BROWNIE: An Angel's Visit Read online

  Her eyes anxiously scanned the multitude of colorful cars but she didn’t see her mother’s black Jaguar or her father’s red Corvette among them. She didn’t know what kind of cars they drove, not really; but she could identify on sight which ones belonged to Mommy and Daddy, even if she thought they had funny names she couldn’t quite pronounce.

  The little girl didn’t know what it was, but something took their attention away from her, and even when they did come to see her, Angela was painfully aware that they didn’t want to stay. It was obvious to their daughter that from the moment they arrived they looked at their watches a lot, as if they were in a hurry to be somewhere else.

  Angela sighed as she thought about her beautiful Mommy who had explained to her that hospitals made her uncomfortable and that she should not think that just because she did not stay very long that it meant she didn’t care about her. Though she never mentioned it to anyone, Angela wondered why other little girls’ and boys’ parents didn’t seem to feel that way. Their parents were around for hours at a time.

  It was Angela’s father, Marcus Cole, who was most likely to visit her, and that was usually later in the evening. He almost always came alone and gave his daughter his undivided attention—and she loved it!

  “Angela, would you like to come with me to the theatre?” Kenni invited as she came into the child’s room. The hospital had a special theatre where the children could go to see movies if they were up to it. She turned to face her, believing that it would be good for Angela to have a little fun. “Nurse Maggie told me we’ve got some new movies. Are you up for it?”

  Kenni’s heart ached for the little girl who was often alone. There were times when Angela seemed healthy and strong, and others when the child had been scarcely able to get out of bed. At the moment, she was enjoying a healthy cycle, and Kenni felt in her heart that Angela should be enjoying her good days.

  Kenni considered it a mixed blessing that the Coles had more than enough money to pay for their daughter to remain in the hospital, even during those times when she could live a close to normal life at home. Kenni didn’t understand their attitude, but in her line of work she had decided a long time ago that the children were her primary concern and doing what she could to keep them comfortable was often what made a difference in their lives. Most parents practically lived at the hospital during the times their children were the most ill, and then there were others like the Coles, who seemed to have a different set of priorities.

  Angela smiled, revealing deep dimples like her father’s and small pearl-like teeth. Nurse Kenni was her friend. Angela knew that on more than one occasion, Nurse Kenni had sat with her all night, long after she should have been at home sleeping. She also knew that being in the hospital would be much lonelier without the nurse’s smiling face.

  “I’d like that,” Angela said.

  “Do we need a wheelchair?”

  “No, I don’t need them anymore.” Angela bounced her way across the room to the doorway where her favorite nurse stood. “Today I think I can even run!” Angela took her hand. “What movie are we going to watch, Nurse Kenni?”

  “I’m not sure what’s playing,” Kenni answered, smiling, as they started down the hallway. “I guess we’ll find out when we get there.”

  “Will you watch with me?” Angela pleaded with beguiling, irresistible blue eyes. The pale yellow shade of her robe seemed to intensify their blueness. “Please?” she entreated again.

  “Yes ma’am, Miss Angela.” Kenni was officially off duty and had already told Jeb she would be late getting home. He, of course, was also working late, so it wasn’t any big deal.

  ***

  Jeb pushed a box of tissues across his desk toward Lauren Donahue. He folded his hands atop his desk and waited while Michael’s mother digested the info he had given her about the results of her son’s labs.

  Lauren pulled a wad of tissues from the plain white box, accidentally taking more than her shaking hands had intended. The results were in and ten-year old Michael, her only child, had a cancerous growth in his chest that might kill him. As Doctor Hastings’ words echoed in her mind, Lauren found she could no longer contain herself. The tears she had so bravely sought to hold back began to spill down her pale ivory cheeks.

  Lauren attended Westside Family Church, as did Doctor Hastings and his wife. The entire congregation was praying for Michael, along with friends and strangers around the world via the Internet, on Facebook and Twitter. No matter what the future would bring, Lauren held fast to her belief that God heard their prayers, and that He would, in His time, heal her son.

