The Healing Place (6 page)

“N
o, I never made it to the Olympics,” Mark answered Emma’s question. “I was on the track team in college, but Denise didn’t like it. After we got married, work and family got in the way—not that I regret it.”

Emma understood that feeling. Brian and David had been her life, torn from her in the blink of an eye. What she wouldn’t give to have her family back.

She tried not to think about that, enjoying Mark’s company instead. It had been a long time since she’d gone shopping with someone. And this was the best hot dog she’d eaten in years.

“What about you?” Mark asked. “Did you ever go to Nigeria after medical school? I remember you used to talk about becoming a doctor and taking off a year to help the sick people in Africa.”

She burst out laughing. “We made such plans, didn’t we?”

“Why didn’t you go?” He tilted his head to one side.

Emma stilled. “As you say, life got in the way. After the divorce, I didn’t feel like doing anything. So I threw myself into my work.”

“To forget?” he asked.

“To live. Even a doctor has bills to pay.”

“I’m sorry, Emma. It must have been difficult for you.”

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It was, but you of all people understand. You’re going through the same kind of thing.”

“But I’ve still got Angie.”

He showed a tender smile, his laughing eyes almost green in this lighting. The buzz of cash registers and chatter filled the air, along with the scent of cooking hamburgers. She couldn’t look away, captivated by the depth of longing she saw on his face. So many words were spoken in those silent moments. The understanding of what it was to fight for someone you loved. Time stood still and Emma’s pulse quickened, her breathing became shallow.

He leaned his elbows on the table. “When we were in high school, you were always the one who believed in God. What happened?”

“I had no reason to believe anymore.”

“That’s rather cynical, don’t you think?”

She squeezed her hot dog. “This world is cold and heartless, and only the strong survive.”

“That’s your hurt talking.”

She snorted. “How can you know for sure that there is a God? Nothing makes sense to me anymore.”

He paused as he considered her words.

“I know you’ve been hurt, Emmy, but look at all the good things in your life.”

Clasping her hands together, she refused to meet his eyes. She looked across the crowd of people thronging the store, anxious until she saw Angie’s head bobbing about as she stood on tippy-toe to reach the napkin dispenser. “What if you’re wrong, Mark? What if there isn’t anything else?”

Part of her wanted Mark to agree with her and part of her wanted him to convince her she was wrong. In many ways, she felt like a rebellious teenager, daring God to prove He really existed.

“Without God and the Atonement of Jesus Christ, our lives would be absolutely hopeless, Emma. I
know.
” His words were so intense that she paused.

“I wish I had your conviction.”

“I know God led me to you, to heal Angie. I can’t tell you how many hours I’ve spent on my knees praying for help, and then we found you. I don’t believe it was just by chance.”

Her mouth went dry and tears of frustration burned her eyes. She’d never been the answer to anyone’s prayer before. At least, not that she was aware of. “Don’t say that, Mark. What if I let you down?”

“You won’t. Let’s just trust our Heavenly Father. He’ll help us do what’s right for Angie.”

She hadn’t put faith in God since Brian’s death and she had no reason to start trusting Him now. Yet, Mark made it sound like they were a team, planning a strategy to beat the evil tumor. Somehow it felt good to be included. To have someone need her so badly. And yet—

What if he lost Angie? Would he blame Emma and doubt God then?

“I hope you always feel that way, Mark. I hope you never lose your faith, no matter what comes along.”

He reached across the table and covered her hand with his and gave it a squeeze. His eyes were mesmerizing. “I won’t. No matter what.”

She stared into Mark’s eyes.

“Emmy?”

“Yes?”

“You have ketchup on your face.”

She blinked as he wiped her chin with his finger and a smile widened his handsome mouth.

“Oh.” Pulling a tissue from her purse, she scrubbed her chin, embarrassed.

She felt like a young schoolgirl again, not a mature professional doctor discussing theology with a man she’d had deep feelings for at one time in her life.

Angie broke the moment when she returned with the napkins. Dropping them beside Emma’s paper plate, she sidled next to Mark on the bench. She leaned her head down as she stared at a splotch of grime on the tabletop.

“Come here, hon. That doesn’t look too sanitary.” He tucked her against him, resting her head against his side as he rubbed her back.

Mark was extremely protective of Angie, yet so gentle. Emma couldn’t really blame him, though there were times when he probably shielded her too much. No doubt fear of losing his child was the reason why.

“Are you tired out?” He tugged on the brim of Angie’s baseball cap and kissed her forehead.

“Yeah, I don’t feel good. Can we go, Dad? People are staring at me.”

