As the hour grew later, it became clear that Morgan had stood him up. It gnawed at his pride that Doctor Clay Parmenter had allowed his desires for a beautiful face and exquisite figure to override his judgment, and for the first time to influence a professional decision. He felt his anger rise, his tanned and athletic face flushing the deep shade of crimson his wife often teased him about.
His cell phone rang, startling him. Clay looked expectantly at the caller ID—it wasn’t Morgan calling. “Hello, Darling,” he greeted his wife cheerfully, careful not to sound disappointed. “No, I haven’t eaten yet, Barbara. As a matter of fact, I’m at your favorite little French restaurant, the one on Water Street. Yes, my meeting ended earlier than planned and I was just about to call you, would you care to join me?”
***
The Coles’ home was quiet and dimly lit. Morgan had a blazing fire roaring in the large, white stone fireplace that dominated the spacious, pastel living room. She sat down to gaze at the handiwork of her flaming masterpiece, pulling her pink French terry cloth robe tightly around her as she gazed into the fireplace where flames leapt and encircled the logs in a frenzied dance. The dry wood sizzled as the fire devoured it, reducing the logs to red-hot embers that glowed like lava at the bottom of the fireplace.
She sipped idly from a crystal goblet of burgundy wine and let her tense body sink into the soft comfort of their new, fawn-colored suede couch. Morgan was alone; Marcus was at a business meeting somewhere and had not mentioned when he would return. She was relieved to be alone—alone with her guilt and shame over the way she had coerced and deceived Clay Parmenter into doing her will. Marcus knew her better than anyone, and she needed time by herself to knock her conscience back to that point where what happened didn’t affect her; at least not so that it would be obvious. She needed time to stuff her feelings into the deep, dark pit she had built in her heart, where over the years a lifetime of hurt, pain and despair had been buried there: buried, but not forgotten.
Morgan adjusted her position on the spacious couch, drawing her legs beneath her and tucking her cold, bare feet beneath the hem of the robe. She imagined Clay was seething because she hadn’t shown up at the restaurant and frowned; relieved that her phone hadn’t rung but uncertain why he hadn’t called. She wondered if she should fear him. The older man had pursued her for months, practically panting every time she was near him and undressing her with his eyes. Morgan had played along, flirting subtly and using her beauty to get what she wanted even though she had no intention of allowing anything to happen. Despite the indifference she and Marcus currently experienced, Morgan loved Marcus—only Marcus—and accepted the present problems between them as collateral damage due to their having a terminally ill child.
Morgan’s thoughts turned to her parents who had somehow managed to remain together, despite the tragedy that had struck their own family when she was Angela’s age. Her mind’s eye focused on the foreboding dark skies of a New England winter, the snow falling silently to form a white blanket on the ground as the hearse made its way to the small Waterford, Connecticut cemetery. She recalled the sounds of the snow crunching beneath the wheels of the long, white Cadillac as it carried them along to the burial site. She had never forgotten the heart-wrenching, muffled cries coming from behind her mother’s black veil, or the constant sound of her father clearing his throat.
***
Jackson Cole, Marcus’ younger brother, was home on winter break from Florida State University. Like Marcus, Jackson was tall, blond, and his eyes mimicked the same clear green shade of his own. Jackson was in his final year of college, where he was majoring in theatre and film. An internship with a famous company of puppeteers in New York was waiting for him to begin after graduation in June. He had driven up from Cincinnati earlier to visit a few old friends and had decided to stop in to see his only niece before heading to his brother’s house.
Jackson paused in wonder outside his niece’s hospital room, intrigued by the happy sounds of giggling. It was the light, carefree, almost musical laughter that could only come from a little girl’s heart. He couldn’t help but smile at the infectious sound before he peeked around the opened door to Angela’s room. Marcus had told him that despite Morgan’s reluctance to have their daughter at home, Angela was doing quite well.
As he leaned his head around the open doorway to peer into the room, Angela noticed him and squealed with delight. “Uncle Jack! Uncle Jack!”
