Beloved Healer

by Bonnie Dee

  Doug descended the steps at the front of the stage, the ones he used when he was ready to go out into the crowd and get up close and personal with the people. With a growing smile on his pink, round face, he strode toward Mason and opened his arms.

  “I can’t believe you’re here! What happened? When you disappeared, I thought maybe you’d suffered some head injury from passing out and didn’t remember who you were or where you belonged.”

  Mason tried on a brief smile. “I knew who I was and decided I didn’t belong with the show. But I apologize for how I quit.”

  Doug lowered his arms without hugging him, thank God. “But you caught up with us again, so I can assume you want your job back.”

  Mason glanced past him at the stage, singers clapping and dancing in place as they sang “Come Home to Heaven and Pull Up a Chair,” techies connecting wires and cables, and colored lights flashing in time to the music. A three-ring circus for Jesus.

  “No. I don’t,” he answered firmly. “Coincidence brought us to the same place. I thought I should come apologize and pay you back some of the money I owe for you covering my hospital bill.”

  “Coincidence or fate? I say the latter. If you come back, we could work out a payment more commensurate with the importance of your position in the show. Let’s sit down and talk about it.” Doug smiled again, and his teeth reflected red light that made his mouth appear bloody.

  “Thanks for the offer, but I’m really not interested. I’ve just come to pay some of what I owe you for the emergency room visit, and I can keep sending payments until it’s covered.”

  Doug’s brow furrowed. “The emergency room care plus an overnight stay was several thousand dollars. I know I said at the time I’d cover it, but it was quite a steep sum. I’d hate to have to bother with any sort of legal proceeding. No need to drag lawyers into it. Besides, I imagine your wages would be garnished till you’re thirty to put a dent in what you owe me. ”

  Mason gritted his teeth and braced for the punch.

  “I have a proposition for you, a way to pay me back all in one shot and wipe the slate clean. We’re set up here for a three-night gig. Do your thing for three nights. Having a real healer will make a huge difference in attendance as word spreads and video clips go viral.” He clapped his hands together. “The show will make a profit, and you’ll pay off your debt. Everybody wins.”

  After the three performances were over, no doubt Croyden would try to cajole him into heading back on the road again, but Mason would say no. Doug was right. This was his chance to pay off that hospital bill all in one shot and walk away with a clear conscience. Plus, the people Mason had come to know while working at the diner would receive real help instead of fakery from a sham healer.

  ““I’d want a signed contract expunging my debt, and I couldn’t do more than a couple of healings each performance. It takes more out of me than it used to.” Like a battery being drained but not recharged. His internal alternator was broken.

  “Absolutely.” Doug nodded emphatically. “Only what you can handle. I don’t want you hurt again.”

  “I didn’t say I’d do it yet.”

  “But you have decided to.” The reverend beamed. “On stage is where you belong, where you can do some real good for a lot of people not only by healing but by giving them faith. You should be proud of the work you do.”

  Then why did it feel like selling out when he reluctantly agreed to do the three shows?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ava had gone without seeing Mason for over twenty-four hours before. It wasn’t as if they’d kept in constant touch since the beginning of their very brief period of dating. Since he didn’t own a cell phone, they’d sometimes gone a couple of days without communicating, but even then she’d been aware of him, close by, only a long walk from her place to his.

  They’d barely had time to become close. She could count on two hands the number of conversations and intimate moments they’d shared. So why did her body ache as if she had the flu and her heart feel like a block of ice in her chest? Why were her limbs numb and heavy and her eyes swollen from last night’s crying jag? It felt as if she’d suffered some sort of amputation. He was just…gone. Gone forever, the energy that crackled between them like a sparks from a welder’s tool was extinguished.

  Knowing she’d never see him again made her crave the sight of his face even more. She wanted, and needed, and hadn’t even told him how she felt. That was her fatal flaw, Ava decided as she picked up a pair of plates with eggs over easy, bacon, and toast—the inability to speak up for herself and ask for what she wanted. If she’d done that, would Mason still be here? Could she have convinced him to stay?

