by Karen Rock
“Christie? I think Sweet Pea’s thirsty.”
She glanced up and spotted her pet’s pink tongue darting into a disposable foam cup beside Vanessa’s bed.
“Oops. Sorry about that. Be right back with fresh cups and water.” Out in the hall, she searched for the nearest utility room, grabbed some cups and held a pitcher under the water dispenser.
As the ice dropped into the nearly full container, her thoughts returned to Eli. Although she now knew his favorite sports teams, music, movies, hobbies and activities, the facts felt superficial. She wanted to know deeper information, such as how he’d felt when his wife left him, if he still had feelings for her, how he’d coped with his cancer, if he missed his parents...wished they’d made more of an effort to be a part of their grandchildren’s lives or his.
Icy water splashed on her baby-blue scrubs, shaking her from her thoughts. She replaced the plastic lid on the water pitcher and headed back to the room. On the way, she waved to some of her littlest patients who whizzed down halls, riding on the lower bars of IV poles pushed by their brave, cheerful parents. A smile was a precious commodity to have in the pediatric oncology unit.
Once inside, she poured Vanessa another glass of water, shooed Sweet Pea away and sat in a rocking chair across the room. She watched Becca’s animated blue eyes as she chatted with her new friend then slid back into her own thoughts.
Was she silly to imagine Eli would share so much with her? Those were the kinds of personal details shared with a girlfriend, not a running buddy and family friend. If she wanted more, she needed to be more. Her rocking stopped and she leaned forward, body tense. Was she willing to take that next step? Become more deeply involved with both him and his family? Her resistance crumbled a bit every minute they spent together. She felt on the brink of giving in to those feelings, of throwing her cautious nature to the wind and letting it take her where it would—hopefully into Eli’s arms.
“May I give Sweet Pea a treat?” Vanessa asked. “The nurses brought me some when they heard you were coming.”
She nodded at the pretty girl, imagining her as she was in a bedside picture, all flowing blond locks and bronzed skin. A beach picture. Probably taken a couple of years before the cancer took hold. “Just two, okay?” Sweet Pea would be getting lots of treats today and, if she wasn’t careful, a stomachache.
“Sounds good.” Vanessa held up her hand. “Sweet Pea, sit.”
The miniature spaniel’s hindquarters plopped to the blanket. She raised her short muzzle and opened wide.
“You’re so cute,” cooed Vanessa before handing over a soft piece of spicy-smelling beef jerky. Her hands, bedecked with matching IV locks, stroked the munching canine’s head. “I wish I was pretty like you. If I could have my Make-A-Wish over again, it would be to look like a model. Have my picture plastered on walls so no one would forget me.”
Becca blinked hard and looked away. It took all of Christie’s training to keep her smile in place, to hide the pain those words inflicted. It was an occupational hazard she never got used to. But Vanessa didn’t need to deal with anyone else’s emotions. It pleased her that Becca must have realized that, as well.
After a silent moment, Becca asked, “What’s a Make-A-Wish?”
“That’s my last wish before I...you know...I...” The brave girl’s voice faltered.
“They’re wishes given to reward strong cancer warriors like Vanessa,” Christie broke in, her words steadying her patient’s quivering mouth. And it was the truth. The foundation encouraged kids battling cancer, lifted their spirits. It wasn’t a harbinger of doom. Far from it.
Becca handed the cup of water to Vanessa. “My dad never got to make a wish.”
“Your dad had cancer?” The youngster’s eyes grew intent. She sat up straighter. “What kind? Did he— I mean, is he still—”
A rush of air escaped Becca. “Yeah. He’s in remission. It was osteosar-something.”
“Osteosarcoma. Jonah has that.” Vanessa held up a Teen Vogue magazine. “He gave me this after his sister visited. He’s in 16B. But you won’t see him since he’s allergic to dogs.”
Paper swished, then Vanessa turned the magazine toward Becca, pointing at a page. “I wish I looked like that. Those eyes are awesome.” She plucked at her hat. “One of the worst parts about being sick is looking sick.”
