“Wow, Daddy,” Caitlin approved from his open doorway. “You look really nice.”
“Thanks, honey.” Appraising his reflection in the mirror, he saw a guy who looked like he was walking headlong into something he wasn’t all that sure about. Which made sense, because that was exactly how he felt. Pushing the negativity away, he turned to face his daughters and smiled. “It helps to have a woman’s opinion.”
“Emma will like it,” Aubrey assured him.
“She already likes you,” his older daughter pointed out with a conviction that he envied. “It doesn’t matter what you wear.”
“That works for kids, but grown-ups have to try a little harder.”
Aubrey gave him a puzzled look. “Why?”
Rick started to reply, then realized he didn’t have a good answer. Chuckling, he shrugged. “Because we do.”
From the kitchen, Mrs. Fields called out for the girls, and after bookending him in a twin hug, they raced downstairs for the special meal she’d promised them. The scent of homemade macaroni and cheese and grilled hot dogs wafted up to him, and he was briefly tempted to invite Emma over for a more casual—and much less intimidating—dinner.
Feeling foolish, he shook off the uncharacteristic fit of nerves and pulled on the light suede jacket he hardly ever wore. The motion showed off a flash of gold on his left hand, and he reached down to spin Sarah’s ring around his finger, thinking. Sam’s terse suggestion echoed in his mind, but Rick was reluctant to remove it. He knew that once he did, he’d never put it back on again, and one of his precious connections to Sarah would be gone.
Debating with himself, he glanced at the photos on his dresser, lighting on one that always made him smile. It was of the four of them on a carousel at a park in Charleston. The girls were so small that he and Sarah held them on their ponies, and his mother had snapped the picture when they were all laughing. He remembered that day as one of the best in his life.
A year later Sarah was gone.
His cell phone rang, and he gladly took advantage of the distraction. When his mother’s name showed up on the caller ID, he grinned at her innate sense of timing. “Hi, Mom. How’re you today?”
“Oh, just fine,” she drawled in a voice that had always reminded him of honey. “What are you up to?”
Rick was tempted to resort to the usual kid-centric update, then decided it wouldn’t hurt to fill her in. “Actually, I’m getting ready for a date.”
“With Emma, the art teacher?”
“That’s the one.”
“I’m so glad. You’ve been alone too long, and every time you talk about her, I can hear you smiling. As far as I’m concerned, the more time you spend with her, the better.”
“What makes you say that?” he asked. “You haven’t even met her.”
“I don’t have to. If she makes you happy, that’s good enough for me.”
The casual way she spoke about him being with a woman other than Sarah caught him by surprise. Then it occurred to him that she was right. No matter what his day had been like, Emma had a knack for making everything seem all right. Apparently, her upbeat attitude was contagious, because just thinking about her now was making him smile. “Thanks, Mom. The girls like her, too, which makes it easier.”
“To take that step, you mean?”
“Yeah,” he confirmed on a sigh. “It’s a huge one for me.”
“For anyone,” she reassured him in a sage tone. “But once you make it, I think you’ll be happy that you took the chance. Sarah would want you to have someone, for your sake and the girls’.”
Those last few words stayed with him even after he finished their conversation and ended the call. Slipping the phone into his interior jacket pocket, he grasped the ring on his finger and closed his eyes for a moment, silently asking God to grant him some kind of sign. A light touch fluttered across his cheek, fading away almost as soon as it had appeared. The logical part of him dismissed the sensation as the breeze coming through his open window.
Another part, the one that Emma had rediscovered in him, knew that the touch had come from Sarah, kissing him goodbye so he could get on with the rest of his life. Before he could talk himself out of it again, he slid the wedding band from his finger and set it next to the frame that held the carousel photo.
After one last look at it, he turned and walked from the room. He wasn’t completely certain of what lay before him, but at least his life wasn’t stalled in the past anymore. Whatever happened between Emma and him, he’d always be grateful to her for giving him a reason to step out of the shadows and back into the light.
On the drive over to her house, he took a rare opportunity to admire the charming town that he and his daughters had found themselves in. The buildings were familiar to him now, but the change of seasons from winter to spring brought out different facets of it if you were looking closely.
