Leigh Bale - The Healing Place

She chuckled, the sound tripping his heart into double-time. “No fancy restaurants?”

“Let’s just say I prefer relaxing in my own home.”

“Me, too,” she conceded.

A long paused followed and Emma tilted her head, seeming to study him. “It seems so strange to see you comforting a little girl. I never envisioned you with so much compassion, Mark.”

Ah, that hurt, but he couldn’t deny it. “Right now, Angie’s most important.”

Her brow crinkled with thought. “I’m glad to hear that. If it helps any, I like the new you.”

Somehow her words made him want to be even better. For her.

He took a step. “Emma, I hope we can be—”

Angie returned with a Tasmanian Devil sticker planted smack in the middle of her forehead and holding a purple lollipop in her fist.

“Hey, Dad, look what Sonja gave me.” She lifted the sucker and pointed at her forehead.

He rubbed her bristly head gently where the new hair growth was starting to come in. It rasped the palm of his hand. “Yeah, that’s great. Did you remember to say thank you?”

Angie turned to face Sonja. “Thank you. We get to go for pizza now. Dad said he’d take me to lunch.”

“Good for you,” Sonja said. “I’d better get back to work.”

The nurse slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her. Emma removed her glasses. Heavy lashes fringed her eyes, her skin soft and smooth. If not for the weariness in her gaze, Mark would have thought she hadn’t aged a day since high school.

“Just remember, no pepperoni,” Emma warned. “It messes with some of the drugs you’re taking.”

Angie groaned. “But pepperoni’s my favorite.”

Emma’s lips curved into a smile. “Try sausage or Canadian bacon, instead.”

“Yuck!” Angie’s face contorted. “That’s grown-up stuff. Kids like pepperoni.”

Emma’s lips twitched as she suppressed a laugh. “Okay, just plain cheese. Kids like cheese, don’t they?”

“Yeah, that’d be okay, I guess.” Angie brightened, but then grouched, “No pepperoni, no raspberries, no peanut butter. How’s a kid supposed to live like that?”

Mark chuckled. “Don’t be dramatic. I think you’ll survive without pepperoni for a year, until we’re finished with the chemo.”

Emma’s gaze slid toward the door. “Well, I’ve got patients waiting.”

“Hey, Dad, can Dr. Shields come to lunch with us?”

Mark lifted his gaze to Emma. Her mouth hung open and she stared at the child with surprise.

He read Emma’s body language. Stiff and unyielding, everything about her told him she wanted him to go away and leave her alone. Then she lifted her head and he saw the longing in her eyes, a depth of emotion that told him she wanted him to stay.

She seemed so lost. Maybe they both were.

“Emma, are you——” He swallowed. “Are you free for lunch?”

Mark didn’t need any more complications in his life, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. It was just lunch. No big deal.

“Thanks, but I can’t. I’ve got to work.” Emma choked the doorknob with her hand. “Don’t forget to see Darcy at the front counter to set up your next appointment in one week.”

And she was gone, just like that. Mark told himself he should be relieved. Instead, he felt empty inside.

Taking Angie’s hand, Mark led her out of the examination room and through the long hallway to the front reception counter. Nurses passed back and forth, calling for patients, prepping vials of medicine and IV drips.

Two nurses and three office staff workers stood at the counter, surrounding an elderly Hispanic couple. Mark spoke Spanish fluently and it was difficult not to overhear the conversation. The man and woman sounded upset, their voices escalating until Emma came down the hall to see what the commotion was about.

“What’s going on?” Emma asked the receptionist in a disapproving voice.

With just one look, Emma sent most of the office staff scurrying back to their desks. That left Darcy to face the fallout.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Shields, but Mr. and Mrs. Valdez don’t speak English, and she seems worried about her treatment,” Darcy said.

“Where’s Maria?” Emma asked. “She can translate.”

“She took some blood samples over to the hospital.”

Frustration was apparent on Emma’s face. Engrossed in the conversation, Mark didn’t notice Angie until too late. The little girl sidled over to Mrs. Valdez, her large eyes filled with sympathy as she reached up and took hold of the woman’s hand.

“It’s okay,” Angie soothed as she stared up at Mrs. Valdez’s wrinkled face. “You can use my EMLA Cream, and the needle poke won’t hurt a bit.”

Angie handed the tube of cream to Mrs. Valdez and Mark’s heart turned over. What had he done to deserve this sweet little girl? Truly he had been blessed. Even though she didn’t understand what Mrs. Valdez was saying, Angie knew instinctively it was the woman who was sick, not her husband.

“Excuse me, but I speak Spanish,” Mark interceded. “Perhaps I can help translate?”

Emma’s eyes glowed with relief. “Yes, I would appreciate it. First, tell Mrs. Valdez not to be worried. We only want to help her.”

Emma waited patiently while Mark translated for Mrs. Valdez. He could see the earnest concern written on Emma’s face and heard the soothing tone of her voice as she explained what Mrs. Valdez could expect from her treatment. Mark’s respect for Emma grew as he interpreted questions and responses back and forth. In a matter of minutes, both Mr. and Mrs. Valdez relaxed and smiled. Mark realized then that Emma really did care about her patients, though she seemed to fight it.

“Gracias.” The woman nodded at Mark and Emma before she squeezed Angie’s hand.

“She’s ready,” Mark told Emma.

Accompanied by Sonja, the Valdezes shuffled to the treatment room, leaving Mark and Angie with Dr. Shields.

“I didn’t know you spoke Spanish, but I’m sure glad you came to my rescue,” Emma said.

“Yeah, I took it in college and spent a semester abroad in Spain. It comes in handy for my Hispanic clients.”

The tension eased from her shoulders. “Thanks for helping out. I owe you big-time.”

He smiled and sank his hands into his pants’ pockets. “No problem. I’ll collect from you on Tuesday, when I bring Angie in for her next treatment.”

Emma glanced at the little girl, a momentary look of panic in her eyes.

“Well, I need to get back to work.” Emma headed down the hallway.

“Yeah, thanks again, Emma.”

Boy, he was getting mixed signals. Something about Angie bothered her. What could it be? He tried to tell himself Angie’s welfare was all that mattered right now. Somehow he wished he dared hope for more.

Inside her office Emma stared at the closed door after she’d left Mark. Whew, what a rotten situation. If he hadn’t been here to translate for her—

Mark had always had a controlling nature. This time it had been a blessing. With Maria out of the office, Emma couldn’t deny she was grateful Mark had been here. Perhaps they could schedule Angie’s appointment at the same time as Mrs. Valdez’s treatment next week. If Maria was away from the office, Mark could translate again.

Emma opened the door and hurried out to the front reception desk before Mark left. She posed the question to him, then waited for his rejection. In high school, he hadn’t been interested in helping with fund-raisers or other worthwhile causes. Would he help with this?

“Sure,” he agreed readily. “I’d be happy to do it.”

His generosity stunned her. Time and fatherhood had really changed him. Maybe his newfound belief in God had also made a difference. He had suffered a divorce, like her, and Emma found herself hoping he didn’t lose his child, too. She wouldn’t wish that on her worst enemy.