Love Is More Than Skin Deep (A Hidden Hearts Novel Book 4) (9 page)

Mark notices the expression on my face and he places his warm hand over my knee and squeezes it lightly as he remarks, “I really believe that you are in excellent hands. Today is going to be the real start of your journey to kick cancer’s butt. I wish I could be there, but since I can’t, I brought you a little something. Hopefully, this will bring happy thoughts.”

I shake my head as I chide, “Didn’t we talk about this? I’m just a sometime-houseguest who your daughter absolutely annihilates at video games. You don’t have to keep buying me presents.”

Mark shoves his hand in his pocket in the front of his sweatshirt and removes a box. “Don’t you want to see what it is first?” he teases with a boyish grin as he waves the present in front of my nose.

“Don’t even try that. That’s how you got me to try on those ridiculously expensive house slippers,” I protest.

“You love them don’t you?” he counters. “Come on, I promise that this isn’t as expensive as those, and Ketki helped me choose it.”

It’s like trying to fight the tide in the ocean. He’s unstoppable when he sets his mind to something. Finally, I just stick my hand out to accept the present.
 

“Well, geez if you’re going to pull out the big guns, a girl hardly has any choice but to say yes,” I concede.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying —” he agrees with a grin. “I’m glad we’re on the same page now.”

I carefully remove the bow and set it aside and can’t even hide my squeal of approval when I peek inside the box. “It’s a Teddy Bear!”

Mark looks amused as he replies, “I’m aware of that.”

“This is going to sound really stupid, but I’m twenty-eight years old and this is the first Teddy Bear I’ve ever had,” I admit sheepishly as I carefully remove the little bear from the box. I gasp when I see the rest of the little soft sculpture. He has little-bitty patched overalls on and he’s propped up against a pile of books made from felt.

“Ketki decided you would appreciate him because you are a teacher. Her favorite teacher loves to read.”

“This is adorable. Thank you so much. Let me find somewhere to put this, so that he doesn’t break.”

Mark puts his hand on my shoulder as I start to get up. “I know it looks fragile, but it’s really not. I discovered this guy when I was doing some social training with Ketki when she was younger. He makes dollhouse furniture and the characters to go in them. They are incredibly durable, so feel free to take your Teddy Bear with you, if you’d like. He’s the perfect pocket-sized companion.”

I hand it to him as I instruct, “Please put it by my purse, I don’t want to forget my good luck charm.” I stand up from the chair and give him a brief hug. “It means the world to me. Speaking of good luck, I hope you find the best jurors in the world and the judge sees things your way.”

So cold. I’m so
damn cold
. It’s never this way on television. After I was placed in foster care, I went on a television binging streak and watched as much TV as I possibly could. I watched everything from Tom and Jerry cartoons to unauthorized biographies and everything in between. I was particularly interested in medical horror stories because of my brother’s death. As a result, I’ve seen a lot of footage of operations — both real and pretend—and no one ever warns you about how cold you will be.

I’m shaking so violently that the scrub nurse is having a difficult time getting all of the leads and monitors attached to me. She brings me another warm blanket and tucks it around my body. Her serious eyes constantly assess my condition. After a few moments, she checks in with me, “Feeling any warmer?”

“You can probably tell if I sugarcoat things to make this a little less awkward?” I stammer through chattering teeth.

Her eyes crinkle with mirth over her surgical mask as she confirms my hunch, “I should hope so, or I have no business in the nursing business. Tell me a little bit about what’s going on.”

“I don’t know. The blankets are helpful, but I feel like my bones are made of icicles.”

“We sure don’t make it easy on you, it’s not a sauna in here, that’s for sure. Some patients may be extra chilly because of a little bit of anxiety.”

“That’s putting it mildly. I’m a big girl and I thought that I would be able to handle this, but I’m actually pretty scared. For the first time in a long time I really wish my mom was here. And that's really pretty foolish, because too much water has passed under the bridge and choices have been made that can’t be undone — but for today at least I wish I could turn back time.”

She reaches out and squeezes my hand as she says, “I rarely run across a single soul who doesn’t wish the same at some point or another, myself included. I wish I could do more, but we’ll do our best to make you feel comfortable.”

As much as I hate myself for it, a tear leaks from the corner of my eye. I take a deep breath and try to compose myself before I respond, “Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without people like you and Dr. Charleston. Despite what it looks like, I really am okay with this. I’ve just never done the whole big surgery thing before. I appreciate your patience.”

The nurse smiles behind her mask as she pats my arm.
 

“The doctor is going to give you some medication in your I.V. now and it’s going to make you incredibly drowsy. I want you to think about all the happy things in your life.”

Her suggestion is so similar to the one that Rogue asked me just a few weeks ago that it gives me pause. I’m a little stunned to realize how much my answers have changed in such a short period of time. There’s just something about cancer that fundamentally changes your definition of what makes you happy. It’s funny, my focus seems to have changed from random things to not-so-random somebodies.