The white gazebo in the town square had shed its white lights in favor of hanging baskets filled with flowers in vibrant shades of red, purple and pink accented with delicate white blossoms that cascaded over the sides in a waterfall of colors. Main Street shops stayed open later this time of year to accommodate the nicer evenings and seemingly endless flocks of tourists enjoying the beauty of the surrounding woods and untamed countryside.
Then there was the picturesque covered bridge the original Calhoun brothers had had the foresight to build generations ago. Practical by design, it also gave the town the lost-in-time feeling that Rick had first considered quaint but out of place. Now he found it as appealing as the rest of Liberty Creek, and he had to admit that the old-fashioned nature of the town and its residents had grown on him.
Pulling up to Emma’s house, he admired the Craftsman style, built by hand years ago by someone who’d shown an admirable attention to detail. Being from Charleston, he had a healthy respect for history, but his own family heritage wasn’t nearly as clear to him as Emma’s was to her. That connection to the past was something his own girls didn’t have, and as he went up the front walk, he resolved to do something about that sooner rather than later.
He lifted a hand to knock on the screen when Emma appeared on the other side, phone in hand. Holding up a finger for him to wait, she listened for a few seconds before speaking. “I understand, Dr. Finley. I’ll be there Friday at three.”
Her face was strained as she hung up, and that old, helpless sensation clutched his heart in the kind of fear he’d experienced far too often with Sarah. Nighttime calls from a doctor usually signified bad news, but he didn’t feel it was his place to ask her about it.
Apparently, she noticed his own somber expression because she gave him a soft smile as she opened the door for him. “Don’t look so worried, Rick. I just have to go in for a bone marrow biopsy.”
“To see if the leukemia is gone?” She nodded, and he let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding until now. “What did your preliminary exam tell them?”
“I forgot you know all about this,” she commented sadly. “It was encouraging, but Dr. Finley said the only way to know for certain is to do the more invasive test. They have to send the sample to a specialized lab in Boston, so it takes a few days to get the results. I like definitive answers, so I agreed to do it.”
Rick knew only too well that “invasive” was an understatement for the painful procedure. Before he knew what was happening, he heard himself say, “You shouldn’t try to drive after this one. I’ll take you to your appointment.”
“That’s really not necessary. I’m sure my mom will do it.”
For some reason he didn’t quite understand, he wanted to be the one to be there for Emma. In spite of the fact that he was agonizingly familiar with what she’d be going through—or maybe because of it—he felt compelled to step in and do what he could to help her. “She lives in Waterford, so it would be a lot more driving for her to get you, take you to the hospital and bring you home. You and I can go there and back, which is just one trip. Unless you’d rather have her go with you instead,” he added, just in case he’d overstepped some unseen line Emma had drawn for him to stand behind.
She studied him for a few moments as if she was trying to decide how to phrase what she wanted to say. “Not that long ago, you told me you couldn’t go through that kind of thing again. I wondered about it when you asked me to dinner, but then I figured we’ll have a good time and we have to eat somewhere. Taking me to the cancer center is something else again. Are you absolutely sure you want to take that on?”
“No,” he answered truthfully, ignoring the dread he suddenly felt deep in the pit of his stomach. “But you’ve done so much for the girls and me, I want to repay you.”
“I didn’t mean to create an obligation for you,” she pointed out gently. “You don’t owe me anything. Not even dinner.”
Her mouth curved into an adorable grin, and it took everything he had not to kiss her then and there. It was so like Emma to shift from serious to teasing in just a few words, and it occurred to him that her buoyant attitude was the thing he enjoyed most about spending time with this remarkably resilient woman.
“Good to know,” he replied, following her upbeat lead with a grin of his own. Holding out his arm, he asked, “Shall we?”
Laughing, she took his arm and strolled out to the car with him. “Do you know where we’re going?”
“Sure. It’s on my navigation system.”
“Hmm...those things are notoriously unreliable out here. And most of the time, they take you straight to the highway and the most boring drive ever.”
“And the quickest,” he added, opening the passenger door for her.
“But you miss the pretty towns and winding country roads in between. Unless getting this evening over quickly is your plan.”
“Not at all.” After settling in beside her, he reached over to shut off the navigation screen. “You’re in charge of getting us there and back.”
