The Healing Place

by Leigh Bale

  Her voice sounded hoarse from the tubes they’d put down her throat and he leaned near. He cupped her cheek with his hand as he placed a careful kiss on her nose. He tried to smile, but his lips trembled and he feared he might break down and cry. It was important that he remain strong for her. “Hi, honey-girl. How are you doing?”

  “Okay.” She tried to sit up. “Is Mommy here?”

  “Lay still, babe.” He pressed a hand to her chest. “Remember, you need to lie flat until the brain drain runs clear. Then, the nurse will take out the IVs and let you up and we can get you something to eat.”

  “Okay.” She lay perfectly still, knowing this routine so well. “Where’s Mommy?”

  He had no idea. He had tried to call Denise at her mother’s house and left several messages, but she hadn’t returned his calls. Not that he expected her to. “Mommy couldn’t make it. How do you feel? Are you in any pain?”

  “No, I want Emma. Is she here?” Angie’s voice quavered and a tear ran from her eye and down the side of her face.

  He wiped it away. “No, honey, but I am.”

  Oh, how he missed Emma.

  “You’re always here, Dad.”

  “Are you hungry?” Mark tried to distract her.

  The girl took a deep breath and let it go. “No, just tired.”

  He bit the inside of his mouth. Being hungry was a good sign and he wished she would ask for a rack of beef ribs to eat. “Then, sleep. In the morning, we can talk. You’re doing just fine, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  She licked her dry lips and gave a vague nod. Her fingers curled around his thumb, her hand frail.

  “Are you cold, honey?”

  She gave a subtle shake of her head.

  “Well, your skin feels chilled. Let’s cover you, just in case.” He spread another blanket over her and smoothed it across her spindly legs.

  “Daddy?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Am I gonna die?”

  He froze, staring at her face. His heart shredded as tears burned his eyes. She had asked this of Emma weeks ago, when Mrs. Valdez passed away. Here it was again. The uncertainty. The fear.

  Careful of her IVs and keeping her flat on her back, he pressed his arms around her and kissed her face and neck repeatedly. “No, honey. I won’t let you.”

  A sob rose in his throat but he pushed it down. He couldn’t let her see him weep. He must give her hope.

  Perhaps it was futile to promise such a thing, but he couldn’t bear to tell his precious child the truth…that she could die. They all would someday. Only God knew when. But for his child—any child—to die this way was incredibly unfair.

  He felt helpless. Lost. Without his faith in God, he couldn’t be strong. How had Emma managed to survive the death of her child without God by her side?

  The answer was simple. She hadn’t. Not at all.

  “Mrs. Miller says I’m heaven sent.” Angie’s soft voice made him draw back to look at her eyes.

  He kept one hand against her face, so she could feel him and take comfort in his presence.

  He cleared his throat. “Mrs. Miller, the candy striper?”

  “Yes, she’s my new friend.”

  Angie had a way of making friends everywhere she went. Even now, stuffed animals and flowers surrounded her room and he didn’t know half the people here at the hospital who had given them to her.

  “Well, Mrs. Miller is right.” He hunched one shoulder against his face to wipe his tears away.

  “But to be heaven sent, don’t I have to be dead?”

  Mark gave a shaky laugh. “No, honey. You’re very much alive. You’re the most wonderful person I know.”

  “But I don’t do anything, Dad. Not like you.”

  He gave a shuddering laugh. “If you only knew how much joy you bring me. Our Heavenly Father sends people into our lives to give us strength when our troubles become too burdensome to carry on our own.”

  “What people?”

  “Well, people like Mrs. Miller.”

  Her forehead crinkled. “And Emma?”

  His throat tightened and tears ran freely down his face. He couldn’t stop their flow to save his life. “Especially Emma.”

  Angie’s chest lifted in a deep sigh and she closed her eyes. “I think you and Emma are my special guardians.”

  Mark blinked, not surprised by her grown-up vocabulary. It was true. He remembered how worldly he had been before Angie’s birth, caring about nothing but possessions and advancement in his profession. Then, when he had held his newborn daughter in his arms, he had realized wealth and prestige meant nothing without someone to love.

