The Healing Place (15 page)

“All right! Eric left me,” she whined.

Mark sighed. “Did he leave you for a younger woman or because you’re broke?”

Her face whitened. “Both. I made some bad investments and the money’s all gone. He found someone new.”

Well, well. Chickens were roosting tonight.

Although she deserved it, he pitied his ex-wife and didn’t want to hurt her. In fact, he didn’t feel anything for her now. Loving Emma had taken the sting of the divorce away. Yet, he hated the thought that Denise would use him to get more.

“I suggest you stay with your mother until you can find yourself a job. If you want to see Angie, we can arrange that at a more reasonable time of day.”

“A job?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “You might find it fun and fulfilling to work.”

“But I’ve never worked before. What can I do?” Her eyes widened, as if she had something stuck on the bottom of her expensive shoes.

“Maybe you could go to beauty school and learn to be a hairdresser,” he suggested. “You’ve always liked the salons.”

“I like fixing my own hair, not other people’s.”

“Daddy?”

Angie came into the room wearing her slippers and the shorts he had put her to bed in. She stood in the doorway, blinking her eyes as if she could hardly keep them open.

“Daddy, I don’t feel good. Can I have a drink of water?”

“Oh, Angie,” Denise huffed, and waved the child off. “Can’t you see your Dad and I are having an important conversation?”

“Sure, honey, let me get you a drink.” Mark smiled to cover Denise’s rebuke and went to the kitchen for a cup. Denise followed, shifting her weight on the granite floor of the dining room.

Cold and hard as her heart.

Mark took the cup back to Angie, with Denise hot on his heels. Angie slumped against the wall.

“Are you okay, honey?” he asked.

Denise snorted. “Angie, go back to bed now.”

“Don’t speak to my daughter that way,” Mark snapped.

He picked Angie up, cradling her against his chest. She closed her eyes. He’d never seen her so tired before.

Mark carried her to her room and put her back in bed. He used the upstairs phone to call a cab. Twenty minutes later he carried Denise’s suitcases outside. She had no option but to follow. He held the door for her while she slid inside the car, her back stiff with anger. Without a word, he closed the car door, then gave the cabdriver the address to her mother’s house and a twenty-dollar bill.

As the car pulled away from the curb and turned the corner, he couldn’t help think about Angie crying for her mother. Her tears haunted him and niggling doubt ate at the corners of his mind.

What if becoming Angie’s stepmom proved too much for Emma? She’d already lost her own son. What if he married her and she abandoned them, just like Denise? It would be too much. He and Angie couldn’t stand another heartache like that.

Neither could Emma.

A
t precisely eleven o’clock the next morning, Emma lifted a homemade deep-dish apple pie from her oven and set it to cool on the countertop. She smiled at the bubbly juice and golden crust baked to perfection. Mark and Angie were going to love it with vanilla ice cream.

Her phone rang and she wiped her hands on a dish towel before answering the call.

“Hello?”

A long pause followed.

“Um, hi, Emma.” Mark’s voice sounded tired and strained.

“Well, hi, stranger. I hope you’ve got the barbecue fired up, because I’ve got a fierce appetite for chicken today.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s why I’m calling, Emma. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to cancel. Something unavoidable came up.”

Knots of disappointment tightened in Emma’s stomach. “Nothing serious, I hope.”

His deep sigh rasped through the receiver. “Nothing for you to worry about. Just a personal matter I need to deal with.”

“I understand. What about dinner tomorrow night?”

Another long pause. “No, I can’t. I’m…I’m buried with work. I’m sorry, but I think it’d be best if we don’t see each other for a while.”

His words crushed her heart. She licked her lips as the ramifications spilled over her in crashing waves. “Mark, I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

“Nothing for you to worry about. I’m sorry, Emma. It’s just that…I think with Angie’s illness and everything going on at work, it would be best for all of us if I don’t complicate matters with a new relationship right now.”

Emma held her breath. Beads of perspiration broke out on her forehead and the back of her neck. He was breaking up with her and she didn’t know why. “That’s it? You don’t want to
complicate
your life with me?”

She tried to stop it, but her voice sounded harsh with frustration and hurt. Her heart pounded in her ears. She could hardly believe he would do this without a more logical explanation. And over the phone, no less.

“No, it’s not like that, Emma. You’ve been great. It’s just that—I don’t want to hurt you any more. I think you’ve been through enough.”

“Hurt me? Like you’re hurting me now?”