“I’m in charge,” she repeated with a smug look. “I like that. When you’re the youngest in your family, it doesn’t happen very often.”
Chuckling, he started the engine and began following her instructions. He’d been to the neighboring small city of Waterford many times during the past few months, but never through it to the other side. They drove past several dairy farms and even got delayed behind a buggy being piloted by a woman in Victorian garb, complete with the biggest plumed hat Rick had ever seen.
“That’s Moira Delaney,” Emma explained, waving out the window as they slowly moved past a high-stepping horse the color of rich mahogany. “She competes all over the northeast in driving competitions. Her horses have won so many trophies and ribbons, she had to clear out a room in her house to display them all.”
“We have a lot of buggies in Charleston, but they’re mostly for the tourists,” he commented as he turned in front of a lighted sign that read Waterford Inn. Established 1872. Pulling around the circular drive and into a free parking space, he asked, “Is everything around here from another century?”
“Pretty much. We’re proud of our history, so we take good care of it. If you don’t, things start to disappear, and you can’t get them back.”
Intrigued by the comment, he shut off the engine and turned to face her. “That’s a nice way to look at it.”
“Is there another way?”
“Some people think it’s better to keep moving forward, replacing old, broken-down things with new ones that work better. It’s called progress.”
“It’s called shortsighted,” Emma countered, a determined edge on her usually gentle voice. “You can’t get anywhere worth being unless you know where you came from.”
“‘Those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it.’”
“Exactly. So you get what I’m saying.”
He tried to smother a grin. “Yes, I do.”
“Good answer.”
“What would you say if I disagreed?”
Giving him a sugary smile, she batted her eyes in an obvious Southern belle impression. For his benefit, no doubt. “Take me home, kind sir.”
Rick burst out laughing in a way that he seemed to be doing a lot more frequently since meeting her. Getting out of the car, he escorted her up the lighted brick walkway, pausing here and there while she pointed out some of the more intriguing features of the Federal-style building.
“It was a Calhoun cousin’s private residence at first,” she explained, “and then the man who built it died, leaving behind his wife, Felicity, and seven children. Back then this was a major crossroads through the area, so it was a busy place.”
“Hard to imagine that now,” he observed, looking around the peaceful clearing in the woods. The centuries-old pines shielded it from any traffic noise, providing a cocoon-like effect.
“Like we were saying earlier, things change. Anyway, the farm couldn’t support them on its own, so she took advantage of the location and opened an inn for people traveling through here on their way to other places. Originally, she did all the cooking, and the family ate with their guests while the children did their schoolwork.”
“Sounds nice.”
“Doesn’t it?” Tilting her head back, she took in a deep breath of the pine-scented air. “It’s so pretty out here. The spot where Dad proposed to Mom is down by the pond. He kept getting interrupted by a very loud loon,” she added with a laugh.
“Sounds like a great evening.”
“It was. That’s why they keep coming back.”
Memories like that made up the patchwork of a lifetime, Rick mused as they continued up the walk and into the restaurant. Someday, the pain and grief would be behind him and he could get on with his life. Tonight felt like it might be the new beginning he’d been longing for.
And maybe, just maybe, he could finally stop stumbling over the past and move forward.
* * *
Emma couldn’t eat another bite.
Setting down her fork on her delicate china plate, she sighed in contentment. “Don’t tell Gran, but that’s the best lemon meringue pie I’ve ever had.”
“Mum’s the word,” Rick promised, winking at her in the sort of lighthearted gesture she rarely saw from him.
Now that she thought about it, though, he’d been doing more things like that lately. Maybe he was feeling more comfortable in Liberty Creek, now that he’d met more of the people who called it home. Whatever the reason, it was nice to see the lighter side of him more frequently. When their waitress brought over the check for their meal, he didn’t even look at the amount before tucking his credit card into the leather folio that held their bill.
“Most people at least take a peek,” she teased, taking a last sip of her tea.
“Whatever it is, it’s well worth the investment.”
Playing along, she asked, “Of time or money?”
“Both.” He flashed her that elusive, playful grin she wouldn’t mind seeing more of. After signing the credit slip, he tucked his wallet back into his inside jacket pocket and stood. “It’s a nice night for a walk. Would you mind showing me around the grounds?”
