Page 18 of Nicole
My help comes from the Lord
Creator of heaven and earth!
He will not let me fall
He’ll catch me if I stumble.
Day and night, night and day
You watch over me
Lift me up and give me life.
I lift my eyes up to the mountaintops
But where does my help comes from?”
The old feelings of fear and pain and hopelessness washed over me then through me as a waterfall of peace, hope, and love rained down.
I opened my eyes and saw my fifteen-year-old self in the faces around me. Hair loss. Sunken cheeks. Open ports in their arms. IV stands by their sides like sentries. Chemotherapy leaving its fingerprint on their lives like an aggressive abuser.
The woman who’d been by the far corner had made her way closer. She stood now behind Miranda, her hand on my girl’s shoulder.
No, not my girl. There’d never be a cherubic face with that title.
Unbidden, another young face materialized before my mind’s eye. This one with rounded pink cheeks kissed by health. An arm that could throw a football with no limits but lived in unnecessary boundaries that confined instead of letting her shine. Where the children within these four walls were limited by barriers beyond their control, Sierra had no such limitations…and yet her wings looked, at times, just as clipped and unable to soar.
My emotions were already a tangled mess. Frustration added itself to the knot in my chest.
I lowered to my haunches in front of Miranda and swallowed back the tears that threatened to spill over the dam I’d erected. Neither Miranda nor her mother needed more tears in their lives. Especially not from me.
I chucked a crooked finger under Miranda’s chin. “You kick that cancer in the patootie, you hear me?”
She squared her thin shoulders, one side of her lips rising in a crooked grin. “I’ve been working on my roundhouse.”
“That’s my girl.” I rose and caught Diane mouthingThank you. I nodded, then replaced the violin in its case, waved at everyone, and hightailed it out of there.
Once outside, I doubled over, rested my palms on my knees, and gulped in fresh air.
Cancer sucked.
Even as a doctor, I felt it had the ability to tie my hands behind my back, making me as helpless to fight against the disease as I had been at fifteen. But I’d conquered it once and could only pray those kids back in the pediatric oncology unit did the same.
My feet dragged as I made my way to the staff parking lot, my legs as weighted as if I’d run a marathon. Exhaustion pulled at my body. Physically, from a sixteen-hour shift. Emotionally, from dueling violins with chemo.
I pulled out of the hospital exit and pointed the Suburban toward home. I’d gotten a text from Mom around ten last night saying she’d left an asparagus and tomato quiche in the refrigerator. I’d have wondered why she was out so late if I hadn’t known she’d stopped at Ginny’s beforehand with enough food to last a week. Sometimes living so close to family could bring drama, but that was a small price to pay for home-cooked meals just showing up in my refrigerator.
The traffic light changed to red, so I pushed my foot down on the brake pedal. The cross traffic passed through the intersection, and I covered a yawn with my hand. Music didn’t work to keep me awake and alert, so I bypassed the radio dial and forced my gaze to read business signs and make intentional observations on my surroundings.
Café Laundré cleaners. Pushing Up Daisies floral shop. Love is in the Hair salon.
Wow. That small strip loved their kitschy-type names. From a marketing standpoint, probably made them easy to remember.
My gaze swept the cars in front of the strip and paused on an electric model. Not rare in Southern California, but theSave the chubby unicornsbumper sticker, complete with a picture of a white rhino, could only mean one thing.
Nicole.
Before my actions even registered, I flicked on my turn signal and made a right turn, pulling into the parking lot a moment later. I killed the engine and glanced at my reflection in the rearview mirror with a touch to the hair at my temples.
