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EMMA OFTEN WONDERED why her parents chose her name. No one on either side of the family was named Emma or anything close. Not even Emily or Emmaline. Kylie was named after one of their dad’s great uncles, a feminine version of Kyle. Supposedly, she was also the spitting image of that boy who died at the age of six.
Kylie was now six.
Emma clicked on the Internet page that listed baby names in alphabetical order. She scrolled down to female names and stopped at the E’s.
Emma: “one who heals”
She wasn’t surprised but rather justified. In Bible times children were named for specific reasons, maybe as a sign to the coming age, a prophet who would preach repentance, or a stumbling block to a generation. She always sensed a higher purpose in her musical talent. Even her name was proof of the providence of God. She was one who heals. He had set her apart for something. She didn’t know what, but she was ready to serve. She just hoped it included healing her little sister.
Kylie sat on the bed across the room playing with Barbie dolls. She pulled the jacket off one doll and shoved a pair of high heels on the tiny, curved feet. She sighed with frustration as one shoe fell off and dropped to the floor. “Can’t you keep your shoes on, Cindy? You have a big dance tonight and you need to look pretty.”
Emma reached over and picked it up. She tossed it back to Kylie. “I’m glad my feet aren’t stuck like that. It looks painful,” she grimaced. “How do your feet feel?” she asked.
Her research had included more than lists of baby names. She’d read page after page of information about leukemia and early symptoms. Some of the symptoms were bruising, joint pain, and fatigue. Kylie seemed tired tonight, in spite of the fact that it was only seven o’clock. She usually begged to stay up until nine on Saturdays when their parents went out for the evening. Emma would read her a book or play Candyland with her right before bed. She had to tell her at least three times to go to sleep before Kylie would quit singing and talking to herself after the light was shut off. But tonight, she only wanted to sit on the bed and play with dolls. It was unlike her to be so listless.
Kylie looked down at her bare feet and lifted thin shoulders in a shrug. “Okay, I guess. But I only wear sneakers. How does it feel to wear tall shoes?” she asked.
Emma had recently started wearing heels to church. She didn’t really feel comfortable in them, but all the other girls wore them with their Sunday dresses and slacks. She was more jeans and tank tops than lace and pumps.
“Kind of tippy. You know – like when you first put your ice skates on and try to stand up.”
“I love ice skating. Would you take me, Emma? We haven’t gone for a long time.” She had another Barbie nearly dressed for the dance but was struggling with the tiny snaps on the back of the gown.
Emma sat on the bed next to Kylie. She helped her snap the dress and put both dolls in their plastic convertible. “Maybe after school on Tuesday. If the ice is still good and hard.”
“How many more days till Tuesday, Em?”
She smiled and hugged her little sister close. “Two and a half more. You can wait that long, can’t you?”
“I guess.” She yawned and leaned her head against Emma. “Is it almost nine? I’m really tired.”
*****
THEY WOULDN’T BE GOING skating today after all. Kylie had stayed home from school with a fever. Emma kept her eyes on the clock in her last hour class, wishing the hands would move faster, but it ticked on interminably. When the bell finally rang, she rushed down the hall to her locker, grabbed her book bag and ran all the way home.
She burst through the back door into the kitchen about twelve minutes later and nearly fell over Bear where he lay snoozing on the rag rug. Righting herself, she accidentally smashed his tail beneath her shoe. He jumped up with a yelp.
“Sorry, Bear.” She paused to give him a hug, still breathing hard.
Her mother walked into the kitchen with a lunch tray. It held a half empty bowl of soup and a few soda crackers “You’re home early. Why is your face so red? Didn’t you ride the bus?”
She shook her head and went to the sink for a glass of water. “I ran home. Thought it would be good exercise. How’s Kylie?”
“Sleeping right now. Her temperature is still high. I may have to take her in to the doctor tomorrow. It’s probably just a cold/flu thing, but I’m worried she may have strep throat. Her glands seem swollen and she said her stomach’s sore.”
Emma drained the glass and set it in the sink. “Maybe you should have them do blood tests, Mom. You know, just to be safe.”
Her mother placed the tray on the table and turned slowly around. “What are you insinuating Emma? What do you think you know?”