“Not a bit,” she replied, thrilled that he’d suggested prolonging their evening. When he pulled her chair out for her, she couldn’t help admiring the old-fashioned gesture. Then again, she reminded herself that Rick Marshall had been raised to be a Southern gentleman. Those gallant manners probably came with the territory.
“So,” she began as they went out the side door onto a brick patio, “what would you like to see first?”
“I keep smelling roses, so I’m assuming there’s a garden around here somewhere.”
“The original one,” she confirmed, pointing to a sign with an arrow guiding visitors to its location. “It’s away from the house, but it’s worth the walk. There’s even a maze done out of boxwoods. Felicity set it up to entertain her guests.”
“Something to set this place apart from other inns and bring in the customers,” Rick said in the tone of a businessman who appreciated the logic behind her approach. “Not many women back then thought like that. She was ahead of her time.”
Emma wished her ancestor was here to take her bow. Since that wasn’t possible, she accepted the praise and smiled. “Yes, she was. We Calhoun women can be very resourceful when we have to be.”
“Your whole family is. Ellie’s been successful doing what she loves. Sam’s built a solid business as a contractor, and Brian’s bringing the past right into this century. And you,” he added, shaking his head. “You created an arts program from nothing, and kept it going out of sheer determination. None of that could’ve been easy, but you’ve all made great things happen for yourselves and the town.”
Unaccustomed to praise for simply being herself, Emma wasn’t sure how to respond. She wasn’t as shy as she used to be, but sometimes she still found herself at a loss for what came next in a conversation. Fortunately, they were turning into the maze, and finding their way through the first jog gave her time to think. “You know all about my family and where I’m from. Tell me about Charleston.”
“It’s beautiful,” he said simply, adding a nostalgic smile. “Lots of old houses, historic buildings and the harbor’s full of every kind of boat you can imagine. Even you would never run out of things to paint.”
“I’ve been to Boston a few times. Is it like that?”
“Sort of, but warmer and more laid-back. Plus, we have more crabs than lobsters.”
Just thinking about the coastal town revived memories of the bustling wharf. From the unfamiliar sights to the briny scent of the daily catch, it was still one of her favorite trips. “I love fresh seafood, and watching the boats come in and out. Sailboats are so pretty silhouetted against the sunset.”
“Spoken like a true artist,” Rick said, reaching down to lightly take her hand in his. Raising their linked hands, he studied them for a moment, then chuckled. “Let me guess. Some of your students were painting sky scenes today.”
Glancing down, she was mortified to see that she’d missed a good-sized swipe of pale blue on her wrist when she was cleaning up after her last class. She almost pulled her hand free, but something stopped her. She and Rick were friends, after all, so it wasn’t a huge deal that he knew she wasn’t perfect. Besides, her hand felt warm and protected in his larger one, and it felt nice to be connected to him in such a personal way.
So she did her best to laugh it off. “Yeah, it’s an occupational hazard. Sometimes I don’t get it all off. When I’m finishing up a fall landscape, my hands look like one of those camouflage jackets that hunters wear.”
“I like a woman who really gets into her work.” Beneath the teasing tone was a current of something Emma couldn’t put her finger on. Then he stopped in the middle of the crushed stone pathway and turned to face her. Taking her other hand, he stared down at her with a look she’d never seen from him. When a corner of his mouth lifted in a half grin, she braced herself for yet another surprise from this man she thought she knew so well. “Especially when that woman is you.”
Those compelling eyes held hers in a warm gaze that short-circuited her brain for a few seconds before she could get it going again. “I—well—what a sweet thing to say.”
“You sound surprised.”
“No, it’s just—” He’d never looked at her this way, and she quite literally had no idea how to react. A few times she’d wondered how it would feel to be the object of this handsome man’s affection, the woman he chose to share all his free time with. Now she knew, and it was at once exhilarating and terrifying.
“I can be sweet,” he murmured.
Lifting her hands, he brushed his lips over the back of one and then the other in an unhurried motion that had the effect of turning her insides to mush. How he managed that, she couldn’t say, but it was the most incredible thing she’d ever felt. A commanding kiss couldn’t have touched her nearly as much as those gentle touches, and she couldn’t keep back a sigh. “I know that, Rick. The first day in the park, when you helped me pack up my jewelry table and take it home, I knew.”