  “I’m sorry,” Lauren apologized as she fought to regain control of her emotions, wiping at her violet-blue eyes.

  Jeb shook his head. “Please don’t apologize. I can’t pretend to know how you feel, but I understand that what I’ve told you just turned your world upside-down.”

  Lauren swatted some stray strands of dark hair away from her face and cleared her throat. “I have to be strong for Michael.”

  Jeb nodded. “I understand, but my office can be that free zone where you don’t have to hold it all together. You don’t have to pretend, not in here, and brave fronts are discouraged within these walls.”

  “Thanks, Doctor Hastings.” She sniffled and then looked at her son’s doctor. He had an excellent reputation, and she was trusting God that her boy was in the best possible hands. “What happens next?”

  Jeb went on to explain that Michael would need to be hospitalized for additional testing, which would help them decide the best course of action.

  “Michael might be a good candidate for chemotherapy,” Jeb explained in a soft and gentle voice. “We might be able to shrink the tumor, which would make surgery easier on him. Or we might try a combination of chemo and radiation therapies. We may be able to completely eradicate the growth and then Michael won’t need surgery at all.”

  Lauren sighed loudly. Chemotherapy—the very thought of it dredged up heart wrenching images of bald, emaciated children who were sickened by the very treatment that was supposed to save them. “I wonder if the surgery would be better in the long run for him than undergoing chemo and radiation.”

  Jeb understood her reluctance. He had not conferred with a parent yet who did not balk at chemotherapy the first time it was mentioned. “Surgery, chemo and or radiation, are known as adjuvant therapies, an additional cancer treatment given after the primary treatment to lower the risk that the cancer will return. If the radiation and chemo eliminate the tumor, the cancer will be gone without the surgery, there are several ways we can approach this. Chemo and radiation are the normal follow up to surgery in most cases, but let’s take this one step at a time. All patients are different. We’ll find just the right treatment plan for Michael, that is what we do here.”

  “I hate to think of my baby having to go through that! Don’t they get sick from it?”

  “Yes, sometimes they do,” Jeb said, “but we’ve come a long, long way with pre-meds today that work wonders in preventing nausea. It’s not nearly as bad as it used to be. Unfortunately, we haven’t figured out a way yet to prevent the baldness. It’s a little easier for boys to deal with losing their hair, but not much.”

  A whimsical smile played at the corner of Lauren’s mouth as she thought of Michael losing his hair. “He might like that,” she mused. “He’s asked me before to shave his head because he thinks it’s cool.”

  Jeb chuckled softly. “Well, that’s one thing we won’t have to worry about.”

  Chapter 2

  Morgan Cole grew aware of the familiar knot tightening in her gut, the one that always formed as she waited in her car at the traffic light at the entrance to Brannan’s Point Pediatric Hospital, waiting for a green light. Her daughter, Angela, was a young patient there, hospitalized with acute lymphocytic leukemia, also known as A L L. Morgan loved her daughter but hated hospitals and sickness. She entered the parking lot and quickly found a space. She parked her car and looked in
the mirror, checking to be sure that the dazzlingly famous smile, the one that had catapulted her to the top of the super-model set was in place. She wore it like a mask as she made her way to the main entrance and caught a glimpse of her image in the sparkling, nearly invisible glass windows as she passed through the large automatic doors into the lobby. Morgan paraded inside with the confident arrogance of the most serene and self-assured woman on earth, an enviable model who could still own the catwalk, perhaps even the world.

  To allay the discomfort being at the hospital caused, Morgan amused herself by recalling the pleas she had received from Hollywood producers back in the day, of lucrative offers to appear in their films. She enjoyed fantasizing that she might have become an Oscar-winning actress, had she followed that path.

