Healing Waters (26 page)

He stopped and stared into the swirl of cream in his coffee. How many months had it been since he'd felt that pull to help someone embrace her pain? That he felt it again after two long months was a miracle. Whether he could ever pull it off again was the question.

I got Didi to take Bethany out.
Do something fun,
I told her. She looked doubtful, but she agreed.

Then I took a deep breath and approached Sonia's room. To my utter amazement, the door was unlocked and she sat placidly at the window, still without her mask but dressed in slacks and a tunic that swallowed her diminishing frame. Even her frail tail of hair was neatly tucked into place at the nape of her neck.

“Are you okay?” I said.

“I am more than okay,” she said. “As each person I depended on betrays me, I just become more aware that God and I are in this alone.” She looked up at me, eyes bird-bright. “Except for you. You're with us.”

“I'm here to take care of you,” I said. Was that the right thing to say? Should I play along with her—let her think I would be her assistant?

“I want you to answer some e-mails with me. I'll show you how I like it done.” Her eyes darted. “Did Marnie leave yet? I want her gone. I'll pray with her before she goes, but she has to know that I won't tolerate—”

With a knock on the door, Sullivan stuck his head in.

“There's a Wesley Kane here to see you.”

“Right,” I said and got out the door before Sonia could batter me with questions. I took Sullivan with me.

“That's the physical therapist,” I said. “Should I bring her in?”

“Talk to her. See if you think Sonia will be receptive.”

I pressed the heels of my hands to my forehead.

“Do you want some help with this?” he said.

“Is it within the limits or the boundaries or whatever they are?”

He tilted his head at me. “It's within the realm of common sense.”

We found Wesley Kane, an African-American in her late thirties, looking out the breakfast nook window toward the river. A low breeze made the water dance lightly in the sun, and I couldn't blame her for gazing at it.

“This is one beautiful view,” she said. “Look at that heron.”

I followed the point of a sturdy finger, which, I noted, bore no rings or nail polish. The rest of her was the same way—smooth and clean and without unnecessary ornamentation except for gold hoop earrings, and those, too, seemed part of her. Even her licoricecolored hair, contoured to her head, said there was nothing about her that didn't matter.

“He's a gorgeous thing,” she said, and finally turned to us. Her dark eyes, shadowed beneath, were large and rich as oil.

“You're the physical therapist?” I said.

She gave me a sardonic smile. “Well, I'm not the cleaning lady.”

“Oh, no, I didn't mean—”

Good. She hadn't been here a full minute and I'd already insulted her. I abandoned the idea of making it better and simply shook her warm hand.

“Lucia Coffey,” I said. “You've met Dr. Crisp?”

The bright eyes went to Sully, who grinned and shook his head. “Not that kind of doctor,” he said. “I'm a psychologist, just here as a friend. I'm not treating Sonia.”

“Does she need treating?”

I felt my eyes widen. Okay, this woman cut right to the chase.

In the long pause that followed, I realized Sully was waiting for me to answer.

“Maybe you should fill her in,” I said.

Sully began the story while I went to the kitchen for coffee and made a mental Wesley Kane list.

•
full of confidence

Not the kind that came from owning a Louis Vuitton bag.

•
direct

I wouldn't lie to those eyes.

•
not one to be told how it is

My heart sank. Sonia wouldn't have taken to this woman even in her right mind. Armed with the expectation of disappointment and a tray of steaming coffee mugs, I rejoined them.

“So, what I'm hearing,” Wesley said, eyes on Sullivan, “is that her mental state is precarious, and you aren't sure she's going to respond to physical therapy at this time.”

“That's it,” Sullivan said.

Wesley turned to me. “Is that what I've been smelling?”

I nodded and put a cup in front of her. “What do you take?”

“I'm going to need it black and strong for what we have ahead of us.”

Sullivan looked at me.

“So you'd like to give this a try?” I said.

“I'm not going to walk out of here without seeing her, if that's what you mean.”

Yeah, I guessed that was what I meant. I wasn't going to argue with her.

Sullivan picked up a Splenda packet, frowned at it, and got up.

“We do need to tell you a little about Sonia's spiritual background,” he said as he exited for the kitchen.

“I looked at a couple of her books before I came,” Wesley said. “Watched one of her videos.”

I tended to forget that Sonia's persona was an item you could pick up in any Christian bookstore.

Wesley sipped her coffee in a deliberate manner, the way she seemed to do everything so far. “I think I know what we're dealing with here. I can't make any promises, because the outcome of physical therapy depends as much on the patient as it does on the therapist.” She looked at Sullivan, who returned to the table with the canister of sugar. “I'm sure it's the same in your line of work.”

“Absolutely,” he said.

She paused again, and her eyes went back to the window. I found myself holding my breath and hoping she'd say yes. I liked something about this woman. Maybe the fact that she had actual flesh on her bones, though I had her beat by at least thirty pounds. Or maybe the absence of the praise the Lords and bless your hearts I'd been drowning in. Which brought to mind—

“I do have one more question for you,” I said. “And I guess legally I can't even ask it, but Sonia is going to want to know . . .”

