The Healing Place Page 3

  Mark looked away but couldn’t help wondering if Denise had hocked her garish wedding ring at a pawnshop. No doubt, she could get a tidy sum for the diamonds.

  At one time he hadn’t cared. Now he wished someone in this world loved him enough to wear his ring. But even if he found that special someone, he doubted he’d have time to build a relationship. Angie was his first priority and kept him more than busy. He couldn’t afford the luxury of a romance right now.

  “Hello.” Emma glanced at him, then turned to smile at Angie.

  “Hi, Emma.” His voice sounded unusually low and he cleared his throat.

  Pen in hand, Emma sat on the stool and began scribbling notes on her clipboard. “Angie’s blood count looks good right now. This blood test was performed yesterday?”

  She peered at Mark over the rim of her glasses, her clear blue eyes showing a dazzling depth of intelligence and—

  Barriers.

  “Yes, at the blood lab,” he said.

  Her gaze returned to the clipboard. “Okay, after each injection, we’ll monitor Angie’s white blood cells to make certain they don’t get too low. If they do, we’ll skip one treatment to give her blood levels time to recover, then pick up again the following week.”

  “I understand.” Mark nodded.

  “I don’t. How come?” Angie asked.

  Ever inquisitive, Angie had been on the Internet with Mark last night, reading all they could find out about brain tumors and treatments. She’d even commented that she wanted to be an oncologist like Dr. Shields when she grew up. Mark prayed Angie made it to a very old age.

  Emma gazed at Angie with a hint of respect. “That’s a very good question. I’m glad you asked. The drugs we’re giving you kill the bad cells, but they also kill good cells.”

  Angie’s brow wrinkled. “And we can’t let too many good cells die, right?”

  Smart kid. Pride surged through Mark. With Angie’s intelligence, he was certain she’d make it through med school, if given the chance.

  “Right,” Emma said.

  “But what if the chemo doesn’t kill my tumor?”

  Mark held his breath, waiting for Emma’s response.

  Emma’s mouth opened and her gaze softened, but she didn’t speak right away. She seemed to choose her words carefully. “We have other options. We can use radiation, but we’re not to that point, yet. Let’s just take it one day at a time, all right?”

  Angie smiled and nodded. She looked so trusting as she watched Emma.

  Mark’s body tensed without him willing it. What if they had to resort to radiation? Brain cells didn’t recover from radiation and Angie could lose much of her cognitive ability. What damage would the chemo cause? Her neurosurgeon had told him that once she finished her chemo protocol, she’d have a forty percent chance of never giving birth to her own child. Sometimes he wondered if the treatment was worse than the illness.

  Realizing his breathing had quickened and his heart was pounding, Mark tried to calm his troubled mind. One day at a time. Right now, they were fighting for Angie’s life.

  “Will the chemo make me sick?” Angie asked.

  Emma lifted one brow. “I see you have your father’s intelligence.”

  “And her mother’s beauty.” Mark smiled at Angie and the little girl beamed.

  He mentioned Denise for Angie’s benefit.

  Emma’s focus shifted to the alpine picture over his right shoulder and he couldn’t help wondering if the mention of Denise bothered her. What a fool he’d been all those years ago to dump Emma for a pretty girl whose father had connections in the business world. Prestige had meant everything to him back then.

  “Certain foods react with the drugs we’re giving Angie and can create a problem. Do you have the list of things she shouldn’t eat?” Emma asked.

  “Yeah, we’ve got it and I’ll make sure Angie follows it.”

  “Okay, pumpkin, you ready?” Sonja came over to the bed, then reached to help Angie sit back.

  Lying on the pillow, Angie handed Mark her flowered hat. He noticed Emma’s gaze slid over the little girl’s bald head where pink scars circled the top right side. Hopefully, her thick hair would eventually grow back and no one would notice.

  Emma didn’t show even a glimmer of repulsion. Instead a flicker of empathy filled her eyes.

  Ah, she’s not as indifferent as she wants us to believe.