  She plunked the plates on the Formica table in front of Jean Bates and Margo Whacker. The buzz of their conversation didn’t register with her. Over the years, she’d developed a habit of tuning out such chatter rather than gather gossip and spread it as Frannie and Stella Rae tended to do. But before she turned away, several words woke her like a slap to the face.

  “…truly healed. I believe it too. Stacy’s had sciatica for years, but the fella touched her, and she swears she felt this warmth flow through her, and then all the pain in her back and hips just drained away. He’s the real deal.”

  “Ava!” Margo grabbed her wrist. “That guy who worked here. What was his name? People are saying he’s with that evangelist that set up in Brag’s Hollow, and he’s healing people. What do you know about him?”

  “You were close, right?” Jean’s glasses reflected the light so Ava couldn’t see her eyes as she peered up. “Real close, I heard. So, did you ever notice anything when you were with him, or did he tell you anything? What’s the story?”

  Ava ignored the question. “Brag’s Hollow. The revival is in Brag’s Hollow, and Mason is there?”

  “Mason. That was it,” Margo said. “Is he for real, Ava? Because I have this pain the doctors can’t figure out a reason for. I’d sure like to get rid of it. Plus, just to see a man who can do miracles like that. And to think he was right here in Waller, washing dishes. A simple man serving the people—like Jesus!”

  Jean rolled her eyes. “That’s a stretch. But hell, I’d like to see him in action too. I’ll go over with you tonight if you want.”

  “In Brag’s Hollow,” Ava repeated dumbly. “Where?”

  “That big church by the highway.” Jean cocked her head and studied Ava. “Were you really with him? What was it like? Did you know what he could do, or did he keep it a secret? Did you know he was working for that evangelist?”

  She didn’t reply, just bolted from the table to the back of the restaurant and all the way out the rear exit. She didn’t stop running until she’d made it outside and drawn in a lungful of air, cooling the growing anger inside her.

  Mason had gone back to the man he said he despised. He was right there, a town away, and doing the one thing he’d told her he didn’t dare do—heal people. He’d claimed to be afraid the power was draining the life out of him, but he’d cured Stacy Bentworth’s sciatica and God knew how many others last night. Yet he hadn’t even tried to help Bryan, just took one look and said he couldn’t do it.

  With every thought, every log added to the fire, Ava grew more pissed off. She wanted to howl at the sky and stamp around kicking things. All her swallowed-down irritation with her teenage brother and aching disappointment in her useless mother combined together with her shock at learning Mason had left her only to go back to his old life. The threads of frustration, disillusionment, and anger snarled together into one huge ball of rage.

  The screen door banged, and Frannie came puffing over. “Ava, are you all right? The way you tore out of there! Are you sick? Did you throw up?”

  Ava whirled around. “What?”

  “I heard about Mason joining that revival. He’s such a dick! The way he just left you and went off to…what…join the circus?” Frannie stormed, then lowered her voice. “Are you pregnant? Is that why you ran out of there?
”

  “WHAT?”

  Frannie shrugged. “Well, I thought maybe…”

  “No, I’m not pregnant,” Ava snapped. “I’m just pissed off.”

  Her friend’s already wide blue eyes went even rounder. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that. Well, good! You have a right to be. The way he just—”

  “Mason didn’t owe me anything. Neither of us made any promises,” Ava told Fran, but also reminded herself. “If he wants to fix everybody in Pike County, it’s his right. He can go where he wants and do what he wants.”

  “Sure, but you’re still mad. You can be furious. You don’t always have to be so calm and reasonable. Let it out.” Frannie put a hand on her arm. “He never offered to heal Bryan, did he?”

  Ava pulled away. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Except it does. It matters a lot. It’d be different if Mason couldn’t do it, but he didn’t even try. And you thought he was in love with you.”

  “He never said that.” Ava walked toward the diner. “I don’t want to talk about this. I’m going back to work. People are waiting for their motherfucking eggs.”

