Patt Marr - The Doctor's Bride

Dr. Zack Hemingway waited at yet another red traffic light, the seventh since he’d been counting. He could see the Terrace Hotel from here, and he could imagine his mom sitting alone at the Love into Action conference, wondering if he would show up for the last workshop before lunch or if he’d show up at all. He’d said he would meet her for breakfast, but an emergency surgery had changed that.

The day after his dad’s funeral three months ago, when she’d mentioned how much she wanted to attend the Love into Action conference here in L.A., he’d wanted to shout. Not only was Mom making plans for a new life, he could give her a gift that didn’t involve him “settling down,” which was Mom-talk for saying she wanted grandkids.

The light changed and Zack inched forward in the heavy traffic. Another five minutes and he’d be sitting in the workshop she’d chosen. It had to do with the global needs of children. They’d show those heartbreaking pictures of little kids with their tearful eyes and ask for donations. He would rather write a check, skip the conference and drive Mom up to Santa Barbara for a day of fun in the sun.

Finally, Zack pulled into the Terrace Hotel drive, tossed his car keys to a parking valet and took off at a jog. What was the workshop called? Loving Children—Face to Face?

He hurried toward the right room, straightening his tan suit jacket. Mom said the color looked best with his hair, a nondescript brown cut so short it couldn’t possibly matter. He tightened his blue tie, a present from her because it matched his eyes. Would she notice he’d made the effort?

Finding the Clayton Room was easier than spotting Mom. The room was packed, and every chair seemed to be taken. There she was—second row, center—sitting beside an empty chair. She must have had faith he would get here.

He slid in beside her and said, “Sorry, I’m late.”

“But you’re not,” she said, giving him one of her sweet smiles, complete with dimples. “It’s just starting.”

From her seat near the stage, Chloe stopped praying long enough to glance around. It looked as if every chair was filled. Bile rose in her stomach.

“Hi Chloe, I’m Marilyn James, your workshop moderator.”

The lovely woman extending her hand looked familiar. Most of the moderators were Hollywood celebrities, but Chloe was too out of touch to recognize her.

“Are you ready?” the woman asked with an encouraging smile.

Chloe opened her mouth to say she was fine. When absolutely nothing came out, the moderator gave her an understanding look and took one of her hands.

“It’s only a little stage fright. Let’s pray about it, Chloe.”

Chloe closed her eyes and gripped the woman’s hand.

“Father God, You’ve given Chloe experiences that we need to hear about today. Strengthen her in every way. Help her remember that she speaks for You, and give her the assurance that You will have the right words for her to say when she needs them. In Your Son’s name, amen.”

“Amen,” Chloe echoed, feeling more like herself. How could she have let herself get so worked up when this was all about the Lord and His children?

“I’m going to introduce you now. Okay?”

“Perfect. Thank you, Marilyn.”

She headed for the dais, and Chloe told herself that all she had to do was stay calm until she made her opening remarks. Then the house lights would dim and she would be in the dark, talking about her friends on the big screen. The children were the story.

“Good morning,” Marilyn began, speaking into the mike. “Our speaker grew up right here in Beverly Hills. At the age of twenty, she’d graduated magna cum laude from UCLA and completed her course work for her Ph.D. Her travels began as research opportunities, but turned into long-term humanitarian service.

“From news reports, you’ve heard of devastating natural disasters all over the globe, but our speaker has been there, on the scene, setting up the care of children separated from their parents.”

The longer the woman spoke, the less calm Chloe felt. Her heart raced, her breath came in short, rapid spurts and she couldn’t think of anything she’d planned to say.

“This workshop will present information on short-term international service and give suggestions for long-term ways to show love close to home. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome home our speaker…Chloe Kilgannon.”

The audience applauded and Chloe stood. If she put one foot in front of the other, she could make it. Had anyone ever died of stage fright? Would she throw up first or just pass out? Would there be a doctor in the house?

Zack watched the speaker approach the podium and wondered if there could be two Chloe Kilgannons. Carmen and Cate said he’d met their sister, but he couldn’t have forgotten this attractive, poised woman. She stood at the podium, looked across her audience and smiled. Wow! What a great smile.

“She’s lovely, isn’t she?” his mother whispered.

It was on the tip of his tongue to say she was terrific, but if he didn’t check that impulse, no doubt Mom would find a way to introduce him to Chloe. He’d rather handle it on his own.

Chloe held on to the podium with both hands just in case her knees gave way. She was that nervous. Nearly every seat was taken, which was amazing considering she was a nobody. They hadn’t shown up to hear a famous speaker, so that had to mean they wanted to make a difference for the Lord. That soothed her nerves and gave her the boldness to begin.

“When God puts a passion in your heart for His children,” she said, the words coming out with surprising ease, “your life is enriched beyond measure. The last eight years of my life have been all I could have asked for, even though the living conditions were far from the luxury you and I take for granted. I’ve come to define luxury as warm water to bathe in and cool water to drink, clean air, a change of clothing, a blanket, an umbrella, a toothbrush, a picture of a loved one.

“I’ve discovered that luxury such as we know becomes a cocoon—a comfortable place that prevents us from experiencing the exhilarating joy of helping people who really need us—children who need us, children like these.”

Chloe nodded to the projectionist. The house lights dimmed and the first picture of her little friends appeared on the screen. Just as she had hoped, standing here in the dark, looking at children she loved, her nerves vanished and she wasn’t scared anymore.

Zack’s eyes adjusted to the dark, and pictures of children flashed across the screen behind Chloe. In the ambient light from the projection, her slenderness gave her a youthful appearance but she had to be in her late twenties.

“You’ll notice that most of these children are well dressed and well nourished. Their physical needs have been attended to.”

None of the photos stayed on the screen more than a few seconds, but the quantity of them made a big impact.

“Many of these children lost their homes, their family members and all that was familiar, but mixed in with their pictures are those of children who live right here in the U.S.A. They live in your neighborhoods. They may lack for nothing materially. They might even have family, yet they share a common denominator. Do you see it?”

The pictures went on and on. As a doctor, Zack had seen misery on many levels and had assumed he was beyond shock, but he’d been wrong. Looking at these children caught him off guard. From the silence in the room, he wasn’t the only one.

Kids who knew they were being photographed usually rose for the occasion and showed plenty of personality, no matter how sick or miserable they were, but not these kids.

“They look lost, don’t they?” Chloe said softly, as if she hated to speak at all. “You may have already guessed that the common denominator is the lack of love in their lives. No government can guarantee love for its youngest citizens, yet, without it, there’s no joy, no hope for a better tomorrow.”