of the simple pleasures of childhood whenever possible.”
A few young patients, with the assistance and supervision of physical therapists, played on the modified equipment, which boasted monkey bars, a swing set, a jungle gym with a slide and a large sandbox. It looked familiar to Sofia. Very similar, in fact, to the one she and her siblings had played on growing up, but she wrote it off as coincidence.
“Our center is on the cutting edge of some very promising breakthroughs. And of course, all treatments are at no cost to the families.” Mr. Downing supplied.
“They never get a bill?” Sofia asked, astounded.
“Never. While we are a modest center within the Ducklenburge hospital, Princess Ava’s Angels was modeled after the American St. Jude’s Hospital. All our patients receive free care. Though, that wasn’t possible until the Crown Prince became our royal patron and repurposed the Advent Ball as a fundraiser.”
So, that was why they were here.
In the great hall, Sofia had only seen the frivolity in royal pageantry. She had thought it meaningless, and Lady Arabella had brought her here to show her differently. “But … couldn’t the money spent on the ball be used to support the center directly instead? Why go to all the expense of throwing the party?”
Mr. Downing shifted his weight, uneasy, and Sofia understood her error when Lady Arabella answered, “The ball is a Ducklenburge tradition that has been in place for centuries. Now, thanks to Crown Prince Marcus’s determination to add meaning to tradition, it serves the dual purpose of raising funds and the profile of the cause.”
“Indeed, his highness’s vision is why no expense was spared on what others might consider unnecessary. He was adamant that we treat not just the children’s bodies but their hearts and minds as well. The sensory room and playground were the first items installed.”
Sofia’s gaze returned to the playground. So, she hadn’t imagined the similarity.
Despite the decades that had passed, Marcus had not only remembered their playground, but cherished it enough to create a similar space for other children. A space where they could be carefree for a little while and make happy memories to help sustain them through their battles. Battles similar to the one his mother had fought and lost. And he’d done it all in her name, as a tribute.
This new revelation gave Sofia a better glimpse into Marcus’s heart, and she felt her own soften a little more towards him. She found herself proud of the man, that the boy she’d pretend married on the playground, had become.
“Thank you for helping me understand. What’s being done for the children here is extraordinary.” Mr. Downing glowed under Sofia’s praise. But she was also speaking to Lady Arabella, who gave a slight nod of approval.
Mr. Downing resumed the tour, and Sofia inquired, “Do the children attend the ball?”
“Since transport would be too taxing for most of our patients, we hold our own version here. The children dress up and dance with their parents if they are able. If not, they enjoy the food and festivity. We’ll start decorating for the Christmas season this weekend.”
“That sounds delightful.” And Sofia meant it. The center’s celebration sounded much more fun than the royal one she was dreading. A hope sprang into her heart. Maybe they could visit the children before the official Advent Ball. That sounded much more in line with how Sofia wanted to celebrate the beginning of the Christmas season, and she resolved to speak to Marcus about it when she saw him next.
A joyful chime piped through the mounted speakers lining the hall. Followed by laughter and a titter of excitement as several children left their rooms. Some were in wheelchairs, piloted by parents, others were on their own.
Mr. Downing smiled, in answer to Sofia’s unasked question, “Story time.”
Sofia and Lady Arabella shadowed the man, who waited to let children ahead of him, before following the tiny herd to a large room.
Furniture made for smaller bodies filled the space. Organizers that held children’s books and craft supplies lined some walls, while others proudly bore more murals that depicted fantastic scenes from stories.
In a corner of the room was a circle of bean bags on the floor, and a woman who sat cross-legged in the center, holding a book. She warmly greeted the patients who gathered around her as they settled in and found their spots.
“The new events coordinator has been quite popular. She’s implemented several activities that nurture opportunities for friendship and provide a sense of normalcy for the patients that they would not otherwise experience.” Mr. Downing’s recitation spoke to Sofia’s heart as she took in the tableau before her.