“Hello, princess!” Jackson greeted her. He noticed a tall, handsome man dressed in aqua-colored scrubs standing beside Angela’s bed. He looked to be in his late twenties, with a full head of blond hair.
“Brownie, this is Uncle Jack!” Angela told her companion. Her eyes were bright with laughter, cheeks reflecting the rosy glow any child in good health would present.
Jackson extended his hand toward the other man as he entered the room. “Hi. I’m Jackson Cole, Angela’s favorite uncle. Did I hear Angela call you ‘Brownie’?”
The other man laughed as he shook Jackson’s hand. “Hello, I’m Kevin Browne.” He pointed to the laminated picture ID hanging from a lanyard around his neck. “The children who can read see the ‘e’ at the end of my name and call me ‘Brownie’. Actually, everyone has always called me that.”
Jackson nodded. He couldn’t help noticing that the other man had the clearest eyes he had ever seen. There was something about him, a comforting something about the man, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was.
“I’ll leave you with your uncle for now, Angela,” Brownie said as he smiled down at his patient.
“Aw, Brownie, do you have to go?” Angela pleaded, pouting.
“Yes, I do. I have other patients to see but I’ll be back later to check on you.”
Angela sighed before she nodded. “I’ll see you later, Brownie.”
“Yes, you will, although I hope you’ll be sound asleep by then.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jackson said as the man turned from Angela’s bedside and started toward the door.
“It was my pleasure,” Brownie returned sincerely as he left the room.
“Well, I’m glad to see you aren’t lonely,” Jackson said as he hugged the little girl close. He planted a playful kiss on the tip of her cute, turned-up nose. “So what’s my little princess been up to lately?”
Angela’s expression grew serious as she looked up at Jackson with her big blue eyes. “I want to go home, Uncle Jack,” she said softly, but with a determined tone, mature beyond her years, to her voice. “Brownie says that I’ll be able to!”
Jackson knew that his brother was having trouble convincing Morgan that Angela was well enough to come home. He hated to see her get her hopes up. “That must mean that you’re feeling much better,” Jackson said as he sat in a chair beside her bed. He held her small, warm hand in his.
“Oh, I am!” Angela said and smiled once more. “Don’t tell Mommy, but I actually ran today!”
Jackson couldn’t help but smile. “You ran? My goodness! Why were you running, Princess?”
“Brownie and I went to see a movie, even though I saw it the other day with Nurse Kenni. On the way back he asked me if I could run. I said I could, so he let me.” She leaned back against her pillow. “It wasn’t far, but it felt good to know that I can run now if I want to.”
Jackson wasn’t sure of what to make of this Brownie person, or of Angela reportedly running in the hospital. She looked so happy, her eyes bright, her coloring radiant and healthy, that he wanted to believe that she was truly doing as well as she seemed.
“I’m sure that made you feel great,” Jackson agreed. “Did you get out of breath when you ran?”
Angela shook her head. “No, but I didn’t run very far.”
“I see.” Jackson was curious about the male nurse. “Brownie is your new friend?”
“Brownie isn’t like Nurse Kenni, he’s what they call a man nurse. He’s very special, Uncle Jack.” She remembered that she had to keep him a secret.
How she wished she could tell, certain that her uncle would love to know who Brownie really was, but she knew that God was watching and she didn’t want Him to think she couldn’t be trusted.
“I’m glad that you have a special friend, Princess. I’m sure despite all the people here who love and take care of you, it must get lonely for you sometimes,” Jackson said softly. He knew that his mother was more than willing to let Angela come to Cincinnati to live, but he was convinced that somehow, Morgan would have to stop being so selfish, and allow Angela to come home.
Angela smiled up at Jackson. “Know what, Uncle Jack?”
“What, Princess?”
“I’m saying a special prayer so that I’ll be able to go home for Christmas.”
“That’s something you would really like, isn’t it?” Jackson already knew the answer to the question.
