by Nancy Rue
“Absolutely,” he said.
She paused again, and her eyes went back to the window. I found myself holding my breath and hoping she’d say yes. I liked something about this woman. Maybe the fact that she had actual flesh on her bones, though I had her beat by at least thirty pounds. Or maybe the absence of the praise the Lords and bless your hearts I’d been drowning in. Which brought to mind—
“I do have one more question for you,” I said. “And I guess legally I can’t even ask it, but Sonia is going to want to know . . .”
“If I’m a believer.”
Wesley folded her smooth brown hands around the coffee mug and leaned in. Her eyes wouldn’t let me go.
“Am I a Christian the way Sonia Cabot thinks of herself as a Christian? No, I am not. Do I take myself before the Lord Jesus Christ every day and ask Him to show me how to live that day?” She smiled, an elegant, velvet thing that spread magnificent lips and brought her cheeks up to her eyes. “Yes, ma’am, I do.”
Sully stopped stirring his coffee. I thought I heard him whisper, “Amen.”
What Sonia would say, I had no idea, but I nodded at Wesley.
“Let’s go meet our patient, then,” she said.
Sully watched Wesley as they passed through the house toward Sonia’s suite. She looked around, but her gaze remained clinical rather than awestruck, and her lips moved slightly as if she were making a note to self. He’d be interested to see how this turned out.
Still, he hesitated outside Sonia’s door. Lucia’s bow mouth wasn’t knotted quite so tight now, but he’d already learned that if he edged in on her too far, she closed down like a winter boardwalk.
Wesley strode right into the room.
Lucia stopped behind her and looked over her shoulder at Sully. “You’re coming, aren’t you?” she said.
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
Sonia was posed on the chaise longue, with a Bible in her lap. Though she still twisted her fingers, she seemed relatively calm otherwise.
Wesley nodded to her. “Ms. Cabot, I’m Wesley Kane.”
“You’re the physical therapist.” Sonia’s voice was tight.
“Yes, ma’am, I am.” Wesley pulled an ottoman close to the chaise longue and sat on it. She looked every bit as queenly as Sonia. “I understand you don’t think you need my services.”
Sully saw Lucia hedge slightly toward the bathroom door. He wanted to tell her not to bother escaping. This wouldn’t take long, one way or the other.
“I don’t want to offend you,” Sonia said. “But, no, I don’t think I need what you have to offer.”
“And why would that be?”
“Two reasons. One, I am going to be healed by God. It’s that simple. And two, because my healing is going to take place according to His timing. In the meantime I am giving people an opportunity to accept me as I am—just like this.”
Sonia swept her hands past her face. The sun streaming in through the opening in the drapes brought her scars into bas-relief. Sully hadn’t noticed them being that pronounced even the day before, and he wasn’t sure what it meant.
Wesley frowned deeply. “Wouldn’t it be nice if people could do that?”
“They will.”
“Ms. Cabot, have you looked in a mirror without that mask?”
“I’ve had a glimpse, yes,” Sonia said. “But what I see is only temporary.”
“But what you’re asking people to accept now is not a pretty sight.” Wesley nodded toward Sonia’s face. “In fact, I’d say it scares most people half to death.”
Sully watched Sonia carefully. Her hands went still on top of the open Bible as she stared hard at Wesley. He wasn’t sure how far Wesley could push this.
“Did you know that it’s hard for a person with facial burn scars to even get a job taking orders at McDonald’s?” Wesley said. “It’s not because they can’t do the work. They’re the same people inside that they were before they got burned.” She leaned in. “It’s because customers won’t look at them. Makes them uncomfortable. They’ll go on down to Wendy’s rather than face that.”
“I’m not selling hamburgers, Miss—Kane, is it?”
Sully could tell Sonia was groping for her charm. She wasn’t finding it.
“I know what you’re selling,” Wesley said, “and I want to be clear before we go any further that I’m not buying it.”
Her voice was low and firm, and it held Sonia in place for the moment.
“Miracles do happen, I know that,” Wesley said. “But I don’t work with patients who sit around waiting because they think God would never let them down. I don’t care how much faith you have, God doesn’t heal everyone who believes.”
Sully bit back an amen.
“Now, I am talking about physical healing. I know the good Lord heals everyone emotionally if they stay connected. But if you aren’t going to work at this because you think God’s going to make it all right without you doing a thing about it, then you’re right—PT is not for you.”
Sonia gave her a condescending laugh. “Wesley—may I call you Wesley?”
“You can call me anything you want, and you’ll be calling me some pretty ugly things if we do work together. I’m going to be your best friend and your worst enemy.”
“Do you believe in the power of deep prayer?” Sonia said.
“I do. I also believe you need more than prayer to heal. People are always waiting for God to do what God is waiting for them to do.”
“Jesus said, ‘Apart from me you can do nothing . . . if you remain in me . . . ask whatever you wish and it will be given you.’ ”
“I didn’t say you can’t pray while you work. I’ll be praying right along with you. And the minute that healing starts to happen, we’ll give all the glory to God together.”
Wesley’s voice didn’t change. Sonia’s was climbing up the scale one disturbing note at a time.
