Brush of Wings

by Karen Kingsbury

  Mary Catherine only smiled. “Just thinking about Africa.” It was the truth. Her dream trip filled her mind more than thoughts of her failing health. “I can’t wait to meet the kids.”

  Her mom nodded, but her expression made it clear she wasn’t quite convinced. “You’re taking care of yourself? Your heart . . . your diabetes?”

  “I am.” Mary Catherine cracked several eggs over the bowl of grated mozzarella. “I’m staying in ketosis. Eating less than twenty carbs a day.” She stirred the eggs and cheese. “I can breathe easier.”

  That part was true, too. She’d been very careful with her diet these past few days and she was less out of breath. Clearly her heart responded to healthier eating.

  She and her parents seemed happier than ever, their marriage better than it had been in their early years. The three of them felt like a family again. Together they took walks each night around the neighborhood Mary Catherine grew up in. Maybe it was the clearer air in Nashville or the way she was eating—but she wasn’t as winded as before. They talked about her childhood days, the time she tried to ride a two-wheel bike the day before kindergarten and knocked out one of her teeth, and the summer she was eight years old, when she won the blue ribbon at the fair in a race against all the boys.

  Her mother laughed. “Every one of those boys thought they had you beat.”

  “But no!” Her dad grinned. “My girl took the prize.”

  At night they played spades and Password and watched old home movies. Mary Catherine loved her time with her parents more than she could’ve imagined. They had accepted the fact that Mary Catherine would be in Africa for six months, but she avoided the conversation about her pending heart transplant. No need to ruin the mood for everyone.

  In a blur of happy times, the visit was over and her parents were taking her to the airport. They stepped out of the car at the curbside departure area. Her father helped her with her bags and then hugged her. “You’ll be so far away.” He paused. “Be careful, sweetie. Please.”

  “I will, Dad.” Mary Catherine kissed his cheek. “I’ll check in every few days. Promise.”

  He looked satisfied. “We’d like that.”

  Mary Catherine turned to her mom. She loved her parents so much. And seeing them together again was nothing short of miraculous. Mary Catherine looked deep into her mother’s eyes. “It means a lot that you understand this.” The two of them hugged and Mary Catherine fought the tears.

  “We’re proud of you, honey.” Her mom’s smile emanated kindness and support.

  A memory rushed at Mary Catherine. She was twelve and so excited for her first day of middle school. Her mom had smiled as she said goodbye, but every sort of concern showed in her eyes.

  It was that way between them now. Mary Catherine searched her mom’s face. “It’ll be okay.” They hugged again. “Really.”

  Her mom put her hand gently on Mary Catherine’s cheeks. “You being here . . . made me realize how much I’ve missed you.” She stood a little straighter, clearly trying to be strong. Her mom wiped a single tear from her cheek. “Go. I love you.”

  Mary Catherine stepped into the curbside baggage line, and for a long moment she held on to the image of her parents standing there. They exuded the kind of love a girl could only get from her mom and dad. She waved one more time as they climbed back into the car and drove away.

  Was this it? The last time she would ever see them? Mary Catherine closed her eyes and forced herself to be brave. Was she wrong not telling them about her heart? The conflict tore at her. If her parents knew, they would never agree to her trip to Africa. And she wanted this so badly. She could already see the children’s faces. Lord, please . . . let me live long enough to be back here one day.

  She blinked and focused on the passengers ahead of her. The line wasn’t long. A couple more people and then she’d check her bags and get her boarding passes.

  Now that the goodbyes were behind her, she could hardly wait for Uganda.

  BECK RAN THROUGH THE AIRPORT, dodging tourists and slow-moving families, just another passenger late for a flight.

  He was a businessman today, black suit and tie, racing through the ticketing area and darting outside just as Mary Catherine was about to step up to the skycap counter and check her bags.

  “Excuse me!” He was still running, and he glanced at Mary Catherine. “Sorry. I checked the wrong bag.”

  Mary Catherine stepped back and waited.