  Fantasies aside, owning and functioning as the CEO of Morgan Cole Cosmetics was a marvelous accomplishment, one of which she was extremely proud. Along with her husband, Marcus Cole, they had built their own empire. The business was started with Marcus’ money, but Morgan’s name and beauty drew her large fan base to become faithful customers. Every woman wanted to look like Morgan Cole, and that led to phenomenal revenue.

  “Hello, Darling,” Morgan greeted from outside her daughter’s hospital room. When she entered the room, to her surprise she saw that it was deserted. Her smile vanished at the sight of the empty bed. “Where is she?” she asked under her breath, but there was no one there to hear her mutterings.

  Even though no one else was around, that did not stop her from consciously standing perfectly straight, her feet spaced just the right distance apart. After spending so many years under the scrutiny of camera lenses and temperamental photographers, it had become part of her nature, a part of what defined Morgan Cole; she felt it set her apart from other women. She removed her black leather gloves finger-by-finger, and carefully placed them in her matching, hand-made Italian purse. The click of the gold clasp as she closed the purse sounded intrusively loud in Angela’s quiet, empty room. She unbuttoned the mid-calf length, beige cashmere coat that hid her flawless, hourglass figure to reveal a sheer white blouse of the finest imported silk lace and a long, buttery-soft, black suede skirt. She ran her French-manicured fingertips, perfectly shaped and freshly painted, through her short blonde hair and frowned.

  “She’s with that nurse again!” The words slipped from her mouth like a hiss. Suddenly, the sound of her daughter’s laughter drifting in from the corridor outside the room found its way to her ears. She turned to find Angela walking down the hall, hand-in-hand with Kenni Hastings. The little girl beamed contentedly with rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes as they shared a laugh over something Morgan could not hear.

  “Mommy,” Angela cried happily when she noticed her mother. She immediately tugged her hand free of Kenni’s, and in her impatience to get to her mother, broke into a run.

  Angela looked up at her mother with adoring bright blue eyes. To the child, her mother was the most beautiful person she had ever seen, lovelier than any princess or doll she could imagine. “Oh, Mommy, I missed you so much!”

  No kind words were offered in return, nothing even remotely resembling an affectionate greeting as Morgan’s eyes clouded over like a stormy winter sky. She shook her head as Angela’s arms reached out to her, ignored the eyes beginning to fill with tears and watching her expectantly for approval, any sign of love—but none was given.

  “Why are you out of bed? Tears won’t work; not on me,” Morgan scolded. Her slate-gray eyes were like shards of shattered ice as she crossed her arms angrily, her harsh gaze steeled unyieldingly on her daughter.

  Angela’s arms immediately dropped to her sides. She hated it when Mommy looked mean, and she felt guilty for making her angry.

  “You are not well, Angela! How many times must I tell you that you need to stay in bed and rest? You can’t run around the hospital with nurses who refuse to take what I say seriously.”

  Kenni was standing about a foot or so behind Angela, and steeled herself against Morgan Cole’s attitude and her unkind words. Her young patient looked about to burst into tears and Kenni’s pet name for Angela’s beautiful mother, Ice Princess, popped into her mind.

  “Mrs. Cole, Angela is so happy to see you,” Kenni began in a soft voice. She kept her expression neutral, intent on avoiding a scene. Inside, she screamed at the other woman with words only she could hear: What in the world is wrong with you, woman? Why can’t you see how much this child needs your support and love? “She had another awesome day so we went to the children’s theatre to watch a new movie. It’s always nice when the children visit with the other little boys and girls. Angela made a new friend while we were there!”

  “I did, Mommy! I have a new friend; her name is Annie Kramer. Know what? She has A-L-L like me, and we have the same birthday, Mommy! Nurse Kenni says Annie is gonna go home soon. How come you and Daddy can’t take me home too?”

  Kenni’s heart ached as she watched while Angela stood staring up at Morgan, her upturned little face and beguiling blue eyes pleading for some sign of affection, or at the very least an acknowledgement that her mother cared, but none was given. The child had managed to blink back her tears, but she could not hide her pain and rejection while Morgan remained stern, untouchable and untouched. Kenni doubted that being slapped in the face by her mother would have hurt Angela more.

