The Healing Place (3 page)

“P
lease, take a seat. Dr. Shields will be here shortly.” Sonja directed Mark and Angie into an examination room.

“Thanks, Sonja.” Mark pressed the palm of his hand against Angie’s back, urging her to sit on the vinyl couch, which had a fresh pillow in a stiff pillowcase lying at one end.

A short stool on wheels and one chair sat beside the bed. The room smelled of antiseptic. Jars of cotton swabs and alcohol wipes rested on the counter beside a small sink. Perched beside the door, a magazine rack held the latest issues of the
Wall Street Journal, Newsweek,
and various parenting magazines.

Angie settled on the bed while Mark slumped in the chair and stared at a picture on the wall. A ski slope in winter. Aspen, maybe.

Feeling Angie reach over and slip her hand into his, he sat up straighter and squeezed her fingers tight. She wore a worried expression and he gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t be afraid. You’ve got the EMLA Cream on and it shouldn’t hurt at all.”

Thank goodness their neurosurgeon had given them a prescription for a tube of EMLA. The cream’s topical deadening powers worked wonders the numerous times Angie had to be stuck by a needle.

She nodded, but he sensed her tension. He’d lost count of the needle pokes she had endured. She had never become immune to the pain.

Neither had he.

He wished he could take her place and do this for her. It helped him understand how God must feel as he watched his children down on earth, struggling through their trials.

Sonja opened the door and came in carrying a tray with a hypodermic and a vial of amber liquid. The nurse set the tray on the counter, then prepared the injection.

“The doctor will be right in.” She spoke in a cheery tone.

Mark coughed. “Sonja, how long have you worked for Emma, er, Dr. Shields?”

Sonja chuckled. “I’ve known Dr. Shields long enough that sometimes even I slip up and call her Emma. I met her in a science class at the university when she was an undergrad. I went back to school after my husband died, so I was kind of old to be a student. Emma and I were lab partners. I introduced her to her former husband, David.”

“Former?”

Sonja’s eyes creased with sorrow and she shook her head. “I’m afraid they divorced two years ago. It was pretty hard on Emma. David never was a very supportive husband.”

Mark’s insides went cold. He understood firsthand the sadness caused by divorce.

He was about to ask more, but Emma opened the door and came in, carrying a clipboard. Dressed in a white blouse and black skirt, she wore a white doctor’s jacket over the top, buttoned mid-way up the front. Her blond hair was pulled back in a tight knot at the base of her neck. She wore wire-rimmed glasses low on her nose. Even with the severe hairstyle, he remembered how stunning she could look when she let her hair down and smiled.

The moment she entered the room, he felt as though he’d come home. Safe. Like a breath of fresh air after being locked in a tiny closet for six months. Her presence soothed his jangled nerves, offering hope in a weary world of fear.

Old feelings of affection crowded his heart. Wow, it was good to see her!

His gaze darted to her left hand where a gold wedding band circled her fourth finger.

How odd.

She’d been divorced two years, yet she still wore her ex-husband’s ring. After two years, he would have thought she would be over the guy. He was definitely over Denise. He realized his priorities had changed since Angie’s birth, but Denise hadn’t changed one bit. Somehow, the distance between them had grown to unrecognizable proportions.

Mark looked away but couldn’t help wondering if Denise had hocked her garish wedding ring at a pawnshop. No doubt, she could get a tidy sum for the diamonds.

At one time he hadn’t cared. Now he wished someone in this world loved him enough to wear his ring. But even if he found that special someone, he doubted he’d have time to build a relationship. Angie was his first priority and kept him more than busy. He couldn’t afford the luxury of a romance right now.

“Hello.” Emma glanced at him, then turned to smile at Angie.

“Hi, Emma.” His voice sounded unusually low and he cleared his throat.

Pen in hand, Emma sat on the stool and began scribbling notes on her clipboard. “Angie’s blood count looks good right now. This blood test was performed yesterday?”

She peered at Mark over the rim of her glasses, her clear blue eyes showing a dazzling depth of intelligence and—

Barriers.

“Yes, at the blood lab,” he said.

Her gaze returned to the clipboard. “Okay, after each injection, we’ll monitor Angie’s white blood cells to make certain they don’t get too low. If they do, we’ll skip one treatment to give her blood levels time to recover, then pick up again the following week.”

