The Healer

by Dee Henderson

  “How’s Jack doing?” Marcus asked.

  She smiled. “Working around the clock and playing in the water. Stephen snapped a few pictures at the levee of what is going on. I’ll bring them with me.”

  “Shari arranged a room for you at the private bed-and-breakfast near the hospital. If you want the company, we brought Jennifer’s puppy in for a visit.”

  Another dog in her life… “I’d like that. Thanks.”

  “Thank me after he hides your shoes. I’ll see you in a few hours. I’ll be by a phone if you have any problems.”

  “I’ll see you soon, Marcus.” Rachel disconnected the call.

  She added the Bible she’d started to read in the last few months to her briefcase. Jesus, I want so badly not to face this. She had been tugged toward belief by Jennifer, who had such a joy in her life these days even as she fought the cancer. I can’t figure out how to have that joy in suffering that Jennifer describes. I just wish doctors would call and say the cancer is back in remission and heading toward nonexistence. Having her healed would be such a celebration. The Bible had numerous accounts of people who were very ill being healed by Jesus. She read those passages and had so much hope that maybe Jesus would heal Jennifer too. Her sister believed He would.

  Believing in but not seeing that improvement come—Rachel was accustomed to accepting hard things, but this open question of what Jennifer’s future held haunted her. When Jennifer smiled and said it was okay, it was going to be so hard to smile back.

  Rachel was afraid she was going to Baltimore to help her sister die.

  Four

  Rachel waited until the flight east was at its cruising altitude and the flight attendant had brought refreshments before she reached for the package Jennifer had sent with a note that said: ‘Open on the way here.’ With hesitant hands she tore open the wrapping paper. The box was old and inside it, nestled in tissue paper, was a fabric-bound book whose plaid colors had faded. The words stamped in gold were still readable: Diary and a date. It was Jennifer’s diary from the year she had come to Trevor House. Rachel picked it up with care. She remembered the day she’d given the gift to Jennifer.

  Trevor House

  Two Decades Earlier

  The group assembled in the third-floor library. The room was musty, the few books on the shelves worn, curled, and warped from heat and humidity. It was a forgotten place, the encyclopedia set even several decades old. Rachel was late to the gathering. She found a seat beside Kate as she offered an apology. Jack and Stephen sat in front of the window taking advantage of the only breeze available. Lisa perched on the edge of an old table. The room was a quiet place to gather, and they had made it their own assembling point when they preferred not to have others listen to their discussions.

  “There’s a new arrival today,” Marcus said, explaining the reason for the meeting. “What do we know about her?”

  “A drunk driver hit her parents’ car, killing them both,” Kate replied. The others winced, for a family with two parents was itself rather rare, and losing both at once was a tragic loss.

  “No one wants her?” Stephen asked, his quiet question reflecting what they all felt at the idea.

  Kate shook her head. “No family. Not even a distant cousin. She’s been staying with neighbors. The court heard the case last week, and no one offering to be her guardian came forward.”

  Marcus looked around the room. “Do we want a seventh person in our group?”

  Rachel tried not to catch his eye, not wanting to be the first one asked to offer an opinion. They must have had a meeting like this to decide on her. It felt selfish to suggest that they had to limit the group size at some point if they wanted to keep it special. Marcus and Kate had led the group for years, and Stephen, Jack, and Lisa were settledt in. Rachel was still trying to feel her way. They liked her—why she wasn’t quite sure—but they liked her. She wanted to help the group as her thank-you, and if they kept adding numbers, it would be tough to fulfill her role.

  Lisa leaned over and tapped Kate’s shoulder, whispering something. Kate nodded. “Is she a whiner?” Lisa asked. “We don’t need to add a whiner to the group.”

  Rachel smiled at her roommate. She had never had a more loyal friend in her life, and they had known each other only a few months.

  “If she is, I’m sure she’ll grow out of it around you,” Marcus replied to laughter around the room. “Do we want a seventh person?” he asked again, then looked at her. “Rachel?”