Emma looked up, noticing several people watched Angie, their eyes filled with sympathy. Even with the hat, it was easy to see Angie’s bald head and know she was sick, but the attention bothered the little girl. Emma remembered how people stared at Brian, his gaunt face and haunted, vacant eyes.

Mark scowled and the people averted their gazes.

“Sure, babe.” He smiled at Emma. “You ready to go, Dr. Shields?”

“Yep.”

Without warning, Angie threw up. With a cry of disgust, people scurried to get away from their table. Emma found herself cradling Angie as Mark raced for more napkins.

“I forgot my sand bucket,” Angie cried, her nose dripping as tears ran down her pale face.

“Shh,” Emma soothed, and pressed napkins into Angie’s hands, then rubbed the girl’s back in comforting circles. “No harm done. It’ll be all right.”

Angie clutched Emma’s arm and whispered wretchedly. “Everyone’s staring.”

“It doesn’t matter. Here comes your dad. We’ll get out of here soon. Here, let me.”

Emma took the napkins from Mark and wiped Angie’s face.

“Everything okay?” Mark asked in an anxious tone as he tossed a wad of paper towels onto the table to cover the mess.

Emma’s heart went out to him. He was trying hard to be upbeat for Angie’s benefit, but Emma could tell how harried he felt.

“Sure, everything’s fine,” Emma tried to reassure him. She turned Angie over to his care, then began to clean up the table.

“Emma, you don’t need to do that. I’ll take care of it as soon as I get Angie comfortable.” Mark tossed an embarrassed look in her direction.

“It’s okay, Mark. I don’t mind.”

By this time, an employee of the store headed toward them carrying a bucket of sudsy water. With a half smile and a word of apology, Emma turned the chore over to the janitor.

With some semblance of order returned, Mark picked up Angie in one arm and wheeled his cart outside. Emma followed, grateful to leave the place. Angie clung to her father, leaning her head against his neck, her eyes closed. His biceps bulged as he balanced the little girl and pushed one of the carts with his free hand.

“Do you want me to stay here with Angie while you take the carts out to the truck? I don’t mind waiting with her,” Emma offered.

“Nah, I can carry Angie and push a cart at the same time. I’m Super Dad.” He kissed Angie on the cheek. She showed a wan smile, but not much else. No doubt, she was ready for a long nap.

Together, Mark and Emma made their way out to his black Silverado truck. After securing Angie inside the cab with her sand bucket in her lap, Mark climbed up on the tailgate and accepted the boxes of plates and cups Emma tossed to him.

“Thanks for your help back there,” he said.

“No problem. I’m sure it’s just the chemo causing her stomach to be upset. It’ll soon pass.”

“We make a good team,” he observed.

She wasn’t going to respond to that.

“How did they rope you into serving on the advisory committee for Make-A-Wish?” Mark asked.

“I got a call out of the blue one day. Larry Meacham is an old med school friend and he suggested my name to the board of directors.”

Mark laughed. “What a coincidence. Larry’s our neurosurgeon at U.C.S.F. When I mentioned to Sonja that I was involved in Make-A-Wish, she suggested you might like to work with them, too.”

Emma’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Sonja suggested it?”

“Yep.” He grunted as he pushed all the packages to the front of the truck bed.

Sonja? Doing a little matchmaking with Larry Meacham? The two knew each other, so it was possible. Or was Sonja just trying to get Emma out of her safe little cocoon? Emma needed to have a chat with her interfering nurse.

Mark climbed down from the truck bed and closed the tailgate. He dusted off his hands and smiled at Emma.

“I’ve got some questions for you,” he said.

“Oh?” Emma held her breath.

“First, what can I do to get Angie to eat a little more and keep it down? She’s getting really thin. She only weighs forty-two pounds and you saw what happened after she ate her lunch.”

Emma sighed. “Yes, I’ve noticed she’s losing too much weight. If she gets down to forty pounds, we’ll have to start feeding her intravenously.”

Mark grimaced, his voice low enough that Angie couldn’t hear. “Can’t we do something else? It’s killing me to watch her waste away like this.”

Emma understood too well. She’d lost count of the sleepless nights she’d fretted over Brian for this very same scenario. It was horrible to watch your child slowly die.

“I’ll write you out a prescription for an appetite enhancer.”

“That would be great.”

“Mark, there are some wonderful advances in medicine that can benefit Angie. If you have a concern, just ask and we’ll figure something out.”

“I will. Thanks, Doc.”

“And what was your other question?”

“Well, I was just wondering if you—if you’d like to have dinner with Angie and me Monday night. Brett and Tina Anderson will be in town. I thought it might be fun for us all to get together and reminisce about old times.”