“I understand.” Mark nodded.

“I don’t. How come?” Angie asked.

Ever inquisitive, Angie had been on the Internet with Mark last night, reading all they could find out about brain tumors and treatments. She’d even commented that she wanted to be an oncologist like Dr. Shields when she grew up. Mark prayed Angie made it to a very old age.

Emma gazed at Angie with a hint of respect. “That’s a very good question. I’m glad you asked. The drugs we’re giving you kill the bad cells, but they also kill good cells.”

Angie’s brow wrinkled. “And we can’t let too many good cells die, right?”

Smart kid.
Pride surged through Mark. With Angie’s intelligence, he was certain she’d make it through med school, if given the chance.

“Right,” Emma said.

“But what if the chemo doesn’t kill my tumor?”

Mark held his breath, waiting for Emma’s response.

Emma’s mouth opened and her gaze softened, but she didn’t speak right away. She seemed to choose her words carefully. “We have other options. We can use radiation, but we’re not to that point, yet. Let’s just take it one day at a time, all right?”

Angie smiled and nodded. She looked so trusting as she watched Emma.

Mark’s body tensed without him willing it. What if they had to resort to radiation? Brain cells didn’t recover from radiation and Angie could lose much of her cognitive ability. What damage would the chemo cause? Her neurosurgeon had told him that once she finished her chemo protocol, she’d have a forty percent chance of never giving birth to her own child. Sometimes he wondered if the treatment was worse than the illness.

Realizing his breathing had quickened and his heart was pounding, Mark tried to calm his troubled mind. One day at a time. Right now, they were fighting for Angie’s life.

“Will the chemo make me sick?” Angie asked.

Emma lifted one brow. “I see you have your father’s intelligence.”

“And her mother’s beauty.” Mark smiled at Angie and the little girl beamed.

He mentioned Denise for Angie’s benefit.

Emma’s focus shifted to the alpine picture over his right shoulder and he couldn’t help wondering if the mention of Denise bothered her. What a fool he’d been all those years ago to dump Emma for a pretty girl whose father had connections in the business world. Prestige had meant everything to him back then.

“Certain foods react with the drugs we’re giving Angie and can create a problem. Do you have the list of things she shouldn’t eat?” Emma asked.

“Yeah, we’ve got it and I’ll make sure Angie follows it.”

“Okay, pumpkin, you ready?” Sonja came over to the bed, then reached to help Angie sit back.

Lying on the pillow, Angie handed Mark her flowered hat. He noticed Emma’s gaze slid over the little girl’s bald head where pink scars circled the top right side. Hopefully, her thick hair would eventually grow back and no one would notice.

Emma didn’t show even a glimmer of repulsion. Instead a flicker of empathy filled her eyes.

Ah, she’s not as indifferent as she wants us to believe.

Sonja lifted Angie’s shirt, exposing the porta-catheter installed for administering the chemo injections. The neurosurgeon had warned that, if they didn’t use a porta-catheter, by the time Angie turned eighteen, the veins in her arms would collapse. If not handled carefully, the powerful medicine could burn her skin bad enough to require a plastic surgeon to repair the damage. A patch covered the EMLA Cream, which Mark had applied to Angie’s skin thirty minutes earlier. Angie shouldn’t feel any more than a bit of pressure.

“Is it gonna hurt?” Angie’s voice wobbled as she looked at Emma.

Tenderness filled Emma’s eyes. “No, sweetie, it shouldn’t.”

Setting her clipboard aside, Emma slipped her glasses off and tucked them into her pocket before carefully peeling back the Emla patch. She accepted a piece of gauze from Sonja and wiped the white cream off.

“Okay, lie still.” Emma’s voice soothed.

Mark tensed. Angie clung to his hand, her pulse hammering against her throat.

“Honey, I’m here.” He cupped Angie’s cheek and looked into her eyes. Bending at the waist, he lowered his face to lean against the pillow. She whimpered and Mark kissed her forehead, speaking calming words to her.

“All done, sweetie,” Emma said. “You can sit up now.”

Both Angie and Mark breathed with relief. As Emma drew near, he caught her scent, a combination of warm skin and some elusive floral fragrance. Inhaling deeply, he tried to forget why he was here.