  She wasn’t sure why he had known she was ambivalent about it, but he was making her decide. “Yes.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded.

  “Is that a group consensus?”

  There were more nods around the room.

  “Then the question becomes, do we want her as the seventh?”

  “It would make it four to three, gals to guys. I suppose they deserve the advantage in the basketball games,” Jack offered.

  Kate turned in her chair to smile at him. “You just need another excuse for when we beat you.”

  “Let’s add her,” Lisa said. “She’ll be the youngest of the group. If she has to endure several years here at Trevor House, we ought to at least make it less hard on her than it was on us coming in.”

  “She can be our group project.”

  More laughter met Jack’s pronouncement. “Don’t get too carried away, Jack,” Marcus said. “We’re still working on getting you to grow up. Who does she bunk with?”

  “Put her with Kate,” Lisa suggested. “Kate needs practice at being a mommy.”

  Kate threw a wadded-up page of notes at Lisa.

  “Good idea.” Marcus nodded to Kate. “I’ll handle talking the office into putting her with you. We need to assemble a welcoming kit. Don’t be stingy on items from your stashes.”

  “‘Rachel,” Kate said, “we need a gift.”

  She nodded. “Something pretty but useful. I’ll find it. And I’ve still got wrapping paper left.”

  Marcus stood up. “Let’s meet downstairs at one-thirty to greet her.”

  Rachel had given Jennifer the new diary as her welcoming gift. She opened the small card Jennifer had put in the box.

  Rachel,

  On a day that was one of the hardest and loneliest in my life, you met me midway up the outside steps before I even reached the front door of Trevor House and asked one question: ‘What’s your favorite flower?’ And by the time I reached the third floor bedroom I had been assigned to, the vases were full of carnations. Kate was sitting on her bed reading a magazine. She glanced up and said hi, then pretended to ignore me so I could wipe tears without being noticed. Lisa stopped by to show off a new gerbil she was searching for a place to hide. Pretty jewelry in a box was on the dresser and a stash of cookies were in the nightstand drawer. Stephen brought artwork for the walls, and Marcus—he came with a VCR so I could watch the videotapes I had of my parents. I got swallowed up and made welcome. And the fact that you sat with me on the stairs that first night and just listened to my story—I have never forgotten what it was like to be loved like that. Remember that as you read this diary and share some memories. Jennifer

  Rachel found her reading glasses, slipped them on, adjusted the reading light, and opened the diary and began to read.

  The flight attendant came down the aisle one last time before touchdown, checking trays and seat backs and that people had seat belts buckled. Rachel stowed her items into her briefcase. No matter how much she flew, she would never get accustomed to the disorientation it caused. She had brought one bag and a briefcase, having long ago learned that it was easier to buy what she needed if she ended up staying longer than planned. The plane landed and taxied to a gate. She followed passengers from the plane, Jennifer’s gift protected against her chest.

  Marcus met her by the gate and took her bag. She leaned into her brother’s hug. “She sent me her diary from her first year at Trevor House.”

  “I know.”

 
“I think I cried and laughed the entire flight here.”

  “The headache has your eyes practically crossed.”

  “Add to that I’m hungry.”

  Marcus stood still, holding her, letting people flow around them. He led the family and there was a reason all of them turned to him: Marcus was a U.S. Marshal. He could handle any trouble that came his way. She hugged him, grateful that he was in her life.

  “Kate called. She swung by to see Lisa and the guys. All is quiet on the home front.”

  “Good. I brought pictures of Jack’s ducks.”

  “I’d ask, but you said Jack’s name. They weren’t alive, were they?”

  She giggled. “Rubber ducks. But I’m sure if someone had suggested the real thing, he would have located them somewhere.” She stepped back. “Let’s get to this bed-and-breakfast. What time is Jennifer expecting me tomorrow?”

