Here for You

by Pat Simmons

  “I love you,” she whispered as he rinsed and placed their plates and glasses in the dishwasher. Glancing over his shoulder, he caught her watching him.

  “What are you thinking about, Miss Knicely?”

  “Thank you for leading me to Christ.”

  “You’re welcome, babe.” He frowned. “But I can’t take credit for that. Your aunt planted the seed in your heart. I came along to water it, but it was all God’s doing.”

  Rachel nodded and rested her chin on top of her linked hands. “I meditated on the Scripture you gave me earlier.”

  “And?” He turned around and continued his task.

  “Verse 11 saddened me, but even there, God sent an encouraging word. I keep waiting to hear from the Lord about whether I’ll survive this.”

  Nicholas turned back around and was about to open his mouth, but Rachel held up her hand to stop him.

  “At least my soul is in order in case I die.”

  “You might live too,” he said with hopefulness lingering in his eyes. “I’m praying that you’ll join the ranks of cancer survivors. God can put it into remission, never to resurface again.” He joined her at the table.

  She reached for his hands and rested her small ones on top of his. “Nicholas, I love you.” She swallowed. “But I don’t know how much time I have left. I never imagined I would be facing death just after my thirtieth birthday.”

  “You’re facing an illness, babe. There’s a difference,” he countered, making her wonder if he was trying to convince her or himself.

  “Cancer is known as a death sentence,” she said quietly. “Aunt Tweet once told Tabitha she hoped people would miss her when she was gone.”

  “And, baby”—he shook his head—“you do. Your grieving tore at my heart,” Nicholas admitted, patting his chest.

  “Please talk to me like you would any other church member about death,” she pleaded softly and squeezed his hands. As they stared at each other, Rachel imagined she could hear his heart beat.

  Nicholas seemed to be made uncomfortable by her request, so he didn’t address it right away. The man ministered to the sick, so how could he be speechless?

  “Death is part of life…” Nicholas began.

  Rachel listened intently as he talked about all things spiritual that made her heart leap for joy. She needed to hear this, wanted to hear this, but her sisters wanted to shy away from any mention of death in the beginning, so she’d kept her fears inside. She didn’t realize she was crying until Nicholas leaned closer and wiped at her tears. “I didn’t mean to upset you, baby. I’m sorry.”

  “You didn’t. Thank you for not ignoring me.” Closing her eyes, she rested her forehead against his. “I guess I’m okay either way.”

  “Yes.” He leaned back, causing her to open her eyes and watch him dig inside his jacket pocket. Nicholas pulled out a blue velvet box.

  Tilting her head, she squinted before asking, “What’s this?”

  “Your reason to live.” He inched it across the table toward her. “To be my wife.”

  Sucking in her breath, Rachel rested her hand on her chest to calm her heart. “You’re proposing to me now?” In her condition, she didn’t know how she felt about that. Was he asking out of pity or faith? A proposal was supposed to be romantic, during happy times. This moment was not one of those times.

  “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but whatever it is, stop and listen to me very carefully.” Nicholas seemed to tug at her thoughts until he had her full attention.

  She still hadn’t touched the box but eyed it suspiciously as if it would explode or something.

  “I’m beyond ready to ask. You don’t have to be cancer free for me to bend one knee and ask you to be my wife. Fight for our love and life. Fight for me, baby. I’ll be fighting alongside you. If you can take me as I am, I want you as you are. Now, open it,” he said softly.

  Rachel swallowed, then bit her bottom lip as she contemplated her next move. Shaking her head, she pushed the box away. There, she touched it. Nicholas’s crestfallen expression wounded her. “Nicholas Adams, I will not look at my engagement ring without a romantic dinner, you on that one knee, and my health restored.” Thinking about it made her smile. “I will fight.”

  Nicholas leaped out of his chair as if she had said yes without realizing it. He lifted her effortlessly in the air until she giggled.

  With no more discussion about the big C, they watched a movie. Nicholas left a couple of hours later. Clara said good night not long after that. Alone, Rachel Skyped her sisters and gave them a recap about the unopened ring box.