“Nothing.” She moved past her mother trying not to meet her eye.
“What ever it is, it’s not true. You have to stop this,” she said, her tone pleading. “Your father told you...”
“I know what Dad said and if you bothered to notice, I haven’t played the piano since.”
“Of course, I’ve noticed, honey. I miss your music. I just don’t want you to get it in your head that your sister is...” she stopped, unable to finish the thought.
“Dying? I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Her mother gasped.
Emma turned and rushed to her room. With the door safely closed she slid her keyboard out from under the bed. She sat on the floor with the instrument across her lap and watched her fingers move silently over the black and white keys as though they had a mind of their own. But the colors didn’t flood the room like they once had, every note a different hue of the rainbow. Middle C was turquoise. B flat, a shimmering silver.
She didn’t know how long she could go without playing. It was food and water to her soul. Without music she would shrivel up and die. And without her music Kylie would continue to grow worse.
*****
“WHY DO YOU CARE WHERE you came from? If they gave you away, then they didn’t want you, right? Just forget’em. They don’t deserve your interest.”
Michael’s argument seemed logical, but all he knew was that Zander was adopted. He didn’t know about the secret testing or the mysterious circumstances that brought him into the bosom of the Howard patriarchy. Zander didn’t think simple logic played a part in his adoption at all.
The hospital wouldn’t release sensitive documents to an underage kid. He’d already tried. And everyone knew you couldn’t legally access your adoption papers until you turned eighteen. If there even were legal adoption papers.
He’d spent hours online trying to get any information he could, but that too was a dead end. It was as though he’d dropped out of the sky. Someone had to know the woman who gave him up. It wasn’t a common occurrence for pregnant women to get hit by cars, give birth, and die. Was it? Why couldn’t he find a newspaper article? Something?
“Hey, you got cool parents. Better than mine. They couldn’t even stay together long enough to get me through kindergarten.” Michael sucked down the last of his milkshake and grabbed some of Zander’s fries. “We got to go, or we’ll be late to class.”
Zander laughed. “Like you care. When’s the last time you made it to Algebra on time?” He took another bite of his burger and threw the rest of his food in the garbage before following his friend out of the fast-food restaurant. He wasn’t very hungry anyway.
“I don’t care,” Michael said with a wink, “but Heidi does. Don’t want to disappoint a cheerleader.”
“Figures. It’s always a girl. You’re obsessed.” He slid behind the wheel of the car and turned the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life. He really needed a new muffler.
“You should try it sometime. Girls are much more interesting than homework.” Michael slammed his door and leaned his seat all the way back. He yawned widely. “But they do keep you up at night. I think I need a nap. Drive on, monkey boy.”
Zander frowned. He didn’t like when Michael called him that. The name reminded him too much of the way Dr. Devlin treated him at the lab, as though he were an animal they were testing instead of a human being. But Michael insisted it was all in fun, because Zander was like Curious George, always wondering about stuff. He certainly didn’t know about the lab.
He dropped Michael off at the door of the school and cruised the parking lot looking for an open space. He ended up at the far reaches of the lot before he found one, pulled in and shut off the engine.
He did wonder about stuff, but unlike Curious George he rarely got into trouble. Michael was the one who pushed limits. He was always seeing how far he could go before someone tried to deck him, or he got a ticket, or he came away with his life by the skin of his teeth. The time he stood on the railroad tracks when they were ten and played chicken with a locomotive stood out in Zander’s memory. It was the most terrifying experience of his life, and he wasn’t even the one on the tracks. Michael was fearless. Or stupid. Zander shook his head and opened the door of the car. Maybe a little of both.
He wished things weren’t so complicated. He wished he could confide in his best friend. What would Michael think if he knew everything about him? Would he be impressed or consider him a freak?
He usually couldn’t read Michael, but he felt a certain amount of jealousy coming from his friend today. He’d never met Michael’s dad. The man was always working. And Michael said he hadn’t seen his mother since he was five. Maybe being adopted wasn’t so bad. At least his parents cared about him. Although, allowing him to be used by the company was a strange way to show it.
