This Very Moment (15 page)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

At the hospital they waited for news. Mrs. Johnson had suffered a heart attack, but the extent of the damage had not been determined. Kylee blamed herself, though she knew that if Mrs. Johnson had been in good shape, the shock of finding out about Elaina and Troy would not have precipitated an attack.

Anna finally fell asleep in her arms, and Kylee continued to smooth the disheveled ebony locks. What would it mean for Anna if her mother died?

Kylee remembered the last time she had held a child in the hospital. Emily. She had been much younger than five-year-old Anna and even more needy. No surgery in the world would have changed the count of her chromosomes. Emily had died in Kylee’s arms, but Anna would live whether or not her mother did.

I’ll adopt her myself,
Kylee thought. Anna wouldn’t replace Emily, and Kylee couldn’t replace Mrs. Johnson, but maybe they could give each other what they both craved. She thought of all the things she would do with Anna, things she had thought to do with Emily. Her load of grief lightened. It wouldn’t be easy, but she would do her best for Anna—and enjoy every moment.

Hours later, the doctor came to see Kylee. “Mrs. Johnson is going to be all right.”

“She is?” Kylee was surprised. She had prayed that the Lord’s will be done regarding Mrs. Johnson’s recovery and had almost been sure that she would die. “That’s wonderful!” She said a silent prayer of thanks before awaking Anna to tell her the good news.

Anna’s smile looked peculiar with her deformed lip. “I prayed real hard like you said, Kylee.”

“Well, the Lord answered. We are very blessed.” Kylee meant what she said. Though it might take a good deal of effort on her part, she knew she could still count many blessings. Not the least of which was this little girl in her arms. An odd lump caught in her throat and Kylee admitted to herself that she wished Anna could be hers. Or another child. Her relief and thankfulness at Mrs. Johnson’s recovery could not alleviate her loneliness.

Oh, Bill. Why can’t you be what I know you could be if you tried?

Kylee shook her head to clear the unwanted thought from her brain. She would carry on, knowing that the Lord would have a rewarding future in store for her. The loneliness would be borne and even forgotten at times.

“We need to keep Mrs. Johnson for two or three days,” the doctor said, “but since the attack was relatively minor, she’ll be back on her feet shortly. We’ve prescribed a special diet and exercise program that should help. We may need to do surgery eventually, but we want to see how she responds to medication and diet first.” He patted Anna’s head. “It’s actually a good thing that this happened now when someone was nearby to get her help. People have died from less severe attacks because they didn’t receive care fast enough.”

“It was a blessing,” Anna said.

The doctor laughed. “I guess you could say that.”

Kylee pondered the doctor’s words as she took Anna down the hall to see her mother. If Elaina and Troy hadn’t run off with the money, Mrs Johnson might not have had her heart attack until a time when she was alone with Anna. Or maybe not until years later when the problem had grown worse, perhaps killing her in minutes. Could it be that in some strange way Mrs. Johnson’s life had been spared by the whole disaster?

The Lord worked in mysterious ways, to be sure. With the benefit of hindsight, Kylee always appreciated spiritual growth, but sometimes she wished the road could be a little less painful.

* * * * *

During the next few days, Kylee watched as the Children’s Hope scam hit the headlines and news programs. Every television station ran parts of the video Kylee had made. Almost immediately the donations from the commercials ceased, and the stations canceled the spots altogether. Kylee had known it would happen, but her hurt was renewed all the same. Even worse, since Elaina and Troy had paid only the bare minimum in advance, the refund from the stations would scarcely cover the charity’s outstanding bills—rent, utilities, receptionist’s wages, and a few credit card purchases. Kylee tried to be grateful for that much.

She collected the names of the other four children who had been scheduled for surgery and called their parents or guardians to tell them that their surgeries would be delayed indefinitely. They were understanding, but Kylee could hear their disappointment and silently vowed to make to make it up to them.

Anna stayed with Kylee while her mother was still in the hospital, and Kylee enjoyed the girl’s company more than she cared to admit. The apartment would seem empty when Anna returned home. Acting as even a temporary mother kept Kylee so busy that she didn’t have a great deal of time to think about Bill or the words they had exchanged. Gradually, her anger at him lessened. She hoped he would call, but he never did.

Fortunately, everything else appeared to be working in her favor. On Tuesday morning, the last day of November and almost three full days after Mrs. Johnson’s heart attack, 60 Minutes e-mailed her and agreed to film their show on Wednesday, December eighth as planned, even offering to pay part of the costs of Anna’s surgery. Excitedly, Kylee took Anna and went to see her mother at the hospital to share the good news.

“The Lord has answered my prayers,” Mrs. Johnson said as she hugged Anna.

The doctor was preparing to release Mrs. Johnson, so Kylee waited around to drive her and Anna to their small apartment in Pasadena. Kylee knew the way, as she had already stopped by to pick up clothes for Anna. After placing a call to the pastor of Mrs. Johnson’s church, she left them, knowing that mother and daughter would be well cared for.