  “See, that’s why I like that man,” Kym said. “He’s one of a kind and perfect for my baby sister. You two make me so jealous,” she said and capped it with a pout.

  “I believe God has someone special for you too. Without Aunt Tweet, you won’t have to worry about meeting him at a stressful time in your life,” Tabitha told their big sister. “But our auntie also steered us to find God in our lives.”

  Rachel sighed. “Yeah. I thought I had done everything right with God, and whoa, without warning, I get cancer from out of the blue. I told Nicholas that I would fight, but sometimes, I question what my purpose is.”

  “To be an aunt,” Tabitha said quietly.

  “You’re, you’re—” Rachel and Kym screamed at the same time.

  “No, not yet, but it’s on my to-do list in our marriage.”

  * * *

  Nicholas didn’t exhale until he had driven away from Rachel’s condo. That woman had scared him silly talking about her demise. That had not been on his mind when he’d picked out the ring. He wanted to talk about life and their future and sidestep any mention of dying. He believed one day their hearts would beat as one in marriage.

  He didn’t avoid the topic when he visited the sick, but he’d rather not think in those terms when it came to Rachel. “Lord, if it is Your will, please speak Your Word to her soul and give her a measure of faith to believe in Your healing. In Jesus’s name…” He was about to whisper amen when he added, “And, Lord, help me to trust in You for a miracle like never before. Amen.” He couldn’t allow this situation to shake his faith, but it was.

  Back at home and in his bedroom, Nicholas removed the ring box from his pocket. Of all the men who vied for her attention, Rachel had fallen in love with him, and he loved her more than she could ever imagine, which was why her rejection—no, her hold off—stung a little.

  The next morning, Nicholas still hadn’t shaken their conversation. After checking in with her to see how she had slept, he called the church, and the secretary greeted him warmly.

  “Mrs. Emerson, I would like to make an appointment to see the pastor.” He waited while she tapped on the computer to review his pastor’s schedule.

  “He has four forty-five available,” she said.

  “I’ll see him then.” Nicholas would use some comp time to leave early.

  Hours later, Pastor Mann welcomed him into his office. After the handshake and pleasantries, Nicholas took his seat and immediately unloaded his burdens. “It’s hard watching Rachel go through this, because I love her so much and want her better, not only for her, but me…”

  The pastor didn’t interrupt, and his expression gave nothing away. When Nicholas took a breather and leaned back in his chair, Pastor Mann spoke.

  “Minister Adams, this sounds as if this is as much Rachel’s test as yours. When you haven’t experienced the death of a close loved one or close friend as you’ve indicated, this hits close to home. Not only do you have to work the ministry God called you to do, but you have to believe it no matter what you see or hear.”

  “Yes, sir.” Nicholas listened to valued counsel. “She asked valid questions.”

  Pastor Mann linked his hands and nodded. “One of the worst injustices is when preachers tell those who are sick th
at God’s going to heal them. Unless the preacher has sought God’s will, then they are deceiving the sick.” He paused. “Resist the temptation to speak this unless you’re certain God tells you. Do you want me to have Mrs. Emerson remove you from the sick visit rotation during this season?”

  “Oh no.” Nicholas shook his head. “Although it’s hard to see her like this and her name is on the sick and homebound list, I have to keep ministering to others. I need prayer. Help me to be strong.”

  By the time Nicholas left the church, he was encouraged and reenergized, despite not knowing whether Rachel would recover. He had to accept the fact that the Lord wasn’t going to tell him either way.

  Chapter 28

  Alone and dying. That was what Rachel had been feeling like since she woke up. Bouts of depression were slowly creeping in, uninvited. “God, only You know how this is going to end.”

  Each day, she tried to rebuild her strength in preparation for the next round of chemo, which would knock her down again. So far, she had been able to tolerate the IV. “God, why me?” Her eyes teared and she sniffed. The more she tried not to play the victim, the more of a victim she felt.