  “She asked if I’d bring you over to the hospital about ten. She’s got something planned, but she’s keeping it a secret.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “Jennifer? Trust me. She hasn’t changed. She talked me into wearing a tux and tails and taking a special dinner to her friends in the pediatrics cancer ward.”

  “I bet you looked…spiffy.”

  “Shari laughed. Putting my fiancée and Jen together is trouble,” Marcus replied, his voice softening at the mention of his fiancée’s name. Rachel was glad he had found Shari as his partner for life. Someday she was going to have that too. She thought about Cole and wondered what Marcus would say about him. His opinion mattered to her, more than he knew.

  The airport was busy but the parking lots had cleared out. Once seated in the car Rachel opened her briefcase and removed her composition folder for the flood. She clicked on her penlight to make sure she had her to-do list for tomorrow in order. She had a list of calls to make in the morning. She understood the bureaucracies involved in emergency assistance, and just getting people status updates could eliminate a lot of stress.

  “What’s coming up on your calendar?”

  Rachel reached for her day planner. The latch had given way, so she had used sturdy rubber bands to hold it together. “Pretty light. I’ve got a commission meeting in Washington on May 10. Clayton, Georgia, is dedicating a memorial on May 6 to the five who died in the tornado last year. I’m planning to go. On the come-if-possible list are—” she counted—“twelve graduation and three birthday parties. Denver, Chicago, and Miami. I’ll make most of them.”

  “When’s the commission report being released?”

  “July. We’re already passing around drafts.” The Presidential Commission on School Violence had held two public hearings this year and had another two scheduled. She’d been serving on it since December. Kids killed kids. She knew it. She’d counseled kids forced to live through it. But she wished she hadn’t said yes when the president of the Red Cross asked her to serve. It was a tough assignment.

  “The bottom line?”

  “The chain of events leading to a shooting can be broken at a thousand places. But parents, adults, or friends have to intercede. The signs of trouble are there—kids are poor at hiding that kind of pain and anger—but adults and friends often don’t step in for just as many reasons. Shootings will keep happening. A report isn’t going to change that.”

  “Not an easy fact to live with.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  He took her hand and squeezed gently. “Let it go. You’ve only got time to fight one battle at a time.”

  “That from a man whose pager goes off more often than mine.” Rachel returned the notebooks to her briefcase. “I’m wearing out.”

  “And I worry about you. Anything I can do?”

  She rested her head on the headrest. She wished there were. “A vacation would help. A few days of solid sleep. I’ll be able to get both next month.”

  “You said that last month too.”

  “I mean it this time.”

  Marcus slipped a card from his pocket. “I got you something.”

  She took the plastic card he offered her.

  “It’s a guarantee of a room at any hotel in their chain, anytime you need one. The bills come to me, so order room service.”

  She turned it over and laughed at the sticker on the back. There was a badger sticking its nose out of a hole. “I like your gift.”

  “You better use it.”

  Marcus had a way of offering just what she needed when she needed it. “I will. Thanks.”

  Rachel knew hospitals in a way few others outside of staff could. As a trauma psychologist she spent about a third of her life in them—visiting with patients, sitting with relatives, talking with doctors and rescue personnel. When on the job it wasn’t uncommon for her to be the one getting direct updates from the hospital personnel to convey to the families involved. She’d learned what to expect and the questions to ask, but it didn’t make her any more comfortable spending time in one. She carried the family scrapbooks and wondered what Jennifer had planned for their Sunday.

  “Marcus, go ahead and make your call.” His partner Quinn Diamond had paged him as they were coming inside.

  “You sure?”

  “Room 3212. I can find it.”

  “I’ll be up in five minutes.”

  Rachel was relieved to be able to go up on her own. It was one thing to keep a steady expression for Jennifer, another to fool Marcus who saw her just before she entered the room. She knew how critical it was to keep her composure during the first few minutes.

  She found 3212 and leaned around the doorway.