  Sonja lifted Angie’s shirt, exposing the porta-catheter installed for administering the chemo injections. The neurosurgeon had warned that, if they didn’t use a porta-catheter, by the time Angie turned eighteen, the veins in her arms would collapse. If not handled carefully, the powerful medicine could burn her skin bad enough to require a plastic surgeon to repair the damage. A patch covered the EMLA Cream, which Mark had applied to Angie’s skin thirty minutes earlier. Angie shouldn’t feel any more than a bit of pressure.

  “Is it gonna hurt?” Angie’s voice wobbled as she looked at Emma.

  Tenderness filled Emma’s eyes. “No, sweetie, it shouldn’t.”

  Setting her clipboard aside, Emma slipped her glasses off and tucked them into her pocket before carefully peeling back the Emla patch. She accepted a piece of gauze from Sonja and wiped the white cream off.

  “Okay, lie still.” Emma’s voice soothed.

  Mark tensed. Angie clung to his hand, her pulse hammering against her throat.

  “Honey, I’m here.” He cupped Angie’s cheek and looked into her eyes. Bending at the waist, he lowered his face to lean against the pillow. She whimpered and Mark kissed her forehead, speaking calming words to her.

  “All done, sweetie,” Emma said. “You can sit up now.”

  Both Angie and Mark breathed with relief. As Emma drew near, he caught her scent, a combination of warm skin and some elusive floral fragrance. Inhaling deeply, he tried to forget why he was here.

  “It didn’t hurt a bit. Thanks, Dr. Shields.” Angie smiled, showing one tooth missing in front.

  What a difference. Now the dreaded injection was over, Angie almost seemed her old self again.

  “You’re welcome.” Emma’s mouth curled as she disposed of the needle in a box labeled Hazardous Waste.

  Placing a small dot bandage over the needle prick, Sonja helped Angie lower her shirt and patted the little girl’s shoulder. “You did just fine, kiddo. Do you want to come select a prize from my stash out in the office? I got it special just for your visits.”

  A grin spread across Angie’s face and she nodded. Sonja took her hand as Angie slid off the bed, then they left the room. Mark picked up Angie’s hat and slapped it against his thigh. Emma put her reading glasses on, then picked up her clipboard, jotting more notes.

  “Thanks, Emma. I really appreciate this. I can’t begin to tell you how much.”

  “You’re welcome. Angie’s a great kid.” She showed a wistful smile.

  A wisp of golden hair slipped free of the tight knot at the back of her neck and curled against her cheek. He longed to reach out and feel the texture of it.

  “Yeah, she is.” He hesitated, wondering how to say what was on his mind. “Look, Emma, I sense you’re uncomfortable with me here. Is it because I was such a dope back in high school?”

  Her gaze glanced off his. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Sure she did. There was no need to pretend. It occurred to him that she was doing her best to hide her injured feelings. Maybe it was a defense mechanism. No, she didn’t want him here, but she had put aside her wounded pride to help Angie.

  Sudden respect filled him, along with a protective impulse. He shouldn’t have reminded her that he had dumped her for Denise all those years earlier. “You’ve turned out to be an amazing woman, Emmy.”

  Her eyes widened and she looked startled. “I’m a doctor, Mark. This is what I do.”

  “Still, I want you to know I’m grateful.”

  She laughed, a harsh sound with no humor. “Believe me, you’ll get my bill.”

  He chuc
kled but sensed her deep sarcasm. “Thank goodness for health insurance. So far, the medical bills are nudging half-a-million dollars, the deductibles large enough to cross my eyes.”

  After college, he’d worked hard and invested well, but the divorce settlement had drained a large portion of his wealth. He’d been lucky Denise wanted cash and let him buy out her half of the house. To save Angie’s life, he’d sell everything he owned and live in a pup tent in the park. Whatever it took. Money didn’t mean anything to him now. Not if he lost his daughter.

  “You’ve changed since high school, Mark.” Her brows pulled together in a perplexed frown.

  Was it that obvious? “Really? How so?”

  “You’re so gentle with Angie. I remember you being such a jock, laughing all the time, going to parties. I never imagined you’d be such a softy with a little girl of your own.”

  He remembered, too. All those parties he had attended, and Emma hadn’t been invited. He remembered the pain in her eyes when he’d told her he didn’t want to go out with her anymore. The slump of dejection in her shoulders and the hurt in her voice when she’d wished him nothing but the best.

