by Leigh Bale
Mark sat on the bed, holding Angie on his lap. Dressed in black slacks, he also wore a white shirt and yellow tie. He must have come from work. Clean-shaven, he had combed his hair back. He looked good.
Angie curled against his chest, her flowered hat lying next to Mark’s thigh on the bed. She sniffed and wiped her nose, her eyes red and puffy.
Emma’s heart tore into a thousand pieces.
“What’s the matter, sweetie?” Emma asked. “Didn’t the Emla Cream work today?”
Mark gave Emma a reassuring smile. “It worked fine. She’s upset because the rest of her hair is falling out. It had just started to grow back.”
Angie hiccupped and rubbed her eyes before she pointed at her right temple. “See? My braid fell out. The kids in my neighborhood run away when I go outside. They say I’m a sick-o and they don’t want to play with me. Carla’s gone back to Nebraska, so now I have no friends at all.”
Sympathy filled Emma. It must be so difficult for Angie to live with this illness.
“Would it do any good to have me come and talk to them and explain that your illness isn’t contagious?” Emma asked.
Why had she offered that? Dumb, dumb, dumb!
Mark shifted his weight and gave a sad smile. “That’s very generous, Emma, but I don’t think it’s necessary. I can explain it to them.”
“Will my hair grow back, Emma?” Angie asked with a sniffle.
Emma.
“Angie, you shouldn’t call an adult by their first name,” Mark said.
“It’s okay, Mark. I give Angie my permission to call me Emma, if it’s all right with you.” Somehow, she didn’t mind.
Mark nodded and Angie mustered up a small smile.
“Now, back to your question. Of course your hair will grow back, honey. You’re beautiful, even without your hair. Some top models shave their heads on purpose. Many people consider it quite lovely.” Emma read between the lines. Angie longed for her mother’s approval. Without her hair, she believed her mother wouldn’t love her.
Angie’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Absolutely. Remember what I told you about the drugs killing good things as well as bad?”
Angie nodded, her eyes still filled with tears.
“Well, one of those good things is hair. As soon as we finish your chemo, your hair will grow right back, maybe even thicker than before, and I doubt you’ll be able to see any of the scars. Until then, are you interested in wearing a wig?”
“A wig?” Angie crinkled her nose with repugnance.
“Yeah, I can get you a referral for a nice wig that will look quite natural.”
Angie shook her head, her upper lip curled.
“Okay, then you can just pretend you’re a sumo wrestler. Of course, we’ll have to fatten you up some more.”
Angie wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “A sumo wrestler?”
Emma envisioned this frail child stomping around in a muscleman crouch with a fierce look on her face, wearing what looked like a baggy diaper. “Sure! Why not?”
Angie hopped off Mark’s lap and posed in the exact posture Emma had just imagined, minus the diaper. The sight of the skinny little girl stooped and flexing her scrawny muscles and puffing out her cheeks was hilarious. Emma threw back her head and laughed.
Mark chuckled and shook his head. “Now, that’s a scary scene.”
Angie giggled and came over to hold out her pinky finger to Emma. “Pinky promise my hair will grow back?”
Locking her pinky with Angie’s, Emma gave a gentle jerk. “Pinky promise.”
Angie threw her arms around Emma’s neck and hugged tight. Unprepared for the contact, Emma flinched. Then, she squeezed the child back. A rush of emotion washed over Emma.
“Oh, thank you, Emma,” Angie said. “I love you.”
Emma almost dropped her clipboard. Like a pointed dart, Angie’s arms and words sent a shot of heat straight to Emma’s heart. She caught the warm, sweet smell of Angie’s skin and had to close her eyes as wave after wave of sentiment pounded against her.
Warning chimes sounded in Emma’s head.
She pulled Angie’s arms away and smiled at the girl. “Now, you go out and see what surprise Sonja has in her special stash while I talk to your father, okay?”
“Okay!” Angie opened the door and went out into the hallway.