Kylee drove home, making a mental tally of all the expenses for Anna’s surgery. She was determined to at least help this one little girl—even if she had to take out a loan or sell everything she owned. The 60 Minutes show was tentatively scheduled to air the week of Christmas, which should help with donations for later surgeries. Over the past few days, people from Kylee’s church had also donated money, and with these heartfelt contributions came the more important gift of hope.

When Kylee arrived at her silent apartment, she found enough courage to look at the second name on Elaina’s list of needy children. It was Jeffery Rivers—the little boy who had also been at the TV station that night with Anna.

She remembered how each time she had seen Jeffery his burned face had cried out for assistance.
You are next,
she told him. She didn’t look further down the list of children because she knew their situations would be every bit as compelling, and she couldn’t help them all—yet.

Blinking furiously, she set down the list and began to type on her keyboard. She had to get her reply to 60 Minutes just right before she e-mailed her acceptance of their generous offer. Now that Bill had deserted her they were her only chance. If people all over America could understand how much she wanted to help the children, maybe she could regain their trust.

* * * * *

A fog encased Bill’s entire existence—and had since the night he’d left Kylee. He sat on the sofa, staring at the blank TV and wondering why he couldn’t find the strength to move. In the week since he had walked out on Kylee, he had gone through the motions of living, feeling nothing but numbness. He couldn’t remember what he had eaten that morning, though he did know that he had called in sick for the third time this week, rescheduling a multitude of patient appointments, or sending them to other doctors at the Plaza, a thing he had never done before. What was wrong with him?

He thought of his practice and the women and men he had performed surgery for over the years. He believed he had helped them. It was true enough that some of his clientele were vain and rich, and annoyed even him, but many were simply lost souls who needed to put their lives back on the right track. He had helped women who had only one developed breast and young girls with terrible acne scars, or oversized noses that evoked taunts from cruel classmates. There had been numerous patients, and he had fixed them all. Yet none of them had needed him for long and all could pay for their services. If he hadn’t been there, they would have gone to another doctor.

Bill sighed, deep and long. What good had he really done in his life?

None. Everything good had died with Nicole. Since then he had been in a limbo that couldn’t really be considered living. What was the use of trying? Why couldn’t he just slip into the cold, welcoming grave and be done with it?

Unbidden, Kylee’s face came to him. If she were with him, she would talk him out of this mood, make him feel that his life was worth living. Her laugh would banish the darkness in his mind, and her dreams would almost make him believe in magic, and perhaps even miracles. But she wasn’t here, and Bill didn’t think she would ever want to see him again.

He stretched out on the couch and stared at the plain white of his ceiling. The agony in his heart was terrible, like on the day he had held Nicole’s burned body and cried, wishing it had been him instead. The only light on that day had been the loving embrace of young Pauline. How wonderful she had felt in his arms when she had hugged him, alive and vital. She reminded him of the child Nicole had once been. Now both were dead.

Bill cried. He didn’t sob or make a sound, but tears cascaded down his cheeks in sheets. He felt empty and utterly alone.

For a moment, he wished there was a God as Kylee insisted. He wished he could pray and obtain some kind of comfort. He was so miserable that he didn’t even smirk at the thought.

The phone rang three times before Bill realized the sound wasn’t coming from his imagination. He so wanted for Kylee to call, to hear her voice. To ask for her forgiveness without giving anything in return. Deep inside he knew she wouldn’t call, that he had hurt her too deeply. It was one thing to refuse to give his help, but it was quite another for him to desert her in her hour of need. Why couldn’t he have supported her?

He fumbled for the phone, hope battling against disgust. “Hello?” His tears had ceased, but his voice sounded like gravel.

“Guillaume, it’s me, Jourdain,” a voice said in French. With the voice came the image of his brother—brown hair and eyes, slightly prominent nose, and sharp chin.

Bill’s first impulse was to hang up. He didn’t need the past intruding further into his present, or to hear how wonderful his brother’s life was going since he had found religion—and a wife and kids into the bargain.

His second impulse was to cry out his problems on his older brother’s shoulder.

Instead of giving in to either impulse, he schooled his voice to be calm. “Hello, Jourdain. It’s good to hear from you.” It had been so long since he had spoken his native French, that the words came out awkwardly.

Jourdain didn’t tease him about his accent as he normally did. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “I can tell by your voice that something’s wrong.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m just tired. It’s still morning here.”

“Not that early. By my calculations it’s about eleven. Why aren’t you at work?”

“I didn’t feel well.”

“So something
is
wrong.”

Bill wanted to strangle his brother. He always had a knack for getting to the root of things. “That’s why I’m tired. I’m sick.”
Sick of life
, he added silently. “Why are you calling, anyway, if you knew I’d be at work?”

“I don’t know. I just felt . . . look, is everything really okay?”

Abruptly Bill’s silent tears began again.
No, everything is not all right,
he wanted to scream.
Nothing has been right since Nicole died. Until Kylee . . .

“Whoa, slow down,” Jourdain said.

Bill realized he had spoken the words aloud, and a sick feeling formed in the pit of his stomach.