  Beck shook hands with the man behind the counter. “Sorry for cutting the line, but I’ll miss my flight if I don’t get this figured out.”

  The skycap looked confused. “Did I help you today?”

  “Yes.” Beck waved his thumb toward the cars dropping off passengers. “My buddy dropped me off here. I checked two bags.” He shook his head. “One of them was supposed to be carry-on.” He checked his watch.

  “Do you have your baggage claim tickets?”

  Beck drew a blank. He needed to make this moment last as long as possible. Timing was everything. He patted his pants pockets, checked them, and then did the same to his suit coat pockets. Behind him he could feel the people getting antsy.

  He turned around and looked at Mary Catherine. “So sorry.” He gave her a weak smile. “Gotta find my claim tickets.” He looked on the ground around the baggage center and then checked his pockets again.

  “What’s your name?” The skycap looked frustrated. “Maybe we can find your tags that way.”

  Beck gave the man a last name with six syllables. It took three minutes just to enter the spelling correctly in the computer. Every minute or so, Beck looked over his shoulder and apologized to Mary Catherine. Each time she nodded, pleasant.

  Another minute and then the skycap shook his head. “No passengers by that name. Not on any flight.”

  “You’re kidding.” Beck crossed his arms and did his best to look baffled. “Maybe you entered the name wrong.”

  Another three minutes getting his name into the computer again and this time when it didn’t turn up, the man behind the counter shook his head. “I need the claim tickets. Maybe your wallet?”

  “Yes!” Beck pulled out his wallet. In the process he fumbled and it fell to the ground, credit cards and receipts scattering on the cement. He crouched down and made an effort at gathering each piece and dusting it off. Come on, he thought. Hurry . . . I can’t do this forever.

  There were a dozen people behind Mary Catherine now. Out of the corner of his eye, Beck watched her check the time on her phone and glance through the window at the counter inside. The line there was even longer. Beck was certain Mary Catherine wouldn’t leave when she was next up.

  Three people behind Mary Catherine, a large man shouted, “Hey, buddy. Maybe step to the side and look.” His face was red and sweaty. “We got planes to catch!”

  The skycap walked out from behind the counter and tapped Beck on the shoulder. “Sir, I’ve got a long line. Wait over there.” He pointed toward the wall near the doors. “Until you find the claim tickets.”

  “Okay. Hold on.” Beck could feel his heart racing. He should be here by now. Where was he? Beck had killed nearly ten minutes but he was out of reasons to hold up the line any longer.

  Then from his place crouched on the ground, still collecting the contents of his wallet, Beck saw something that allowed him to relax again. He returned the cards and receipts to his wallet, stood and nodded at Mary Catherine, and then at the others. “Sorry.” He pointed to the doors. “I’ll look inside.”

  A smile lifted the corners of his lips. Success. Beck slid his wallet back in his pants, walked inside the airport, headed for the men’s restroom, and disappeared.

  8

  MARY CATHERINE FELT SORRY for the people behind her. She’d never seen such a holdup—especially checking bags curbside. The poor businessman couldn’t have been more flustered. But none of it bothered Mary Catherine. God had allowed this trip to Africa. Nothing could touch her peace and excitement about all
that lay ahead.

  The skycap was helping her with her third bag when she heard someone run up behind her and touch her elbow. The businessman again, she thought. But when she turned around she gasped. “Marcus . . .”

  He hugged her, breathless. His words were soft, for her alone. “I can’t believe I found you.”

  Was she dreaming? Could he really be here? And why had he come when . . . “How did you . . . ?”

  “We had the day off.” He seemed suddenly aware of the line behind them. “Finish with your bags.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “We need to talk.”

  Butterflies filled her stomach, and she could feel her heart beating hard against her chest. He had come all the way from Arizona to Nashville for this? To be with her for an hour? She could barely collect her boarding passes and tip the skycap. Her knees trembled as Marcus took her hand and led her inside the airport.