  Those days had been focused on one thing only. Get the best grades possible, excel at sports and earn a full-ride scholarship to N.Y.U. so he could get a top job making lots of money. What had it mattered that he’d dumped the school bookworm for a hot babe who happened to be the head varsity cheerleader? When he married Denise fresh out of college, he’d been the envy of every other guy at school.

  None of that seemed important now. Except for Brett Anderson, he rarely saw any of his old friends. If only he hadn’t been so superficial. But no matter what Denise did or how difficult his life became, he could never regret having Angie.

  “That was a long time ago, Emma. Now, I’m a father with responsibilities. When Angie was born, I started thinking about more than just the here and now. I wanted the best for my child, and that caused me to seek a greater power than my own.”

  Her brows arched. “So, you got religion, huh?”

  “You could say that. I’d be lost without God in my life. As I recall, you used to be quite religious yourself.”

  “Things change.”

  He ached for her lack of faith. “Sometimes it’s hard for me to see my life with eternal eyes, but I came to realize that God has my best interest in mind.”

  A skeptical frown crinkled her brow and he changed the topic. “When we were in high school, I was just a thoughtless, stupid kid. I hope you’ll forgive me for…for everything.”

  “Of course. There’s nothing to forgive.” She bit her bottom lip, staring at the brown carpet.

  What had her husband’s name been?

  David.

  Although they had divorced, Mark couldn’t help envying the man. Emma obviously loved him. Not once in the eleven years they had been married had Mark ever heard Denise say the words, “I love you.”

  Not even to Angie, and that hurt most of all.

  “I know what you mean about things changing.” He didn’t smile as he spoke. “Life hasn’t worked out quite the way I’d planned it.”

  She blinked, as if digesting this information. “I remember you said you wanted to marry a beautiful socialite and be the CFO of some Fortune 500 company. You wanted to make buckets full of money, go into politics and become president of the United States.”

  He burst out laughing, thinking how foolish he must have sounded to Emma. Strange that he had never once confided his amitions to Denise. “Not anymore. Now, I’d settle for a quiet evening at home with Angie.”

  She chuckled, the sound tripping his heart into double-time. “No fancy restaurants?”

  “Let’s just say I prefer relaxing in my own home.”

  “Me, too,” she conceded.

  A long paused followed and Emma tilted her head, seeming to study him. “It seems so strange to see you comforting a little girl. I never envisioned you with so much compassion, Mark.”

  Ah, that hurt, but he couldn’t deny it. “Right now, Angie’s most important.”

  Her brow crinkled with thought. “I’m glad to hear that. If it helps any, I like the new you.”

  Somehow her words made him want to be even better. For her.

  He took a step. “Emma, I hope we can be—”

  Angie returned with a Tasmanian Devil sticker planted smack in the middle of her forehead and holding a purple lollipop in her fist.

  “Hey, Dad, look what Sonja gave me.” She lifted the sucker and pointed at her forehead.

  He rubbed her bristly head gently where the new hair growth was starting to come in. It rasped the palm of his hand. “Yeah, that’s great. Did you remember to say thank you?”

  Angie turned to face Sonja. “Thank you. We get to go for pizza now. Dad said he’d take me to lunch.”

  “Good for you,” Sonja said. “I’d better get back to work.”

  The nurse slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her. Emma removed her glasses. Heavy lashes fringed her eyes, her skin soft and smooth. If not for the weariness in her gaze, Mark would have thought she hadn’t aged a day since high school.

  “Just remember, no pepperoni,” Emma warned. “It messes with some of the drugs you’re taking.”

  Angie groaned. “But pepperoni’s my favorite.”

  Emma’s lips curved into a smile. “Try sausage or Canadian bacon, instead.”

  “Yuck!” Angie’s face contorted. “That’s grown-up stuff. Kids like pepperoni.”

  Emma’s lips twitched as she suppressed a laugh. “Okay, just plain cheese. Kids like cheese, don’t they?”

  “Yeah, that’d be okay, I guess.” Angie brightened, but then grouched, “No pepperoni, no raspberries, no peanut butter. How’s a kid supposed to live like that?”

