“This is our new sensory space,” Caroline announced. “We’ve received a lot of positive feedback about it so far. It has been very helpful for our kids who get overstimulated from the lights and bustle of the hospital and those who need a space to process what’s going on around them.”
“Oh, this is brilliant,” I said.
“It is,” Adelaide agreed. “The library in my neighborhood has a room like this in the children’s wing. I wish more public spaces would start implementing them for all ages.”
We continued down the corridor until we reached a space that resembled a classroom with a large whiteboard on one wall, tables and chairs spaced throughout the room, a colorful calendar, and a bookshelf. Opposite the whiteboard were shelves filled with art supplies.
Caroline led us into the room, stopping to stand by one of the tables. “This is our learning studio. As you can see, we have one-half set up in a typical classroom setting, while the other half is used for art activities and therapy sessions. All our families are welcome to use the room as they see fit.”
Adelaide’s eyes sparkled and she was biting down on a grin. “This is wonderful!” She thumbed through some of the books before making her way to the calendar on the wall, looking over the pockets stapled on the corkboard next to it, assessing every nook and cranny. She was in her element and I loved watching her.
She turned back toward us as she surveyed the supplies on the shelves. “You said families can use the classroom as they see fit. Are they responsible for their child’s education while they are here, or are there additional resources, such as tutors, available to them?”
“Um, well…” Caroline stuttered, “the children who are still enrolled in school receive assignments from their teachers. For some of our long-term patients, their parents pull them out and follow a homeschooling curriculum as their treatments allow. But we do not provide education resources, just the space and what is in here.”
“Hmmm.” Adelaide’s lips were pursed in thought. She turned to the board members. “Mr. Bugsley, you said that you have some funds to invest in a new program in the coming year, correct?”
The balding man nodded. “Yes, we have been discussing some options but hadn’t landed on one just yet.”
“What if you partnered with Royal College of Wexstone to have their education students available for tutoring? Your funding could provide a transportation stipend on top of paying the tutors. In addition to having tutors available for one-on-one help, you could schedule activities such as story times or classes with the art and music students.”
I couldn’t hold back my grin. “Adelaide, that’s brilliant! It would be the perfect way to give the university students some hands-on experience and provide resources to the families here.” This fiancée of mine was a wonder. I couldn’t believe she had come up with this idea on the spot.
“I have some contacts at the university, Mr. Bugsley,” Mrs. Corksmith said.
“I do as well; it’s my alma mater and I am still in touch with a number of the education faculty members. I would be happy to help with any connections you may need,” Adelaide added.
Mr. Bugsley nodded thoughtfully. “That sounds wonderful. I’ll present this to the board but can’t imagine anyone would object to the idea. We’ll get this in motion and will be sure to let you know if we need any introductions. Thank you very much, Ms. Levy.”
“We are very lucky to have such a thoughtful woman as our future queen,” Caroline said, her eyes silvery with tears.
I came to stand by Adelaide, squeezing her shoulder. “I couldn’t agree more.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize the room was occupied,” said a soft voice behind us.
We turned to see a short woman with dark hair in a messy bun, pushing a wheelchair that held a small girl who looked no older than eight or nine. The woman’s eyes widened when she saw me, and she dropped into a curtsy.
“Please, do come in. We were just leaving,” Caroline said,gesturing for the pair to enter the room. Mr. Bugsley and Mrs. Corksmith bowed and bid us farewell, promising Adelaide that they would be in touch soon. Caroline took up a spot near the door, waiting to follow our lead.
The little girl’s eyes were large as she looked at Adelaide and me. “Are you King Oliver?” she asked.
I held back a laugh. “I am.”
Her mouth popped open. “Wow. Mum!” She reached back to tug on her mother’s sleeve. “It’s him!”
“I know, darling,” the woman whispered, her cheeks pink. She looked at us, clearly flustered. “We can come back later. Isla wanted to do some painting, but we can take the supplies back to our room.”
“No, please, do come in,” Adelaide said, going to the art table. She moved one chair aside to make room for Isla’s wheelchair and pulled out another seat for the girl’s mother.
The woman nodded and pushed Isla to the table before grabbing some paint, brushes, and canvases.
Adelaide sat at the table facing the little girl. “Hi, I’m Adelaide. You’re Isla?”
Isla nodded. “And this is my mum, Josie.” The girl paused, looking over her shoulder at me. “Do you want to paint with me, Your Majesty?”
Josie nearly dropped the tray of paint she was holding. “Isla, darling, I’m sure King Oliver has other things on his schedule.”
I strode to the table, taking the seat next to Isla. I smiled at her warmly. “I wouldloveto paint with you.”