“It takes courage to get up and do that work,” Wesley said, “and some of the things I’m going to ask you to do, I promise will bring you to your knees.”
She stopped. Sonia became an impervious wall.
“Lucia,” she said without looking at her sister. “Would you please escort Miss Kane out? I won’t be needing her.”
Wesley appeared unscathed as she stood up. “I’m sorry we couldn’t reach an understanding on this,” she said. “I would like to be part of your healing.”
“Then pray and believe,” Sonia said. “Lucia, could you—”
“No,” Lucia said.
Sully let himself stare. Lucia pulled away from the wall, cheeks aflame.
“Don’t go anywhere yet,” she said to Wesley. “Sonia, you are making a big mistake. This lady can help you.”
Sonia’s eyes glittered. “You’re going to betray me too?”
“Take it however you want, but I’ll tell you this. If you refuse to let her help you, then I’m out of here. Permanently. I’m going home.”
Sonia let out a hard laugh. “You wouldn’t leave me.”
“Try me. And if I go, Sonia, I am taking Bethany with me.”
Sully tried to keep his face expressionless. Holy crow.
“They wouldn’t let you,” Sonia said.
“You mean the people I’m going to tell that you have grossly neglected your child?” Lucia marched across the room and put her face close to Sonia’s. “God’s not taking care of her either, Sonia. Somebody has to, and that person is me, wherever I am.”
Silence ate up the air in the room. Sully watched Sonia try to achieve her power posture, but her face was drawn forward and held against her neck by a stiffened thickness of skin. It left her spine a question mark before her sister. He glanced at Wesley, who merely waited with unmistakable admiration in her eyes.
“On my terms, Miss Kane,” Sonia said.
“Depends on what they are,” Wesley said. “I have terms too.”
“I would want to do this ‘therapy’ in the late afternoon, when my other work is done. I’m sta
rting an entirely new ministry that is going to take a great deal of time.”
“That doesn’t work for me. I have to pick up my son at preschool at two.”
“Bring him with you. We would love to have him.”
Sonia tried the twisted smile, and the attempt to save her pride stabbed at Sully’s heart.
Wesley’s face was incredulous. “I can’t have him with me when I’m working, Ms. Cabot.”
“Lucia can take care of him.”
Wesley turned the scandalized eyes on Lucia.
“I’m fine with that,” Lucia said. “Whatever it takes.”
She appeared to have spent all the fortitude she’d stored up.
“And,” Sonia said, “do not think that this means I have given up my faith that God will do what you cannot.”
“I have no problem with that.” Wesley pressed her lips together, then said, “I will let you know.”
She nodded at Sonia and Sully—and gave Lucia a look loaded with things she intended to say when they were out of the room.
They barely made it that far before Wesley was, quite literally, in Lucia’s face. “Before I bring my baby here—”
“I will take care of him like he was my own,” Lucia said.
“You going to let him bully you like you just let your sister do?”
Sully crossed one arm over his chest and covered his mouth with his other hand. It was hard to hide a satisfied grin.
“James-Lawson is the light of my life.” Wesley pulled her eyes into slits. “I can’t let you take care of my son unless you are doing it of your own volition. He deserves that.”
“I am doing this for my niece,” Lucia said.
“How old is she?”
“She’s a precious six years old,” Lucia said.
Wesley gave her a slow series of nods. “I guess that’s a reason to back down with her.” She nodded toward the door. “But just so you know, I won’t be doing that.”
“I hope not,” Lucia said.
The blue eyes Sully had seen turn to the floor so that she could remain invisible appraised Wesley Kane right back. With that kind of devotion to a child, he knew she’d throw herself in front of a train if she thought it would make a difference.
He just hoped he could get her to have even half that much love for herself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
By the time Wesley’s car pulled into the driveway the next afternoon, the last thing I wanted was to babysit. I’d spent the last thirty-six hours feeling like the only waitress in Sonia’s personal restaurant. She barely spoke to me except to place her order.
Miss, could you treat my face at 6:00 am so I can be ready to work by 7:00?
Would you do a load of laundry and tidy up my office? Didi doesn’t seem to have shown up today. Or Bryson either, for that matter. I don’t want the yard to go to seed.
Oh, and when you have a chance—I know you’re busy—could you call my accountant and have him transfer funds? I’m going to need some accessible cash for this new venture.
I suspected she was punishing me for blackmailing her into working with Wesley, but I could deal with that—for Bethany.
And at least Sonia had reconsidered her decision to fire Marnie and replace her with me. After a two-hour, behind-closed-doors “conversation,” the girl emerged, eyes tear-swollen, and said she would give it one more chance.
“She’s been so good to me,” she told me as she polished off the bag of chips I’d broken into. “I just don’t want to abandon her.”
She gestured toward me with a chip between her fingers. “But I wouldn’t be staying if it wasn’t for you. I wish Chip was still here too. The two of you could whip this place into shape.”
She’d had me until then. When Chip called me an hour later, I let my voice mail pick it up. He simply said, “Twenty-five more days.”
Even without having to run around with a BlackBerry, I was exhausted when Bethany and I crossed the foyer to answer the door. She pressed against the mirror, face pensive. When I’d told her someone was coming to play, her only response had been, “It isn’t Judson and them, is it?”
