The Healing Place (5 page)

“Yeah, she takes it with her to help prevent accidents. Angie likes it because it has little pink seashells on the rim and it’s smaller than the mop bucket.”

How ingenious. Pretty sand buckets in the car.

“How’s her appetite?” Emma asked.

A labored sigh escaped his lips. “Not good, but Mrs. Perkins tries hard to get her to eat during the day while I’m at work.”

“Mrs. Perkins?”

“Our neighbor. She’s a widow who watches Angie for me. Usually, she only takes in babies, but Angie isn’t up for a busy summer day-care program. She doesn’t have that kind of stamina. Instead Mrs. Perkins lets her do puzzles and read, and help tend the babies. Angie can lie down and rest anytime she wants. It’s a good, quiet place for her, although Angie tells me the babies cry a lot.”

“Ah.”

He gave a sad smile. “You know with the brain tumor, all of a sudden, we belong to a club we don’t want to belong to. Angie just wants to be a kid. I wish I could give her a normal childhood.”

Emma understood. When Brian had become ill, she’d joined that club, too. She opened her mouth to tell Mark about it, but caught herself just in time. “I’m sorry, Mark. I hope we can give you your wish very soon.”

He flashed a brilliant smile and her stomach flipped somersaults.

“You’ve been great, Emma. So many people have helped us. When I got home from work tonight, I found that one of the men from my congregation mowed my lawns this afternoon. His wife brought dinner in and took our dirty clothes to wash. I know those things seem trivial, but it lifted a big burden from me. There are so many good people praying for us.”

“That’s very kind of them.” She could hardly speak around the lump in her throat. She found herself wishing kind members from her congregation had been there when Brian had died, but her husband didn’t like structured religion and she’d gone inactive. No one at church had followed up with her to find out why she wasn’t attending anymore and she had too much pride to ask for their help during those dark days before and after Brian’s death. Would it have made a difference?

The other committee members had left the room, moving toward the main foyer in the outer reception area. The sun had gone down and the wide picture window looked black and vacant.

Just like her heart.

“I was sorry to hear you were divorced,” Mark interjected.

Emma froze. Any reminder of her divorce was like meat hooks ripping at her. Guilt rested heavily on her shoulders. Her ex-husband blamed her for the death of their son, and he had been right.

“Yes,” she croaked.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Mark said again.

She felt the burn of tears. “Thank you.”

“I don’t recall your husband. Did I know him?”

Shaking her head, she felt as though a wind tunnel had sucked her up. “No. David and I met in college.”

“Ah, and what does he do for a living?”

“While we were married, he owned a construction company. He built things. Usually lush homes with tons of rooms for all my rich medical colleagues.”

Resentment filled her tone. She remembered how her husband made contacts with her circle of wealthy doctor friends. For him, her medical degree wasn’t about helping save lives, but rather a way to get lucrative building contracts for clinics and homes. Still, Emma couldn’t blame him alone for the breakup of their marriage. They’d been struggling for some time before their son’s illness. After Brian died, Emma didn’t have the heart to try anymore. When David blamed her for Brian’s death, the end came swift and sure.

She noticed Mark’s contemplative frown. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to unload or sound so cynical. We divorced about two years ago. It’s been really hard, but it wasn’t all David’s fault—”

Time spun away and she longed to head for the door, but her legs wouldn’t move.

“I heard your father died a few years after we graduated from high school,” he said. “You’ve had more than your share of tragedy.”

She had been alone long before her father died. They hadn’t been on speaking terms and she hadn’t known he was gone until after the funeral. He’d been a domineering man who’d made her mother’s life miserable. Emma had made up for their lost relationship by showering her love on Brian. Now, she had no one and she couldn’t face the pain of losing someone dear ever again.

“I have my practice, and that keeps me busy.” Her voice cracked.

He cupped her elbow and squeezed gently, a look of empathy on his face. She wasn’t fooling him for a minute. “I get the feeling you miss your husband very much.”

She shuddered. “I miss the camaraderie and the close relationship of a husband and wife, but I don’t miss the—”

She was telling him too much. She’d almost blurted out that she didn’t miss David’s accusations or criticism. She no longer loved David, but she missed the warmth of a man nearby when she needed a solid shoulder to lean upon. She missed having someone reach things on the top shelf and be strong for her when she didn’t think she could go on alone.