Someone specifically tailored every detail for the children. And while Sofia was no stranger to adolescent facilities, as she took it all in, she found herself in awe of the thoughtfulness she’d witnessed.
It was a drastic comparison to some of the dreary places that she worked out of in the states. And she made mental notes and started brainstorming thrifty ways she could mirror the results back in Sweetwater.
If she still had a job. And if she didn’t decide to stay in Ducklenburge. With so many ‘ifs’ in her life, no wonder she felt adrift.
The trio stood in the back and listened as the events coordinator read to the children. The protection officers stationed themselves at the entrance and in corners of the room.
Sofia noticed a small boy with a shaved head sitting alone, away from the group.
“That’s Samuel.” Mr. Downing responded after observing the direction of her gaze. “Most children are in and out with treatments and get to have the balance of being home and being here. Samuel hasn’t been home in two years … and … we lost his twin last month.”
“The poor dear.” Lady Arabella crooned. Sofia’s heart hurt for the young boy, and she answered the pull within her to go and sit with him.
Sofia crossed to Samuel, sliding her hood off as she crouched down. She spoke softly so as not to disturb the story or startle the young boy. “Hi, I’m Sofia.”
Samuel remained silent but his amber eyes, filled with wisdom and sorrow beyond his years, studied her. “You don’t want to sit with the others?”
The boy shook his head slightly. His arms clutched his stuffed rabbit tighter to his body.
“I don’t know anyone here. May I sit with you and Mr. Rabbit?”
Samuel considered and then gave a quick nod. Sofia had noticed the stares of the adults closest to her now that her hood was down, but she didn’t pay them any mind. Instead, she smiled at Samuel and, not caring whether it was proper for a princess or not, she sat cross-legged on the floor next to him.
Ignoring the adults, she sat patiently, respecting Samuel’s shyness, as she listened to the melody of the story flowing from the circle in front of them.
It was a few moments before Sofia felt the gentle tug on her coat’s sleeve. She looked down and barely caught his faint words. “Roger. His name is Roger.”
She grinned at the darling boy who cradled the bunny. “Roger is a great name for a rabbit.”
“I know.” He stated somberly and turned back to the story. Sofia sat in contented silence next to him, taking comfort in his small frame at her side and hoping that having her near was giving him some comfort as well.
About a chapter in, Samuel scooted closer to her. By the third chapter, he’d crawled into her lap, and nestled his head on top of Roger’s plush one, as the story continued to drift around them.
Time passed as she prayed over the frail body settled against her, letting the words and the giggles from the children in the circle soothe her soul. Sofia knew Lady Arabella and Mr. Downing were waiting on her, knew there was more to see, just as she knew their time here was limited for security reasons.
But right now, she needed this.
Needed to be able to offer comfort to a child and absorb some of her own. To absorb the lesson Lady Arabella was trying to impart with this visit.
As Marcus’s wife her sphere of influence would be greatly magnified. What she’d been viewing as preposterous protocol was all part of an elaborate political dance. A dance Marcus had proven could affect positive change in many lives.
Sofia had only to let go of her desire to be the boots on the ground, the one with hands-on daily interaction, and instead, apply herself to learning Marcus’s world. To support him in his approaching reign and become a partner in his far-reaching endeavors.
But was that something she could do?
For so long, she’d been like the events coordinator reading in the center. The one directly in contact with the lives that she was championing. Sometimes, most of the time, all on her own. Something she had prided herself on. And that, she grasped was the core issue.
Sofia couldn’t pin-point when she’d allowed what she thought was God’s calling for her life to become her identity, but she had.
An identity that could become an idol if left unchecked. If she wasn’t intentional about really opening herself up to what else God might have for her life. Like becoming a wife and a princess, as absurd as that might seem to her.
A scripture surfaced in her mind, “To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven.” Sofia let understanding wash through her. God had a plan for all people, cycles of life, each season with its own work to do with Him.
Where Sofia had willfully only examined the problems with a life in Ducklenburge, perhaps God was urging her to see the opportunities to serve others on a larger scale. To acknowledge that her season as a single social worker may be over. And if it was, that it would be okay.
