The Healing Place. Leigh Bale
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Denise wanted cash and let him buy out her half of the house. To save Angie’s life, he’d sell everything he owned and live in a pup tent in the park. Whatever it took. Money didn’t mean anything to him now. Not if he lost his daughter.
“You’ve changed since high school, Mark.” Her brows pulled together in a perplexed frown.
Was it that obvious? “Really? How so?”
“You’re so gentle with Angie. I remember you being such a jock, laughing all the time, going to parties. I never imagined you’d be such a softy with a little girl of your own.”
He remembered, too. All those parties he had attended, and Emma hadn’t been invited. He remembered the pain in her eyes when he’d told her he didn’t want to go out with her anymore. The slump of dejection in her shoulders and the hurt in her voice when she’d wished him nothing but the best.
Those days had been focused on one thing only. Get the best grades possible, excel at sports and earn a full-ride scholarship to N.Y.U. so he could get a top job making lots of money. What had it mattered that he’d dumped the school bookworm for a hot babe who happened to be the head varsity cheerleader? When he married Denise fresh out of college, he’d been the envy of every other guy at school.
None of that seemed important now. Except for Brett Anderson, he rarely saw any of his old friends. If only he hadn’t been so superficial. But no matter what Denise did or how difficult his life became, he could never regret having Angie.
“That was a long time ago, Emma. Now, I’m a father with responsibilities. When Angie was born, I started thinking about more than just the here and now. I wanted the best for my child, and that caused me to seek a greater power than my own.”
Her brows arched. “So, you got religion, huh?”
“You could say that. I’d be lost without God in my life. As I recall, you used to be quite religious yourself.”
“Things change.”
He ached for her lack of faith. “Sometimes it’s hard for me to see my life with eternal eyes, but I came to realize that God has my best interest in mind.”
A skeptical frown crinkled her brow and he changed the topic. “When we were in high school, I was just a thoughtless, stupid kid. I hope you’ll forgive me for…for everything.”
“Of course. There’s nothing to forgive.” She bit her bottom lip, staring at the brown carpet.
What had her husband’s name been?
David.
Although they had divorced, Mark couldn’t help envying the man. Emma obviously loved him. Not once in the eleven years they had been married had Mark ever heard Denise say the words, “I love you.”
Not even to Angie, and that hurt most of all.
“I know what you mean about things changing.” He didn’t smile as he spoke. “Life hasn’t worked out quite the way I’d planned it.”
She blinked, as if digesting this information. “I remember you said you wanted to marry a beautiful socialite and be the CFO of some Fortune 500 company. You wanted to make buckets full of money, go into politics and become president of the United States.”
He burst out laughing, thinking how foolish he must have sounded to Emma. Strange that he had never once confided his amitions to Denise. “Not anymore. Now, I’d settle for a quiet evening at home with Angie.”
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