It was too comfortable to confide in Mark. He’d always been easy to talk to.

Another step and he reached his other hand toward her shoulder. Panic overwhelmed her. He was going to hug her. She couldn’t allow that—

“Excuse me.”

Whirling about, she fled, racing for the door, bumping into Rachel Miller, the accountant housewife with three children.

“Pardon me,” she called as she dashed through the foyer and shoved against the glass pane of the outside door.

In the dark parking lot, Emma sprinted for her car, stumbling in her high heels. Even if she broke her leg, she was
not
going to stop until she was in that car.

Turning on the ignition, she jerked the gearshift into reverse and spun out of the parking lot. Looking back in her rearview mirror, she saw Mark standing on the sidewalk, hands in his pants’ pockets, staring after her.

Too close. Too close.

She had promised herself she wouldn’t become friendly with him. But she’d ended up telling him things she hadn’t confided to anyone, not even herself.

Her heart slammed against her chest. She almost ran a red light and the breaks squealed as she forced herself to slow down. She pulled over and stopped the car at the side of the road, trying to calm her nerves before she killed someone—probably herself.

“Oh-hh,” she groaned, and leaned her head against the steering wheel.

She brushed angrily at the tears falling down her cheeks. “I don’t believe in You, God. You’ve never been there for me. Why should I believe in You?”

Silence filled her heart. A dark, forbidding void that left her feeling vacant as she stared out her windshield.

Wiping her nose and eyes, she tried to calm her shaking hands and struggled to think of something else. She had two days before Mark came to pick her up to take her shopping. Two days to settle her nerves and gain control.

“I can do this.” She clenched her hand and pounded it against the dashboard. “I know I can do this. I won’t become emotionally involved with him and I won’t let him get close to me ever again.”

No matter what, she was
not
going to start to care for him or his sweet little daughter.

M
ark didn’t set the alarm on Friday nights. Saturday mornings he slept in, awakened by the sunshine filtering through the shutters in his bedroom. He stretched on the king-sized bed, enjoying some peace after a long, hectic week.

He had needed a good night’s sleep. So had Angie.

Today he was going shopping with Emma. The thought of seeing her again made him happy, an emotion he rarely felt these days.

After showering, he pulled on a pair of faded jeans and a blue T-shirt, then went downstairs and found Angie in the family room, watching cartoons.

“Hey, babe, how you doing today?” he asked as he clipped on his wristwatch.

Curled up on the couch with her dogs, she wore her pink fuzzy slippers and lacy jammies. “Fine.”

She sounded so grown-up. That was the worst part of this illness. It forced her to lose too much of her innocence.

“How about going to the Pancake House for breakfast?”

Pursing her lips together, she shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m not hungry.”

He sat beside her on the couch. Dusty nudged his arm and he petted the fluffy Maltese. “You know that’s the chemo talking, right? Remember, we talked about how you need to eat even when you don’t feel like it? You have to keep up your strength so your body can fight the tumor.”

She tugged at the tassels on the throw pillow. “I know, Dad. But when you just don’t feel like eating, it’s kind of hard to get any food down.”

Laughter rumbled inside him. Her wit amazed him. “Think of it as eating cake or candy. We can douse your pancakes with syrup. You always have room for sweet things, even when you’re full, right?”

She made a face. “Not anymore. Even candy doesn’t look good to me now.”

Which was exactly what worried him. “You have to eat, baby.”

Another sigh of disgust. “You’re not gonna let it go, are you, Dad?”

“Nope, sorry, hon. I love you too much to ever quit.”

He rubbed her cheek and she returned his smile.

“Okay, I’ll eat, just for you. Let me get dressed.” She slid off the couch and headed toward her bedroom.

True to her word, she ate—half a pancake and three gulps of milk. It wasn’t much, but at least she consumed something.

On the way to pick up Emma, Angie sat on the front seat of his truck, cuddled next to him. She leaned up to flip on the radio. The Righteous Brothers were singing “You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling” and Angie sang along. Her voice sounded clear and sweet as bell chimes and he felt a sudden lump form in his throat.

“Okay, we’re looking for Poole Avenue,” he told her as he peered out the windshield. He switched on his left blinker and changed lanes, skirting around the lazy morning traffic.

“Mommy and Eric used to swim in our pool,” Angie said.