“Thanks for that,” Mark said, his eyes shining. “I can’t tell you how much she yearns for a woman’s approval.”
“Maybe Denise will visit her soon.”
Emotion covered his face and his voice caught as he looked away. This was the strong, in-control Mark Williams from high school? Somehow, Emma felt very close to him, and she didn’t like it.
The room was suddenly very hot. She needed out—now!
Emma stood and moved toward the door. It was best to end this conversation. Her other patients never confided so much to her. Yet, Mark and Angie were somehow special and she found herself thinking about them at all times of the day. When they were gone, she missed them, for crying out loud!
“I’ll see you Thursday night at the Make-A-Wish meeting,” she said as she stepped away.
“Yeah, I’ll be there.”
She hurried down the hall to another examination room where her next patient waited. Sounds of people talking in the treatment room filtered over the low hum of machinery.
Mark walked past, heading toward the front receptionist desk. Emma knew he would schedule Angie’s next appointment before he left.
Taking the file from the holder affixed to the door, Emma read it to bring herself up to date on the next patient’s case. As she stood there, Christy’s voice reached her from the front counter.
“Did you ask for Friday off?”
Emma glanced up and saw Christy and Tom, two of her nurses, standing by the reception desk, their backs toward her. Mark stopped beside the counter and waited for Darcy to get off the phone so she could schedule Angie’s next appointment. Angie stood close by, twirling a green top she had gotten from Sonja’s stash of toys.
“Nah, I don’t dare ask The Ogre for any time off,” Tom responded to Christy’s question. “The last time I did, she almost took my head off.”
“Ogre?” Christy gave a sarcastic laugh. “Can a woman be an ogre?”
Tom chuckled. “Okay, ogress. At least, I think she’s female. When’s the last time you asked Dr. Shields for time off work?”
“Hmm.” Christy lifted a hand to rest on her hip. “I don’t remember, but I’ve sure worked a lot of overtime.”
“Yeah, we all have,” Tom agreed. “I’d quit if she didn’t pay us so well.”
Emma saw Mark shift his weight, a frown pulling at his brows. He had heard every word. So had Angie. The little girl’s mouth pursed in disapproval as she peered at Christy over the top of the counter.
Angry heat crept up Emma’s neck and face.
Spying Emma, Angie came down the hall toward her. Panic replaced the anger as Emma stared at the child.
Sonja came from the supply room and flashed a stern look at Tom and Christy. “Get back to work, please.”
The two turned and saw Emma standing there, and ducked their heads as they scurried away. The cowards.
“Emma?” Angie came to stand just in front of her.
“Yes?” Her tight voice was an indicator of her strangled throat.
“Why did they call you an ogre?”
Fury and embarrassment burned inside Emma’s stomach when she thought of her staff calling her names in front of the patients.
A tinge of doubt shadowed her mind. Maybe it was true. It was a revelation to find out exactly what her employees thought of her. Obviously, they didn’t like her much.
How could she blame them when she didn’t like herself?
Anger mingled with hurt when she considered what she should do about it. She opened her mouth, but no words came from her parched throat.
“Come on, Angie. It’s time to go,” Mark called as
he held out his hand.
Angie’s brow furrowed with persistence as she stared at Emma. “Well, I don’t think you’re an ogre. I love you.”
Angie went to her father and Emma stared after her. She wanted to weep, but crying was for weak people, and she couldn’t be weak—couldn’t show that she was anything but strong. She wouldn’t have survived losing Brian and David and still be able to run her busy medical office if she hadn’t been strong.
Her gaze locked with Mark’s. His eyes crinkled with—
Pity!
She hardened her eyes. He could keep his sympathy. She wanted to yell at him to go home and leave her alone. She didn’t need his compassion or his sweet little daughter who insisted she loved her. She didn’t need anyone!
Who was she kidding? All the sleepless nights, prowling the confines of her small apartment, wishing she had someone to talk to, someone to confide in.
But she hated being hurt even more.
