Imagine That (11 page)

What happens when preconceived notions about a person come crashing down? When up becomes down, and everything gets spun on its axis? Emily found the whole process unnerving.

No, unnerving didn't cover the crushing sense of guilt and embarrassment. She liked to think of herself as fair minded, and to realize she'd jumped to such erroneous conclusions about Nate shook her to the core.

Still trembling from the earlier encounter, she drove back to the garage apartment. She wanted to hide out until she figured out who she'd become. She pulled into the driveway at the same moment Julia walked out of the house wearing biker shorts and a navy blue tank top.

“Hey there, neighbor,” Julia said. “Haven't seen you in days. Aurora and the library van must be keeping you busy.”

Escape route cut off. “Yeah, busy,” Emily said, stifling a groan.

“I keep thinking I should apologize for hooking you up with Aurora,” Julia said as she walked down the steps.

“She's easier to deal with than just about anyone else. At least I know what to expect.”

Right. No secret bombshells. No two-by-four to the head.

Julia waved a hand in front of Emily's face. “Earth to Emily… what's wrong?”

Emily fought the urge to stomp her foot. Why couldn't she be allowed to dive under the covers and block out the world? She didn't want to explain anything right now.

Except she did have a bone to pick with her newfound friend.

“You knew,” Emily said, accusation dripping like acid.

Julia's eyes widened in confusion. “Knew what?”

“Nate. You told me about the painting business, but you left out the larger and more important detail concerning his
dying mother
. The same mother I've been bringing books to, only I didn't know who she was.”

“Ah, you finally found out.”

Temper sparked low in Emily's spine and raced up to the top of her head. “
Ah
, she says! How could you not tell me? I feel like such a fool. I thought— You should have told me.”

“Who are you really angry at?” Julia asked, arms folded in challenge. “Me or yourself?”

As quickly as her rage had begun, the storm receded. With the tension gone, Emily sank back against her car. “Right now, I hate myself.”

“No need for such dramatics.” Julia dropped a hand on Emily's shoulder and squeezed. “Come on. Walk with me and we can talk.”

“I don't want to talk. I want to forget today ever happened.”

Julia's eyes narrowed. “Tough.”

“Fine,” Emily said with a huff of exasperation. “I should change, though.”

“Nope, you're good. Besides, you'd get up there and decide not to leave again. Come on.”

They set off down the street. Emily took deep breaths and tried to regain her equilibrium.

Julia slanted a glance from the corner of her eye. “So, how did you find out?”

“Nate came home for lunch while I was there with Rachel. She'd known who I was right from the beginning, but she never said anything. Never told Nate she'd met me either.”

“Sneaky of her.”

“Don't make jokes. I'm serious.”

“Me too. Why are you so upset?”

“You don't know what I thought about Nate ever since he told me he lives with his mother.”

“You don't approve of the practice?”

Emily glared at her friend. “Oh, come on. You're telling me you think it's natural for men of a certain age to still be living at home?”

“I live with Grace. Seth lived here for two years.”

“Extenuating circumstances.”

“Exactly. You assumed the worst about Nate without asking why.”

Man, the punches keep on coming.
“I thought you were supposed to make me feel better.”

Julia's ponytail bounced in time with her shaking head. “No, I'm trying to get you to see where you went wrong.”

“I know where I went wrong. In my defense, I have some experience with losers,” Emily said. “I once dated a guy who lived with his mother. He was number three on a string of losers I hooked up with, by the way. I thought it was sweet he was so close to her. Closeness was certainly not a quality cultivated in my household growing up. Turns out the guy couldn't tie his shoes without asking his mother's opinion on how he should do it. I think she might have tied the laces for him. We couldn't go anywhere without him checking to make sure she didn't need anything first, and if by some miracle we made it out the door, she always managed to interrupt. There was a true Oedipus complex at work there.”

“So you let one bad experience dictate how you see Nate Cooper?”

“I didn't — okay maybe I did a little. I'm not the only one who finds the arrangement suspect. Classic literature is chock full of twisted mother/son relationships.”

“Emily, you're talking about fiction. A book would be pretty boring if family members had normal relationships. What would be the point of writing about happy people?”

She sighed. “True.”

“Maybe it's time you stepped out of the pages of a novel and into the reality of life.”

“Oh, I am. The realization that I'm a shallow, judgmental person,” Emily said in self-disgust.

“I don't believe that.”