“It didn’t hurt a bit. Thanks, Dr. Shields.” Angie smiled, showing one tooth missing in front.

What a difference. Now the dreaded injection was over, Angie almost seemed her old self again.

“You’re welcome.” Emma’s mouth curled as she disposed of the needle in a box labeled Hazardous Waste.

Placing a small dot bandage over the needle prick, Sonja helped Angie lower her shirt and patted the little girl’s shoulder. “You did just fine, kiddo. Do you want to come select a prize from my stash out in the office? I got it special just for your visits.”

A grin spread across Angie’s face and she nodded. Sonja took her hand as Angie slid off the bed, then they left the room. Mark picked up Angie’s hat and slapped it against his thigh. Emma put her reading glasses on, then picked up her clipboard, jotting more notes.

“Thanks, Emma. I really appreciate this. I can’t begin to tell you how much.”

“You’re welcome. Angie’s a great kid.” She showed a wistful smile.

A wisp of golden hair slipped free of the tight knot at the back of her neck and curled against her cheek. He longed to reach out and feel the texture of it.

“Yeah, she is.” He hesitated, wondering how to say what was on his mind. “Look, Emma, I sense you’re uncomfortable with me here. Is it because I was such a dope back in high school?”

Her gaze glanced off his. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Sure she did. There was no need to pretend. It occurred to him that she was doing her best to hide her injured feelings. Maybe it was a defense mechanism. No, she didn’t want him here, but she had put aside her wounded pride to help Angie.

Sudden respect filled him, along with a protective impulse. He shouldn’t have reminded her that he had dumped her for Denise all those years earlier. “You’ve turned out to be an amazing woman, Emmy.”

Her eyes widened and she looked startled. “I’m a doctor, Mark. This is what I do.”

“Still, I want you to know I’m grateful.”

She laughed, a harsh sound with no humor. “Believe me, you’ll get my bill.”

He chuckled but sensed her deep sarcasm. “Thank goodness for health insurance. So far, the medical bills are nudging half-a-million dollars, the deductibles large enough to cross my eyes.”

After college, he’d worked hard and invested well, but the divorce settlement had drained a large portion of his wealth. He’d been lucky Denise wanted cash and let him buy out her half of the house. To save Angie’s life, he’d sell everything he owned and live in a pup tent in the park. Whatever it took. Money didn’t mean anything to him now. Not if he lost his daughter.

“You’ve changed since high school, Mark.” Her brows pulled together in a perplexed frown.

Was it that obvious? “Really? How so?”

“You’re so gentle with Angie. I remember you being such a jock, laughing all the time, going to parties. I never imagined you’d be such a softy with a little girl of your own.”

He remembered, too. All those parties he had attended, and Emma hadn’t been invited. He remembered the pain in her eyes when he’d told her he didn’t want to go out with her anymore. The slump of dejection in her shoulders and the hurt in her voice when she’d wished him nothing but the best.

Those days had been focused on one thing only. Get the best grades possible, excel at sports and earn a full-ride scholarship to N.Y.U. so he could get a top job making lots of money. What had it mattered that he’d dumped the school bookworm for a hot babe who happened to be the head varsity cheerleader? When he married Denise fresh out of college, he’d been the envy of every other guy at school.

None of that seemed important now. Except for Brett Anderson, he rarely saw any of his old friends. If only he hadn’t been so superficial. But no matter what Denise did or how difficult his life became, he could never regret having Angie.

“That was a long time ago, Emma. Now, I’m a father with responsibilities. When Angie was born, I started thinking about more than just the here and now. I wanted the best for my child, and that caused me to seek a greater power than my own.”

Her brows arched. “So, you got religion, huh?”

“You could say that. I’d be lost without God in my life. As I recall, you used to be quite religious yourself.”

“Things change.”

He ached for her lack of faith. “Sometimes it’s hard for me to see my life with eternal eyes, but I came to realize that God has my best interest in mind.”

A skeptical frown crinkled her brow and he changed the topic. “When we were in high school, I was just a thoughtless, stupid kid. I hope you’ll forgive me for…for everything.”

“Of course. There’s nothing to forgive.” She bit her bottom lip, staring at the brown carpet.