Becca rummaged through her purse. “Maybe there’s something I can do about that.” She pulled out a small makeup pack and unfurled it like a sleeping bag. “Do you mind if I...you know. Give you the star treatment?”
Christie blinked, surprised to learn a new skill of Becca’s. Not just the makeup, but her willingness to share talents most likely acquired in the dance world with someone she’d just met. Someone who really needed her. Christie felt a surge of pride that felt very near...maternal.
Heaven help her, Eli’s kids were settling deeper into her heart every day.
At Vanessa’s nod, Becca moved into action. With swift dexterity, she transformed Vanessa into a Twilight movie extra, her eyes as smoky and mysterious as the Teen Vogue model. Becca held up her cell phone, took a picture then handed it to Vanessa. As long as they weren’t transmitting signals it wouldn’t mess with the medical-equipment data.
“I love it!” Vanessa screamed. Her bouncing nearly toppled Sweet Pea from the bed. “How did you do it? I look amazing.” After a few more squeals and photos, Vanessa grew quiet. Still. Suddenly gray-black tears trailed down her cheeks. “Thank you, Becca. It’s been a long time since I looked good. I always wondered what I’d be like as a real teenager.”
Christie’s heart squeezed. What girl her age wouldn’t want to look nice, to feel normal? Thank goodness for Becca and her hidden talents.
Sweet Pea gave a short bark, commandeering the attention she’d lost. Her fringed tail whipped the stale hospital air.
Vanessa laughed through her tears and fed the dog her last treat. “Sorry!” She looked down at Becca’s phone and sighed. “I wish Jonah could see this.”
“I’ll go show him—16B, right?” Becca called over her shoulder as she raced from the room, her tissue-encased shoes sliding on the slippery tiles.
“Wait!” Vanessa called but it was too late. “Oh, no. How embarrassing.”
“Be careful what you wish for.” Christie grinned and sat on the bed. “You doing okay, Vanessa?”
“Hanging in there.” Vanessa offered her a box of thin mints, Christie’s favorite. How sweet that the girl always had them on hand for her. “What do you think Jonah is thinking?”
“That you look gorgeous.”
Vanessa groaned and buried her head in her hands but Christie pulled them away as the door swung open.
“He totally freaked,” squealed Becca as she rushed inside, her cell phone held aloft.
“No way!” Vanessa clutched Sweet Pea to her chest.
Becca dropped on the bed beside them. “He said, and I quote, ‘Awesome.’”
Vanessa and Becca collapsed into giggles. For a moment, Christie imagined Eli “freaking” over a glamour shot of her and smiled. Lately he’d seen her at her worst after their morning run. Yet she’d caught his unguarded stare more than once. Often enough to make her wonder...
“And he wrote something on a piece of paper then asked me to take a picture of it and bring it to you without peeking. If you thumb to the next picture you should see it.”
Vanessa snatched the phone, eyes scanning the screen, her cheeks going up in flames.
“What’s he say?” Becca pleaded, angling for a view.
“He says—this is embarrassing—he says that I look hot and he wants a picture for his room.” Vanessa’s rosy glow made her look more pleased than self-conscious.
Young love. Christie stopped her sigh, not wanting to minimize the importance of the moment. It was precious and po
ignant. Especially between teens with Stage III cancer. If anyone knew the importance of seizing the moment, appreciating a good day, especially after a bad one, it was kids like Vanessa and Jonah.
If only Eli would stop worrying about the future and enjoy his present. His remission was a gift, no matter its length. Christie checked her watch then froze. Something about the thought bothered her, reminded her in a weird way of herself. Was she equally guilty of not enjoying her day-to-day life? Did her past hold her back the way Eli’s pessimistic outlook stymied him? She’d thought those hurts were long buried, but spending time with Eli and his family had shifted her perspective, making her uncomfortable with herself and the decisions she’d made.
She stood. “Sorry, Vanessa,” she said, breaking into their post-Jonah analysis. “But Becca and I have to leave. See you next week?”