“Right. Do you know what I thought of him? I figured he was a loser, living off his mother. Only it turns out he gave up the new life he'd carved out for himself to care for his dying mother. He really is Mr. Darcy. He's the bloody hero, and as it turns out I'm shady Mr. Whikam.”

Julia stopped, her brows drawing together in bemusement. “Sorry, you lost me at Mr. Darcy.”

“Nate is the hero. I am the ugly hag luring lost children into her candy-coated house so I can eat them.”

“Emily, what did I say about changing your outlook?” Julia said, continuing down the street. “You're not a witch. You jumped to some wrong conclusions. Maybe you used Nate's perceived faults as a reason to push him away and deny what you were feeling.”

“I don't feel anything for Nate,” Emily said, balking at the notion. She couldn't be falling for someone she'd just met.

Julia laughed. “Oh, you sound so much like me. I came up with every excuse in the book to avoid facing my attraction to Seth. The memory of his wife, his faith, his profession, his connection to Grace through his father, my father, my father's sins, my past. I closed my eyes to the truth because I didn't want to see it.”

“I projected my prejudices onto Nate so I could deny my heart?”

“Perhaps.”

“That's ridiculous.”

“Is it?”

“Maybe I'm simply a terrible person.”

Julia shook her head. “I don't think so. You've had the scales ripped from your eyes. The question is; what are you going to do now?”

Nate dropped into the metal folding chair in the basement of the church. He'd taken the last empty seat. A full house. The number of people attending the Families With Cancer Support Group ebbed and flowed according to the members' needs. Every seat filled meant a bad week had been had all around.

A stout older man with a balding head leaned closer. “How are you holding up, Nate?”

Nate sighed.

David Connor interpreted the gust of air as only a man whose wife was battling breast cancer could. The older man laid a strong but gentle hand on Nate's shoulder. “That bad, huh? You've come to the right place.”

Nate forced himself out of his own dark hole and held out a hand to the man who'd taken on the role of father in the last couple years. “How is Olivia?”

“She's—” He hesitated and something shifted in his brown eyes.

“What?” Nate asked, his pulse kicking up a notch. “Not bad news?”

David's gaze softened. “No. Good news. She's in remission.”

Happiness soothed the racing beat in his chest. “Why didn't you say so?”

“It seems almost cruel to rejoice about our good fortune when your mother—” Again David stopped the thought.

“My mother would be the first to thank God for Sylvia's recovery,” Nate said. “As far as I'm concerned, anyone who can beat this monster called cancer does it for all of us.”

David's eyes filled, and he squeezed Nate's shoulder. “You do your mother proud, son.”

Nate's throat closed, and he blinked to clear his own vision. He shuffled his feet, trying to compose himself before he ended up bawling like a baby in front of the entire room.

Of course, bawling happened to be a common occurrence during these meetings. Especially once Seth Graham went to work.

The minister started the meeting with prayer. “Lord Jesus, descend on this room right now. We come to You for our strength. We look to You for comfort and guidance. Shower Your blessings on everyone here and show us Your mercy. In Your name. Amen.”

Seth surveyed the room, making eye contact with each man and woman. His gaze stopped on a dark-haired man in his mid-thirties. Nate started when he recognized the newcomer. He'd painted the guy's house last year.

“We have a new guest tonight,” Seth said. “This is Brett.”

“Hi, Brett,” they all chorused.

Seth leaned forward. “Brett, do you feel like sharing?”

The man cleared his throat. “Not sure I'll ever be ready.”

“Take your time,” Seth said.

“My daughter Kendra—” He blew out a breath and coughed. “She has… leukemia. She's only five.”

The news slammed into Nate like a Mack truck. Little Kendra. He remembered her, too. She had the most amazing Shirley Temple curls. She used to ride a purple tricycle up and down the street every afternoon. He'd taught her how to paint the siding on the house.

Brett swiped his eyes. “We've had the whole family tested, and no one is a match. Not even her cousins. Some kind of rare blood marker. We're gonna be heading down to Jackson Hospital in Miami next week. Rachelle will stay with Kendra while she's getting treatment and waiting to find a donor match. I'll have to fly down on weekends. I can't be away from work indefinitely.”

Seth steepled his fingers together. “I bet you're feeling guilty because you won't be with Kendra and Rachelle every day.”

