by Sybil Smith
Her Healing Place
Sybil Smith
Copyright 2017© Shannon Spooner
Not to be replicated or reproduced unless given explicit permission
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue:
Chapter 1
Vera Banks enters the Philadelphia police department with barely two minutes to spare. If she’s late one more time this month, she’s definitely getting a write-up. Instead of making her usual stop at the coffee cart, she rams the elevator button with her thumb. They’re so close to catching the man who raped their victim and ran before the cops could arrive. Hopefully the lab will come through on their promise to give her something useful to work with today. Of course, they’ve been saying it for the past week, but maybe this time they mean it. They better. If not, she’s the one who looks bad. It’s hard enough being one of the few woman in a male-dominated field without the pathology department actively working against her.
Once downstairs, she walks into the lab expecting to see Dr. Krane lounging lazily at his desk as he usually does around lunchtime. She can’t stand how he kicks his feet up right next to active samples. They’re covered, of course, but it still makes her nervous. There’s no wonder they don’t get shit done with him around. Instead, she turns the corner and sees a woman flittering about in fancy clothes and styled hair reorganizing the entire room. Confused, Vera turns a complete circle to make sure that she is, in fact, in the right place.
The woman looks over just in time to see her spinning around. Vera, embarrassed at getting caught, awkwardly tries to clear her throat. She finally stammers out, "Where's Dr. Krane?"
"He left quite abruptly yesterday," the woman says with her head cocked to the side. "May I ask what you needed him for?"
"I, uh... I just needed to ask about a case." She shakes her head as if to rid herself from stuttering any more. "Do you know where I can find the lab chief?"
"That would be me now," she extends her hand for Vera to shake, "Evelyn Truby."
Vera shakes her hand and can't help but notice how soft it feels in her own. "Oh," her eyes get wide, and she jerks her hand back from the prolonged contact. "Oh! I'm Detective Banks. Call me Vera."
She has never allowed anyone she had just met to call her by her first name, but there was just something about this woman that makes her feel at ease. Maybe it’s because they’re both women making a path in this field, or maybe it’s just because she finds her attractive. Either way, she wants to open the door to hopefully form a friendship.
"Wonderful to meet you," she says with a smile that brings out her dimples.
And at this moment, Vera completely forgets the reason she went down to the lab to begin with. She leans her hip against the desk. "So, what made you decide to come to Philadelphia?"
* * *
4 years, 2 months, and 8 days. That's how old Tristan was when they found out he had cancer.
5 years, 6 months, 17 days. That's how old he was when the treatments completely stopped working.
Evelyn exhausted every resource to try and cure him. Chemotherapy, bone marrow transplants, and even alternative medicine in Mexico. But none of it had helped him. It was time to face the fact that her son was dying and there was nothing she could do to save him.
She walks over to the hospital bed where he lies for the last time. They’re sending him home, a gesture of one last comfort he will be able to experience. His head is cool as she strokes the spot his once golden blonde hair used to reside. He’s pale, frailer than she had ever seen him. She knew it's a miracle he’s still breathing, even if she doesn't believe in them.
He slowly opens his eyes and looks up at her, giving her the best smile his weak body can muster. She realizes, now, that his eyes really are the only things besides his hair that closely resemble her. Her lips press softly against his cheek, aware of how easily he bruises these days.
She would do anything to keep him with her. To be able to hold him against her at night, smell the baby shampoo in his hair, hear his laughter as she pushed him in the swings at the park. But it isn't fair for her to ask him to stay with her when he is clearly in so much pain. When the cancer wreaks so much havoc to his insides that he can no longer walk more than five minutes at a time or eat solid food without crying. Even though she'd do absolutely anything to keep him with her, it isn't fair to ask him to stay and she knows it.
A tear rolls down her cheek, which quickly turns to many, many more. No matter how hard she tries, she can't keep herself from crying. She holds his hands and presses her forehead softly against his, fighting the lump in her throat and the sobs escaping her lips. She doesn't want him to think he has to stay for her, not when his body clearly can't take much more.
"Tristan, You...you can let go now if...if you want to. It's okay. I promise you it's...it's going to be okay, baby. Don't stay just because of me."
His tiny hands reach up and wipe the mascara-blackened tears from her cheeks, and he presses the innocent kiss of a child against her face.
"Mama, I know it'll be okay. Okay?"
She quickly nods her head, fighting back tears once again. She can't speak, her throat constricting too tightly for anything remotely understandable to come out. He holds a wisdom beyond his years, and she can only attribute half that to how his life has been spent surrounded by doctors and adults instead of preschool like the rest of his peers.
"I want to be a big boy, Mama. You said I would be a big boy and could get a lizard when I turned six," he gives a bigger smile than before, one that truly lights up his blue eyes. "I really, really want that lizard, Mama."