Becca put the final dabs on Vanessa’s makeup-repair job, erasing any sign of her earlier tears, and rolled up her kit. “It was nice meeting you.”
“Will you come again?” Vanessa picked up Becca’s phone and viewed herself in it one last time. “And could you do cat eyes, like from the sixties?”
“Definitely. I’ve got big plans for you,” Becca said then picked up Sweet Pea. “You know that other wish of yours? I’m going to make it come true.”
Vanessa cocked her head. “What do you mean? Having my picture on walls?” Her short laugh ended in a snort. “Thanks, Becca, but besides Jonah, I don’t think anyone would want that.”
Becca flicked Vanessa’s nose with a fan brush before stowing it away. “I do. Trust me.”
The teenager’s uncertain face lightened, small creases appearing at the corners of her eyes as she smiled. “Supermodel, here I come.” She flung her arms as wide as her IV allowed.
Christie sent Becca a concerned look that did little to dampen the confidence radiating from her expression. How would she make good on her promise? Vanessa had gone through enough disappointments without adding onto them. Then again, wasn’t that exactly what Eli would think? No. She’d be optimistic and help Becca with whatever plan she’d formed. In times like this, faith, not doubt, was needed.
“Can we get you anything before we leave?” Christie pulled open the door, the hallway noise spilling into the room.
Vanessa smiled. “No. But could we try some lip gloss next time, too?”
Becca put down Sweet Pea and walked toward the exit. “We’re going to do it all. Trust me. See you soon.”
A few feet down the hall, Christie halted and looked at Becca. “So what’s the plan and how can I assist?”
Becca inhaled deeply, the air leaking from her long and slow. “I know what my health project is now.”
Christie straightened Sweet Pea’s Angel on a Leash jacket and glanced up. “That’s great. So why the long face?”
“Because Dad’s the only one who can help.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
ELI WATCHED CHRISTIE finish the last of her strawberry smoothie and stand, sweeping salt bagel crumbs from her navy shorts. The sky was gray as concrete behind her, the air breathless and warm. Rain was imminent. He could almost smell it.
“Early shift?” He looked at his watch. Usually they stayed longer, their talks lengthening every day. Amazing how quickly he’d taken their time together for granted. Counted on it. He’d planned on feeling her out about a possible date. But now this...an abrupt halt.
“Sorry to rush, Eli.” Scout and Angel barked when she unwound their leashes from the iron grate separating the sidewalk from Murray’s outdoor eating area. “I’ve got a standing appointment on Tuesdays and I get charged if I miss it.”
He shot to his feet, fear lodging under his rib cage. Was she ill? She looked flushed from their run and as beautiful as ever in that natural, unstudied way of hers. Still. Appearances could be deceiving.
“Are you okay? Feeling well?” When he took Scout’s lead, he held her hand, as well, more conscious than ever of her delicate bone structure. She looked capable of handling anything, but a fragile spirit lurked beneath that strong facade. It brought out his protective side.
“No. Nothing that dire. I always get a pedicure today and it’s impossible to rebook Manika if I don’t show.”
He let go of her hand and turned, hiding his disappointment at their curtailed visit as he gathered their trash.
“How about I go with you?” he blurted then wanted to smack his head with the water bottle he’d lofted into the recycle bin. That was a ten on the lameness scale. As if she wanted a guy along while she got her toenails painted.
“Have you ever had a pedicure?” Her lips twitched in a way that made him want to kiss them, to taste the sassy amusement lurking in their corners.
“Maybe.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“Okay. No.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “But I’ve heard of them.”
“Are you sure you want to come?” She touched her toes in a warm-up stretch, her auburn ponytail swinging.
Eli shot the guys walking behind her a warning look that wiped the leers off their faces. He unclenched his hands, his eyes tracking the men’s scuttle up the street. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
Pain in his knee flared when he sprinted for home.
“Eli!”