  “Rae!” Jennifer beamed at her and waved her into the room. She was sitting up in bed, a newspaper spread across the blanket.

  It wasn’t the loss of hair covered by a colorful scarf, the jaundice, or the thinness that threatened to freeze Rachel in the doorway. Jennifer looked so incredibly young. Rachel crossed the room to the bedside and hugged her sister, in no hurry to let go. “Hi.” She leaned back, relieved to find Jen’s blue eyes clear of pain. There was joy there. “Marriage looks like it suits you.”

  Jennifer grinned at her. “Tom just went to check on something for me. Sit, Rae, sit. Marcus didn’t tell me a fraction of it.” Rachel eased down on the side of the bed. Jen laid her hands lightly on either side of Rachel’s face and studied her. “The stress is showing. The missing sleep shadows are growing and we need to get some hair color. You’ve got gray hair appearing.”

  “I’ve been working around Jack recently.”

  Jennifer laughed. “That would do it.”

  Rachel tugged a strand. “I’ve been hoping it would come in as a nice white.”

  “Just gray, I’m afraid.” A quiet moment lingered as Jen still held her face. “Don’t worry about something you can’t change. Do that for me?”

  Rachel didn’t have a good answer to that request. “I like to worry.” She was struggling with a new faith that said it wasn’t necessary. It felt so foreign not to worry.

  “I know.” Jen smiled at her. “I love you for it, even though I want you to stop.” She rubbed Rachel’s arms, then nodded toward what Rachel held. “What did you bring me?”

  “Photo albums.”

  “Oh, excellent! The old ones too?”

  Rachel nodded. “I thought Shari might like to see the ones of Marcus as a teenager.”

  “She’ll love it.”

  The door opened. “I found a blanket, but they only had pink, I’m afraid, so we’re going to stand out for a mile.” Tom came into the room pushing a wheelchair. “I had greater success on the pillows and beach towels though. Hey, Rae.”

  “Tom.” Rachel smiled as she turned. She was enveloped in a hug by him.

  “You ready to bolt from this place for the day?”

  Rachel looked over at Jen. “What do you have planned?”

  “An adventure. Bring the albums.”

  “Marcus is on the way up,” Rachel commented.

  “Good. He’s going to get my puppy
for me. Shari is bringing lunch.”

  Tom pushed the wheelchair next to the bed. Jennifer rested her head against her husband’s shoulder, wrapped her arms around his neck, and he carefully lifted her from the bed to the wheelchair.

  Rachel blinked away tears. Jen was no longer walking. It might not be official, but Tom made the move with an ease that said he had done it many times.

  Blanket, pillow, beach towels…Rachel was glad they were getting out of the hospital for a while. She already found herself at her limits and the day had only just begun.

  Rachel had forgotten how relaxing it was to be with her sister. For the afternoon Rachel’s attention barely went beyond the fact that it was a comfortable temperature, sunny, and she was in love with the puppy scampering around her feet. For the first time in months there was peace inside. “He’s wonderful.”

  “You need a dog of your own,” Jennifer said.

  Rachel was already coming to that conclusion. If she couldn’t have kids in the forseeable future, at least she could have a dog.

  Jennifer reclined on a blanket to enjoy the day outside. The Johns Hopkins complex was behind them, this grassy park area held for future expansion. They were just a few of those who had come out to enjoy the day. It was a place of normalcy for those otherwise having to fight against serious illness.

  “My Washington apartment doesn’t allow pets, and the Chicago one—I’m not home enough.”

  “Then it’s time to move.”

  “You make that sound so simple. Maybe next year.” Rachel struggled to stop a yawn. Lunch followed by the warmth of the day was making her sleepy. Marcus’s fiancée Shari was already dozing lightly, a book resting open on the blanket beside her.

  Jennifer’s attention turned to Tom hustling over the grass tossing a Frisbee back and forth with Marcus. “Is my husband good-looking or what?”

  Rachel laughed. “You don’t want me to answer that. You get jealous.”