Brett let out a short, desperate laugh. “One more thing to feel guilty about, you mean. I can't help thinking I could have stopped this. Maybe we didn't give her enough milk, or maybe we gave her milk with chemicals and hormones. Did she get enough vegetables? Kendra's a picky eater. Should I have pushed her to eat the green stuff? Was she around smoke?”

A woman to Brett's left spoke. “No one knows what causes some cancers. It's not your fault.”

“Thank you, Marianne,” Seth said.

“But I'm her father,” Brett said. “I'm supposed to protect her.”

“You are protecting Kendra,” Seth said. “You're going to the best hospital you can find. You're working hard so you can have insurance to help pay for treatments. You're here.”

“I've never been able to get my husband to come to a meeting,” another woman across the circle said. “He says he can handle our son having Hodgkin's lymphoma on his own.”

Seth nodded. “Yes, Annabelle, I think men often find it harder to let themselves feel pain or fear. I know I wanted to bury my head in the sand when my wife was battling her disease.”

Brett put his face in his hands and wept. Marianne reached over and rubbed his back.

Nate swiped his eyes and fought back a roiling anger. The pain of losing his mother couldn't begin to compare to what it would feel like to lose a child. What could God be thinking? What possible purpose could be served by taking little Kendra? Nate started to wish he hadn't come tonight. He'd hoped to find comfort. Instead, he wanted to hit something.

Seth took in the circle again. “Anger is natural. You want to rail at God. Curse him.”

Nate caught his breath. How did the preacher always know what they were thinking?

Seth sat up and folded his arms. “I've been there, ladies and gentlemen. The truth is death is unnatural. We were created as eternal beings, but because of the fall from grace we were all punished with death. Our only hope is we know there
is
an eternity. It's just not here on earth. Our lives are nothing but a moment, but we'll be in God's presence always.”

An enormous African American man on Nate's right stirred. “Tonight, I don't care squat about eternity. My Bonnie is losing all her hair and throwing up her insides. She won't let me touch her. I can't comfort my own wife. Where is our loving God when her head is hanging over a toilet?”

“God is in you, Wally,” Seth said. “Bonnie may not be able to accept your comfort, but she knows you're there.”

Wally's hands clenched around the metal seat, and a vein throbbed at his temple. “So what?” he spat. “What good is my being there if Bonnie still dies? What good is my faith then? I can pray and beg God for mercy, and He still might not listen.”

“God listens,” David said. “I've heard Him more powerfully since Olivia got sick than ever before.”

“Good for you,” Wally retorted, aiming dark, anger-filled eyes in David's direction. “God's gone pretty silent in my world. Seems He's gone quiet in Brett's life, too. It's not enough my Bonnie might have to go, but a little girl? A defenseless baby?”

Pastor Seth shot to the edge of his seat. “Wally, do you believe God loves you? Do you believe He loves Bonnie?”

Wally blinked. “I guess.”

“Not, you guess. Yes or no? Do you believe He loved you and Bonnie enough that He sent his only son to die for you both?”

Wally's big hands shook as he rubbed his head. “I want to believe, Pastor. I want more than anything to believe, but I gotta' tell you if God takes my Bonnie, I'm not sure—” He choked back a sob, and with a dark curse he sprang out of his seat with enough force to send the metal chair clattering to the floor. The clanging still echoed in the room when the door slammed shut a moment later.

Nate felt the vibration in his soul. Knew the same fury and helplessness.

Seth took a deep breath. “I'll visit with Wally later, but I suspect all of you feel like knocking a chair across the room. I did my own share of tearing things up when Beth was sick, but I want you to hear me and listen—” He paused and made eye contact with everyone once more. “Be scared. Be angry if you need to be. We are in a relationship with God, and just like in any relationship, there are storms. I'm engaged to the most incredible woman I could imagine, but sometimes she makes me want to strangle her.”

A ripple of surprised laughter rolled out around the room in a gentle wave.

“Julia is not God. She's not perfect, but He is. He knows what we need before we even conjure up the idea. He knows what Wally desires, what you, Brett, and Marianne and Annabelle and David and Nate need. We get frustrated because we can't see the plan. We don't know why our children, our spouses, our parents, get sick. We don't know why some of them have to leave us, and we get angry. Anger is understandable. It's human, but you must all hold on to God's promise. Because if you let go of hope, then you will be lost.”

Nate tried to take in Seth's words. Wanted to hold fast to the truth in them, but right now his faith was stretched thin like a wire and he didn't know if he could hang on anymore.