The Healing Place (13 page)

“G
ood morning,” Mark greeted Darcy the following week.

Standing at the front reception counter, he smiled as he signed in for Angie’s appointment.

Angie stood on tiptoe as she peeped over the counter. “Hi, Darcy.”

“Hi, cutie. How are you?” Darcy smiled with affection as she tugged playfully on the brim of Angie’s baseball cap.

“Fine.” Angie’s voice sounded buoyant.

Mark glanced around the reception room. “Mrs. Valdez isn’t here yet?”

After two months Angie had become quite attached to Mrs. Valdez.

Darcy showed a hesitant frown. “No, I’m sorry, but she won’t be here. Mrs. Valdez died.”

Angie gasped, her eyes flashing wide.

“Died? When?” Mark said.

“Well, I, um, I’m not sure—”

“No.” Angie gave a small whimper and backed away from the counter, shaking her head. Tears filled her eyes and her little chin quivered.

“Angie—” Mark stepped toward her, his arms outstretched.

“No! It’s not true,” she yelled, and took off through the office, sprinting toward the treatment room.

“Mrs. Valdez! Mrs. Valdez!” Angie yelled, circling around the hallway with Mark in hot pursuit.

Her cries filled the entire office and brought several staff members running. They stared in confusion as Angie made her second pass through the hall. Angie spied Emma standing at the end of the corridor. The girl made a beeline toward the doctor and threw her arms around Emma’s legs.

Holding tight, the child pressed her face against Emma’s abdomen, sobbing. “She’s not dead, she’s not. You can make her better, Emma. You can bring her back, can’t you? Please, please bring her back.”

Staring down at Angie, Emma’s eyes went wide with surprise. She held her hands up, as if she didn’t know quite what to do.

Mark dropped down on his knees beside his daughter, trying to comfort her. He tried to take Angie into his arms, but she shook him off, clinging to Emma.

“No, let me be,” Angie cried. “Emma, please.”

Mark glanced up at Emma and saw her confusion. She knelt in front of Angie and pulled the girl into her arms.

“What happened?” Emma asked over the top of Angie’s head.

“She just found out Mrs. Valdez died. Why didn’t you warn me so I could have prepared her?” he asked.

Tears flickered in Emma’s eyes, her expression one of helplessness. “I only found out half an hour ago. I didn’t realize Angie would take it this hard or I would have called you.”

Mark hadn’t realized, either. First her mother, now Mrs. Valdez. He should have talked with Angie about this possibility; he should have prepared her for it.

“No, she’s not dead, she’s not!” Angie’s words were muffled against Emma’s neck.

“Angie, listen to me.” Mark tried to pry her away, but Angie clung tighter to Emma.

“No, I want Emma.” The child wept, her pitiful sobs filling the office. The staff members stood around staring, their faces white with shock.

All this time, Mark had been worried about becoming romantically attached to Emma, it never occurred to him that Angie might become too attached to her, as well. Maybe he had done his daughter a disservice by spending time with Emma. Eventually she would leave them, just like Denise. When that time came, it would devastate his daughter.

“Angie.” Emma spoke against the girl’s ear, soft and soothing. “Listen to me, sweetie. Mrs. Valdez was very old and very sick, but she lived a long, happy life. Her husband was with her right up to the end and she passed away quietly without pain.”

The sobbing subsided into hiccups as Angie listened intently, her tear-drenched face pressed against Emma’s cheek.

“I know we’ll all miss her,” Emma continued, “but there was nothing we could do to help her and it would have been cruel to make her stay with us any longer. She’s at peace now.”

Rubbing her eyes, Angie gave a little shudder as she drew back and looked at Emma, their noses barely touching. “Am I gonna die, too?”

The words chopped off Mark’s words, thoughts and heartbeat.

It was the first time Angie asked this question out loud. He had wondered if she was too young to understand the ramifications of her brain tumor, but she was smart and insightful and he should have known better. He had tried to keep her morale positive but should have addressed her fears better.

“No!” Emma answered fiercely, hugging Angie close. “No, sweetie. I won’t let you. Mrs. Valdez had a deadly cancer that you don’t have. You mustn’t give up hope. Your dad and I will do everything in our power to keep you safe. I promise you.”

Mark gave a weak smile, approving of what Emma said. He refused to give up. Angie needed to know that.

“Emma’s right, honey.” He caressed Angie’s cheek, his heart aching. “We’re never going to give up this fight. Never.”

The sounds of the office filtered over them, the ringing of the phone, the buzz of machinery and voices coming from the reception room.

Angie looked into Emma’s eyes. “Are you gonna leave Dad and me, like Mommy and Mrs. Valdez?”

Emma glanced at Mark, then hugged Angie tight. “No, I’ll always be here for as long as you want me.”