Letting her hands drop, he slid his arms around her waist to bring her close. Male admiration glittered in his eyes, warming as he stared down at her. “How did you figure that out so fast? Most people never even think to look for that side of me, much less find it.”
Bitterness edged his usually mellow voice, and it made her sad that he believed something so harsh about himself. But they both knew he was right, so there was no point in her trying to convince him otherwise. “It’s just part of who I am, I guess.”
“I guess it is,” he murmured, leaning in to brush a kiss over her lips. He lingered for a heartbeat, then drew away slightly. It felt like a question, as if he was asking her permission to do it again.
Reaching up to his cheek, she drew him back in for another kiss. And there, in the rose-scented moonlight, in the middle of Felicity Calhoun’s treasured maze, she lost her heart to Rick Marshall. It seemed appropriate somehow, because even while she cuddled into his strong arms, she knew only too well that she’d just stepped into a maze of her own.
A very personal, complex one, with plenty of blind corners that might very well end up winding around in circles with no solution in sight. But in this moment, they had tonight.
For someone who’d learned to live each day as it came, that was enough.
* * *
Rick hated hospitals.
Emma’s oncologist had an office next to Waterford Memorial, and as they walked through the automatic doors, he took a moment to summon his considerable patience for what he expected to be a difficult visit. The lobby had a cathedral ceiling and skylights, which let even more sunshine into the surprisingly pleasant space. Painted a soothing gray, it was furnished with several styles of living-room-style pieces that gave the place a homey appearance. If it hadn’t been for the wheelchairs in the entryway, he might have thought they were at a law firm.
Then a door opened, and a haggard woman shuffled through, supported by a younger woman who had an arm wrapped protectively around her. “I know that was tough, Mom,” she said in a chipper tone that had a forced ring to it. “But you did great. How ’bout a milkshake?”
The older woman’s sunken eyes lit up, and she managed a semblance of a smile. “Strawberry?”
As they made their way past him, Rick’s heart twisted with empathy for them. Cancer was a common foe these days. The worst thing was, you couldn’t be sure that even your best efforts would be enough.
When he heard Emma’s voice, it had a nudging tone that told him she’d been trying to get his attention. Turning to her, he said, “Sorry about that. What were you saying?”
“That I can have Mom bring me home so you don’t have to stay. It might take a while, and I’m sure this is the absolute last place you want to be.”
That she’d picked up on his mood was impressive. Ordinarily, he was able to mask his emotions around others, projecting a calm, self-assured demeanor that people appreciated in the man they’d put in charge of their money. Then again, he thought with honest admiration, Emma Calhoun was an extraordinary woman. It shouldn’t surprise him that she’d see through his smooth act to what was going on underneath.
“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be okay.” He waited while she checked in at the desk and then motioned for her to go ahead of him. Once they were both seated, he asked, “What gave me away?”
“The way you looked at that woman and her daughter. Like you knew how they were feeling, and it made you sad to think of someone else going through that.”
“It does make me sad,” he admitted with a quiet sigh. Gazing over at her, he quietly added, “It’s hard for anyone, even someone as brave as you.”
That got him a peal of laughter. Several people glanced their way, and she blushed before continuing. “I’m not brave. I’m just doing what I have to do. It’s either that or give up, and I’m not a quitter. I know that leukemia might get the better of me someday, but it won’t be without a serious fight. Every year researchers come up with new treatments, and the chances of surviving improve. I put my life in God’s hands a long time ago, and I trust His judgment about how long it will last. When you think about it, that’s all any of us can do, cancer or no cancer.”
Not long ago, hearing someone refer to the Almighty that way would have made him very uncomfortable, possibly even angry. Until now it had never occurred to him that God had taken Sarah when He did because it was her time to go. He still didn’t understand why she had to die so young, but his recent exposure to religion had begun teaching him that things happened for a reason, whether he understood or not.
And in a flash of epiphany, the answer to that vexing question appeared in his mind as if someone had switched on a light. Swiveling to face Emma, he made a conscious effort to keep his voice low. Because he didn’t know quite how to start, he just went for it. “I think I know why Sarah died when she did.”
Sympathy flooded Emma’s beautiful eyes, dulling some of their usual sparkle. “Why?”