“If I'm a believer.”

Wesley folded her smooth brown hands around the coffee mug and leaned in. Her eyes wouldn't let me go.

“Am I a Christian the way Sonia Cabot thinks of herself as a Christian? No, I am not. Do I take myself before the Lord Jesus Christ every day and ask Him to show me how to live that day?” She smiled, an elegant, velvet thing that spread magnificent lips and brought her cheeks up to her eyes. “Yes, ma'am, I do.”

Sully stopped stirring his coffee. I thought I heard him whisper, “Amen.”

What Sonia would say, I had no idea, but I nodded at Wesley.

“Let's go meet our patient, then,” she said.

Sully watched Wesley as they passed through the house toward Sonia's suite. She looked around, but her gaze remained clinical rather than awestruck, and her lips moved slightly as if she were making a note to self. He'd be interested to see how this turned out.

Still, he hesitated outside Sonia's door. Lucia's bow mouth wasn't knotted quite so tight now, but he'd already learned that if he edged in on her too far, she closed down like a winter boardwalk.

Wesley strode right into the room.

Lucia stopped behind her and looked over her shoulder at Sully. “You're coming, aren't you?” she said.

“I wouldn't miss it.”

Sonia was posed on the chaise longue, with a Bible in her lap. Though she still twisted her fingers, she seemed relatively calm otherwise.

Wesley nodded to her. “Ms. Cabot, I'm Wesley Kane.”

“You're the physical therapist.” Sonia's voice was tight.

“Yes, ma'am, I am.” Wesley pulled an ottoman close to the chaise longue and sat on it. She looked every bit as queenly as Sonia. “I understand you don't think you need my services.”

Sully saw Lucia hedge slightly toward the bathroom door. He wanted to tell her not to bother escaping. This wouldn't take long, one way or the other.

“I don't want to offend you,” Sonia said. “But, no, I don't think I need what you have to offer.”

“And why would that be?”

“Two reasons. One, I am going to be healed by God. It's that simple. And two, because my healing is going to take place according to His timing. In the meantime I am giving people an opportunity to accept me as I am—just like this.”

Sonia swept her hands past her face. The sun streaming in through the opening in the drapes brought her scars into bas-relief. Sully hadn't noticed them being that pronounced even the day before, and he wasn't sure what it meant.

Wesley frowned deeply. “Wouldn't it be nice if people could do that?”

“They will.”

“Ms. Cabot, have you looked in a mirror without that mask?”

“I've had a glimpse, yes,” Sonia said. “But what I see is only temporary.”

“But what you're asking people to accept
now
is not a pretty sight.” Wesley nodded toward Sonia's face. “In fact, I'd say it scares most people half to death.”

Sully watched Sonia carefully. Her hands went still on top of the open Bible as she stared hard at Wesley. He wasn't sure how far Wesley could push this.

“Did you know that it's hard for a person with facial burn scars to even get a job taking orders at McDonald's?” Wesley said. “It's not because they can't do the work. They're the same people inside that they were before they got burned.” She leaned in. “It's because customers won't look at them. Makes them uncomfortable. They'll go on down to Wendy's rather than face that.”

“I'm not selling hamburgers, Miss—Kane, is it?”

Sully could tell Sonia was groping for her charm. She wasn't finding it.

“I know what you're selling,” Wesley said, “and I want to be clear before we go any further that I'm not buying it.”

Her voice was low and firm, and it held Sonia in place for the moment.

“Miracles do happen, I know that,” Wesley said. “But I don't work with patients who sit around waiting because they think God would never let them down. I don't care how much faith you have, God doesn't heal everyone who believes.”

Sully bit back an amen.

“Now, I am talking about physical healing. I know the good Lord heals everyone emotionally if they stay connected. But if you aren't going to work at this because you think God's going to make it all right without you doing a thing about it, then you're right—PT is not for you.”

Sonia gave her a condescending laugh. “Wesley—may I call you Wesley?”

“You can call me anything you want, and you'll be calling me some pretty ugly things if we do work together. I'm going to be your best friend and your worst enemy.”

“Do you believe in the power of deep prayer?” Sonia said.

“I do. I also believe you need more than prayer to heal. People are always waiting for God to do what God is waiting for
them
to do.”

“Jesus said, ‘Apart from me you can do nothing . . . if you remain in me . . . ask whatever you wish and it will be given you.' ”

“I didn't say you can't pray while you work. I'll be praying right along with you. And the minute that healing starts to happen, we'll give all the glory to God together.”

Wesley's voice didn't change. Sonia's was climbing up the scale one disturbing note at a time.

“It takes courage to get up and do that work,” Wesley said, “and some of the things I'm going to ask you to do, I promise will bring you to your knees.”

She stopped. Sonia became an impervious wall.

“Lucia,” she said without looking at her sister. “Would you please escort Miss Kane out? I won't be needing her.”

Wesley appeared unscathed as she stood up. “I'm sorry we couldn't reach an understanding on this,” she said. “I would like to be part of your healing.”

“Then pray and believe,” Sonia said. “Lucia, could you—”

“No,” Lucia said.