  The terminal was loud and chaotic, but they found a couple of seats in a quiet alcove adjacent to the ticketing area. Mary Catherine couldn’t believe this was happening, that he was really here. “Is everything okay?” She turned her knees toward him and searched his face.

  “Yes.” He smiled, but the look in his eyes was deeper than before, more intense. He took hold of her hands. “How long before you have to get through security?”

  She checked her time. “Forty-five minutes.”

  “Perfect.” His expression relaxed. “Sami told me what time your flight was leaving for New York.” He laughed. “My flight was delayed out of Arizona and by the time I got here, I figured I’d missed you.”

  Mary Catherine grinned. “When do you go back?”

  “Three hours.”

  “What?” Her face felt flushed but she didn’t mind. He’d come to see her and he was here. For now, nothing else mattered. She laughed. “You’re crazy.”

  “I probably looked it.” Something about his smile made the moment feel personal. “Ran up and down the line and then it hit me. Maybe you were checking your bags outside.”

  He talked about his week, spring training, and he asked about hers. “Of course”—he laughed again—“all I wanted to do was get on a plane and get those shots. I can’t move to Africa without them.”

  He laughed and the conversation continued. Mary Catherine checked her phone. Ten minutes had passed, then twenty. Time was slipping through their hands and still she wasn’t completely sure why he had come. Especially after she’d been so clear last time that they needed to move on.

  “It’s so good to see you, Mary Catherine.” The sincerity in his eyes was a window to his soul. “I prayed I’d find a way.”

  Mary Catherine thought about the businessman. If he hadn’t cut in front of her and made such a scene trying to find his claim ticket, Marcus would’ve missed her. “I guess . . . God answered.”

  “He did.” He ran his thumbs over her hands. “When you wouldn’t answer my emails, I was worried. I couldn’t let you go all the way to Uganda without making sure you were okay. And without being very clear . . . about how I feel.”

  A dizziness swept over her. Every word he spoke was balm to her soul. Listening to his calming voice and savoring the way he made her feel loved. Looking into his handsome face. She wanted to cancel her flight and stay with him forever.

  Wherever he went, however long she had.

  Mary Catherine blinked and tried to keep her senses in order. “You said you wanted to talk.” The noisy crowds from the nearby terminal seemed to fade. Right here, right now it was just him and her.

  “I do.” His expression was serious. “I had to know what was wrong . . . and I had to tell you something.”

  A thread of anxiety wove itself through the moment. He hadn’t come all this way for an hour just because he was worried about her. Whatever else was on his mind, she was about to find out. “Tell me what?” She studied him. “Why did you come here? Really?”

  The easy sparkle in his eyes was gone now. “Can I hug you first?”

  Hugging him was all she’d wanted to do since she first saw his face. “Please.”

  He helped her to her feet and like a scene from a movie they came together, no longer aware of anyone or anything around them. In his arms she felt small and safe, whole and well. As if they really might have forever to fall in love and live a life together. She breathed in the smell of his shampoo, the freshness of his skin.

  With the greatest tenderness he placed his hands on either side of her face and first he kissed her cheek. “You captivate me, Mary Catherine.”

  A whirling sense of wonder and joy swirled around her, enveloping the moment and making Mary Catherine more aware of him. “I’m sorry.” She breathed the words against his face.

  “Don’t be.” This time he kissed her lips.

  Mary Catherine knew better. She was wrong to captivate him, wrong to kiss him. But she couldn’t help herself. Just for this hour, she told herself. Just this one last time.

  He was looking at her, and she felt lost in his eyes. That’s all, she told herself. She couldn’t do this. She forced herself to press back just an inch or so. Enough so she could catch her breath and find her common sense. “The reason . . . you’re here?”

  Again he looked serious. They lowered themselves to the seats again, and once more he took her hands in his. He pursed his lips and exhaled as if he needed a minute to collect his thoughts.

  “Well . . .” He leaned his forearms on his knees, his face closer than before. “I’m in a tough spot. I needed to know you were okay. And I couldn’t figure things out until I saw you again.” He hesitated. “Until I looked in your eyes and really talked to you.”