The silence on the phone sounded deafening.

“Look, Mark, if you’re getting cold feet, we can slow things down. I never meant to be pushy.”

“No, you haven’t pushed me to do anything I didn’t want to. I just need to concentrate on Angie right now. I can’t explain it better than that. Please, try to understand.”

She blinked hot tears from her eyes. “But I thought we were working to get Angie better.”

He didn’t respond right away. When he did, she heard the tension in his voice. He sounded agitated and harried. “I’m sorry, Emma. Look, I’ve got to go. You take care of yourself, okay?”

Like he really cared.

“Yeah, thanks for the call, Mark. Give Angie my love.” Bitterness laced every word.

“I will. I’m sorry, Emma. Goodbye.”

He hung up. She stood frozen, pressing the receiver against her cheek until the dial tone buzzed in her ear.

She finally hung up the phone. She turned and stumbled before she gripped the back of a chair to steady herself. Her gaze swept the room, seeing everything as if she were in a tunnel. Torn with confusion, she tried to comprehend what had just happened. Why would Mark break up with her so suddenly over the phone? It didn’t make sense.

She stared at the warm pie. Without thinking, she picked it up and carried it to the garbage can, her steps stiff with anger. She lifted the lid and dropped it inside where it landed with a loud thump. As she dusted off her hands, she ignored the tears streaming down her face.

For the second time in her life, Emma had lost the man she loved. She felt just like that abandoned pie. Its fluted edges carefully molded and teased before being discarded in the trash and forgotten.

It wouldn’t happen a third time. She had learned her lesson. She was an educated woman, strong and independent. Mark Williams would never use her again.

Mark didn’t call. Emma stayed by the phone all day, hoping this was a terrible mistake and he would tell her he didn’t mean it and set things straight. Something had caused him to break up with her, but she couldn’t think what it might be.

She thought about going over to his house, to demand a better explanation, but decided against it. He needed time to sort it out. Pressuring him wouldn’t help.

By early evening Emma picked up the telephone receiver, aching to hear his voice again.

She dropped the receiver into its cradle. Mark would have to call her. She deserved that much respect. He had to make the next move. But deep inside, she knew something was terribly wrong.

Emma tidied her kitchen to keep busy. It didn’t help much. She missed Mark’s deep laughter and Angie’s sweet hugs. It was her own fault she had allowed them to get under her skin, giving them the power to hurt her. She had known better than to open her heart. And yet, if she hadn’t done so, she might never have recognized how wrong she was to abandon God.

What a fool to let Mark kiss her. To believe she meant anything to him.

She dashed angry tears from her cheeks, then jerked a tissue from the box sitting next to the couch and blew her nose.

Be calm. All is well.

The words echoed in her heart and left her confused, yet she knew it did no good fretting over something out of her control.

The phone rang and Emma jumped. Expectation thrummed through her body. Sitting up on the sofa, she swallowed, not daring to hope it was Mark. Her hand shook as she picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Emma. It’s Sonja. How are you tonight?”

Disappointment lodged in Emma’s throat. “I’m fine, Sonja. What’s up?”

“Well, I was at the hospital visiting an old friend and I saw Mark Williams there.”

Emma’s spine stiffened. “What? Mark was at the hospital?”

“Yes. They rushed Angie into emergency surgery this afternoon. Apparently she hemorrhaged on the entire right side of her head.”

“What?” Emma covered her face with one hand. “Is she all right?”

Sonja’s sigh filtered through the receiver. “I think so, but Mark looked pretty shaken up. Angie had just gotten out of surgery when I saw him. He hadn’t been allowed to see her yet, so I don’t know what the prognosis is.”

“Did he say what caused the hemorrhage?” Emma’s voice sounded unusually shrill and she gripped the phone to steady herself.

“No, he didn’t say. He seemed distracted and in a big hurry to see Angie, so I didn’t detain him. I know you’ve become quite attached to them, so I thought I’d let you know.”

Attached? That was putting it mildly. Emma loved them dearly. If anything happened to Angie—

Her chest tightened. She wanted to wail and scream. This wasn’t fair. Not now. Not after everything else Angie had been through.

Why hadn’t Mark told her?

“Thanks for calling to tell me, Sonja. I’ve got to get down there to check on them.”

“Okay, Emma. I won’t keep you any longer. Would you call me later tonight to let me know how Angie’s doing? I think our entire office is worried about that little girl. We’ve all become attached to her.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll call later.” Emma spoke absentmindedly, her thoughts consumed with getting to the hospital. A hemorrhage of this type was highly unusual.