He glanced at her. “Oh? Well, it’s also the name of the street Dr. Shields lives on. There it is.” He pointed at the sign and waited for the light to change colors.

“When did your mom swim with Eric?”

The light changed and Mark pulled out into the intersection, gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles whitened.

Angie shrugged. “I don’t know. Last time Eric came to the house, before Mom left us. He brought a giant inner tube and Mom giggled and went to get ice for their sodas.”

Denise had invited a man over to their house, before the divorce? While their daughter was home and Mark was gone?

Knots of anger coiled inside his stomach. How dare she do such a thing?

He shouldn’t be surprised. Denise had always flirted with other men, even after they married. In the beginning, he hadn’t cared. He provided her with a lavish lifestyle and Denise looked good on his arm at all the company parties where they wined and dined wealthy clients. But after Angie was born, he found himself wanting more, wanting them to be a devoted and loving family.

He had changed. Denise had not.

It no longer mattered, but Mark couldn’t help fuming. Bitterness curled around him like a vine of thorns and he fought off the sick feeling that settled in his gut.

“Um, what were Mom and Eric doing besides drinking sodas?”

“I don’t know, just stuff. I wanted to swim, too, but they sent me in to watch TV. Mom laughed a lot, but I didn’t think Eric was much fun. He never played with me like you do. He always told me to get lost.”

Mark wasn’t surprised.

“Dad, I didn’t like him,” Angie confessed.

He smiled and patted her knee. “That’s okay, honey. I don’t know him and I don’t like him, either.”

Mark tightened his jaw. He’d rather shout, but what good would that do—other than frighten Angie and make him feel better? Maybe later that night he’d take a drive alone and scream his head off.

“Fifteen thirty-four. That’s the address we need, hon. Can you see it?” He purposefully changed the topic, wanting to feel happier before he got to Emma’s house.

“There.” Angie pointed at a red-brick duplex with a one-car garage on each side of the structure. Emma’s car sat parked out front.

Mark silently admitted he had expected more. Though he suspected she could afford a nice place, maybe a house just wasn’t important to Emma.

At the curb, Mark parked the truck. “Let’s go in.”

Angie slid over as he got out, so he could lift her down. Hand in hand, they walked to the front door and Angie rang the bell.

A birdbath sat in the middle of the well-trimmed lawn, everything tidy and in its place. Mark expected no less from Emma Shields.

From inside the duplex, Mark heard the sounds of movement and then the door opened and there stood Emma.

At first sight of her, his good mood resumed. She looked ravishing and relaxed in blue jeans and a short-sleeved white shirt, her blond hair loose and curling about her shoulders. As she came near, he caught her scent, some kind of clean fragrance he couldn’t quite place. How could plain soap smell so good on a woman?

“I’ll be right with you,” she said before closing the door again.

Why didn’t she invite them in?

“Come on, Angie, let’s wait by the truck.”

She let go of his hand and sauntered over to the birdbath, smiling at the little sparrows fluttering in the water. As Angie approached, the birds scattered and she giggled. It was good to hear her laugh and to see her taking an interest in life. It helped make up for all the times she was sick.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Emma came outside and locked the front door.

She wore makeup today, her eyes so blue that a vision of the ocean and a deserted tropical island filled his mind.

Over the years he’d forgotten how beautiful she was. “No problem. Everything okay?”

“Yes.” She walked with him to the truck. “I had to finish some reports and they took longer than I planned.”

“Do you ever stop working?”

She shot him a look. “Do you?”

He laughed. “Touché. But I’ve heard that most things get done by busy people who are tired and don’t have time.”

Inclining her head toward Angie, she met his gaze. “You’ve had more than your fair share of things to handle. You’re doing a marvelous job with her.”

Her praise warmed his heart. “Thank you.”

Angie waited as Mark opened the door and held out a hand to assist her and Emma up into the high cab. He closed the door, then went around to the driver’s seat and got in.

“So, how much stuff do we need to buy?” Emma asked.

“A
lot.
” He chuckled. “That’s why I brought the truck. I figure my garage is going to be overflowing before this barbecue is over with.”

“It’s for a good cause.” She looked at Angie. “Have you made a wish yet, with Make-A-Wish?”

“Yeah, Dad and I are gonna go to Disney World for Christmas. It’s all I could think of. They couldn’t give me what I really wished for.”

“Oh, and what’s that?” Emma asked.

