Love Is More Than Skin Deep (A Hidden Hearts Novel Book 4) (12 page)

Mark reaches out to gently still my hands.

“I was too little to understand why my dad wasn’t able to maintain a job and so they didn't have health insurance and they were too paranoid to believe in signing up for government assistance, even basic needs. Over time, the more reputable pastors began to fall away and we began to travel farther and farther away and seek out people on the fringe that would tell my parents exactly what they wanted to hear. Some of this stuff was so outrageous that even as a child I could tell that it was certainly not true, but other things I never actually knew whether they were true or false."

"That must've been terribly confusing for you," Mark comments.

"Oh, you've no idea!" I exclaim, "Savannah and I were just kids, but we started feeling like it was our responsibility to protect our parents from themselves. It was not only confusing, it was scary. I remember as soon as I learned what money was, I started hiding some of it away because my parents felt like 'God' was telling them to give these people all of our money that we managed to scrape together for food.”

Mark grits his teeth and shakes his head as he stirs his coffee.

“I understand that the Bible says not to be boastful about money, but being able to pay for milk, eggs and a few Cheerios is not the same as lusting after money. For some reason my parents didn't understand that. In every new town we went to in search of some miracle cure for my brother, they were subjected to a new round of fleecing. It was absolutely insane."

"Why didn't anyone else from your town say anything?" Mark inquires, his body language alert with curiosity. "Wasn't it pretty obvious your brother wasn't doing very well?"

I feel the blood drain out of my face as dozens of moments flood my memory like a deranged kaleidoscope. I can't help but let out a dry laugh as I respond, "Obvious? Oh yeah. Sad? It didn't get much sadder. Sometimes horrific. I remember him looking so frail that it looked as if you could see through his skin. At one point, I used to pray to myself that some well-meaning adult would stop and ask questions. I would get my hopes up if someone would stop and ask for the time. Sadly, there weren't any heroes in our story. It was as if no one could actually see us. We needed a village of heroes, but what we got was a world of disinterested bystanders.

"Damn Shelby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring all that up," Mark admits as he tucks his jacket around my shoulders when he sees me shiver.

"Mark, it's not just you. It's this whole situation. It's going from one specialist to another and having them promise things that are turning out not to be true. It just makes me feel like I did when we were young going from one church to the next. It just feels the same and I'm beginning to wonder if anybody knows what they're talking about. What if this melanoma isn't even curable? What if I’ve just let it go on too long?"

"Shelby, there are so many factors with cancer that it's hard for anybody to give you an answer with any degree of certainty. It depends on your environment, your genetics and plain old luck. Do you even know anything about your family's history with cancer?"

I throw up my hands in frustration and am again reminded what's already happened to me as one of my deeper incisions on my back pulls uncomfortably and sends a long twinge of pain through my side and under my arm.
 

"I don't really know anything about my family. The things I used to know about them were seen through the eyes of a twelve-year-old. It probably wasn't correct information even then," I reply sadly shaking my head. "For all I know, my whole family could be dead. I could be the last person to get cancer instead of the first person."

"That's a lot of guessing to do based on a single phone call. Maybe the news isn't quite as bad as you're anticipating. All we can do is deal with what comes," Mark tries to reassure me.

"Logically, I know you're probably right, but I'm beyond logic. Right now, I'm scared spitless. I'm sorry to break it to you, but you're just going to have to deal with me being a basket case. You know what really sucks about this? Ketki comes home from camp today and I was looking forward to spending time with her. Now I'm going to be in a weird headspace and she is totally going to pick up on that."

Mark sighs deeply as he says, "We've got bigger problems than that. I just got word from Susan that she’s heard from her sources in the courtroom that the judge is about to order a change of venue in my trial. At this point, we're not sure where, but it could very likely be in Ocala, which would be about an hour away.”

"Wow, that's gonna throw a wrinkle in things," I remark softly.

Mark looks at me with a raised eyebrow as he responds, "You think? The daughter of mine is not big on change to her routine. I'm not really sure how to handle this. Since it's summer break, I could take her with me. She'd have to stay at the hotel while I was in trial. If the judge has taken the extraordinary step to move the trial after we've already started selecting the jury, it's likely he's going to sequester everyone, even though Ocala is only less than an hour away from Gainesville. Ketki would probably be okay with that as long as she had Internet access. As a dad, I don't think I'm okay with that. I guess I could ask my sister to watch her."

A giggle escapes me as I see the sour expression on his face. "Something tells me that's not your favorite option either —"

Mark scrapes his hand down his face as he answers, “Let me put it this way. I love my sister very much, but my daughter and I don't love soap operas nearly as much as Leoti does. Whenever she watches Ketki, I always have to hear about the huge sacrifice Ketki made to stay with her. I used to brush off Ketki's complaints, but about three years ago, I got the stomach flu and I had to stay with my sister for a couple days. Let's just say that I am a lot more sympathetic about Ketki's complaints after that experience."

"I completely understand. My foster mom was a complete soap opera addict. She even watched a television channel that was dedicated to nothing but soap operas. She had all of the characters from four or five of them completely memorized and seemed to think they were real. I had never watched television before so it was a novel and somewhat scary experience for me." A thought occurs to me as I see the stress lines on his face. "Do you need to go and deal with this? I can go to this appointment by myself. I've been on my own for a long time. You didn't need to take the whole morning off just to be with me."