“I want that more than anything!” Angela sighed as she stifled a yawn, and a warm and sleepy feeling settled over her.
Jackson didn’t want to raise her hopes up, but felt compelled to say, “I’ll be praying that very same prayer.”
Angela yawned again, this time making no attempt to hide it. She rolled onto her side and then looked sleepily up at her uncle. “Please pray for Mommy. She’s so sad. I want to see Mommy smile again. Mommy is so pretty, like a doll with a glass face, but she doesn’t smile anymore. Do you think she forgot how to? Can that happen to grown-ups?”
Jackson felt a lump choke his throat as he listened to the surprisingly wise words spoken by his young niece. “You know what, Princess?” He touched Angela’s hair, slightly smoothing her shiny blonde bangs away from her forehead just a bit.
“What?”
“I think your friend Brownie is right. I think you’ll get to go home for Christmas. Won’t that be a dream-come-true for you?”
Angela nodded, a smile curling her dusky-pink lips. “Do you think Mommy will be happy? Do you think God can fix her smile, Uncle Jack?”
Jackson thought about it for a second or so before he smiled back at her. If there was anything he could to do help make it happen, he silently vowed to try. “Yes, I think so. I think you’ll go home, Princess, and I think you’ll see your Mommy smile. Okay?”
“Okay!” Angela smiled. “Goodnight, Uncle Jack. I love you.”
“I love you too, Princess.”
Jackson watched as his precious niece closed her eyes, and still squeezing his hand, drifted off to sleep. He swallowed hard at the flood of emotions being around Angela brought to the surface. Despite his faith in God, he struggled at times to see what good there could be in a child—any child—to have leukemia.
Lost in his thoughts, Jackson did not notice Marcus enter the room until he spoke.
“Hey, bro.”
Jackson turned toward the sound of a familiar male voice and saw Marcus standing in the doorway. While Jackson and Marcus Cole were brothers with a family resemblance, the younger of the two found very few similarities between them. He attributed some things to his being more than a decade younger, of growing up in a slightly different world.
“She just fell asleep, Marcus,” Jackson told his brother and gently freed his hand from Angela’s as he leaned forward and planted a kiss on her sleeping face before getting to his feet and walking toward his brother.
Marcus smiled. Jackson was his only sibling, and as far as he was concerned, a different breed of Cole. It wasn’t that he found Jackson’s passion for making movies or his disregard for social “stuff” (as the younger Cole termed it) unacceptable, but it did demonstrate their differences. Marcus would more likely be found on the business end of the movie industry, not the creative process it entailed.
“Thanks for visiting her tonight, Jack,” Marcus said softly and with genuine affection, as the two men embraced and patted each other on the back in manly fashion. “I tried to get here earlier, but there was an accident on the Interstate. How does she seem to you?”
“Happy, healthy, beautiful; she’s an incredible kid, Marcus.” He cleared his throat. “And forgive me if I’m sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong, but she should be home.”
Marcus planted a delicate kiss on his daughter’s forehead before he and Jackson left the room so as to not awaken Angela with their voices.
“I heartily agree,” Marcus conceded in a firm voice, noting the flash of surprise in his brother’s eyes.
The two men stood in the corridor. “You do? You’re saying you agree with me?”
“Yes.” Marcus smiled slightly. “I realize I haven’t been a tower of strength during Angela’s ordeal.”
Jackson frowned at Marcus’ choice of term. “It’s an illness, Marc, not an ‘ordeal.’ And it’s been made worse because Morgan can’t face having a sick child, and because you’ve been unable to put your daughter’s well-being before your very spoiled wife’s! If you ask me, Morgan is an ordeal!”
The words came out harsher than Jackson intended, however; they were out of his mouth before he realized it, and there was nothing he could do to take them back, even if he had wanted to—which he did not.
“Say what’s on your mind. I can take it.”
Jackson ran a hand through his longish, brownish blonde hair. “I’m sorry; that didn’t come out right. You don’t need any additional grief in your life, least of all from me. I’m sorry, man.”