  “Angela, get back into bed where you belong,” Morgan ordered like a drill sergeant before she turned to Kenni. “This is your fault!” She pointed a finger at Kenni. “You’re a nurse, aren’t you? Is this the way you care for the children in this hospital? Sick children belong in bed! Any idiot knows that.”

  Kenni took a deep, steadying breath to retain her composure. “Mrs. Cole, the doctors encourage the children to be active when they’re feeling well. Staying in bed on a long term basis isn’t good for anyone. In the long run, it can make them worse.”

  A voice sounded behind them; they turned to find Jeb who had been visiting a patient in a room down the hall. “Excuse me, but I couldn’t help overhearing. You sounded upset, Mrs. Cole. Is there a problem?” he asked. Jeb knew Kenni could handle whatever problem she encountered on her job—or in life for that matter—without his help, but he had seen Angela’s mother back down when a man intervened. “Mrs. Cole?”

  Angela’s mother frowned, practically scowling. “My daughter was dragged off to watch a movie instead of resting in bed where she belongs. I was simply voicing my disapproval, which, by the way, I will be sure to share with Doctor Bernstein the first chance I get. I don’t appreciate my wishes not being followed and I’ll not stand for it. Do I make myself clear?” She looked from Kenni to Jeb.

  Kenni chose to ignore the unspoken challenge in the woman’s icy gaze that dared to be defied. She brushed past Morgan to attend to Angela, determined not to let the other woman get the better of her. “Come on, Sweetie,” she coaxed the child. “Your dinner will be here soon. It’s pizza night! Let’s get you cleaned up so you and your Mom can have a nice visit.”

  It was Jeb who spoke up. He did not like bullies, even if they were formerly famous models. “Mrs. Cole, Angela is doing exceptionally well and we are so pleased with the progress she is making. There’s no reason for her to remain in bed when she’s feeling more than well enough to be up and around. It’s actually better for her to be active.” Jeb looked at his young patient who was battling tears, then at her mother. “Could we please step out into the hall for just a moment?”

  Frowning, Morgan left the doorway of the room and followed Doctor Hastings a few feet into the hallway. She turned around; arms crossed, and stared at Jeb with eyes that mimicked the foreboding grayness of a wintry Midwestern sky.

  “Mrs. Cole, to be perfectly honest, Angela has been doing well enough that I would prefer to see her at home with you and your husband instead of remaining here. I know Angela wants to go home more than just about anything right now,” Jeb said as gently as possible while her icy expression remained unchanged. �
�It’s so important to keep Angela’s spirits up, and I can’t stress that enough. You must know that she would love to go home, if only for a few days. I know it would make her very happy.”

  “Is she cured?” Morgan asked.

  “At this point, I can’t say that she is; that doesn’t mean that she is too sick to go home. You should think about it. It would make Angela so very happy.”

  “You just said yourself that you can’t say she’s cured.”

  “Being cured is one thing, being well enough to go home is quite another.”

  “Not to me. Her coming home is impossible.” Morgan’s tone clarified that the matter was not open for further discussion. “My daughter needs constant care, which is why we pay to keep her here.”

  Jeb saw an opening and took the chance that he could possibly persuade Mrs. Cole to see things in a different light. “Seeing as you’ve brought it up, your insurance company wanted to release Angela from the hospital some time ago, Mrs. Cole.” He knew his words would dissipate unheard into the air, but it was the truth and something he had longed to get off his chest.

  “I don’t care what insurance companies think, Doctor. She’s my daughter, not theirs! They don’t care, not when they’re willing to send her home where she might die. When they told us they would no longer pay for her care, we decided to pay for it ourselves…and we should be getting the best care for Angela. We aren’t like the rest of the population who find excuses like not being able to afford medical care on their own dime.”