STRESS. I’M AN ATTORNEY FOR Pete’s sake—you would think that I would be used to the concept by now. Apparently, that’s not the case — my nine-year-old daughter who is usually lost in her own world just told me to take a chill pill. The irony of that is not lost on me. I am used to worrying about everything about Ketki. I monitor everything from how much she eats, how much she sleeps, how much she exercises, to how well she does in school. It’s all second nature to me. I’ve had to micromanage my daughter’s life since Tanyanita took off. It’s stress, but manageable.

The situation with Shelby is a whole different ballgame. I’ve never met somebody like her. I’ve been a lawyer for nearly eight years now and I’ve never wanted to bow out of a case as much as I do now. It’s not even that the case is progressing poorly. We’re doing fairly well—this one might even be winnable. The problem is I can’t be in two places at once. The most ridiculous thing about my dilemma is that even if I could be, I don’t know that Shelby would allow it. I have never seen someone be so sweetly contrary in my life. Shelby used the trial as justification to stay with Rogue and Tristan after her surgery, insisting that she didn’t want to interrupt my workflow and be a bother. She completely blew off any of my counterarguments. I am not exactly sure what to make of that development — usually I’m a little better at this. I rarely get beaten at my own game. It’s an interesting position to be in. Usually as a single attorney in a pretty visible job, I am the pursued. Shelby has put me into the role of a pursuer.
 

At first I wasn’t really sure if Ketki would be okay with that. I haven’t really done much visible dating around her. I didn’t want to be one of those parents who has a new love interest each week. I figured that Ketki might be curious about Shelby, but I didn’t anticipate getting overt pressure from her to pursue a relationship. Then again, I didn’t know Shelby would bond instantly with Ketki. Sadly, a lot of people are uncomfortable around my daughter. When Ketki is upset her movements can become erratic and loud. Although her communication style has improved since she was a small child, it is still atypical and takes a little bit of getting used to.

My daughter’s unusual style is on full display as she paces anxiously in front of me, her hands fluttering slightly before she stuffs them in her pockets.

“Dad, we
need
to get over there. Are you
ever
gonna get done with that stupid paperwork?”

I hit the save button on my laptop and close it before I respond. “What’s your hurry, Ki?” I tease as she hops from one foot to the other.

“I made her peanut butter balls, because the doctor said she had to take her pain medicine with food. She usually takes her pain medicine every six hours if she got up at her usual time, that means she took her pain medicine about 7 o’clock this morning. So, she probably had pain medicine with her lunch too. That means that she needs these peanut butter cookies for her after dinner snack so she doesn’t get sick.”

Once again, I’m completely blown away by the things that my daughter pays attention to — because sometimes it seems like she doesn’t pay attention to much of anything other than her complete obsession with video games — well, those and feathers and pebbles.
 

“Ketki, I am so impressed that you made Shelby cookies. You know she’s going to love them, peanut butter is her favorite,” I compliment, hoping to reinforce the social behavior.

Ketki stares at me blankly as if I’ve grown another head as she remarks, “Duh, don’t you remember the last time we made them together, she almost ate a whole pan full of cookies all by herself? Obviously, she likes them. Otherwise I wouldn’t have made them for her. Come on, let’s go. I want to have enough time to play games. I heard that her friend Tristan has a killer system.”

“Ketki,” I warn. “You know we’re going over there to visit with Shelby. I’d rather you not just get lost in your games. Remember that she’s still really tender and she’s not supposed to move much. I don’t know if it’s safe for you guys to get involved in one of your epic video game battles. You two are like ninja warriors crossed with gymnasts when you play. Besides, you’re going to be a guest in Rogue’s home, you can’t be scoping out their video equipment. That’s just rude.”

Ketki rolls her eyes at me as she responds, “Dad, I know. Shelby told me all this stuff before she had the operation. I know how to be safe around her.”

With every Skype call and visit with Shelby, I marvel at their relationship. Ketki is very slow to trust people and I hardly ever see her get excited over relationships with others unless they’re fictional characters in her video games. It’s actually quite astonishing. I set my computer down and grab the tray of cookies as we head out the door.

As I hold open the door for my daughter, I joke, “Well are you coming or do I have to wait all day?”

Ketki wrinkles her nose at me as she retorts, “Very funny Dad. I waited two hours, thirty-seven minutes and twenty-two seconds for you to be finished with your work.”

I look at my watch and realize that she’s probably correct, but we’re making progress. At least she realizes I intended it to be a joke.
 

Ketki stops short when she sees Shelby resting on the 70’s style chaise lounge in Tristan’s den. She has a stack of books around her on the floor and on her lap, but it looks like she just drifted off to sleep. I can understand why Ketki is a little taken aback. Most of Shelby’s wounds are lightly covered in gauze, but the ones on her face and neck are a little more difficult to conceal, and they look angry for lack of a better term. She’s wearing a halter top with fringe so I can see that the tube that was draining some of her deepest incisions is now gone. I try to cover my emotions because I don’t want to upset Ketki, but the scene in front of me is unmistakably unsettling.