“No, I think it came out exactly as you intended—that’s okay. You spoke the truth, so there is no need to apologize. I’m a big boy, and I’ve grown some pretty thick skin over the years. You’re not the first person to express displeasure over something my wife has said or done.”
Jackson pressed on, speaking from his heart. “Marc, Mom wants Angela to live with her and Dad, because it’s breaking her heart that Morgan won’t let her go home. While Mom’s heart is in the right place, Cincinnati isn’t where your daughter belongs. Being at Mom’s is better than a hospital, but she needs to be in her own house, her own room!”
Marcus placed one hand on his brother’s shoulder, smiling at Jackson’s responding look of bewilderment. “Yes, Mom’s heart is in the right place—it always is. And bless her heart; she’s never said anything ugly about her daughter-in-law, even though I would understand if she did. That’s part of what makes our mother the wonderful, loving woman she is. Angela deserves to come home, and she is going to just as soon as I can speak with Doctor Hastings to make the necessary arrangements.”
“Seriously?” Jackson longed to believe him. “What about Morgan?”
Marcus shrugged. “She’s a grown woman. It’s time for her to start acting like one.”
The two men walked down the corridor. Many of the children were asleep in their rooms, some with parents who sat at their bedside, wearing worried, exhausted looks on their faces. Visiting hours for non-family members had ended, but Brannan’s Point Pediatric was never deserted, no matter the time, day or night, and exceptions about visitation were granted all the time.
“Are you driving back to Cincinnati, or do you still feel like hanging out with your brother?” Marcus asked, as they reached the door.
Jackson hesitated. “If there’s going to be a dramatic scene between you and Morgan, I’d rather drive back to Mom and Dad’s.”
Marcus opened the door, letting in the frigid pre-Christmas air that blasted past them to infiltrate and conquer the warmth of the heated corridor.
“There won’t be a scene,” Marcus assured him as they stood outside on the sidewalk. “Besides, I need your help with something.”
“Like what?” Jackson zipped his leather jacket and shoved his hands as deeply as possible into his pockets. After attending school in Florida, he was no longer used to the frigid air that flooded Ohio from Canada and the Great Lakes. He shivered as the wind instantly chilled him from head to toe. “Damn, it's cold!”
“Do you still have that way with cats you’ve always had?”
“Cats?”
Marcus laughed. “I’ve got Lovebug in the car and he’s no
t too happy. There are a whole lot of angry wails and hisses coming from the carrier. He’s always liked you; maybe you can help calm him down when we get him home.”
Jackson laughed heartily as he imagined Lovebug—who hated cars—serenading his brother during the ride from Cincinnati. “If you sprung Angela’s cat, you must be serious.”
“I am, Jack. Angela will be home—and soon.”
“Wow! You’re really going to do this, aren’t you?”
Marcus laughed. “Hey, why do you think Lovebug consented to come home with me? You can’t lie to a cat, they know!”
Chapter 7
Kenni was surprised to find Doctor Parmenter waiting for her at the nurses’ station when she arrived for work the following morning. She took a deep breath at the sight of him and did her best to put her personal, somewhat injured feelings aside. It was not commonplace for him to be wandering around in her section of the hospital, rumor had it that he rarely associated with anyone outside his exclusive, executive circle. Kenni had never seen him on her floor and wondered what had brought him there. He seemed almost self-conscious to Kenni, and she noticed that his gaze never settled in any one place, simply scanned his surroundings as if seeking an escape route. Having seen how the folks in the executive world lived, the term “slumming” came to mind at the sight of him looking uncomfortable and out of place.
Clay Parmenter wore what could be assumed to be a high quality, and most likely a custom made gray suit other men would envy, over a sparkling, white shirt with a crisp, dark pink tie. It was his eyes, so cold and icy, that disturbed her and she found them foreboding and difficult to look at. Holding his gaze, looking into those glass-like shards of jagged blue ice, chilled her to her core.
BROWNIE: An Angel's Visit Page 9