  A tough spot? Please, God, give me the words to end things with him. I need to release him. She blinked and shook her head. She checked her phone again. They had seven minutes before she needed to leave. “I . . . I’m not sure what you mean?”

  For a long time he didn’t say anything. Finally he narrowed his eyes. “See, I understand what you’ve said.” He still had hold of her hands. “You want to be friends, you’re not interested in dating.” A sigh slid through his lips. “I’ve heard you each time, Mary Catherine.”

  She nodded. Her mouth was dry. Words wouldn’t come even if she could think of something to say.

  “But every day I’ve thought about this, how I feel for you, what I believe you feel for me.” He paused. Then very gently he lifted one of her hands to his lips and kissed it. When his eyes met hers again it looked like his heart was breaking. “The thing is . . . I don’t want to date you.”

  Mary Catherine could feel her heart beating hard, racing just beneath her skin. “You don’t?”

  “No.” He lowered her hand again, his eyes never leaving hers. “I want to marry you.”

  The walls began moving toward her, closing in, suffocating her. A part of her wanted to twirl around in joy and tell him yes! Yes, she wanted to marry him, too! But the whole thing was impossible. She was the girl who had never been asked to the prom, the one who had found a way to love life despite being alone. And now she was about to realize her greatest dream by moving to Africa.

  And Marcus wanted to marry her?

  Nothing about her situation would allow it. Marriage was absolutely impossible, and now . . . now her words would hurt both of them.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Had the air left the building, or was it her lungs? She couldn’t take a full breath.

  “Mary Catherine, talk to me.” Marcus hesitated, as if he was searching for the right words. “I’m not saying marry me now. But in a year, maybe. When you come back.” His voice was quieter, so soft that Mary Catherine could barely hear it. “Please. You don’t have to be afraid.”

  Her heart was racing now, faster than before. Nothing about this was good for her, minutes before boarding. She hung her head and searched for something to say, whatever might be the least painful. But it was too late for that. “Marcus, I’m so sorry.” She lifted her head and looked at him. “I’ve told you.”

&n
bsp; “I know.” A hint of frustration colored his tone. He seemed to will himself to stay calm. “But I thought maybe . . . if you knew how serious I was . . .”

  “That doesn’t change the situation.” She glanced around the airport, desperate to make him believe her. “I’m not the marrying type, okay?” She steadied her gaze at him. “I don’t want a house in the suburbs or the picket fence. I want this.” She blinked a few times. “Adventure, travel, mission work. Uganda. Where I can make a difference.” That part was true. But she hated doing it again, leaving out the most important part, the truth about her health.

  Marcus waited a minute, watching her, as if he was trying to grasp the finality of her declaration. Slowly he released her hands and leaned back in the seat. He looked like he wanted to argue with her, or debate the truth in what she said. Instead he stayed quiet.

  The ache in Mary Catherine’s heart was worse than anything she’d ever felt. She wanted only to be in his arms once more. But she couldn’t let that happen. Never again. She leaned forward, searching his eyes. “Does that make sense?”

  “Yes.” He stood and helped her to her feet. “You have to go.”

  They were always saying goodbye. A sudden strange awkwardness clouded the air around them. “I told you, Marcus.” Tears choked her voice before they reached her eyes. “If there was anyone, if I wanted that life, there would only be you.”

  After having her hands in his for so long, she felt distant now. Like there was already a continent between them. He looked like he might just turn and walk away. But then the depth in his eyes returned and he embraced her a final time. But already things were different. His hug was different. More like a brother bidding his sister goodbye as she went off to college.

  In his arms for the last time, Mary Catherine spoke in little more than a whisper. “Please understand, Marcus. I’m sorry.” Two tears slid down her cheeks. “I’m telling you the truth. I’m just not the marrying type.” She was right. But not for the reasons she’d given him. She was dying. It’d be cruel to both of them to allow love now.