She meant what she said. Every single word. If she had to call in every favor of every medical professional she knew, she vowed she would not let this child die as long as she could do something to prevent it.

Please, God! Please let me keep my promise. Please help me have faith, to be strong for Angie and Mark.

Emma didn’t resist the burn of tears. She was so overcome by emotion, she just didn’t have the strength or desire to fight it any longer.

Over the top of Angie’s head, Emma saw Mark’s face contort with emotion. A single tear tumbled down his cheek and Emma could hardly stand to see this strong man cry.

He wiped at his right eye and inhaled a deep breath before he let it out in a fast exhale. “Thanks, Emma.”

Knowing he depended on her brought Emma a hot gush of achy pleasure. And yet, it scared her to death. Old fears of failure crowded her mind. If the new chemo protocol Emma had discussed with Larry Meacham didn’t work—

She couldn’t think about that now. God had given her that insight and she mustn’t doubt it.

They walked into the treatment room where Emma stayed with Angie while Sonja administered the chemo injection. By the time Mark led his daughter out of the office, Angie was calm and smiling once more.

When they were gone, Emma went into her office and closed the door. Sitting all alone, she contemplated this turn of events. And then, she did something she had longed to do but hadn’t done in years.

She lowered herself to her knees beside the mahogany desk and bowed her head. Clasping her hands tightly in her lap, she closed her eyes and started to pray. She offered her gratitude for all her blessings, and for Mark and Angie bringing such sweetness into her life. Every careworn fear and hurt poured out of her as she expressed her deepest desires to her Heavenly Father.

When she finished speaking, she felt a divine peace resting upon her like the summer sun after a harsh winter storm.

As she went to the restroom and rinsed her face, she stopped trying to understand the calm that filled her soul. God loved her, she knew that now with every fiber of her being. And for the first time since Brian’s death, she no longer felt alone.

T
he day of the Make-A-Wish barbecue started out hot and dry. Emma showered and dressed in short overalls and a robin’s-egg blue top before she applied her makeup. She couldn’t decide whether she should pull her long hair up in a clip and enjoy a cooling breeze against her neck or curl her hair and wear it down around her face. There had been times when she noticed Mark’s appreciative gaze resting on her long hair and she knew instinctively that he preferred it down.

Vanity did ugly things to a woman’s comfort.

She left it down, curling, primping, spraying until it was almost time for Mark to pick her up. They had to arrive at the park early so they could set up their hamburger/hot dog stand and have everything in order for the crowds.

With one last spritz of cologne, she went out into her living room and gathered up her keys and purse. The doorbell rang and she hurried to open it, her heart thumping with excitement.

“Hi, Emma!” Angie grinned.

Emma smiled and squeezed Angie’s shoulder as she hunkered down so she could look the girl in the eyes. “Hasn’t that new tooth come in yet?”

Angie shook her head, the flowers on her hat jiggling. “Nope. And I lost another one back here.”

The girl opened her mouth wider to show Emma the gap in her teeth.

“Ah, I see. And did the tooth fairy bring you something for that?” Emma asked.

“Yeah, a whole dollar.” Angie smiled and scuffed her sandaled foot against the door mat.

Emma peered over Angie’s head. Mark stood beside his truck, a slow grin spreading across his face, his hands slung low in the pockets of his denim jeans. Now, this was a change, letting Angie come to get Emma alone. Maybe Mark was loosening up a bit.

“Well, I’m ready.” Emma stepped out onto the front steps and pulled the door closed behind her.

As they walked across the lawn, Angie reached out and took Emma’s hand, hopping along, chattering about the fun they were going to have at the barbecue.

“There’s gonna be food, games and a three-legged race.” Her nose wrinkled with repugnance. “But they’re gonna play fifties music.”

Emma’s brows quirked. “You don’t like fifties music?”

“Nah,” she shook her head. “Too old-fashioned. Did you know Dad volunteered for the dunking booth?”

Lifting her head, Emma’s gaze locked with Mark’s as he rounded the Silverado and came to open the door for her. He’d shaved, his lean jaw strong and masculine.

“Hi, there.” He greeted her with a smile.

His nearness caused her pulse to race.

“Hi. You volunteered for the dunking booth, huh?” Emma tossed him a speculative smile.

His grin widened and she knew from his expression that he had read her mind.

“Don’t even think about it, Emma Shields,” he warned with a chuckle.

“What?” she asked in an innocent tone.

“I know what you have in mind.” Deep laughter rumbled in his chest as he closed her door and rounded the truck to the driver’s side.

“Did you bring some extra towels?” she asked when he got inside.

He reached to help Angie buckle her seat belt. “I’ve got one.”

“Good. You’re gonna need it.” She smirked.