Clenching her jaw, she went back to work. Later that evening, when all the patients and staff were gone and the whirr of machines silenced, Emma sat alone in her office. As was her routine, Sonja came in to say good-night before she left for the day.
“Do you need anything else, Dr. Shields?” Sonja asked with a smile.
“Just one thing.” Removing her glasses, Emma took a shaky breath and let it out slowly. “Tomorrow, I want you to direct the office staff to use more discretion before calling me names in front of the patients.”
Sonja’s face reddened. “I’m sorry, Doctor. I’ve already had that discussion with them. Don’t pay any attention to it.”
“Yes, well, I doubt it inspires much confidence in our patients. If Christy and Tom can’t keep their feelings to themselves, they can leave. No one’s forcing them to work here. And I would appreciate it if you stop scheming with Larry Meacham to get me involved in things like Make-A-Wish. I don’t appreciate your meddling and I don’t need more things to do.”
Sonja gaped at Emma, hurt filling her eyes as she chewed her lower lip.
Emma stared right back, silently daring Sonja to deny the accusations and—
Sonja looked away, a sad light glimmering in her eyes. Was she crying?
“Yes, you’re right, Doctor. I have no right to interfere in your life. And I’ll speak with Tom and Christy again, to make certain they understand what you expect.”
“Thank you.” Emma pushed the spectacles up on her nose and picked up a file, pretending to thumb through the paperwork.
The words blurred before her eyes.
Sonja pivoted to go but hesitated. Emma threw her a quick look. Yes, there definitely were tears glistening in Sonja’s eyes.
Sonja spoke in a tentative voice that grew stronger. “Emma, I never told you that I promised Brian I’d look after you. He made me promise I’d do everything I could to help you get over his death. That little boy wanted you happy. It made it easier for him, knowing I’d do what I could to help you go on living.”
A rush of tears filled Emma’s eyes and a hollow sob escaped her throat.
“Late at night, when he couldn’t sleep because of the pain, Brian spent hours talking about you. I think that’s the reason he lasted so long—he knew how much it would hurt his mommy when he died.”
Emma couldn’t respond. Her throat felt strangled with tears.
Sonja took a deep, trembling breath. “I care a great deal for you, Emma. You should get out more, meet nice men like Mr. Williams, get married again, and raise a family. You used to be different when Brian was alive. You were happy. Brian’s the one who died, not you. And if it gets me fired for saying so, someone needs to tell you.”
Turning, Sonja didn’t wait for Emma to say anything before she left the room.
Emma stared at the closed door for several moments, then tossed her pen and glasses aside as she sat back in her chair. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even think.
“Well, I guess I deserved that,” Emma muttered to herself.
She stared at the mountain of files stacked in neat rows on her desk, not really seeing it.
Forget it. She was sick of work and weary of this office. She was tired of sorrow.
She dug her purse out of the bottom drawer of her desk, then stood up. She flipped off the light, locked the door, then hurried out to her car. As she fumbled with the keys, her hands shook. Finally she unlocked the door, got in, then drove out of the parking lot.
A hoarse moan rose in her chest as she entered the freeway. Tears poured down her cheeks. A scream of pain tore from her throat. Not physical pain, but an excruciating torture of the soul. As if she were being pulled apart from the inside.
Again and again, she screamed until sobs racked her body and she had to pull over so she wouldn’t cause an accident.
Ogre!
Yes, that’s what she felt like inside. A horrid, ugly monster.
If Mark Williams could face a nasty divorce and the possibility of losing his daughter, why couldn’t she face tomorrow with a bit of dignity, warmth and compassion?
Oh, God, please help me! If You’re really there as Mark says You are, help me find my way. I’m so lonely. I’m so lost.
It was the first time she had prayed since the night Brian died. Sitting alone in her car, on the busy freeway as cars zipped past, she felt suddenly—
At peace.
A calm sensation enveloped her like a warm blanket. Maybe she imagined it. It couldn’t be real.