Lord, help me release anything that you don’t want me to hold on to. Help me embrace the path that you lead me on. And help me remember my identity is in you, and not what I do. Sofia prayed as she held Samuel and observed the other children in the circle. Father, please be with these children, and their caretakers, as they face their body-battles. And place your healing hand upon them. Amen.
When story time concluded, the woman reading announced, “Who’s ready to make their crown for the ball?”
A chorus of excitement swept through the small bodies, as the children made their way to the miniature tables and chairs. The events coordinator and a few nurses handed out shiny paper, stick-on jewels, and glitter glue pens. Parents settled in next to their children to assist.
Samuel hadn’t moved from Sofia’s lap, and she was reluctant to disturb him, though she knew social interaction was important for a grieving child. “What color crown do you think Roger wants?”
The little boy didn’t say anything, so she tried again. “He looks like a dashing bunny, should we make him a red crown?”
He shook his head. “Hmm… maybe purple?”
Again, Samuel shook his head. “I know. What about green?”
At this he chuckled so faintly, it could’ve been a cough. “That’s silly. Crowns aren’t green.”
“Who says?” When he looked up, Sofia made a face, complete with crossed-eyes, and his own grew a little bigger. “The Queen’s isn’t.”
“Hmm. Maybe you should help me with Roger’s crown. Will you?”
Samuel was slow to nod and even slower to stand. But when he reached back to take her hand, Sofia celebrated the small win. She avoided Lady Arabella’s gaze as she followed Samuel to a table that had available seats.
If Sofia chose this life, the palace would control all her waking hours, but right now, selfishly, she needed a little more time around these children. Needed to borrow an ounce of their courage and strength.
A young girl in a wheelchair greeted them. “Hi! I’m Tati and my crown is gonna be pink with lots of glitter! Isn’t glitter just… grand?!”
Sofia traded a look with Samuel, her grin encouraged him to respond, “Glitter is… sparkly.”
“Isn’t it just?! Here ya go.” Tati handed him some paper. Samuel held up a green sheet and his solemn eyes blinked at Sofia, who picked up the red glitter pen and murmured conspiratorially, “I’ve met the Queen, and you know what I think?”
A huff from the woman sitting at the end of the table drew Sofia’s notice. But the woman averted her gaze and busied herself with helping the boy next to her. Neither had greeted them when they sat down.
“What do you think?” Samuel’s question brought Sofia’s attention back to him. “I think she’d say a Christmas Crown for Roger would be grand.”
A full-blown, genuine smile appeared on Samuel’s face, and in his eyes, for the first time since Sofia had approached him. Her heart soared at the tiny kernel of joy sprouting through his sadness.
In her line of work, she knew better than to think this interaction would cure all of Samuel’s troubles or grief. But she also knew that moments of happiness could make a difference when facing life’s giant problems.
Sometimes a little bit of hope was all a person, young or old, needed to be able to keep going.
Samuel started sizing Roger the rabbit’s head with the shiny green paper, while Tati stared at Sofia in awe. “You met the Queen??”
The silent boy seated next to the huffing-woman chose that moment to speak up. “Duh! She’s the in-pasta princess.”
It confused Sofia until she saw the woman. She assumed his mother, shushing the child with a guilty, though not apologetic, look. And then it clicked. “In-pasta” as in… Imposter.
From the mouths of babes, Sofia thought, as she waited for the mother to meet her eyes. The woman was suddenly looking everywhere but at Sofia. Is that what they all think of me, Lord? If I stay, will I always be the Imposter Princess? What am I supposed to do with that?
The children were oblivious to the adults at the next table, who’d clearly overheard everything.
Their glances between Sofia and the boy’s mother, and their whispers shielded by hands, made it clear they expected a reaction. Some were even pulling phones out, no doubt hoping to catch an altercation on camera.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Lady Arabella take a step towards her. But Sofia shook her head tightly; she didn’t need her rescue. She knew where her help would come from, and she silently appealed to Him. Give me your heart to love others, Lord. Even those who may never understand or accept me. Focus my heart on what matters to yours.