Angie shrugged. “A mom.”

Mark noticed Emma had turned to look out the window, her gaze wistful. Suddenly the happy moment evaporated, replaced by an uncomfortable silence.

They didn’t speak much as they drove to a warehouse where they could buy bulk items. Parking as close to the entrance as possible, Mark leaned against his door. “Wow, look at all the cars. It’s going to be a zoo in there.”

Emma smiled. “Saturday shopping always is. Too many busy people with errands.”

“Like us.” He grinned. “Well, let’s get to it.”

He got out and went around to open Emma’s door, but she beat him to it and slipped out of the truck without his help. She grasped Angie around the waist, lifting her down.

“Thanks,” Angie said.

“You’re welcome, sweetie.”

Sweetie.
Mark loved it when Emma loosened up like this.

As they neared the warehouse, Angie walked between Mark and Emma. His daughter reached up and clasped his hand. When she also took Emma’s hand, Mark blinked.

At first Emma’s eyebrows shot up and her lips parted with surprise. Then she accepted Angie’s contact and even seemed to enjoy it.

“Swing me, you guys. Swing me!” Angie ordered as she pumped their arms back and forth.

Mark was amazed Angie had the energy to swing. It delighted him, although he didn’t think it wise.

“No, honey. I don’t want to jar you around,” he said.

“Ah.” She groaned. “It won’t hurt me.”

“I just want to be sure. You’ve got a lot of stuff going on inside your head right now, and I think we should keep you calm. Don’t you agree, Emma?”

“Well, I don’t think it would hurt her, but that’s up to you.”

Angie showed a toothless grin and Mark couldn’t resist laughing. “Okay, I can’t fight both of you.”

In unison, Mark and Emma swooped the child forward and back, forward and back. Angie’s giggles rang throughout the parking lot and, by the time they reached the front of the store, they were all breathless with laughter.

Emma and Mark each took a shopping cart and entered the warehouse. Angie wasn’t strong enough to walk around the store for very long.

“Do you mind pushing her?” he asked Emma. “I can push the heavier cart.”

“Of course,” Emma agreed.

Row by row, they collected heavy-duty paper plates, utensils, napkins and cups. Both carts were overflowing by the time they made it to the checkout line, and Mark lifted Angie out and placed her on her feet. He paid the bill, then stuffed the receipt into his pocket.

“Hey, can we get a hot dog?” Angie asked when she saw the refreshment stand.

Mark waggled his eyebrows at Angie. “I’ll bet we could get you some fruit to eat.”

“But I want a hot dog,” she insisted.

He frowned. “What do you think, Dr. Shields?”

“Actually, at this point, calories are as important to Angie as nutrition is. If she’ll eat a hot dog and a chocolate shake, let her have it, Mark. She’s losing too much weight.”

“Okay, Angie, the doctor has spoken. A hot dog it is.”

“Hooray!” Angie cheered and squeezed Emma’s hand. “I’m glad you’re here, Dr. Shields.”

Mark felt grateful Angie was interested in eating anything. He left them and the carts to go purchase hot dogs, fruit cups and drinks. Instead of a chocolate shake, he compromised by buying Angie a fruit smoothie but was disappointed when she drank only a quarter of it. He finished off the rest while Angie went to get more napkins and ketchup.

He kept a close eye on her as she darted through the crowd of diners. “It seems I keep finishing off the food Angie doesn’t eat. At this rate, Angie’s going to get skinnier and I’m going to get a big gut.”

Emma’s eyes glimmered and she laughed, the sound soothing to his soul. “I highly doubt that. Do you still go jogging every day?”

He shook his head. “Nah, I haven’t done that for about a year. There just isn’t enough time anymore.”

“Well, I guess there are times when you’re just too busy to do everything you want. I’m sure it’s a big sacrifice caring for Angie by yourself.”

“Not at all. It’s no sacrifice when you love your child. I’d give my life for Angie.”

Biting into her hot dog, Emma chewed thoughtfully and swallowed before speaking. “Yes, I understand that feeling.”

“You do?”

She looked away, her eyes filled with sadness. If he didn’t know better, he would guess she spoke from experience. But how could she?

“Did you ever make it to the Olympics?” she asked. “I know you were training for it in high school. Coach Allen said you were good enough.”

Mark tensed. She’d hit a raw spot and he took a deep, settling breath.