  Each week, well-wishers sent cards in the mail or e-cards to her inbox. Their acts of thoughtfulness always cheered her up, followed by sadness, reminding her of her battle. Rachel eyed the basket from her coworkers amid the balloons, flowers, and plants that filled her living room. The thing was so big and heavy, no wonder it took two of her colleagues to deliver it.

  Every time Rachel rummaged through the basket, she seemed to find something new. It was like a bottomless pit of goodies. She pulled out what appeared to be a scroll and unrolled it. It turned out to be a poster made out of gold foil from an Australian company, Peppa Penny Prints, with the wording, “You Were Given This Life Because You Are Strong Enough to Live It.”

  “Am I, Lord? Are my mind and body strong enough to go through this?” She prayed desperately to know God’s will.

  Next, she picked up a white tissue-paper-wrapped gift to reveal a beautiful journal that was covered with faux jewels and rhinestones: Let Your Thoughts Be Your Inspiration. The more she tried to meditate on her faith, the more fear seemed to sneak in. “God, please help me.”

  * * *

  Something within Nicholas stirred him to pray, so while he was out in the plant observing production, he quietly sent up intercessory prayers—for whom, he didn’t know. Twice when Nicholas called Rachel, he sensed she wasn’t having a good day. The treatments were wreaking havoc on her mind and robbing her of joy. She was even losing her desire to go out to shop, eat, or relax at the nearby park. He had to get her out of that condo.

  Nicholas sent a text. When is the last time you used your building’s amenities? Up to hanging out in the common lounge? He was relieved when she texted back that it was a date.

  That evening, the first thing Nicholas noticed when Rachel opened her door was the sadness that engulfed her spirit and seemed to weigh her down like a thick, dark cloud. It crushed him.

  She was slowly losing her glow, and he wasn’t referring to her beauty regimen. Nicholas hoped the small bag of goodies he’d brought would cheer her up.

  He immediately wrapped his arms around her to give Rachel strength, then loosened his hold. Rachel had her head bowed, so he lifted her chin with his finger. “Hey.” He searched her eyes. “I think you needed that.” He brushed a kiss on her forehead. “And that too.”

  “I did.” She smiled.

  Her pets wagged their tails, waiting for attention. He squatted, scratched behind their ears, then stood again. “Ready?” He reached for her hand, then spied chaos behind her in the background. Rachel was a bit of a neat freak, so the sight was unlike her. He frowned as she was about to close the door. “What’s all that on your dining room table?”

  She glanced back and shrugged. “Every time I get bored, I raid the gift basket from my job and discover something new.”

  “Find anything good?” His interest was piqued.

  Rachel walked back into her condo, shuffled through the items strewn across the table, and lifted a book and brought it with her. “This—a journal.”

  It was covered in jewels and rhinestones, very feminine.

  “I’m supposed to chronicle my cancer journey,” she said nonchalantly.

  They made it to the elevator, and Nicholas pushed the button. How had he forgotten the bag in his hand? “I went to the Goo Goo Shop in SoBro and got you some clusters.”

  She faced him. “Thank you. I’ll try to enjoy them. If not, you can eat them.”

  Nicholas tried to hide his frustration; he wanted her to feel his compassion. “I know you’re trying to eat to live, and God knows I’m doing my part to help. I don’t want to threaten to always force-feed you. All I ask is that you sample whatever I bring. You never know what food, snack, or treat may rejuvenate those taste buds.”

  “Okay.” She reached inside the bag and retrieved a treat, then popped it in her mouth.

  Nicholas rewarded her with a smile.

  Looping her arm through his, Rachel rested her head on his shoulder as they strolled down the hall to the elevators with her dogs at their sides. The doors opened in seconds, and the two stepped in, greeting another couple inside.

  He pushed up to take the dogs to the roof to the doggie park. After their potty break, they rode the elevator down to the mezzanine that overlooked the lobby area.

  With their hands intertwined, they walked into one of the lounges where a few residents were focused on a basketball game. He guided her to an overstuffed sofa for two with a large ottoman where they stretched out with Rachel snuggled close, resting the bag and journal beside them.