  Her breathing evened out as she drifted back to sleep and he pulled the blankets higher about her throat. “Go to sleep, little sweetheart. Everything will be better in the morning.”

  Sitting back in his chair, his gaze remained glued on Angie’s face, watching her sleep, reticent to look away for even a moment.

  As he reached for his paperwork, a movement caught his eye and he pivoted toward the doorway.

  “Emma!”

  She stood in the shadowed threshold, leaning the side of her head against the doorjamb, her eyes deep pools of misery as she stared at him.

  Had she heard his conversation with Angie?

  She took a deep breath and stepped into the darkened room, as if she were diving into a pool of great white sharks. Mark stood and walked to her, speaking in hushed tones so he wouldn’t disturb Angie and the other sleeping children. “What are you doing here?”

  “I just heard about Angie and came as fast as I could. I wanted to see that she was all right.” Emma sounded rather breathless, as though she had run up a flight of stairs. She glanced around the room, her eyes wide with panic.

  “You shouldn’t be here, Emma.”

  “I had to come.”

  Her eyes met his, filled with such anguish it nearly broke his heart. He knew how hard it was for her to come to the pediatric ward, yet she made this sacrifice for him and Angie.

  How happy he was to see her. The urge to take her into his arms filled him. He longed to hold her against his chest, to confide all his fears. Instead he slipped his hands into his pants’ pockets. “How did you know we were here?”

  “Sonja called me at home. Mark, why didn’t you tell me?”

  Heat flushed his face. “You’ve been through enough with your son and there was nothing you could do here.”

  “I could be here for you.”

  What could he say to that? He wanted her here with him, but he also longed to protect her. Keeping her in the dark about Angie was the only way he knew to do that. His good intentions had failed.

  A flicker of doubt flashed in her eyes and her gaze slid over Angie. “How’s she doing?”

  He shrugged and glanced at his daughter. “As well as can be expected.”

  “Do you know what caused the hemorrhage?”

  He hardened his jaw. “Yes, the neurosurgeon believes the combination of chemo drugs and the VP shunt caused it. When Angie jumped on the trampoline, there wasn’t enough cushion in her head and it caused blood vessels to rupture.”

  A low moan escaped Emma’s lips. “Oh, Mark, I’m so sorry. If I had known this might happen, I would never have encouraged you to let her jump. It’s my fault—”

  “It’s not your fault.” He cut her off. “No one could have anticipated this outcome. It just happened.”

  “But I told you it was okay. What must you think of me?”

  I love you. That’s what I think of you. He almost blurted the words to her, but bit the inside of his mouth instead.

  He didn’t blame Emma for what had happened. The neurosurgeon had told him this was a fluke, something no one could have foreseen.

  Emma’s gaze locked with his. “Angie’s right. You are her guardian, Mark. She’s so lucky to have a father like you.”

  So, she had overheard his conversation with Angie. “I thought you didn’t believe in God; that you
only believe in science.”

  “Not anymore. I was so foolish, Mark. When my son died, I was angry and hurt. Blaming God, made my own pain easier to bear. I know now how wrong I was. I believe everything you’ve told me. I believe in you.”

  He snorted. “I can’t save your soul, Emma. Only God can do that.”

  “You’re right. With God in my life, I don’t feel alone anymore. You gave me that sweet gift, Mark.”

  “It wasn’t your fault Brian died, you know.”

  She looked away, her eyes swimming with tears. “Yes, it was.”

  A frown furrowed his forehead. “Why do you blame yourself?”

  Her voice trembled and she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I was a new oncologist and thought I knew everything. I convinced Brian’s doctors to try a new, radical chemo protocol. I truly believed it would save Brian’s life, but it didn’t work and he died. If I hadn’t interfered, Brian might still be alive today. And now—” Her voice cracked. “Now, I gave you bad advice and Angie could die because of it.”