She can't help but smile when she sees his eyes brighten. It feels good to know that he’s staying for himself and not for the fact he’s scared for her. She briefly thinks about taking him to get the biggest lizard possible right at that very moment, but she doesn't want to take away the joy that being a 'big boy' will bring. She can only hope that he makes it five and a half more months.
"I know you do, baby. Let's take you home."
His birthday does, in fact, roll around much too quickly. Not that he could possibly know it’s here; he's been asleep for the past six days straight. Evelyn leans over from the recliner—that doubled as her bed these days—and grabs one of his hands.
She lies her head down against his arm and prays to every divine being she can remember. It doesn't matter that she has never believed in them, she just wants to make sure she has truly tried every single thing she possibly can.
After she runs out of everything she could possibly pray to, she just lies against his arm and mutters, "I love you so much, Tristan. So much," until her throat is raw from sobbing and strained whispers.
Hours later, when she's nearly asleep again, she feels movement underneath her own hand. Her eyes rise to meet the ones that match her own, yet they were filled with a s
trength and determination she hasn't seen in a long time.
"It's my birthday, isn't it, Mama?"
She doesn't even hesitate to question how he knew it was his birthday since he'd been asleep for so long—maybe her prayers really had been heard. Maybe, or maybe he was just hopeful thinking on his part. But it doesn't matter. She pulls him into a hug, feeling his heartbeat flutter against her own.
"Yes, it's your birthday," she pulls back and gives him a smile just as big as his. If he had been any stronger, he may have started bouncing up and down on his bed. But he isn't, so instead he just winds his fingers together anxiously.
"So... Does that mean I get a lizard?"
Evelyn can't help the laugh that escapes her lips. He may be dying, but his never-ending excitement is not.
"Actually, you get something better," she said as she pulls him close to her.
His hands tangle in the hair around her neck as she carries him to the living room and sits down in front of a cage on the floor. He slowly scoots over to where he could open the door. Almost instantly, he turns around with wide eyes. "Mama, that's the biggest lizard I have ever seen!"
She watches her son reach out and run his fingers across the shell. She had really tried to find a a lizard small enough for his little hands, but the pet shop didn't have any mature enough to sell. The owner finally broke down and sold her his own pet bearded dragon so her son wouldn't be disappointed on what very well could be his last birthday. But by the amazement written all over his small face, he is far from disappointed.
She doesn’t tell him it’s not a lizard, per say, but just lets him believe what he would like. "What would you like to name him?"
He turns back around and scampers into her lap. "I think I want to wait until tonight to name him, if that's okay?"
She smiles and presses a kiss to his forehead, "Of course that's okay."
After a failed attempt of making a cake—where more icing ended up on their faces than on it—Tristan decides it’s time to go to sleep. He looks up at Evelyn from his perch on the counter and she can easily see the pain in his eyes.
"Can I sleep in bed with you tonight, Mama?"
She had been sleeping in a recliner by his bed for months now, too afraid that she might roll over on him and he'd be too weak to wake her up. But it's her son's birthday today. If he wants to sleep in bed with her, how could she say no?
She picks him up and carries him into her seldom-used bedroom. After changing them both into pajamas, she climbs under the covers and wraps Tristan in her arms. She runs her hand down his back, silently naming each vertebra she touches. It brings her little comfort. His breath starts to even out against her neck and she says a silent thanks to those gods she didn't believe in less than five hours ago.
She's about to drift off when Tristan's voice pulls her awake.
"I know what I want to name him, Mama."
She leans back just far enough to where she could make out his face in the dim room. "And what would that be?"
His fingers start playing with the ends of her hair, as if he knew she'd need comfort. "Tristan Tate Truby."
Confused, she lets out a breath of a laugh. "But that's your name. Wouldn't it be confusing to have two of you running around the house?"
His voice comes out as barely a whisper, fighting against a sob caught in his throat, "No, Mama. This way you'll still have a Tristan Tate Truby when I'm not here anymore."
It takes only a moment before the words finally sink in. She pulls him as tight as she dares against her chest, the sounds of her whispered, "Oh baby," mingling with her son's, "I love you, Mama."
After a while the whispers and cries stop, as both drift off to sleep.
Less than four hours later, Evelyn awoke at 1:07 am, and her son did not.
* * *
She leans back against the nearest table and looks over at Vera with an expression that she hopes gives away none of her hidden pain. "I felt as though moving here would be beneficial," she calmly replies. “Nebraska just wasn’t cutting it for me anymore.
Vera, not knowing the real reason why, only smiles a smile that shows her deep-set crows feet that somehow don’t take away from her appearance. "Yeah, I guess change can be good sometimes."
But, only Evelyn knows the extent of how bad change can really be.