If it was, she and I were both going for the potato chips. And the graham crackers. And whatever else we could find.
But when I opened the door, I was greeted by a chocolate drop of a four-year-old with enormous eyes and a mouth just like his mother’s. He put out a small hand and said, “I’m James-Lawson Kane. It’s nice to meet you.”
I melted all over the front porch.
“It’s nice to meet you, too, James-Lawson.” I squatted and gave him my hand. “I’m Lucia.”
“That will be Miss Lucia to you.”
I looked up at Wesley. Her “mother look” was firm, with a side of twinkle.
“Yes, ma’am,” James-Lawson said. He peered behind me. “Hi, I’m James-Lawson Kane. It’s nice to meet you.”
I turned around to find Bethany extending her own chubby hand to reach his. They shook solemnly.
James-Lawson looked up at his mother, who nodded. “Good job, son,” she said.
He went back to Bethany. “Are you her kid?” he said, pointing at me.
My precious niece blinked her blue eyes at him and then at me, and my heart split. She didn’t even know whose kid she was.
“They belong together, son,” Wesley said.
“Do you have a daddy?” James-Lawson said to Bethany.
She shook her head.
“Me neither. You wanna play?”
Bethany nodded, and he shrugged.
“Then let’s go,” he said.
And they were suddenly off—the boy-child tearing across the lawn, the girl-child running after him with an energy I didn’t know she possessed in her quiet pink chubbiness.
Wesley looked at me with her rich-oil eyes. “Now that they know everything that’s important to know about each other, I think they’re going to be just fine.”
When I got to the duo, they were standing midway between the house and the river. James-Lawson had his hands on his almost nonexistent hips.
“Miss Lucia,” he said, “I want to go down there.”
He pointed to the water. Beside him, Bethany folded her arms so tightly across her chest, her hands were in her armpits.
“What do you want to do down there, James-Lawson?” I said.
“Well,” he said, hands still firmly planted, “I can’t go swimming, because you know what?”
“No, what?”
“I don’t have my swimming suit with me.”
“Oh well, there’s that.”
“And I just ate. You can’t go swimming if you just ate.”
“Right.”
He gave an elaborate sigh. “The only thing left is to go down there and find stuff, I guess.”
“What kind of stuff?” Bethany said.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I ain’t seen it yet. Oh, wait.” He frowned at himself. “I haven’t seen it yet.”
His eyes went to me. “I’m not ’posed to say ain’t.”
Back to Bethany. “You wanna go find stuff with me?”
By the water? James-Lawson, my friend, you are about to be sorely disappointed.
But Bethany’s face did something I had never seen it do. The somber cheeks dimpled, and the red bow of a mouth untied into a smile that went all the way to her eyes.
“Yes,” she said.
“Then why are we just standing here?” he said.
He took off at a dead run, but before I could get my mouth open to stop him, he did an about-face and put up his hand so I could see his cream-colored palm.
“Don’t worry, Miss Lucia,” he said. “I won’t go near the water till you get there.”
“I appreciate that, James-Lawson,” I said.
He bolted again.
Bethany whispered to me, “Isn’t he cute?” and took off after him at a delighted trot.
James-Lawson was indeed cute, as was she as they spent the next two hours “finding stuff.” The di
scoveries included enough small limestone rocks to rebuild the pyramids; a family of Canada geese that talked back as James-Lawson, and eventually a giggling Bethany, honked at them; and an entire flotilla of magnolia blossoms. Though James-Lawson informed her how much fun it was to stand in the water and make boats out of them, she wouldn’t go quite that far.
I suggested we have a snack.
“Do we have to go inside to get it?” James-Lawson said.
“We don’t have to go inside,” Bethany said. “I have these.” She pulled a bag of Gummi Bears from her shorts pocket.
“Where did you get those?” I said.
“Didi got me ’em yesterday. At the movies.”
So imaginative, that Didi.
Bethany put the bag into my hand and dropped her chin to her chest. “I’m not supposed to have them.”
“Why not?” I said.
“My mom said I couldn’t have candy.”
“She told you that?” I said, hopefully.
“No. Yvonne said she wouldn’t want me to have it.”
James-Lawson raised his hand.
“Yes?” I said.
“You know what? My mama says I can have candy on special occasions. Is this a special occasion?”
“I don’t know what that is,” Bethany said.
My heart broke cleanly in half.
“It most definitely is,” I said. “And before I eat Gummi Bears, I like to divide them by colors.”
They watched, gaping, as I selected one of each from the bag and lined them up on a rock. I made the yellow one dance.
“Why did you do that?” Bethany said.
“Because it’s more fun to play with them before you eat them.”
James-Lawson snatched up a red, and then cast his enormous eyes on me. “May I please have this one?”
“You may,” I said.
He put it between two fingers and wove it in the air, his mouth making a noise that sounded for all the world like a helicopter. Bethany watched, a puzzled look on her face, and then daintily picked out a green one. I could feel her stiffening.
“Mine dances,” I said. “James-Lawson’s flies. What do you want yours to do?”