*****
LORI SAT AT THE KITCHEN table, tears slipping down her cheeks. She held the Thanksgiving card her daughters had constructed and hung on the refrigerator the week before. They’d each signed the inside and Emma wrote, “We are thankful for you, Mom.” She thanked God every day for each of them as well. She couldn’t fathom losing either one of them.
Emma was so angry all the time, a different child without her music. Lori had to admit that when Emma played, everyone was happier. It wasn’t just the beauty of her God-given talent, but an essence of peace that swept over their home.
Emma truly had a gift.
She’d seen the look in her daughter’s eyes, the longing to be believed. Fierce love welled up in her heart and she desperately wanted to satisfy that longing. But that would mean believing something so horrendous, so gut wrenching; she couldn’t bring herself to contemplate it.
Kylie was just a baby. God had given her to them when they least expected it. She was a surprise present wrapped by angels and sent to earth, a few years later than hoped but desperately prayed for. He wouldn’t take her back now, would he?
She cradled her face in her hands, her elbows braced on the table. Her shoulders shook as she wrestled with doubt. “I can’t. I can’t believe this,” she mumbled against her palms. “How do I make her see?”
“See what?” Sam asked. He stood in the kitchen doorway, his suit jacket over one arm. He’d pulled the knot of his tie loose and opened the top button of his crumpled dress shirt. He looked tired and hungry as his gaze swept over the empty stovetop. Usually she’d have dinner ready to put on the table when he arrived home.
Lori wiped at her face with the sleeve of her sweater. “Nothing.”
He draped his coat over the back of a chair and pulled her to her feet. His arms went around her with comforting strength. She could hear the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. “It doesn’t look like nothing. You’re crying. What’s wrong?”
She sniffled into his shirt but couldn’t voice the words.
“Is Kylie worse? Something happen to Emma?” He pulled back and looked down at her.
“Her fever’s been up all day. I have an appointment with Dr. Brock in the morning,” she stammered as tears spilled from her eyes again.
Sam cupped her face with his big hands. The pads of his thumbs wiped away her tears and he kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m sure the doctor will be able to give her something for the fever and she’ll be better before you know it. Kids get sick all the time, honey. She’ll survive.”
She pushed his hands away. “Will she? How do you know? Are you able to see the colors too?”
His eyes narrowed, and he released a puff of frustration. “So that’s it. Emma is up to her old tricks and you’re buying into the whole package.”
Lori backed up and nearly fell over Bear asleep in his favorite spot on the rag rug. He was getting old and hard of hearing. He yelped even though she hadn’t stepped on him. The big dog jumped out of the way and moved toward Sam for his evening dose of attention.
Sam absently stroked Bear’s shaggy head but kept his eyes on Lori.
“I’m not buying into anything. That dog is proof enough. He’s still alive after getting hit by a car. And what about me? The doctors kept telling us we wouldn’t conceive again–that the first time was a fluke.”
“Doctors are human, Lori. They make mistakes like the rest of us. They were wrong, that’s all. You’re blowing all of this out of proportion.”
“Is Kylie’s life not worth rethinking our decision? What if we’re wrong? What if Emma can see things we don’t? What if Emma is the only one who can help Kylie and you’ve told her she can’t?” She knew it wasn’t right to lay all this on Sam, but she couldn’t stop. The words poured out, flooding common sense. “What if she dies?”
He took her by the shoulders and shook her. “Listen to yourself! Kylie probably has the flu and you’re already putting her in the ground. What exactly did Emma say that has you out of control?”
Lori regretted bringing Emma into it. Her daughter hadn’t really said anything at all. The mention of a blood test could have been perfectly innocent. She shook her head and pulled away. “Nothing. She didn’t say anything.”
Worrying about Kylie had her wound tighter than a spring. She saw fear in Sam’s eyes. Did he think she was going mad? She turned her back on him and stared out the kitchen window at the gray late afternoon.
“Then what?” he asked, his voice cracking with strain.
Lori shook her head. She dried the wetness from her cheeks. The mindless fear she’d felt up until this moment suddenly dissipated. Peace slowly filled her troubled heart. “I guess I’m beginning to believe,” she said.
He walked away. Bear’s toenails clicked against the hardwood floor as he followed. She heard the front door open and close. She turned from the window and faced an empty kitchen. The hum of the refrigerator was the only sound in the room.