Chapter 2
Vera scurries down the steps to the lab. She doesn't know why she feels the need to tell Evelyn she's going on vacation—it's only her third day here, after all. But she feels a connection with this coworker unlike any she’s felt before. Maybe it’s still because they’re both women trying to succeed here. Maybe it’s because she’s worked here with all these men for ten years and craves some female companionship for once. Either way, she’s still eager to see how their relationship unfolds.
She enters the little office off the side of the lab and sees Evelyn sitting at the desk—once again dressed impeccably. Her button down top doesn’t bunch and wrinkle like Vera’s; her black slacks hug tightly from thigh to ankle. Despite getting here at the crack of down, she still styled her hair into soft waves that brush just barely past her shoulders. Apparently, she hadn't just dressed up for the first day. But she’s lucky if she remembers to tuck in her shirt before running into work. Vera smiles as she realizes how different they really are, and how she still feels an invisible pull towards her.
She lightly taps on the office door and Evelyn looks up, startled. Her face quickly relaxed into a smile, albeit it's a slightly despondent one.
"Oh, Vera. Come in," she offers. "I didn't notice you standing there."
Vera fidgets with her hands as she walks in. Suddenly nervous, her eyes land anywhere but the Evelyn’s face. "I, uh," she reaches up and rubs the back of her neck with one of her hands, "I wanted to let you know I was going on vacation tomorrow and wouldn't be back for a few days. So, you know, if you need any help…Eugene is the one to ask. He won’t badger you like some of the other guys."
If Evelyn thinks Vera's rambling was unusual, she doesn't show it. "I’ll definitely keep that in mind. Where are you going?"
Vera takes Evelyn's eye movements to a chair as an invitation, so she makes her way over and sits down across from her. She lets out a deep breath, willing the nervousness from her body. "I'm going to the beach. A family thing, ya know? I kept putting it off and putting it off-"
Evelyn cocks her head to the side, "The beach?"
Vera's eyebrows playfully rise. "Yeah, you know…water, sand, sun, yada yada."
* * *
They sit down at the water's edge looking for seashells during one of their few free moments. The alternative medicine hospital in Mexico holds a demanding schedule, leaving them with little free time outside of the confines of his room. As Tristan holds her hand, he digs around in the water around their ankles furiously. He refuses to leave until he finds a seashell worth taking.
She reaches around and pushes his hat further up on his head so he can see better. He's in a t-shirt and long swim trunks—protecting his delicate skin from the sun and curious eyes of onlookers. The last thing she needs is for the police to be called about the numerous bruises covering his body—another reminder of the cancer that's slowly eating away at him. He's getting even weaker, she can tell by the slowness of his gait as he wades through the small waves.
She fights the watering of her eyes as he finally jumps up, free arm out stretched in the air.
"Look, Mama! I found one!"
He hands it over to her and she turns it around in her hands. It's white and perfectly intact with sharp spikes adorning the length of it. They're lucky he hadn't found it by stepping on it. If he had started bleeding it would have been hard to stop—
She mentally chides herself. That's not something a five year old really needs to be concerned with.
Instead, she looks back down at him and smiles at his excited face. "It's perfect, Tristan. Just like you wanted."
He turns it around in his hands as they trudge bac
k up on shore. "What kind is it?"
She pauses, mentally going through the names she learned so she would be prepared for when he would inevitably ask this. A name finally comes to her as they sit down close enough to the water that it barely laps up on their feet. "It's called a Cabrit's Murex."
He idly plays with her fingers as the other traces the spikes of the shell. After touching each and every one of them, he looks up at her. "Can we bury it?"
Confused, she scrunches up her face and tilts her head. "Bury it? I thought you wanted to find the perfect one to take home with us."
He leans his head over on her shoulder, exhaustion clearly beginning to set in. "No, I want to bury it. So if you ever come back, you can find it and think of me."
She doesn't have the heart to tell him she'd never come back if he isn't with her; that she couldn't bear seeing the hotel they'd spent so many months at, the water they had walked through together, the sand they had built castles in if he wasn't there by her side.
So instead, she just reaches down and begins to dig a hole with her hands, holding back her tears as his small hands join hers.
* * *
Evelyn looks back over at Vera. "I'm quite aware of what a beach is."
She raises a finger. “But have you ever been?"
"Mexico," Evelyn shortly replies. "Many times."
Finally getting more comfortable with herself in the Evelyn's presence, she leans back in the chair and smiles, in awe. This woman is definitely more interesting than Vera had originally thought. "Mexico, huh? That's fancy. I bet it must've been gorgeous."
* * *
Evelyn awakes to Tristan shaking violently beside her. His face contorts in pain as tears run down his cheeks, his hands grab desperately at his stomach.
"It hurts. It hurts. Make it better, Mama. Please…make it better," he forces out through clenched teeth.
She doesn't know what to do. There is nothing she can do. The doctors had warned of side effects of the new alternative medication, but even with all of her medical knowledge, she hadn't expected the ones that were described quite as badly as this.
