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She peered at Mark over the rim of her glasses, her clear blue eyes showing a dazzling depth of intelligence and—
Barriers.
“Yes, at the blood lab,” he said.
Her gaze returned to the clipboard. “Okay, after each injection, we’ll monitor Angie’s white blood cells to make certain they don’t get too low. If they do, we’ll skip one treatment to give her blood levels time to recover, then pick up again the following week.”
“I understand.” Mark nodded.
“I don’t. How come?” Angie asked.
Ever inquisitive, Angie had been on the Internet with Mark last night, reading all they could find out about brain tumors and treatments. She’d even commented that she wanted to be an oncologist like Dr. Shields when she grew up. Mark prayed Angie made it to a very old age.
Emma gazed at Angie with a hint of respect. “That’s a very good question. I’m glad you asked. The drugs we’re giving you kill the bad cells, but they also kill good cells.”
Angie’s brow wrinkled. “And we can’t let too many good cells die, right?”
Smart kid. Pride surged through Mark. With Angie’s intelligence, he was certain she’d make it through med school, if given the chance.
“Right,” Emma said.
“But what if the chemo doesn’t kill my tumor?”
Mark held his breath, waiting for Emma’s response.
Emma’s mouth opened and her gaze softened, but she didn’t speak right away. She seemed to choose her words carefully. “We have other options. We can use radiation, but we’re not to that point, yet. Let’s just take it one day at a time, all right?”
Angie smiled and nodded. She looked so trusting as she watched Emma.
Mark’s body tensed without him willing it. What if they had to resort to radiation? Brain cells didn’t recover from radiation and Angie could lose much of her cognitive ability. What damage would the chemo cause? Her neurosurgeon had told him that once she finished her chemo protocol, she’d have a forty percent chance of never giving birth to her own child. Sometimes he wondered if the treatment was worse than the illness.
Realizing his breathing had quickened and his heart was pounding, Mark tried to calm his troubled mind. One day at a time. Right now, they were fighting for Angie’s life.
“Will the chemo make me sick?” Angie asked.
Emma lifted one brow. “I see you have your father’s intelligence.”
“And her mother’s beauty.” Mark smiled at Angie and the little girl beamed.
He mentioned Denise for Angie’s benefit.
Emma’s focus shifted to the alpine picture over his right shoulder and he couldn’t help wondering if the mention of Denise bothered her. What a fool he’d been all those years ago to dump Emma for a pretty girl whose father had connections in the business world. Prestige had meant everything to him back then.
“Certain foods react with the drugs we’re giving Angie and can create a problem. Do you have the list of things she shouldn’t eat?” Emma asked.
“Yeah, we’ve got it and I’ll make sure Angie follows it.”
“Okay, pumpkin, you ready?” Sonja came over to the bed, then reached to help Angie sit back.
Lying on the pillow, Angie handed Mark her flowered hat. He noticed Emma’s gaze slid over the little girl’s bald head where pink scars circled the top right side. Hopefully, her thick hair would eventually grow back and no one would notice.
Emma didn’t show even a glimmer of repulsion. Instead a flicker of empathy filled her eyes.
Ah, she’s not as indifferent as she wants us to believe.
Sonja lifted Angie’s shirt, exposing the porta-catheter installed for administering the chemo injections. The neurosurgeon had warned that, if they didn’t use a porta-catheter, by the time Angie turned eighteen, the veins in her arms would collapse. If not handled carefully, the powerful medicine could burn her skin bad enough to require a plastic surgeon to repair the damage. A patch covered the EMLA Cream, which Mark had applied to Angie’s skin thirty minutes earlier. Angie shouldn’t feel any more than a bit of pressure.
“Is it gonna hurt?” Angie’s voice wobbled as she looked at Emma.
Tenderness filled Emma’s eyes. “No, sweetie, it shouldn’t.”
Setting her clipboard aside, Emma slipped her glasses off and tucked them into her pocket before carefully peeling back the Emla patch. She accepted a piece of gauze from Sonja and wiped the white cream off.
“Okay, lie still.” Emma’s voice soothed.
Mark tensed. Angie clung to his hand, her pulse hammering against her throat.
“Honey, I’m here.” He cupped Angie’s cheek and looked into her eyes. Bending at the waist, he lowered his face to lean against the pillow. She whimpered and Mark kissed her forehead, speaking calming words to her.
“All done, sweetie,” Emma said. “You can sit up now.”
Both Angie and Mark breathed with relief. As Emma drew near, he caught her scent, a combination of warm skin and some elusive floral fragrance. Inhaling deeply, he tried to forget why he was here.
“It didn’t hurt a bit. Thanks, Dr. Shields.” Angie smiled, showing one tooth missing in front.
What a difference. Now the dreaded injection was over, Angie almost seemed her old self again.
“You’re welcome.” Emma’s mouth curled as she disposed of the needle in a box labeled Hazardous Waste.
Placing a small dot bandage over the needle prick, Sonja helped Angie lower her shirt and patted the little girl’s shoulder. “You did just fine, kiddo. Do you want to come select a prize from my stash out in the office? I got it special just for your visits.”
A grin spread across Angie’s face and she nodded. Sonja took her hand as Angie slid off the bed, then they left the room. Mark picked up Angie’s hat and slapped it against his thigh. Emma put her reading glasses on, then picked up her clipboard, jotting more notes.
“Thanks, Emma. I really appreciate this. I can’t begin to tell you how much.”
“You’re welcome. Angie’s a great kid.” She showed a wistful smile.
A wisp of golden hair slipped free of the tight knot at the back of her neck and curled against her cheek. He longed to reach out and feel the texture of it.
“Yeah, she is.” He hesitated, wondering how to say what was on his mind. “Look, Emma, I sense you’re uncomfortable with me here. Is it because I was such a dope back in high school?”
Her gaze glanced off his. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Sure she did. There was no need to pretend. It occurred to him that she was doing her best to hide her injured feelings. Maybe it was a defense mechanism. No, she didn’t want him here, but she had put aside her wounded pride to help Angie.
Sudden respect filled him, along with a protective impulse. He shouldn’t have reminded her that he had dumped her for Denise all those years earlier. “You’ve turned out to be an amazing woman, Emmy.”
Her eyes widened and she looked startled. “I’m a doctor, Mark. This is what I do.”
“Still, I want you to know I’m grateful.”
She laughed, a harsh sound with no humor. “Believe me, you’ll get my bill.”
He chuckled but sensed her deep sarcasm. “Thank goodness for health insurance.