He chuckled. “I remember your throwing arm from high school and, trust me, lady, it was lousy.”

She burst out laughing. “True, I was always too busy with geometry and biology to go out for any sports. But I think my throwing arm has improved since then.”

“Maybe next weekend we can take Angie to the park to play some baseball.” He gave an exaggerated lift of his brows. “You
do
still like baseball, don’t you?”

A memory of him chasing her around the bases when they were in high school overwhelmed her and she felt a heated flush stain her cheeks. She stared out the window at the passing traffic. Another vision filled her mind, of Brian dressed in his Little League uniform, running the bases, the exhilaration of victory on his face as he scored his first home run. Instead of causing her pain, the memory warmed her heart.

Was this the peace of God?

“I don’t mind baseball at all. In fact, it’s my favorite sport,” she told Mark.

He flashed her a smile of approval. “Mine, too.”

When they arrived at the park, they set to work, unloading paper goods, buns and coolers containing hamburger patties and hot dogs from the back of Mark’s truck. Angie pitched in, carrying bags of foam cups.

Concession booths with white canopies were already set up all over the park. Soon they would be filled with food, games and activities for young and old to enjoy.

One of the Make-A-Wish volunteers chaperoned Angie and a group of other Wish Kids to play games while Mark and Emma ran the hamburger booth. Wearing a long, white apron, Mark flipped burgers while Emma took orders.

A voice over the loudspeaker announced each event and starting whistles and horns filled the air. Heat sweltered near the grill and, before long, sweat poured off Emma’s face. She pushed her long hair away from her neck, finding it slightly damp. No doubt it had lost its curl and would be straight as spaghetti. So much for trying to look nice for Mark. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice her disheveled appearance.

“I think I’m going to enjoy that dunking booth after this.” He wiped his forehead with his shirt sleeve.

Emma reached past him for another case of buns. As she lifted the heavy box, she tottered and found the load suddenly removed from her arms as Mark took it and set it aside.

“These boxes are too heavy for you to lift, Emma. Let me get them.”

“Thank you,” she said.

He grinned as he salted the burger patties. In the close confines of the booth, they found a rhythm, working together side by side.

“Two more burgers and a dog,” Emma called.

“Coming right up!” Mark returned.

Happy laughter from the crowd filtered over them, the hum of fifties music floating on the air. Mark began to sing along, flipping burgers on the grill like an expert. As she watched him work, something deep inside Emma melted. And right there, standing in the middle of the hamburger booth, clutching a hot dog bun in one hand, with ketchup on her elbow, lightning struck Emma’s heart.

She wanted to see Mark every day, to talk to him, to hear his voice and to know he was there for her. The thought of not seeing him and Angie after the girl finished her treatments brought a sickening dread to Emma’s chest.

It had happened. She had fallen in love. Now that her heart was committed, she faced the horrific pain of losing someone she cared deeply about.

Again.

And yet, it no longer brought her fear. Staring across the booth at Mark, she watched as he popped patties onto buns, a wide smile on his face, his voice filled with happiness as he tossed three more raw burgers on the grill.

“You want those with grilled onions?” he called to a burly man with a bald head.

Emma didn’t hear the reply. It was as if she were in a tunnel and all she could see at the end of that dark void was Mark. His expression, his movements, his smile. He was the light in her life. Him and Angie.

The realization that she loved him left her shaking. She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep, steadying breath.

“Emma? You okay?”

She focused on Mark’s face. Holding a package of hot dogs, he stood before the counter, his concerned gaze resting on her. The noise from the crowd brought her back to reality.

“Yes, I’m fine.” She picked up the tongs and placed a hot dog in the bun she held before putting it on a plate for the woman she had been serving.

Relief etched Mark’s features. “Good. I was afraid you might be getting heat exhaustion.”

“No, no, I’m fine.”

An hour later, their replacements came to relieve them and Mark took Emma’s arm as he led her deep into the park.

“I wonder where Angie is,” he said, craning his neck to see through the crowd.

“No doubt having fun with her group.”

They stopped at the dance platform where couples were doing the jitterbug. Over the speakers, Emma heard Little Richard singing “Tuttie Fruttie.”

“Great song,” Mark yelled above the deafening noise.

Emma hesitated, remembering her last anniversary with David, three months before Brian died. He’d held her close, his arms muscular and strong, but even then, she’d felt his aloofness and disapproval.

“Hey, Dad!”

Angie ran toward them, wearing a floppy Seven Dwarf’s hat and sporting a red stain around her mouth from some Popsicle or punch.

“Come on, you guys. We’re gonna miss the race.” Angie tugged on Mark and Emma’s arms.

Mark smiled at his daughter, thinking how good it was to see her happy and animated. Laughing at her eagerness, he let her pull him and Emma over to the field where the three-legged race was about to start.