“I like spaghetti, can I be an in-pasta princess too? We made noodle necklaces last week. I made two, you can have one if you want.” The young girl’s enthusiasm, and welcome distraction, made Sofia chuckle at how quickly God had answered her prayer. What the woman, and the others, thought of her didn’t matter right now. These children did. “I’d love that, but maybe Samuel or Roger would like to be a pasta-prince?”
“Okay!” Tati resumed working on her crown, oblivious to the undercurrents around them. And as Sofia applied herself to helping Tati and Samuel, she found that she didn’t blame the woman for labeling her an imposter. Not when she’d been thinking the same thing about herself.
“Pink glitter, stat!” Tati interrupted Sofia’s thoughts, her slight hand outstretched and waiting.
“Here you go, doctor.” Sofia handed her the glitter pen, and asked Samuel, “How’s the crown procedure going over there, Doc?”
Samuel solemnly answered, “I don’t want to be a doctor.”
“No? What do you want to be?”
“A nurse. Because they’re the nicest. Here. Hold Roger.” Sofia took the stuffed animal and held him steady, hoping that the nearby nurse had heard the ultimate compliment. And guessing by the hint of a smile that she had.
As Samuel carefully measured the paper around Roger’s head, Sofia added to her prayers. That Samuel would be healed and live to realize his dream.
Together, they decorated the crown with stick on jewels and the red glitter pen. When they were done, both the boy and his bunny had Christmas crowns.
“Very handsome, both of you. Your royal Roger, your princely Samuel.” The boy beamed at her exaggerated head bow.
“What about me?!” Tati exclaimed as she put her crown on with a flourish. Sofia spotted a protection officer approach Lady Arabella and whisper into her ear, as she answered the young girl with equal flair. “Princess Tati, you’re the most beautiful pasta princess there ever was, or ever will be, of course!”
Tati giggled and reached for more stick-on jewels. Lady Arabella caught Sofia’s eye and subtly motioned to the door. Sofia turned to Samuel, “It was nice meeting you and Roger, Samuel. May I come visit you again?”
But Samuel was now busy negotiating with Tati, who was sticking jewels on Roger, and distractedly replied, “Sure.”
With confident calmness Sofia stood, saying her goodbyes to Tati and the others at the table, including the mother who called her the “in-pasta princess.”
Though, crossing the room Sofia felt her conviction wane under the intense adult scrutiny tracking her as she made her way to Lady Arabella. A particularly nasty glare from a parent prompted Sofia to give in to the urge to lift her hood and hide, but a woman approached her before she could complete the action.
The woman’s eyes were ringed in puffiness that belied many hours spent crying, “Thank you. My boy …” Her voice faltered as her glance went to Samuel, still animatedly engaged by his new friend.
Sofia reached for the woman’s hand and squeezed it gently. Glad on many levels, that she had followed the compulsion to sit with Samuel. “It was my honor. I’m sorry for your loss. I’ll be praying for your son, and your family.”
The woman nodded, biting back a sob, and straightened herself. Pasting on a faux cheerful expression before she joined her son, “A Christmas crown! Samuel, it’s marvelous. I bet the Queen herself would be jealous if she saw it!”
“Look, momma, Roger has one too –”
Lady Arabella approached Sofia, “Our location was leaked.”
Across the room, the huffing-woman’s eyes bugged out of her head when Lady Arabella shot her a withering glare, then threaded her arm through Sofia’s. Several eyebrows raised at the unspoken declaration of solidarity. “Time to go, pasta-princess.”
Sofia laughed in surprise as Lady Arabella proudly steered them past the occupants in the room. Maybe they could become friends after all.
And maybe, just maybe, Sofia could surrender the plans she’d had for her future and rely on God to teach her how to become a princess, and serve in that role, if that was His will for her life.
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