  Emma wrapped her arms around herself, looking so alone, so lost, her eyes red, her chin quivering. He took a step toward her, his arms lifting to enfold her against his chest. He caught himself just in time, before he told her how much he loved her. He longed to comfort her, but that would entail more commitment. She was already upset. How could he ask her to stay and watch Angie suffer as Brian had?

  He couldn’t.

  “Don’t, Emma. You did what you thought was best. Maybe a different chemo protocol would have given the same results.” He paused, studying her wretched expression. How he hated to see her hurting like this.

  Because he loved her, he must send her away.

  “Look, Emma, it’s hard to accept God’s will, but I have to face the reality that I could lose Angie.”

  “I wish you had called me when she went into surgery. You needn’t have suffered alone, Mark. Surely when we’re hurting, our Heavenly Father weeps with us. I wanted to be here for you, to help you through it.”

  Rolling his shoulders, he stepped over to the chair, putting distance between them. “I’m used to handling things on my own.”

  She lifted a hand and tried to reach for him, but he backed away. His body language was stiff and unyielding, his expression closed. They were silent then, as though they had nothing left to say. So many words swirled around inside Emma’s mind, yet she didn’t dare speak what was in her heart.

  Together, they stared at Angie and time spun away.

  A buzzer went off on the other side of the room and a nurse came in to check on another patient.

  Emma stepped nearer to Mark, hungry for the familiarity they had shared the day before. Somehow, that closeness was gone now and they seemed like strangers. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “No, thank you.”

  Her throat felt like sandpaper. She clenched her hands until she felt the bite of her fingernails digging into her palms.

  He raked a hand through his tussled hair. Fatigue creased his forehead and eyes. He looked careworn and Emma longed to reach out and comfort him. To offer the solace he had given to her. He must have fretted and stewed during the long hours of Angie’s surgery, wondering if he would ever see his daughter again, fearing the worst and regretting his decision to let her jump on the trampoline. Emma wished she had been here with him.

  “You deserve a good man to love you, Emma. I’m sure you’ll find him some day.” He brushed a hand across his face and she heard the rasp of his unshaven chin.

  Everything about his body language told her he didn’t want her here. But when she looked into his eyes, she saw a depth of emotion that cried out for her to stay. Inside, she was screaming. “I understand.”

  But she didn’t, not really.

  “I’ll see you sometime,” he said dismissively.

  He was pushing her away.

  “Will you…will you tell Angie goodbye for me?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I’ll tell her. Thanks for taking the time to come down here to see Angie. I appreciate your concern.”

  His words poured over her like a bucket of ice water. A horrible feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.

  Please don’t send me away.

  He moved back and looked at Angie.

  Emma’s spine stiffened and she couldn’t keep the hurt from her voice. “Mark, I’m not just one of Angie’s doctors. I’m—I’m—”

  An outsider. She should leave.

  Horrible, swelling silence followed. He wouldn’t look at her. A clatter sounded outside the door and a nurse came in carrying a tray. When Mark turned to look at Emma, she was gone.

  Just like that, she was out of his life.

  Tension filled his body. Emma had left, taking all happiness with her. He felt miserable and lost, but believed it was for the best.

  Shaking his head, he went to sit near Angie, taking solace in watching her sleep. She needed stability and his full attention. She didn’t need more hurt.

  Neither did Emma.

  As he gazed at his precious daughter’s face, the emptiness persisted. He tried to ignore the doubt that he had just lost one of the two best things in his life.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Emma slipped out of the intensive care unit and hurried down the hallway. Several people stood waiting for the elevator. She ducked her head and veered past as she ran for the stairs. Inside the stairwell, the door slammed behind her, echoing through the hollow recesses of her soul.

  Alone on the landing, she leaned back against the white brick wall and squeezed her eyes shut. Tears ran down her cheeks. She didn’t even try to brush them away.

  Gone!

  She had lost two more people she loved so dearly and the pain was almost more than she could stand. In many ways, it almost hurt more than when Brian had died. Brian had not wanted to leave her, but he’d had no choice. Mark was still very much alive, yet he didn’t want her. There was nothing she could do to convince him otherwise.