  “All things considered, how are you feeling inside?”

  Rachel sighed and shook her head as more residents strolled in for complimentary snacks of fruit, nuts, bite-size cookies, and drinks. “It changes from day to day.”

  “Babe, keeping a journal might free you to verbalize what you’re feeling.”

  “How am I supposed to write out my thoughts when I can’t even pour out my heart in prayer? I mean, I’m praying...” She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. “I’m depressed, angry, sad, confused, and all this could be in the span of a day. Would you want to write about that?”

  “Honestly, no.” He squeezed her hands. “It may be good therapy to read what you write down that you can’t express to others.”

  She grunted and opened her eyes to look at him. “That’s too much soul-searching.”

  They were silent, so Nicholas observed her as she became lost in her thoughts. Maybe whatever was on her mind, a journal would be a good way for her to release doubts and fear and take them to the Lord, but he wasn’t going to pressure her.

  “I’ll write in the journal if you do.” She turned to him and jutted her chin in a challenge.

  “Me?” He pointed to his chest and stuttered, “I don’t think men keep journals.”

  “Ooh.” She shrugged and looked away.

  Nicholas sensed disappointment. How were they going to fight cancer together if he couldn’t do this small, mundane task? He backtracked. “I’ll have to get a notebook. It won’t be anything fancy like what you have.”

  For the first time that evening, a glow appeared on her face and spread to her lips, which curled into a smile. It was then that her eyes finally gave a glimmer of light. Without knowing it, he apparently had made her day. Then she bowed her head as if she was unsure of something. “This might be best. I think about death—sometimes a lot.”

  He would never forget this moment of fear, when it sounded like she was giving up. If he hadn’t been reminded of Revelation 21:8—“But the fearful…”—Nicholas might have lost his faith.

  “I know everyone expects me to be positive in my sickness, but I’m not there yet. I can’t be open about my insecurities, beca
use no one wants me to mention my cancer.” Rachel glanced up and looked into his eyes as if she was searching for something. “Will you be honest with me and open up about how my cancer is affecting you? Promise?”

  “Yes,” he said softly, responding to the pleading that filled her eyes. This was going to be a hard process.

  “And I want to read it.”

  Nicholas blinked. “Huh? Isn’t a journal supposed to be personal?” This was going to be a nightmare. What had he committed to? Yet Nicholas planned to follow through. “Sure, babe, only if you share yours with me.” Could he stomach knowing the raw emotions Rachel was experiencing? “As a matter of fact—”

  “Okay.” She agreed fast, not giving him time to change his mind.

  Nicholas expected her to put up a fuss. She had called his bluff. The real question was could he have a heart-to-heart on paper?

  Hours later on the drive home, Nicholas chided himself. “What have I done?” Feeling that he had backed himself into a corner, he fussed as he stopped at a light. It was a good thing Bluetooth was commonplace, so the driver next to him wouldn’t know he was arguing with himself. “Note to self: never suggest anything to Rachel that may backfire on me ever again!”

  Chapter 29

  Rachel had consumed five Goo Goo Clusters—they were that good—with Nicholas, then washed them down with complimentary bottles of water from the open market bar. It felt good to change her surroundings, even if she was still in her building.

  Hours later, she curled up in her bed, her pillow against her back, with the journal. She grabbed a pen and let her mind roam. She seemed to be in a trancelike state, reviewing snippets of her life before and after the cancer diagnosis.

  Dear Nicholas,

  I know this isn’t supposed to be a letter, but since you’re going to read it, why not?

  First, I love you so much.

  Second, why are you sticking around? I want to push you away at the same time as I want you to stay forever. When no one is around and I’m alone, I wonder if God is going to allow me to live or let me die. Cancer makes me think this. Would He let me go sooner rather than later to minimize my torture and my family’s? I don’t like being alone—I grew up around sisters and a loving family. I’ve made lifelong friends. I’ve enjoyed life—my career, my social circle. Just when I get a taste to fully know and love God, this happens.