Standing at the entry line, Angie reached for a ball of twine and handed it to her dad. “I registered you for the race. Come on. Hurry!”

Mark saw Emma staring at the lineup where a multitude of parents and their children paired up with their inside legs bound together.

“You have got to be kidding. What have you gotten us into?” she asked Angie.

“Ah, come on, Emma,” Mark urged. “It’ll be fun.”

The director of the race yelled through a megaphone that the race would start in five minutes. Kids and adults laughed, stretched and prepared for the race.

Mark thought of wrapping his arm around Emma and pulling her close as they ran toward the finish line. He couldn’t wait.

Emma looked squeamish. Maybe he and Angie were pushing her too hard, too fast. But he hadn’t had this much fun since—

He couldn’t remember when. He’d never felt like this about any woman before, and he wasn’t quite certain what it meant. He only knew he felt like laughing again. His heart swelled with joy and he didn’t want it to end.

“Okay, but just this once.” Emma warned as she took a deep breath.

“Hooray!” Angie jumped up and down, clapping her hands.

Sitting side by side in the grass, Mark tied his leg to Emma’s. Angie took away the ball of twine while Mark and Emma wrapped their arms around each other’s backs and stood, hobbling over to the starting line.

“You really think we can do this?” Emma asked, looking doubtful.

“Of course we can,” he encouraged.

“But what if we lose?”

Mark tilted his head and studied her for a moment before he shrugged. “Who cares?”

She smiled up into his eyes and hugged him tighter. It felt so natural to be with her.

“All ready?” the coordinator of the race called through his megaphone.

A breathless pause filled the air.

“Oh, I hope you don’t regret this,” Emma whispered to Mark.

He chuckled. “Not one bit.”

“On your mark…get set…Go!”

Mark took a step, trying not to lengthen his stride too wide for Emma to keep up. She held her own pretty well, matching his pace until the very end. The grassy field was bumpy and she stumbled in a hole. Down they went. Their arms and legs tangled, their laughter filled the air as they scrambled to regain their feet.

“Hurry, Dad! Hurry, Emma!” Angie screamed at them from the finish line.

Pulling Emma up, he settled her on her feet. She laughed so hard, she could hardly catch her breath. Tears ran from her eyes. Her long hair fell across her face and he couldn’t resist sweeping it back from her cheeks.

“You okay?” he asked with concern. “You didn’t twist your ankle, did you?”

“No, we’re losing. Let’s go!”

Off they went, hopping along until they collapsed once more over the finish line.

“Yea!” Angie fell on top of them. Her laughter mingled with theirs as she hugged and kissed them both.

“You guys were great! But you didn’t win,” she advised with a solemn expression.

“Did you really expect us to?” Emma giggled.

“Nah, but you still get a prize.”

Angie pointed to a woman handing out consolation candy bars to all the participants.

Mark untied their legs and pulled Emma to her feet. Her eyes sparkled with happiness and her smile left him weak-kneed. He plucked blades of grass out of her hair and she stared into his eyes. Drawing near, he felt the sudden urge to kiss her.

She ducked her head and swiped at the grass and leaves on her clothes. The moment was broken and he stepped away.

“Well,” he sighed. “It’s about time for me to head over to the dunking booth.”

Emma nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Hey, Dad, can I jump on the trampoline?”

Looking down, he saw Angie pointing to a large trampoline set up beside the dunking booth. A man and little boy were holding hands as they bounced on it. Though it had tall netting guards circling it for safety, Mark shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, honey.”

“Ah, but I want to. Please.” Angie showed a dejected pout.

“If you stick that bottom lip out any further, you’re gonna trip over it,” he teased.

She scowled and Mark tossed a skeptical glance at Emma. “What do you think, Doc?”

“I don’t see why not. Let her go, Mark.”

“Pleeease, Dad.” Angie jumped up and down, a hopeful expression on her pixie face.

It went against his better judgment, but how could he fight them both? Though Emma didn’t say so, he knew he held Angie too tight. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to let her go this time.

“All right,” he laughed. “But only once.”

Angie took off at a run toward the trampoline and Mark faced Emma. “Well, I’d better go. Duty calls.”

“Yeah.” There was a twinge of hesitancy in her voice.

“See you later?” he asked.

“Sure, you’re my ride home,” she reminded him.

A thrill of anticipation tingled over him, but Mark was loath to let her out of his sight. The only thing that sustained him was the knowledge that he’d get to see her later that evening.

Confident in this knowledge, he headed toward the dressing room, where he had left his towel and swim trunks.

As she walked across the park, Emma saw a sea of people surrounding the dunking booth. Drawing nearer, she stood on her tiptoes to peer over the heads of the crowd, trying to glimpse the glass walls of the water tank.