He jerked to a halt and turned, surprised that Christie stood where he’d left her. Wasn’t she in a hurry?
“It’s right over there.” She pointed to a shop with a neon sign that read Toe-Da! “They have a place in the back for dogs.”
He pulled Scout to his side and walked her way. “That’s convenient.”
“And good business.” Angel barked as Scout returned. “They also do dog nails.”
“Excuse me?” Now she was flat-out making fun of him.
“Seriously. You’ll see when we get inside.” She wrapped Angel’s leash around her wrist and flicked a look at him. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.”
Not if it meant more time with Christie. Tommy and Becca had spent the night at friends’ houses to celebrate the start of summer vacation. He could stay as late as he wanted—the reason why he’d planned to approach Christie today....
“How long are we going to debate this?” He folded his arms and grinned at her.
“Until I miss my appointment?”
“Exactly.” He lifted an eyebrow and angled his head to the left. “Let’s cross up there.”
A few minutes later, the dogs stowed in a room filled with chew toys and sheepskin beds, Eli found himself sitting beside Christie in a leather chair. His bare feet were sunk in a pool of swirling, flower-scented water. If John saw him now, he’d never hear the end of it. Though he had to admit, the warm liquid felt good, as did the vibrating automatic massager churning along his spine.
“Grand, isn’t it? Aren’t you lucky Dolores had a cancellation?”
“Uh-huh,” he mumbled, closing his eyes when the kneading pressure hit his lower back. Aah. That was the spot. This was the most relaxed he’d been in a long time. Between the piped-in music, the hushed voices of the workers and the pristine white decor, he felt as if he’d stepped out of the city and onto another planet. If that planet belonged to women, then he was man enough to handle it. He came in peace.
His eyes closed when deft hands plied lotion on his tense calves, working the knots out of them. Even his titanium leg felt good. A sigh escaped him. Why hadn’t he discovered this before? Then again, how could he? Before Christie, he’d rarely made time for anything besides his work and family.
“Red today?”
His eyes snapped open. Okay. There was only so far he’d venture into the land of femininity.
But the speaker was Manika rather than Dolores. He followed the direction of her impossibly long fingernail to a display case that contained a dizzying number of shades nearly t
he same color. Insanity. Who could choose one over the other?
“I’ll take the I’m So Not a Waitress, thanks,” said Christie, certainty ringing in her voice. Manika’s asymmetrical black bob swung as she headed to the wall.
Christie turned, her cheeks flushed. “Not that anyone gets to see them when I’m walking around all day in my sneakers. But still. I like knowing my nails look great, especially when the rest of me is a hot mess.”
“You always look fantastic,” he said, unable to help himself.
“Oh.” Her face matched the shade Manika skillfully applied to her slender toes.
He shrugged and backpedaled. “I just mean you don’t need any of this.”
He had to admit he enjoyed surprising her silent if only for a few moments. He liked watching her eyes close during the pedicure, her face relaxed and happy. And twenty minutes later, he agreed it was a shame to cover up her delicate, red-tipped toes. He’d never really thought much about feet until now. But seeing her high arches curving into soft rounded heels made him itch to hold one like a Disney prince. Try on the glass slippers to see if they fit. Him and her.
His generous tip earned him a mumbled thanks from Dolores while he waited for Christie’s toes to dry. At the front window, he pulled on his socks and sneakers, peering at the heavy, dark sky. It didn’t look much worse than it had earlier, but there was an oppressive stillness to the air that seeped in whenever a new customer rushed inside.
Twenty minutes later, Christie joined him by the glass. The top of her soft ponytail brushed against his arm, sending shivers of awareness through him. “Should we chance it?”
“We can race.”
“My pedicure might smudge, but this looks bad. I’ll get the dogs.” She dashed to the back as the city rumbled with thunder, soft at first, then growing louder. It was a thirty-minute run back to his place. Without lightning in sight, they might make it. Just.
“Thanks, Manika!” Christie called as she bounded his way, the dogs scrambling for the door. She tossed him a leash and they flew outside.