“God knew how much she was going to suffer, and how hard it would be for our family to watch her keep getting weaker. He took her so she wouldn’t have to fight so hard, only to lose in the end.”
Straight from his heart, those words hung in the air between them for a few moments before drifting away. Reaching over, Emma clasped his hand in a show of support that very few people he’d ever known could manage.
“I think you’re right about that,” she agreed, adding a gentle smile for good measure. “Your family had suffered so much already, He didn’t want you to continue on the way you were. Hard as it was to let her go, it was best for Sarah and you, and the girls, too. It gave you the chance to move forward and make a fresh start somewhere else.”
With someone else, Rick added silently. It still felt odd to him, but that awkwardness was starting to fade, leaving him feeling grateful to this remarkable woman who’d reached out to him in friendship and was gradually becoming more to him than he could ever have imagined a few weeks ago.
Lifting her hand, he kissed the back of it before folding it into his. “Thanks for saying that. It must be weird to talk about a man’s wife like that.”
She gave him a quizzical look. “Not really. We’ve talked about her quite a bit.”
“True, but things are different now.” The puzzled look remained, and he worried that he might have misinterpreted their moonlit kiss the other night. “Aren’t they?”
“Do you want them to be?”
Did he? Rick wondered, recognizing that this was his opportunity to disentangle himself from a woman who both enchanted and terrified him, depending on the situation. He treasured his time with Emma, but there were days when he questioned his sanity for breaking his own rule about pursuing a relationship with someone fighting the same disease that had broken his heart and devastated his young daughters by taking Sarah from them.
But in a flash of understanding, he realized that he didn’t want an out. He wanted to be with Emma. He traced the curve of her cheek with his finger and smiled. “Yes, I do.”
“That’s good,” she said, relief flooding those beautiful eyes. “Because I do, too. I just wasn’t sure how you’d feel, now that we’re sitting here, waiting for my test. Leukemia is sneaky, so I’ll probably need to have more of them in the future,” she added, clearly giving him one more chance to pull away from her.
Even though he knew her family would be around to support and encourage her, whatever the circumstances, Rick had no intention of taking her up on her very generous offer. Leaning in to kiss her cheek, he drew back to smile at her. “I know. I can take it.”
Rewarding him with her most beautiful smile, she rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad.”
They were still sitting that way a few minutes later when a woman leading a golden retriever approached them. The dog wore a blue vest labeled Service and stopped when the woman did.
“Hello,” she said in a quiet voice that made him think of a librarian. “I’m Sandra, and this is Franny.” She nodded at the dog, who sat politely in front of Emma with an expectant look on her face. It was as if she knew which of them was the patient, and Rick was amazed by the animal’s perceptiveness.
“Hi, Sandra,” Emma replied, adding a friendly smile. “I’m Emma, and this is Rick. It’s nice to meet you.” Franny offered her paw, and Emma laughed as she shook it. “And you, too, pretty girl.”
“Franny’s a comfort dog, and we volunteer here a couple times a week,” the woman explained as she sat in the empty chair beside Emma. “Sometimes when people are nervous about their treatment, petting Franny helps distract them from what’s coming.”
“I’d think talking to you would help, too,” Rick commented, surprised that she’d left that out.
“If they’re up to it, sure. But some folks don’t like to make conversation when they’re upset. A dog doesn’t expect anything other than to be petted, so often that’s easier.” Looking around the hushed waiting room, she smiled sadly before reconnecting with Emma. “My daughter lost her battle with cancer four years ago, and we spent a lot of time together here, talking or just sitting. Dreading the treatments, terrified of what the doctor would say.”
“I know that feeling,” Emma murmured, ruffling the dog’s ear with a frown.
“It was awful, and that’s when I got the idea of bringing Franny to help keep my daughter’s mind off everything.” Pausing, she chuckled. “At first, the staff thought I was nuts, but they decided that as long as our golden girl didn’t cause any problems, it was okay. Other patients liked having her here, too. She’s so sweet, it didn’t take long to get her officially certified, and we joined a group of other animal owners who do the same thing. We go all over, trying to help where we can.”
“Where else do you go?” Rick asked, fascinated by the concept of her giving up so much time to help strangers.