  Fran chugged after her. “Let ’em wait. They don’t need the cholesterol anyway. Listen, I’ll go over there with you tonight. We’ll take Bryan. Go to the front of the line and see what Mason does. He can’t refuse a kid on crutches right in front of everybody, can he?”

  “No.” Ava stopped and stared down Frannie with fire in her eyes. “I won’t do that. I won’t beg, not even for Bryan. As far as I’m concerned, this is over. I don’t want you to ever mention Mason Reed’s name to me again.”

  Frannie nodded. “Okay. I swear. But Ava, if you need to talk, or rant, or get falling-down drunk and howl at the moon, I’m here for you. All the times you’ve listened to me… But I never felt like you confided in me like that. I want you to know I’m your friend, not just some annoying chick you work with.”

  Great! Now her eyes were welling with tears. Ava wiped them away. “Thanks, Frannie. Of course, we’re friends. And I never thought you were annoying.”

  Frannie cocked her head and lifted her eyebrows.

  Ava managed to laugh. “All right, almost never.”

  By the time she got back inside and delivered another table’s worth of plates, Ava had her emotions more or less under control. The trick was not to think about Mason. At. All. She focused on waiting tables with an attention to detail that went way beyond what the job required. She ignored the looks, the whispered conversations broken off whenever she drew near. Let the bored people of Waller gossip about her and Mason. It didn’t mean anything. She was steel. She was Teflon. Nothing moved her and everything rolled off her.

  She’d let Mason touch emotions inside her she’d kept locked away, but she could rebuild the wall with very little effort.

  *

  It was dark by the time her shift ended. Ava drove home and pulled up in front of the warmly lit little house in a row of friendly, if shabby, houses. She knew every neighbor, the rhythm of their days, their kids’ and pets’ names, and random facts about their lives. This was her community and her home. She didn’t need anything more to make a full life for herself.

  She entered the house and called out to let Bryan know she was home. There was no answer. The kid probably had his headphones on and his music blasting.

  A quick glance in the living room showed Mom already passed out on the couch in front of the blaring television. She’d gotten an earlier start than usual. The bottle of vodka on the coffee table was already nearly empty.

  Ava sighed. No dinner waiting, and she was starving. She tried not to eat at Cozy’s. Deb gave the staff a discount, but they still had to pay. Plus she wanted to share her meals with Bryan, give her brother the semblance of a normal sit-down family dinner.

  Often, he did the cooking and had supper waiting for her, but not tonight. She rummaged through the fridge and decided they needed to eat all the random leftovers. A taste of lasagna, a dab of Jell-O salad, a small container of franks ’n’ beans—Bryan would want that one, and—jackpot!—a carton of fried rice from the Chinese restaurant in Brag’s Hollow. Ava pulled everything out along with some plates from the cupboard.

  As she heated the food, she was proud of herself for not once thinking about Mason or the fact that she could see him tonight if she simply drove over to the Hollow.

  “Bryan!” she called up the stairs. “Come on. It’s time to eat.”

  Still no answer. Maybe he wasn’t even home. He might have made peace with Garrett now that, according to Bryan, Garrett had been dumped by the illustrious Sophie Haines. Middle school love. It was as fickle as…well, as adult love apparently, Ava thought sourly.

  She trudged up the stairs and knocked on his door, waited in case he was in the middle of something—he was a teenage boy, after all—then tried the door. Unlocked, it opened at her touch.

  “Hey, turn down the music,” she said as she entered, but the boy lying on the bed didn’t respond.

  “Bryan?” She hurried over and touched his shoulder, jiggled gently, then shook harder. “Bryan!”

  His eyes opened, and he looked up at her groggily. “What?”

  She could breathe again. “Are you all right?”

  “I was sleeping, duh. What time is it?” he rasped.

  “Seven thirty. I heated up some leftovers for dinner. Franks ’n’ beans.”

  “Not hungry. Let me sleep.” Bryan yawned.