"Immokalee,
I did need to do that. It's been a while since I've been in a relationship, but I'm pretty sure this is how it's done. I would feel like a colossal jerk if I was just sitting around in my office waiting for a ruling from the judge that may or may not even come down today, while you were getting critical news about your future. I've got law clerks, associates and partners to help me do that. I've only got one you, and I choose to be here with you. Is that a problem?"

Something about that awkward statement touches my heart and I tear up before I respond, "No, I don't have a problem with it. I'm just not used to being anyone's first priority."

"Well, get used to it because that's the way you deserve to be treated, Shelby."

"I hope you feel the same when I offer to watch Ketki for you while you're in trial —" I counter.

"Are you sure you're up to it? My daughter can be a handful," Mark warns.

"I'm all about the package deal, remember?" I reply with a watery smile. "Besides, I happen to think your daughter is all kinds of cool all on her own. She's good for my outlook on life."

“LITTLESON, YOU FOUND YOURSELF A GEM of a woman at my tattoo shop,” Marcus comments as he tightens the screws on the bunk-bed that we’re putting together at Shelby’s little cottage. “Maybe I should start a little dating service.”

I throw my head back and laugh as I reply, “Didn’t you get yourself in a little bind with a dating service? I’m surprised Rogue still talks to you at all after what you pulled. I know if you did that to my sister, she would put you on her do-not-call list
forever.”

Isaac just chuckles as he joins the conversation, “It was the recipe for a major disaster, but everyone ended up happy in the end and I found my family again, so I can’t be all that upset about this one’s harebrained scheme. Much to my surprise, he’s been a fine son-in-law. He loves my daughter Ivy.”

I turn to Tristan who is busy building a student desk for Ketki. “I understand you track down people.”

Tristan nods as he responds, “Yes, that’s part of what Identity Bank does.”

“Could you track down a family that completely eschews technology?” I ask carefully formulating the question around the thoughts that have been tumbling around in my brain for weeks.

“You looked troubled, son,” Isaac responds as he studies me. “Is your case giving you that much trouble?”

“No, this isn’t about work at all. This is a much more personal mission. That’s why I’m not sure how to proceed. Usually, at work, I can follow a pretty prescribed way of doing things and the outcome is pretty predictable. Unfortunately, I don’t think that’s the case here. I’m not even sure if this is the right path to take. I’m trying to help Shelby, but this step may not be helpful at all and I just don’t know.”

“What do you mean?” Marcus asks, “I thought Ivy told me that Shelby doesn’t have any family. I guess I’m just lost in this situation as usual.”

“Lost is a pretty good word for it I suppose,” I explain. “Shelby’s early life was a little bit out of a Charles Dickens novel and she was removed from her family by the authorities. No one has tried to locate her, but she doesn’t know if that was purposeful or accidental. What I don’t know how to ascertain is whether helping her find them again would be beneficial to her recovery.”

“Wow, that’s a big move,” Marcus observes.

“I haven’t talked much about my background, but I’m Cherokee. My people have a belief in something called
tohi
. In fact we use the same word for health and balance in our language. Rather than try to just ‘fix’ Shelby’s symptoms, like in Western medicine, my people would encourage her to find healing and balance in the rest of her life. I can’t help but wonder if reuniting her with her family might help her feel more whole and complete. Perhaps it would be one more tool to help her battle her cancer. I’m not suggesting that it would be a replacement for everything else, just another piece of the puzzle. She needs more people on her side in this battle. She needs
tohi
.”

Tristan’s eyebrows come together and his face sets in grim determination as he thinks for a few moments before formulating an answer, “What does Shelby think about this? I have to tell you, Mark, I’ve seen adoption reunions like this go very well or blow up like a military ordinance. The really scary thing about planning these is that you might think you have one kind of situation and it turns out to be the other way around.”

I heave a deep breath as Tristan vocalizes my every fear. “Exactly! That’s why I haven’t done anything so far — but what if reuniting with them helps give her strength to fight? What if they can provide answers to the doctors?”

“Do you have any idea what we might find if we look?” Isaac asks.

“I only have the barest of outlines. When she was twelve, she had a mom, a dad and an older sister Savannah. Her youngest brother, Owen, passed away under odd circumstances.”

Tristan runs his hand through his short cropped hair as he declares, “I suppose that would be enough for me to do a preliminary inquiry, just to see what’s out there. I wouldn’t need to make huge waves. I can just do enough to check what kind of situation Shelby might be facing.”

I breathe a sigh of relief at his answer, “That sounds like a decent plan. If it’s devastating information, we don’t have to ambush her with it and if it’s potentially helpful, then we’ve laid some groundwork for a reunion. I’d like to see if I can help bring her some inner peace. Thank you for your help.”

“You know, you are going to have to tell your girlfriend what’s going on. Sooner or later, she’s going to find out. It’s probably better you tell her in advance,” Marcus advises. “Being married has taught me that secrets aren’t really a good thing.”

“I learned that lesson the hard way too,” I comment. “I’m just trying to protect her from any more pain.”

“I know your intentions are good,” Isaac replies sympathetically, “Sadly, that’s not always possible.”