  Mark chuckled. “Don’t be dramatic. I think you’ll survive without pepperoni for a year, until we’re finished with the chemo.”

  Emma’s gaze slid toward the door. “Well, I’ve got patients waiting.”

  “Hey, Dad, can Dr. Shields come to lunch with us?”

  Mark lifted his gaze to Emma. Her mouth hung open and she stared at the child with surprise.

  He read Emma’s body language. Stiff and unyielding, everything about her told him she wanted him to go away and leave her alone. Then she lifted her head and he saw the longing in her eyes, a depth of emotion that told him she wanted him to stay.

  She seemed so lost. Maybe they both were.

  “Emma, are you——” He swallowed. “Are you free for lunch?”

  Mark didn’t need any more complications in his life, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. It was just lunch. No big deal.

  “Thanks, but I can’t. I’ve got to work.” Emma choked the doorknob with her hand. “Don’t forget to see Darcy at the front counter to set up your next appointment in one week.”

  And she was gone, just like that. Mark told himself he should be relieved. Instead, he felt empty inside.

  Taking Angie’s hand, Mark led her out of the examination room and through the long hallway to the front reception counter. Nurses passed back and forth, calling for patients, prepping vials of medicine and IV drips.

  Two nurses and three office staff workers stood at the counter, surrounding an elderly Hispanic couple. Mark spoke Spanish fluently and it was difficult not to overhear the conversation. The man and woman sounded upset, their voices escalating until Emma came down the hall to see what the commotion was about.

  “What’s going on?” Emma asked the receptionist in a disapproving voice.

  With just one look, Emma sent most of the office staff scurrying back to their desks. That left Darcy to face the fallout.

  “I’m sorry, Dr. Shields, but Mr. and Mrs. Valdez don’t speak English, and she seems worried about her treatment,” Darcy said.

  “Where’s Maria?” Emma asked. “She can translate.”

  “She took some blood samples over to the hospital.”

  Frustration was appa
rent on Emma’s face. Engrossed in the conversation, Mark didn’t notice Angie until too late. The little girl sidled over to Mrs. Valdez, her large eyes filled with sympathy as she reached up and took hold of the woman’s hand.

  “It’s okay,” Angie soothed as she stared up at Mrs. Valdez’s wrinkled face. “You can use my EMLA Cream, and the needle poke won’t hurt a bit.”

  Angie handed the tube of cream to Mrs. Valdez and Mark’s heart turned over. What had he done to deserve this sweet little girl? Truly he had been blessed. Even though she didn’t understand what Mrs. Valdez was saying, Angie knew instinctively it was the woman who was sick, not her husband.

  “Excuse me, but I speak Spanish,” Mark interceded. “Perhaps I can help translate?”

  Emma’s eyes glowed with relief. “Yes, I would appreciate it. First, tell Mrs. Valdez not to be worried. We only want to help her.”

  Emma waited patiently while Mark translated for Mrs. Valdez. He could see the earnest concern written on Emma’s face and heard the soothing tone of her voice as she explained what Mrs. Valdez could expect from her treatment. Mark’s respect for Emma grew as he interpreted questions and responses back and forth. In a matter of minutes, both Mr. and Mrs. Valdez relaxed and smiled. Mark realized then that Emma really did care about her patients, though she seemed to fight it.

  “Gracias.” The woman nodded at Mark and Emma before she squeezed Angie’s hand.

  “She’s ready,” Mark told Emma.

  Accompanied by Sonja, the Valdezes shuffled to the treatment room, leaving Mark and Angie with Dr. Shields.

  “I didn’t know you spoke Spanish, but I’m sure glad you came to my rescue,” Emma said.

  “Yeah, I took it in college and spent a semester abroad in Spain. It comes in handy for my Hispanic clients.”

  The tension eased from her shoulders. “Thanks for helping out. I owe you big-time.”

  He smiled and sank his hands into his pants’ pockets. “No problem. I’ll collect from you on Tuesday, when I bring Angie in for her next treatment.”

  Emma glanced at the little girl, a momentary look of panic in her eyes.

  “Well, I need to get back to work.” Emma headed down the hallway.