Emma felt a rush of excitement. She hadn’t seen Brett and Tina in years. They had been such good friends in high school, double-dating with Emma and Mark. Back then, they had joked that they would be married and they’d all live on the same street in the same town and be friends forever.

Brett and Tina had married, but Emma got the boot.

“You still keep in touch with them?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He shifted his weight. “They’re the only ones I keep regular contact with. Brett was there for me when Denise left. Since we all have a lot in common, I thought you might want to come spend the evening with us.”

Was this a date?

“Uh, I’m not sure,” she said.

Run! Get out of here, now. Don’t let him get too close.

“Believe it or not, I make a mean pot roast,” he urged. “It’s my mother’s old recipe. Even Angie likes it.”

He folded his arms across his chest. Her gaze followed the motion and she noticed a bead of perspiration in the hollow of his throat. She was still woman enough to appreciate a handsome man, but no. She couldn’t have dinner with him. She’d gotten too close already. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

His eyes narrowed. “Can’t or won’t?”

Her cheeks heated. “I think it would be better if I pass. I don’t date my patients, or their fathers. Thanks anyway.”

He looked startled.

“Date? Oh, well, I didn’t think of it like that, uh—never mind.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

It wasn’t a date. Then what was it?

“Are you talking just friends getting together?” she asked.

A half smile curved his handsome mouth. “Well, yeah. Something like that. Old friends having dinner and catching up on each other’s lives.”

The idea had appeal. She liked being with Mark and Angie and couldn’t prevent feeling delighted by his invitation. She would love to see Tina and Brett after all these years.

“I just wanted to say thank you for everything you’ve done to help Angie and me.” Mark held his hands up. “No pressure on any of us. Just food and good conversation.”

“Oh, well, in that case, I accept.”

“You do?” He blinked.

“Yes, if I can bring something.”

A wide smile spread across his face. “Okay, how about bringing a salad?”

“You got it. What time and where?”

Something deep inside warned that she’d be better off to refuse and stay home alone. But somehow, safe and lonely no longer held any appeal. For the first time in months, she’d have dinner with old friends and muse about happier times.

She hoped she didn’t come to regret accepting Mark’s offer.

“S
o, your mom and dad are divorced, huh?” Carla Perkins asked Angie as they sat together in front of the TV at Mrs. Perkins’s house.

“Yeah, they’re divorced.” Angie hated talking about her mom and dad breaking up, but she didn’t want to make Carla angry by telling her so. Angie’s dad was at work and the little girls were playing a video game together.

Three years older than Angie, Carla was Mrs. Perkins’s granddaughter, visiting from Nebraska. With her pierced ears and long, brown hair tied in a thick braid down her back, she seemed quite wise and worldly to Angie. Plus, it was fun to have an older kid to play with for a change. The babies Mrs. Perkins took care of were cute, but they cried a lot and got on Angie’s nerves sometimes. And Carla didn’t run away, fearing Angie was “diseased.”

Carla huffed. “My mom and dad are divorced, too.”

Concentrating on the game, Angie pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth as their cars raced down the pretend track on the television screen. She worked on making her car dodge obstacles that magically appeared in her path as she tried to reach the finish line before Carla’s car.

“Really?” Angie asked.

“Yep.” Carla also stared at the screen. “But then my mom started dating again, and now she’s remarried.”

“Do you live with your dad?”

“Nope. I’m with my mom most of the time. But I spend Christmas and six weeks every summer with my dad. I like coming to Reno because I get to see my grandma.”

“I live with my dad.” It was nice to find another kid like her. Most of the kids at church didn’t have divorced parents.

“When’s he gonna get remarried?” Carla asked.

“I don’t know.” Angie forced her gaze to remain on the screen.

“Is he dating anyone, yet?”

Angie glanced at Carla. “No. But I think my mom will come home soon.”

“Pow! Game over.” Carla burst out laughing as she drove Angie’s car off the side of the road.

“Hey, no fair. Let’s go again.”

“Okay,” Carla agreed.

“Hey, you two,” Mrs. Perkins called from the doorway. “Lunch in five minutes.”

“What is it today?” Carla called without looking up.

“Chicken strips, string beans, apple slices and cheese sticks.”

“Yum! Chicken strips. My favorite.” Carla licked her lips with delight.

Angie remained silent. Macaroni and cheese was her favorite, but even that didn’t tempt her anymore. Since she got sick, she didn’t even like chocolate-chip ice cream much and she hated the taste of toothpaste. Dad said it was because of the chemo.
Everything
was because of the chemo.

Mrs. Perkins went back into the kitchen and Carla blurted, “You know your mom’s not coming back, right? They never do.”

