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English, and she seems worried about her treatment,” Darcy said.

      “Where’s Maria?” Emma asked. “She can translate.”

      “She took some blood samples over to the hospital.”

      Frustration was apparent on Emma’s face. Engrossed in the conversation, Mark didn’t notice Angie until too late. The little girl sidled over to Mrs. Valdez, her large eyes filled with sympathy as she reached up and took hold of the woman’s hand.

      “It’s okay,” Angie soothed as she stared up at Mrs. Valdez’s wrinkled face. “You can use my EMLA Cream, and the needle poke won’t hurt a bit.”

      Angie handed the tube of cream to Mrs. Valdez and Mark’s heart turned over. What had he done to deserve this sweet little girl? Truly he had been blessed. Even though she didn’t understand what Mrs. Valdez was saying, Angie knew instinctively it was the woman who was sick, not her husband.

      “Excuse me, but I speak Spanish,” Mark interceded. “Perhaps I can help translate?”

      Emma’s eyes glowed with relief. “Yes, I would appreciate it. First, tell Mrs. Valdez not to be worried. We only want to help her.”

      Emma waited patiently while Mark translated for Mrs. Valdez. He could see the earnest concern written on Emma’s face and heard the soothing tone of her voice as she explained what Mrs. Valdez could expect from her treatment. Mark’s respect for Emma grew as he interpreted questions and responses back and forth. In a matter of minutes, both Mr. and Mrs. Valdez relaxed and smiled. Mark realized then that Emma really did care about her patients, though she seemed to fight it.

      “Gracias.” The woman nodded at Mark and Emma before she squeezed Angie’s hand.

      “She’s ready,” Mark told Emma.

      Accompanied by Sonja, the Valdezes shuffled to the treatment room, leaving Mark and Angie with Dr. Shields.

      “I didn’t know you spoke Spanish, but I’m sure glad you came to my rescue,” Emma said.

      “Yeah, I took it in college and spent a semester abroad in Spain. It comes in handy for my Hispanic clients.”

      The tension eased from her shoulders. “Thanks for helping out. I owe you big-time.”

      He smiled and sank his hands into his pants’ pockets. “No problem. I’ll collect from you on Tuesday, when I bring Angie in for her next treatment.”

      Emma glanced at the little girl, a momentary look of panic in her eyes.

      “Well, I need to get back to work.” Emma headed down the hallway.

      “Yeah, thanks again, Emma.”

      Boy, he was getting mixed signals. Something about Angie bothered her. What could it be? He tried to tell himself Angie’s welfare was all that mattered right now. Somehow he wished he dared hope for more.

      Chapter Four

      Inside her office Emma stared at the closed door after she’d left Mark. Whew, what a rotten situation. If he hadn’t been here to translate for her—

      Mark had always had a controlling nature. This time it had been a blessing. With Maria out of the office, Emma couldn’t deny she was grateful Mark had been here. Perhaps they could schedule Angie’s appointment at the same time as Mrs. Valdez’s treatment next week. If Maria was away from the office, Mark could translate again.

      Emma opened the door and hurried out to the front reception desk before Mark left. She posed the question to him, then waited for his rejection. In high school, he hadn’t been interested in helping with fund-raisers or other worthwhile causes. Would he help with this?

      “Sure,” he agreed readily. “I’d be happy to do it.”

      His generosity stunned her. Time and fatherhood had really changed him. Maybe his newfound belief in God had also made a difference. He had suffered a divorce, like her, and Emma found herself hoping he didn’t lose his child, too. She wouldn’t wish that on her worst enemy.

      Darcy set the appointment time and Mark left with Angie. Emma stood beside the reception counter for just a moment, remembering Mark’s gentleness as Angie received her injection. With aching tenderness, he had held his child close, kissing her, speaking soothing words in her ear.

      He seemed so different from the flippant, egotistic boy he used to be. For one insane moment she considered what it might be like to get to know him all over again.

      Emma bit her lip, fighting the soft feelings that suddenly overwhelmed her. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t get involved with Angie or her father. Yet, here she was remembering every detail of her encounter with them and feeling sentimental about a man she hadn’t seen for fifteen years.

      Next week, she would let Sonja handle Angie’s injection on her own, then pop into the examination room long enough to answer any questions they might have. She was going to put as much distance between herself and Mark Williams as possible.

      Renewed confidence steadied her nerves and she went about her business. By four o’clock that afternoon, she had enough time to go into her office and make a few phone calls.

      “Sonja, who is Don Yearwood?” she asked, trying to decipher Darcy’s hastily scrawled note. “It says he’s from the Make-A-Wish Foundation. What does he want?”

      “I think he’s the director of the Northern Nevada chapter,” Sonja supplied. “I’m not sure what he wants. Should I check with Darcy? I think she’s still here.”

      “No, he probably just wants a donation.”

      Emma dialed the number.

      “Hello, Dr. Shields. Thanks for returning my call,” Don Yearwood’s voice greeted her after she identified herself.

      “What can I do for you, Mr. Yearwood?”

      “Well, I’ll get right to the point, Doctor. Your name has come up on several occasions and you were highly recommended to us by Larry Meacham. He’s on the board of directors for our Sacramento California chapter and he thought you might be willing to serve on the advisory committee for the chapter here in Reno.”

      Larry Meacham again. She couldn’t help but feel honored, but the guy was wreaking havoc in her life. First, he sent a pediatric patient to her, now this.

      “Oh, I thought you just wanted a donation.” Emma’s voice sounded wilted.

      Don Yearwood’s scratchy laugh echoed in her ear. “Well, money is always nice, but we were hoping you might be willing to serve, as well.”

      It felt like her heart dropped through the floor. Every muscle in her body tightened. If she agreed to his request, she’d be expected to mingle with other people, give of her time and expose herself to other people’s sorrows.

      Could she do it?

      Don cleared his throat. “We’re already planning our annual barbecue and frequent flyer mileage fund-raiser for the end of August. We were hoping you might be willing to participate. It’s only a few months away. The board’s meeting this Thursday evening to discuss more plans. Would you be willing to help?”

      Emma twisted the phone cord tight around her index finger. “Um, what kind of time commitment would it entail?”

      “The advisory committee meets once a week, and the fund-raisers and activities are usually scheduled for evenings and weekends. Would that interfere too much with your work schedule and family life?”

      She had no family life. Except for her medical practice, she had nothing at all. Not even church. She was too angry at God to worship him.

      “No, that schedule should work fine. We can try it out—for a while.”

      “Great! I’m sure the other members will be delighted. I’ll let my secretary know you’ll be there.”

      Don

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