She hung up the phone, then dashed for her purse and car keys. What a dope she had been to believe Mark’s pathetic explanation about why they shouldn’t see each other anymore. Angie had gone into emergency surgery and Mark hadn’t told her. That was a hard slap in the face, yet Emma understood his reticence. She had to get to Mark, to look him in the eye and tell him—

She froze.

Tell him what? That she could go through this again with him and Angie? That she didn’t mind pacing the floor of the hospital and wringing her hands with anguish, her heart tearing to shreds when she got the fatal news?

Her entire body trembled. It would be more than difficult for her to go into the pediatric ward of the hospital. She hadn’t been there since the night Brian—

She didn’t want to go. She wanted to stay home, where she wouldn’t feel bereft and helpless. It was safe here. No worry, no fears.

No love.

Maybe Mark had been right not to tell her the truth, after all. She couldn’t go. She just couldn’t.

M
ark eased his head back against the lumpy recliner and closed his weary eyes. A clipboard and several insurance forms lay sprawled across his lap. More paperwork. At this point, he ought to have a Masters degree in medical procedures.

He blew out a breath. As he rested his hands on top of the papers, they made a crackling noise. The intensive care unit looked dark, except for a single lamp resting on a table beside Angie’s bed. The smell of antiseptic and ammonia permeated the air and he wrinkled his nose.

What time was it?

Opening his eyes, he peered through the dark at his wristwatch. Almost eleven o’clock. Where had this day gone?

He squinted at the fine print on the documents and tried to scratch out another response on the form. It was no use. He was exhausted, emotionally and physically. He longed to call Emma, to ask her to come be with him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. She’d been through so much pain. She had shared her deepest feelings about her son’s death and he couldn’t ask her to go through that again with him and Angie. It had broken his heart to call and tell Emma he didn’t want to see her anymore, but he made the sacrifice thinking it best for her.

He tossed the pen aside and glanced about the expansive room Angie shared with four other patients. Each of the beds had a white sliding curtain pulled between them, to offer a bit of privacy. The curtains hung like ghoulish ghosts hovering in the dark.

Yesterday, the Make-A-Wish barbecue had been wonderful. Then, he had kissed Emma good-night and confided that he wanted to be more than friends. He meant it, but now—

Angie lay sleeping beside him, flat on her back, hooked up to four IVs and a brain drain. Her bald head was stained with orange antiseptic and stitches.

Oh, baby, look what they’ve done to you this time.

He’d been a fool to think he could involve Emma in this. Reaching out, he stroked Angie’s arm, his fingers evading the tangle of tubes.

“Don’t worry, bug.” He spoke in a trembling whisper. “We can recover from this. Your hair will grow back. It’s going to be okay.”

Though Angie slept, he needed to hear the words. To give himself strength. He hadn’t been able to speak with the neurosurgeon since he’d come out of the operating room to say Angie was stable. But what about tomorrow, and the next day after that?

Please, Father, please don’t take her from me. I’ve already lost Emma. I can’t lose them both.

Angie’s eyes fluttered open and she blinked. “Daddy?”

Her voice sounded hoarse from the tubes they’d put down her throat and he leaned near. He cupped her cheek with his hand as he placed a careful kiss on her nose. He tried to smile, but his lips trembled and he feared he might break down and cry. It was important that he remain strong for her. “Hi, honey-girl. How are you doing?”

“Okay.” She tried to sit up. “Is Mommy here?”

“Lay still, babe.” He pressed a hand to her chest. “Remember, you need to lie flat until the brain drain runs clear. Then, the nurse will take out the IVs and let you up and we can get you something to eat.”

“Okay.” She lay perfectly still, knowing this routine so well. “Where’s Mommy?”

He had no idea. He had tried to call Denise at her mother’s house and left several messages, but she hadn’t returned his calls. Not that he expected her to. “Mommy couldn’t make it. How do you feel? Are you in any pain?”

“No, I want Emma. Is she here?” Angie’s voice quavered and a tear ran from her eye and down the side of her face.

He wiped it away. “No, honey, but I am.”

Oh, how he missed Emma.

“You’re always here, Dad.”

“Are you hungry?” Mark tried to distract her.

The girl took a deep breath and let it go. “No, just tired.”

He bit the inside of his mouth. Being hungry was a good sign and he wished she would ask for a rack of beef ribs to eat. “Then, sleep. In the morning, we can talk. You’re doing just fine, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be okay.”