Her heart lightened and tears of joy poured down her cheeks. Somehow, she didn’t feel quite so lost or abandoned anymore. Deep inside, she knew Mark was right. She’d hidden herself from the Lord out of anger and hurt, but it didn’t change the truth.
God lived. He was there, loving and caring for her. Waiting for her to return to Him.
“What have I become?” she cried with remorse, leaning her forehead against the steering wheel.
Feeling wretched didn’t give her the right to make others miserable, too. When she remembered all the sharp words and curt reprimands she had thrown at her office staff over the past years, she wanted to hide in shame. Before Brian’s death, she had always been so kind and patient with others. Like that night at Mark’s house when she had taught Angie to make gravy. But now, she was an ogre.
Something must change.
Whatever happened next, she wanted to be kinder, more generous. That didn’t mean she would start dating, but maybe it was time to give Tom and Christy a day off. They’d earned it, even though they were smart-mouthed kids. And maybe she’d ask Darcy to start planning a summer barbecue for the office staff and their families. Maybe this year, they’d have a Christmas party. They’d never had one before. And why not?
Because laughter might crack The Ogre’s face.
They said laughter healed wounded hearts. Emma had laughed more the past few weeks since Mark and Angie had come into her life than she had in the past two years since Brian’s death.
She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, feeling like a reformed Scrooge. A slightly hysterical giggle bubbled up inside her. What a fool she had been, hoarding the kindness in her heart like a shroud of death.
No, not Scrooge. Just an embittered woman who had lost her way. She didn’t like the person she had become.
Time for a change. Setting limits was okay. She could be nice without becoming close to others.
Or could she?
She wiped her eyes, blew her nose, then pulled her car back onto the freeway and drove home.
Somehow, Emma’s resolve made her stronger. With Sonja and Mark’s examples, she could stand to live again. To feel. To hope.
How ironic that the boy who had broken her heart in high school was mending it back together piece by piece.
She could repay him by trying to heal his precious daughter.
Emma clutched the steering wheel tight and mouthed another prayer.
Please, God, don’t let me fail this time.
Chapter Eleven
“Here’s those
reports you asked for, Doctor.”
Emma looked up and found Tom standing over her, holding a stack of manila folders jam-packed with papers.
Emma took the reports and set them on her desk. “Thank you.”
He turned to go.
“Um, Tom? I understand you’ve been hoping to take a week off this summer to go camping with your family.”
He paused beside the door, his ears reddening. “Yeah, but, I don’t really need to if—”
“I think it’s a wonderful idea, Tom. You’ve worked hard and deserve a break. Why don’t you take two weeks? Just submit your request in writing to Sonja.”
Emma looked down at the manila folders and opened one of the reports, pretending to read it.
“Uh, thanks, Dr. Shields. Wow! I really appreciate it.”
Surprise and appreciation filled Tom’s voice. He left her office, pulling the door closed. Emma heard his unmistakable whoop of delight as he made a hasty retreat.
Joy speared Emma’s heart. She had almost forgotten the contentment it brought when she made other people happy. Perhaps there were additional changes she could make.
She reached for a notebook and pen, determined to start right away.
Mark led Angie into the main hallway of Emma’s office. It was seven-thirty in the morning and Angie was the first patient of the day.
Looking up, Mark saw Tom standing just inside the break room holding a coffee mug in one hand, a newspaper in the other. The door was slightly ajar. Though Mark couldn’t see her, he could hear Darcy’s voice as she spoke to Tom.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into her. She’s sure different.”
The air smelled of the customary scent of antiseptic mingled with freshly brewed coffee. Though Emma didn’t drink coffee, she kept it on hand for her patients and employees.
“Yeah, she even gave me two weeks off to go camping with my family.”
“Well, she’s got me planning a barbecue for the office staff, their families and some of our patients at Fernandez Park in two weeks. And Sonja mentioned year-end bonuses for all the employees.”
Tom’s brows quirked at this news. “Bonuses? Wow!”