“Nursing homes occasionally, preschool reading groups, and yesterday we went to a school for special needs children. Once they got over their shyness, they just loved her. Franny was the runt of her litter, so she’s on the small side for her breed. It actually works well, because kids aren’t as afraid of her as they might be.”
While the two women chatted, Rick noticed that she didn’t ask any questions about Emma’s illness, or why she was here today. He suspected that it was because her mission was to offer patients a distraction from their problems, not drag them through their difficult personal history. Normally, he was the kind of guy who faced trouble head-on and figured out a way to get through it.
But listening to them, watching Emma relax and even laugh in spite of what was coming, he began to see the value in a little escapism. Most of the time she seemed to be accepting of her situation, but Rick knew that for all her optimism, she still worried. He could see it in her eyes sometimes, especially today. If Franny could ease that relentless concern even briefly, that was good enough for him.
During a pause in their conversation, he fished a business card out of his pocket and handed it to Sandra. “I’m the manager of Patriots Bank in Liberty Creek, and I’m always on the lookout for local charities to support. I think what you’re doing is fantastic, and I’d like to help you spread the word about what you do. The more people who know about it, the more donations you’ll get.”
“We’re not a real charity,” she protested, not reaching for his card. “We’re just people.”
“People doing God’s work,” Emma reminded her with a smile. “Think how much more you could accomplish if you didn’t have to fund everything yourselves. The training you did can’t be cheap, and maybe if you could reimburse people for it, you’d attract more therapy teams.”
Rick was stunned by the very pragmatic suggestion coming from the dreamy artist he’d been getting to know. Discovering that she had a practical side was a pleasant—and unexpected—surprise for him. It didn’t escape him that her argument seemed to resonate with Sandra more than his had, and she finally took his card. “Thank you. Do you mind if I share your contact info with the group?”
“Please do. I’m happy to talk to anyone who does what you do. In my experience, people like that are few and far between.”
“That’s the truth,” she agreed, shaking her head. “It’s a shame, really. When you put aside your own problems and focus on helping someone else, it gives you a wonderful feeling inside. I’ve always thought that it’s God rewarding you for following His wishes.”
A nurse came out from the back and called Emma’s name, so they said goodbye to Sandra and Franny and left the waiting room. As they followed the nurse down a hallway that led to the treatment area, Rick felt Emma tense up beside him and did his best to push down a sudden fit of uneasiness.
Maybe he wasn’t ready for this, after all, he mused soberly. It had seemed a lot easier out in the lobby, when the impending test was a vague medical procedure that he didn’t need to understand. Now that it was closing in on her, he got that old helpless sensation he knew all too well. Brave as she was, he knew that Emma was scared to learn the results of this latest biopsy.
And there was nothing he could do to take that fear away from her.
His derailing train of thought was interrupted by a small hand sliding into his as they walked. Soft and trusting, like a little girl seeking comfort for the ordeal that was rapidly approaching. His uncertainty evaporated, and he smiled down at her before resting an arm across her shoulders in what he hoped came across to her as a reassuring gesture.
Apparently, he hit the mark, because she rested her cheek against his chest, wrapping her arms around him in a sideways embrace that told him without words exactly how much his presence today meant to her.
Kissing the top of her head, he murmured, “You’ll never have to do this alone, Emma.”
Leaning her head back, she gave him a sweet, trusting look that sank deeply into his heart. “Promise?”
“I do. If they’d let me come in there with you, I would.”
“That’s a lovely thought,” she said, the hint of a smile showing around her eyes. “But I’ll pretty much be asleep. And I snore.”
His laughter rang off the sterile white walls, and he hugged her close. The impulsive gesture was very unlike him, just one more way that Emma’s approach to life had lightened his own outlook.
As he took his seat in yet another hospital waiting area, he watched her continue down the hall, chatting with the nurse while they went. Outside a doorway, Emma glanced back at him, and he forced himself to smile, adding a thumbs-up for good measure. The look she gave him was filled with gratitude, and she blew him a kiss before disappearing through the doors.
Suddenly alone, Rick swallowed down a knot of fear that was threatening to choke him. Rubbing his hands over his face to calm his nerves, he rested his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. The helplessness he’d experienced earlier returned in full force, but this time he knew what to do about it.
“Please, God,” he whispered, “take care of her.”