She licked her dry lips and gave a vague nod. Her fingers curled around his thumb, her hand frail.

“Are you cold, honey?”

She gave a subtle shake of her head.

“Well, your skin feels chilled. Let’s cover you, just in case.” He spread another blanket over her and smoothed it across her spindly legs.

“Daddy?”

“Hmm?”

“Am I gonna die?”

He froze, staring at her face. His heart shredded as tears burned his eyes. She had asked this of Emma weeks ago, when Mrs. Valdez passed away. Here it was again. The uncertainty. The fear.

Careful of her IVs and keeping her flat on her back, he pressed his arms around her and kissed her face and neck repeatedly. “No, honey. I won’t let you.”

A sob rose in his throat but he pushed it down. He couldn’t let her see him weep. He must give her hope.

Perhaps it was futile to promise such a thing, but he couldn’t bear to tell his precious child the truth…that she could die. They all would someday. Only God knew when. But for his child—any child—to die this way was incredibly unfair.

He felt helpless. Lost. Without his faith in God, he couldn’t be strong. How had Emma managed to survive the death of her child without God by her side?

The answer was simple. She hadn’t. Not at all.

“Mrs. Miller says I’m heaven sent.” Angie’s soft voice made him draw back to look at her eyes.

He kept one hand against her face, so she could feel him and take comfort in his presence.

He cleared his throat. “Mrs. Miller, the candy striper?”

“Yes, she’s my new friend.”

Angie had a way of making friends everywhere she went. Even now, stuffed animals and flowers surrounded her room and he didn’t know half the people here at the hospital who had given them to her.

“Well, Mrs. Miller is right.” He hunched one shoulder against his face to wipe his tears away.

“But to be heaven sent, don’t I have to be dead?”

Mark gave a shaky laugh. “No, honey. You’re very much alive. You’re the most wonderful person I know.”

“But I don’t do anything, Dad. Not like you.”

He gave a shuddering laugh. “If you only knew how much joy you bring me. Our Heavenly Father sends people into our lives to give us strength when our troubles become too burdensome to carry on our own.”

“What people?”

“Well, people like Mrs. Miller.”

Her forehead crinkled. “And Emma?”

His throat tightened and tears ran freely down his face. He couldn’t stop their flow to save his life. “Especially Emma.”

Angie’s chest lifted in a deep sigh and she closed her eyes. “I think you and Emma are my special guardians.”

Mark blinked, not surprised by her grown-up vocabulary. It was true. He remembered how worldly he had been before Angie’s birth, caring about nothing but possessions and advancement in his profession. Then, when he had held his newborn daughter in his arms, he had realized wealth and prestige meant nothing without someone to love.

Her breathing evened out as she drifted back to sleep and he pulled the blankets higher about her throat. “Go to sleep, little sweetheart. Everything will be better in the morning.”

Sitting back in his chair, his gaze remained glued on Angie’s face, watching her sleep, reticent to look away for even a moment.

As he reached for his paperwork, a movement caught his eye and he pivoted toward the doorway.

“Emma!”

She stood in the shadowed threshold, leaning the side of her head against the doorjamb, her eyes deep pools of misery as she stared at him.

Had she heard his conversation with Angie?

She took a deep breath and stepped into the darkened room, as if she were diving into a pool of great white sharks. Mark stood and walked to her, speaking in hushed tones so he wouldn’t disturb Angie and the other sleeping children. “What are you doing here?”

“I just heard about Angie and came as fast as I could. I wanted to see that she was all right.” Emma sounded rather breathless, as though she had run up a flight of stairs. She glanced around the room, her eyes wide with panic.

“You shouldn’t be here, Emma.”

“I had to come.”

Her eyes met his, filled with such anguish it nearly broke his heart. He knew how hard it was for her to come to the pediatric ward, yet she made this sacrifice for him and Angie.

How happy he was to see her. The urge to take her into his arms filled him. He longed to hold her against his chest, to confide all his fears. Instead he slipped his hands into his pants’ pockets. “How did you know we were here?”

“Sonja called me at home. Mark, why didn’t you tell me?”

Heat flushed his face. “You’ve been through enough with your son and there was nothing you could do here.”

“I could be here for you.”

What could he say to that? He wanted her here with him, but he also longed to protect her. Keeping her in the dark about Angie was the only way he knew to do that. His good intentions had failed.

