Leigh Bale - The Healing Place

Darcy set the appointment time and Mark left with Angie. Emma stood beside the reception counter for just a moment, remembering Mark’s gentleness as Angie received her injection. With aching tenderness, he had held his child close, kissing her, speaking soothing words in her ear.

He seemed so different from the flippant, egotistic boy he used to be. For one insane moment she considered what it might be like to get to know him all over again.

Emma bit her lip, fighting the soft feelings that suddenly overwhelmed her. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t get involved with Angie or her father. Yet, here she was remembering every detail of her encounter with them and feeling sentimental about a man she hadn’t seen for fifteen years.

Next week, she would let Sonja handle Angie’s injection on her own, then pop into the examination room long enough to answer any questions they might have. She was going to put as much distance between herself and Mark Williams as possible.

Renewed confidence steadied her nerves and she went about her business. By four o’clock that afternoon, she had enough time to go into her office and make a few phone calls.

“Sonja, who is Don Yearwood?” she asked, trying to decipher Darcy’s hastily scrawled note. “It says he’s from the Make-A-Wish Foundation. What does he want?”

“I think he’s the director of the Northern Nevada chapter,” Sonja supplied. “I’m not sure what he wants. Should I check with Darcy? I think she’s still here.”

“No, he probably just wants a donation.”

Emma dialed the number.

“Hello, Dr. Shields. Thanks for returning my call,” Don Yearwood’s voice greeted her after she identified herself.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Yearwood?”

“Well, I’ll get right to the point, Doctor. Your name has come up on several occasions and you were highly recommended to us by Larry Meacham. He’s on the board of directors for our Sacramento California chapter and he thought you might be willing to serve on the advisory committee for the chapter here in Reno.”

Larry Meacham again. She couldn’t help but feel honored, but the guy was wreaking havoc in her life. First, he sent a pediatric patient to her, now this.

“Oh, I thought you just wanted a donation.” Emma’s voice sounded wilted.

Don Yearwood’s scratchy laugh echoed in her ear. “Well, money is always nice, but we were hoping you might be willing to serve, as well.”

It felt like her heart dropped through the floor. Every muscle in her body tightened. If she agreed to his request, she’d be expected to mingle with other people, give of her time and expose herself to other people’s sorrows.

Could she do it?

Don cleared his throat. “We’re already planning our annual barbecue and frequent flyer mileage fund-raiser for the end of August. We were hoping you might be willing to participate. It’s only a few months away. The board’s meeting this Thursday evening to discuss more plans. Would you be willing to help?”

Emma twisted the phone cord tight around her index finger. “Um, what kind of time commitment would it entail?”

“The advisory committee meets once a week, and the fund-raisers and activities are usually scheduled for evenings and weekends. Would that interfere too much with your work schedule and family life?”

She had no family life. Except for her medical practice, she had nothing at all. Not even church. She was too angry at God to worship him.

“No, that schedule should work fine. We can try it out—for a while.”

“Great! I’m sure the other members will be delighted. I’ll let my secretary know you’ll be there.”

Don gave her the address and time of the Thursday meeting and she hung up, her hands shaking.

Well, she’d done it now. First Angie, now the Make-A-Wish Foundation. She felt strangely excited by the possibilities. Thursday night, she’d get off work by six o’clock and go somewhere besides her lonely apartment. She’d get to do something besides read medical reports and stare at the television as she ate dinner by herself.

“Well?” Sonja poked her head in the office. “What did Don Yearwood want?”

Emma explained.

“Wow! That’s a real honor,” Sonja said. “I’m glad they realize what an asset you would be to the committee.”

Emma doubted Sonja’s words. She felt apprehensive about Mr. Yearwood’s invitation.

That night, when she got home, Emma went directly to her bedroom, lifted her son’s picture from her dresser and told him all about her day. “I don’t know what I would have done with Mrs. Valdez if Mark Williams hadn’t been there to bail me out. And though I’m a bit nervous about the Make-A-Wish thing, I’m also kind of excited to help kids like you. Maybe it’s time I got out more.”

Yes, it’s time.

It was as if someone whispered in her ear. Peace enveloped her and she knew she was doing the right thing. Somehow, she felt more alive than she had since before Brian’s death. It was almost as if he were there beside her, urging her to live again, cheering her on.

As she looked at Brian’s picture, she didn’t feel like crying. Instead, she felt like smiling and sharing. She kissed the glass before putting the picture back on top of her dresser.

Thursday came quicker than Emma expected. The office was a whirl of activity and she had little time to think about her commitment to serve with Make-A-Wish.

That evening, she arrived five minutes early at the brightly lit office on Pyramid Street. They had converted a red-brick home into a business office. The summer sun was still high as Emma parked her green compact car and walked inside the main foyer, which smelled of freshly brewed coffee.

“Dr. Shields? I’m Don Yearwood.” A tall, balding man with a bushy mustache held out his hand and Emma took it. “We’re glad you could make it. Come on in and help yourself to some juice or coffee. As soon as the others arrive, we’ll get started.”

He indicated a small conference room with a long table and chairs set all around. Wide windows with open curtains admitted the evening sunshine. To the side of the room sat a counter top with a coffee pot, various cartons of juice, cups, and a plate of fruit, cheese, and doughnuts.

What a combination.

Two men stood at the counter, munching on doughnuts as they talked. On the other side of the room, a man and woman sat at a table, sipping cups of coffee and chatting.

Emma helped herself to some pineapple juice and took a seat at the farthest end of the table, away from everyone else. Setting her notepad on the tabletop, she fidgeted with her pen, unable to deny the prickles of panic dotting her skin. She didn’t know what to say to these people. Maybe this was a mistake. It wasn’t too late to change her mind.

She stood to leave, but strangers filtered through the doorway and blocked her path.

She sat back down. In the next five minutes, the room filled with people and Don introduced Emma to each one. She pasted a smile on her face as she greeted them. An orthodontist, a lawyer, two bank executives, three small business owners and one housewife who used to be an accountant before she had three young children at home to care for.

An impressive crew.

The meeting was called to order and started with a reading of last week’s minutes. Emma was stunned when the door opened and Mark Williams walked in.

What was he doing here?

Mr. Yearwood didn’t stop his dialogue as Mark surveyed the room, spying an empty chair opposite Emma. Skirting the juice counter, he rounded the table and pulled the chair out, finally spotting her. A smile brighter than a neon light spread across his face and his eyes twinkled as he stared at her.

Emma’s throat went dry.