  “Hard day?” Ava brushed his hair back, and the heat from his forehead warmed her hand. She pressed her palm to clammy skin. “You’ve got a fever. It feels pretty high.”

  “Headache too. I took something for it.” He coughed and rubbed his eyes. “It’ll go away soon.”

  She studied his pale skin, the sheen of sweat that made his fine hair cling to his forehead. Even his lips appeared pale, and his eyes were dilated as they gazed up at her. “You don’t look good at all.”

  Ava went to the bathroom for a thermometer and a glass of water. Her mind raced ahead to what came next. With Bryan’s weakened respiratory system and heart, it wasn’t safe to assume he could be treated at home. Last winter when she’d made that mistake, a simple cold had flared into a severe case of pneumonia overnight. So, was this worthy of an emergency room visit, or could she wait until morning and call Dr. Bogarde?

  She checked Bryan’s temperature before allowing him a drink. One hundred and two. Not quite panic time, but not good at all. “How’s your chest feel?”

  “A little congested,” he admitted and coughed again.

  “How long ago did you take the pain reliever? How many milligrams did you take?”

  “I don’t know. Two tablets of that aceto-whatever. After I got home from school, so I guess I can have another dose now.”

  “And it didn’t touch your fever? Hon, you’re going to have to get up. I think we should go to the after-hours clinic.”

  Bryan groaned. “I don’t want to. Just let me sleep, and I’ll be better tomorrow.”

  “I’d rather go now than have to in the middle of the night. Come on. Throw on some sweats and we’ll go.”

  He grumbled and whined and moved even slower than usual, getting his sweats on over his underwear. When he took hold of his crutches and lurched to his feet, he swayed. Ava grabbed his arm and kept him upright all the way downstairs.

  “Taking Bryan to the clinic, Mom,” she yelled as they went through the living room. Her mother murmured and shifted position but didn’t wake up.

  By the time Ava got her brother into the car, he was sweating heavily and his breathing was raspy, reaffirming her decision to get him medical treatment. There were three hospitals in Pikesville, but the city was over an hour away—even longer in winter. A twenty-four-hour clinic north of Brag’s Hollow serviced the local hill and valley towns. That was where Ava headed. She looked over at Bryan’s slack face in the glow from the dashboard. His eyes were closed and his breath wheezed between his lips.

  Last yea
r’s pneumonia had nearly taken him from her. She wasn’t being overly cautious to freak out a little and drive faster.

  “I feel like crap,” Bryan croaked without opening his eyes.

  “You look like crap, poor guy. We’ll be there pretty soon.”

  But not soon enough for her liking, and now they were passing through the outskirts of Brag’s Hollow. The fairgrounds flew past, a few chain restaurants, the high school… Soon they’d be past the Hollow and back in the dark countryside, still another twenty minutes, and a few more hills and valleys away from the medical center.

  Off to her left, halfway down the hollow, glowing with lights to draw the attention of people from miles around, stood Doug Croyden’s revival tent. Erected on the grounds of the Evangelical Brotherhood Church, it nearly equaled the permanent structure in size.

  Bryan inhaled with a phlegmy rattle that sounded like an old man with emphysema. He exhaled and gave a little whimper.

  Mason. She needed Mason’s help, and she needed it right now. Ava braked hard and turned off the county route onto the road that led to the church.

  “What?” Bryan opened his eyes. “Where are we going?”

  “Don’t worry about it. Just get some rest.” She didn’t want to explain, and the fact that he closed his eyes again without asking more questions told her how awful he felt.

  The parking lot of the church was filled, and a man was directing the overflow traffic into the Dairy Swirl parking lot across the road from the church. Ava was caught in a line of cars that inched along. She cursed silently, but it was too late to change her mind and continue on to the clinic. Trapped in the river of cars, she was carried along to her destination. She hadn’t counted on basically everyone from every Podunk town to show up for a revival. Would she be able to get inside the tent? And if she managed to drag poor, exhausted Bryan all the way there, would she even get a chance to see Mason?

  But the biggest question of all was—could he help her sick brother?