A flicker of doubt flashed in her eyes and her gaze slid over Angie. “How’s she doing?”

He shrugged and glanced at his daughter. “As well as can be expected.”

“Do you know what caused the hemorrhage?”

He hardened his jaw. “Yes, the neurosurgeon believes the combination of chemo drugs and the VP shunt caused it. When Angie jumped on the trampoline, there wasn’t enough cushion in her head and it caused blood vessels to rupture.”

A low moan escaped Emma’s lips. “Oh, Mark, I’m so sorry. If I had known this might happen, I would never have encouraged you to let her jump. It’s my fault—”

“It’s
not
your fault.” He cut her off. “No one could have anticipated this outcome. It just happened.”

“But I told you it was okay. What must you think of me?”

I love you. That’s what I think of you.
He almost blurted the words to her, but bit the inside of his mouth instead.

He didn’t blame Emma for what had happened. The neurosurgeon had told him this was a fluke, something no one could have foreseen.

Emma’s gaze locked with his. “Angie’s right. You are her guardian, Mark. She’s so lucky to have a father like you.”

So, she had overheard his conversation with Angie. “I thought you didn’t believe in God; that you only believe in science.”

“Not anymore. I was so foolish, Mark. When my son died, I was angry and hurt. Blaming God, made my own pain easier to bear. I know now how wrong I was. I believe everything you’ve told me. I believe in you.”

He snorted. “I can’t save your soul, Emma. Only God can do that.”

“You’re right. With God in my life, I don’t feel alone anymore. You gave me that sweet gift, Mark.”

“It wasn’t your fault Brian died, you know.”

She looked away, her eyes swimming with tears. “Yes, it was.”

A frown furrowed his forehead. “Why do you blame yourself?”

Her voice trembled and she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I was a new oncologist and thought I knew everything. I convinced Brian’s doctors to try a new, radical chemo protocol. I truly believed it would save Brian’s life, but it didn’t work and he died. If I hadn’t interfered, Brian might still be alive today. And now—” Her voice cracked. “Now, I gave you bad advice and Angie could die because of it.”

Emma wrapped her arms around herself, looking so alone, so lost, her eyes red, her chin quivering. He took a step toward her, his arms lifting to enfold her against his chest. He caught himself just in time, before he told her how much he loved her. He longed to comfort her, but that would entail more commitment. She was already upset. How could he ask her to stay and watch Angie suffer as Brian had?

He couldn’t.

“Don’t, Emma. You did what you thought was best. Maybe a different chemo protocol would have given the same results.” He paused, studying her wretched expression. How he hated to see her hurting like this.

Because he loved her, he must send her away.

“Look, Emma, it’s hard to accept God’s will, but I have to face the reality that I could lose Angie.”

“I wish you had called me when she went into surgery. You needn’t have suffered alone, Mark. Surely when we’re hurting, our Heavenly Father weeps with us. I wanted to be here for you, to help you through it.”

Rolling his shoulders, he stepped over to the chair, putting distance between them. “I’m used to handling things on my own.”

She lifted a hand and tried to reach for him, but he backed away. His body language was stiff and unyielding, his expression closed. They were silent then, as though they had nothing left to say. So many words swirled around inside Emma’s mind, yet she didn’t dare speak what was in her heart.

Together, they stared at Angie and time spun away.

A buzzer went off on the other side of the room and a nurse came in to check on another patient.

Emma stepped nearer to Mark, hungry for the familiarity they had shared the day before. Somehow, that closeness was gone now and they seemed like strangers. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No, thank you.”

Her throat felt like sandpaper. She clenched her hands until she felt the bite of her fingernails digging into her palms.

He raked a hand through his tussled hair. Fatigue creased his forehead and eyes. He looked careworn and Emma longed to reach out and comfort him. To offer the solace he had given to her. He must have fretted and stewed during the long hours of Angie’s surgery, wondering if he would ever see his daughter again, fearing the worst and regretting his decision to let her jump on the trampoline. Emma wished she had been here with him.

“You deserve a good man to love you, Emma. I’m sure you’ll find him some day.” He brushed a hand across his face and she heard the rasp of his unshaven chin.

Everything about his body language told her he didn’t want her here. But when she looked into his eyes, she saw a depth of emotion that cried out for her to stay. Inside, she was screaming. “I understand.”

But she didn’t, not really.

“I’ll see you sometime,” he said dismissively.

He was pushing her away.

“Will you…will you tell Angie goodbye for me?” she asked.