  A sob wrenched from her throat as she slid down the wall and hunkered in the corner of the landing. Burying her face in her hands, she gave way to the flow of despair.

  “Father in Heaven,” she whispered in a hoarse voice. “Why has this happened? Am I so unlovable? I was so certain that Mark and I had a future. How could I have been so wrong?”

  Be at peace. I have not left you. All things are within My control.

  The words brought small comfort to Emma’s heart and she uttered a simple prayer. “I’ll do whatever You want me to do, Lord, but does it have to hurt so bad? Haven’t I known enough suffering?”

  A peaceful feeling crept over her, enfolding her with warmth.

  You have learned, but now it is Mark’s turn to learn to trust Me.

  She didn’t understand. Mark’s faith seemed so strong. He stood firm even when his wife deserted him, even when Angie got sick.

  Emma sniffed and wiped her nose. An overwhelming tranquility filled her to overflowing, a sweet energy that was so compelling she could shed no more tears. It had taken so long for her to regain her faith in God. To be able to return to the pediatric intensive care floor of the hospital. It gave her confidence and renewed her hope and strength. God loved her, she knew that without reservation. He had a specific plan for her, though He might not have revealed it to her yet. Deep inside, she felt such peace, it filled her to overflowing.

  She would accept whatever He had planned for her.

  Standing, she dug into her purse for a tissue, then blew her nose. She would be patient and put her life in God’s hands. He would care for her. She must believe that He would care for Mark and Angie, too.

  One month later, Angie sat on the edge of the mattress in her bedroom. She squeezed the teddy bear Emma had given her the day of the Make-A-Wish barbecue.

  “But I don’t want to go to San Francisco again, Dad. I want to go back to Emma for my chemo injections.”

  Angie rested her chin on top of Teddy’s head and scowled at her father.
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br />   Mark sighed as he hung clothes in her closet. Tired and cranky, he didn’t want to fight with her. “You know Emma isn’t your doctor anymore, Angie. It’s best for you if we go to Dr. Walton at U.C.S.F. He’s been doing okay for you, hasn’t he?”

  Angie pursed her lips. “Yeah, but I don’t like Dr. Walton. He smells bad and has yellow teeth.”

  “He smells like antiseptic, Angie. That’s how doctors smell.”

  “Not Emma.”

  No, not Emma. She smelled like a delicate flower on a warm spring day.

  “I want to go see Emma, Dad. I miss her. Why don’t you like her anymore?”

  His emotions churned inside him, like a volcano gearing up for an eruption. How could he explain all the complexities to Angie when he didn’t understand them himself? He only knew what he felt.

  I love her.

  The revelation wasn’t new to Mark, though he tried to deny it.

  Pulling back the covers of Angie’s bed, he urged her to crawl between the sheets. Then, he sat next to her, feeling the clinging warmth of her hand tucked within his. “I like Dr. Shields just fine, honey. But I believe Dr. Walton is better for us now.”

  Angie sniffed, rubbing her face against Teddy’s fur. She glanced at the picture of her mother sitting on the bedside table. “I thought…I thought if I had another mommy, you’d be happy again.”

  “Honey, I have you. I am happy.”

  She shook her head. “No, you’re not. You never laugh anymore. Emma makes us cookies and plays with us. Mom never did those things. You started to smile again when we were with Emma. You can’t just leave her, Dad. You have to marry her. She’s ours.”

  Mark didn’t reply. His throat closed and he couldn’t speak.

  “You know, Dad, I love Mom. But I love Emma, too. And she treats us better than Mom does.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he agreed, surprised once more by her grown-up insight. “How’d you get to be so smart?”

  She smiled, showing a new front tooth that had almost grown back after the baby tooth had fallen out. “Well, you’ve always told me I have Mom’s beauty and your brains.”

  At the mention of Denise, he realized he hadn’t heard from her since he’d sent Emma away, just after Angie’s last surgery. Angie had stopped asking to visit her mother. Instead she asked for Emma. Even after two months, the child wouldn’t let it drop.