Angie frowned, not liking the sound of that. “But you live with your mom and see her all the time.”

Carla shrugged. “Yeah, but we moved to Nebraska and she flies me here to visit Dad. After a while, she got remarried, and so did my dad. Now, my new stepmom’s gonna have a baby pretty soon.”

Angie’s mouth dropped open. “A baby? You mean, like all the babies here in your grandma’s house?”

Carla took that opportunity to surge her car ahead of Angie’s. It was no use. Carla had a lot more practice at playing this video game.

“Of course, silly. What kind of baby did you think I meant? It won’t be like a puppy or a kitty, and this baby won’t belong to other people. It’ll be all mine.”

Now that idea appealed to Angie. A little brother all her very own. He wouldn’t ever leave her and he wouldn’t ever cry because she’d take good care of him and make him happy.

“Wham! I got you again.” Carla whooped with glee.

Angie dropped her game control and scooted away to rest her back against the edge of the couch. She didn’t care that Carla was better at Crash Car Racers. Right now, she wanted to know more about how to get a baby brother and a new mommy.

“I’ve always wanted a little brother,” Angie confided.

“You know your dad has to get married first, right?”

No, she hadn’t really thought about that, but she wasn’t about to confess it to someone as grown up as Carla. “Sure, I know that.”

Carla rolled onto the carpet, lying on her stomach as she propped her chin on her hands. “So, who have you got lined up as a potential mom?”

“I want my old mom back.”

“Look, divorced people don’t get back together,” Carla lectured. “They just date other people. Your mom left you, so move on.”

“But what if my dad gets remarried and my new mom moves on, too?” The thought terrorized Angie. Did all moms leave, or just hers and Carla’s?

Carla hunched her shoulders. “It happens sometimes, but your dad’s never left you, right?”

Angie shook her head. “No, Daddy would never leave me.”

“You want a mom, don’t you?” Carla pressed.

Angie’s eyes widened and she nodded her head. “Yeah, but I don’t want a mom who’ll hurt Dad and leave us again.”

“Then you’ll have to scout out potential women for your dad to date, and choose carefully.”

More than anything else in the world, Angie wanted a mom to help Daddy be happy again. Since the divorce, Dad still smiled and teased her, but he wasn’t the same anymore. He seemed miserable deep inside and she didn’t know how to change that. Maybe a new wife was the answer.

“Your best bet is to tell your dad who you like the most,” Carla advised.

“You think that would really work?”

“Sure! Dads care if you like who they’re dating. Just don’t be pushy. Give them some space when they’re together, or he’ll catch on to what you’re doing and break up with the mom you want. It helps if she’s kind of pretty. Then, you just sit back and let him do the work and you’ll have a new family again.” Carla clicked her fingers together, as if it were a magic trick.

“Girls, come and eat,” Mrs. Perkins called.

Carla bounded to her feet and scampered toward the kitchen. “Come on, Angie. I’m hungry.”

Angie was slow to follow. She was still thinking about what Carla said. She hadn’t liked it when Mom brought Eric over to the house when Daddy was at work, but now Mom was gone, so why shouldn’t Daddy marry someone else?

Her heart yanked inside her chest. Why didn’t Mommy call? Was she still embarrassed by Angie because she had no hair anymore? Maybe Mommy was too busy with Eric and she didn’t have time for a kid with a brain tumor.

As she followed Carla into the kitchen, she remembered waking up in the middle of the night once to use the bathroom. As she’d walked down the hall, she’d heard Daddy in his bedroom crying. When she peeked around his door, she saw him on his knees, praying. She’d never seen him cry like that before. He never seemed bothered because Angie had lost all her hair, so that couldn’t be why he was upset. She thought he missed Mommy. Now she wondered if he just felt bad because he was lonely and wanted another lady to take Mommy’s place.

She pulled her chair back from the table and slid onto her seat, catching the scent of crispy chicken tenders fresh from the oven. Normally she loved to eat them. Right now, her stomach churned and she stared at the food Mrs. Perkins scooped onto her plate. She’d rather lie down on the couch for a while.

“There, sweetheart.” Mrs. Perkins beamed a smile as she poured Angie a tall glass of milk. “A nice, balanced meal. And I’ve got vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup for dessert.”

“Hooray!” Carla cheered.

The girls folded their arms as Mrs. Perkins offered a blessing on the food. Then, Angie watched Carla eat.

Daddy deserved to have a good woman to love him, but who would be willing to raise a sick kid?

Yes, Angie definitely should think more about getting a new mom. Maybe she should look over the ladies in church on Sunday.