A Brush of Wings (20 page)

Sami read it one more time, then she hit the send button. Before she could change her mind.

NORMALLY AFTER PITCHING
a complete game, Marcus could feel the ache in his arm for three days. But that Monday morning—their day off—the pain in his bicep and shoulder was nothing to the hurt in his heart.

Yesterday, Mary Catherine had finally written to him. But the letter was brief and impersonal. He took his coffee to his back porch and stared at the treetops in the neighborhood below his. The dense clouds and cool temperatures this September morning suited his mood.

Marcus pulled out his phone and read the email once more.

Hi, Marcus, it’s me. I know, you’re probably wondering why I didn’t write sooner, but you know me. Always running. I guess I finally figured it couldn’t hurt to drop you a note and tell you how much I’m loving it here. The teaching and the children—all of it is exactly what I needed. I really do belong here—just like I told you. Because of that, I committed to staying another two months. Through November at least, when another teacher will arrive to replace me. The kids need someone, and I really want to stay.

By now I’m sure you’re dominating the play-offs. I follow you on Twitter, so I know you’ve been playing some of your best baseball.

Anyway, I’m sorry so much time has passed. I think of you still.

Love, Mary Catherine

Marcus slipped his phone back in the pocket of his jeans and exhaled hard. Every memory of Mary Catherine was filled with depth and beauty. She was like no other girl he knew. Yet it was like someone else had written the entire letter. Factual, breezy. Nothing she wouldn’t have said to an acquaintance.

All except the last line.

I think of you still . . .
Marcus closed his eyes.
Lord, I’m so frustrated. What is it with that girl? And why won’t she let me see what she’s really feeling? Why is she keeping her distance?

He waited, but there was no answer, nothing audible. Instead he felt the slightest sense of fear. A panic, almost. Or maybe it was just the not knowing that was clouding his mind. For a minute he let himself sit in the anxiety, just live in it.
What is it, God? Is something wrong with her?

A verse came to mind, one he had read last night as part of his devotions. It was from Proverbs 4:23—
Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life.
He thought hard about the message there.
Guard your heart . . .
The words were pure wisdom. Especially after the way Mary Catherine had treated him.

But he had the feeling they applied to Mary Catherine, too. He stood and walked to the balcony railing. Was that what Mary Catherine was doing? Guarding her heart? Was she keeping something from him as a way of preserving her own peace of mind?

Or was there some other meaning he was supposed to take from the verse?

Marcus peered into the cloudy sky. It reminded him of Mary Catherine. He could study her and look deeply in her direction, but always there was this layer of clouds he could never quite see through.

What am I supposed to do, God? How can I help her?

My son, go to her. Go to Africa.

Marcus took a step back. The voice was clear and powerful, audible. Or at least it seemed that way.
Lord?
A cold feeling ran down his arms.
You . . . you want me to go to her?
He dropped slowly to the nearest chair.
I already tried that. She doesn’t want to see me.

Listen to me, my son. Trust me.

Again the voice! Marcus jumped up and looked around. It took a few seconds before he could settle down enough to sit. Was the voice really God’s? What sense did it make? Why would God want him to go to Africa? Marcus rubbed the back of his neck and tried to make sense of the voice. It was too clear to ignore.

But if he went to Africa, Mary Catherine would think he was crazy. What possible purpose could there be in taking a trip like that? She’d already made herself very clear. Mary Catherine had moved on without him. She wanted him to do the same.

But then . . . if God wanted him to go to Africa, maybe there was a different reason. A reason Marcus didn’t know about yet. He thought about booking a flight but stopped himself. Flights could wait—since the idea of going seemed ludicrous. But there was something he could do. Just in case.

Marcus checked his schedule. He and Tyler had talked about getting dinner later since Sami had a teen moms meeting at the Youth Center. But between now and then he was completely open. He walked back into the house even before the idea was fully formed. An hour later he was at the reception desk of the clinic in Santa Monica.

“I remember you!” The woman was the same one who had helped Mary Catherine six months ago. “How can I help?”

Marcus didn’t hesitate. “I’d like shots. Everything I need for Uganda.”

The woman smiled. “You’ll be visiting?”

“Maybe.” He grinned. The woman clearly didn’t know he was a pitcher for the Dodgers. Which suited Marcus just fine.

“All right.” The receptionist opened a door and found a clipboard with a few sheets of paperwork. “Have a seat in the waiting room and fill these out. I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”

On the drive here Marcus had done the math. Even if they won the World Series again—which wasn’t likely—he could be in Africa soon enough. Six weeks tops—if God really wanted him to make the trip. Either way, Marcus would wait to be sure. He wouldn’t go to Uganda without absolute certainty that the trip was God’s idea. If this was the Lord’s plan, Marcus needed more than the voice he’d heard earlier.

He needed a sign.

MARY CATHERINE COULD
sense Ember’s growing concern.

When the kids were dismissed for lunch, Ember walked up and put her hand on Mary Catherine’s shoulder. “You need help.” Ember searched Mary Catherine’s eyes. “Did you ever email someone?” She hesitated, intently serious. “I’ve prayed about this. God told me you are very sick.”

God had told her? Mary Catherine hung her head and did her best to hold back the tears.
If You told her, Lord, then maybe it’s finally time for me to tell her.
She lifted her eyes to Ember’s again. “Can we go talk somewhere?” She pressed her fingertips to her eyes and tried to stay strong. “I have something to tell you.”

“Of course.” Ember didn’t look surprised. She followed Mary Catherine to a pair of chairs on the back porch of the orphanage. From their seats they could see the children playing a raucous game of tag.

Never stop playing,
she wanted to tell them. For a long while Mary Catherine simply watched the children. Finally she spoke to Ember in a way that allowed a new level of depth. “I did email my doctor.” She shook her head. “He never responded.”

“What?” Ember sounded outraged. “That’s terrible.”

“I know.” Her doctor should’ve seen the email and responded by now. He must not have read it. Which was strange, since he had asked her to stay in touch. Maybe talking to the doctor simply didn’t matter at this point. She sighed. “Getting medical help . . . it might not make a difference.”

Ember shook her head, clearly confused. “A doctor could see what’s wrong. Maybe he would have you fly home so they could run tests.”

Mary Catherine nodded, distracted. Lately she had experienced moments of peace like never before. A sense of deep contentment would come over her as if she and God were the only ones in the room.

This was one of those times.

After a minute, Mary Catherine turned again to Ember. “I know why I’m sick.” She paused, and the wheeze in her chest was loud enough for both of them to hear. “My heart is failing—something I was born with.”

As soon as the words were out, Mary Catherine felt a weight lift from her. She should’ve told Ember a long time ago, but at least she’d done it now. Her honesty brought a rush of relief.

Across from her, Ember’s eyes flashed with concern. “If your heart is failing, then you should definitely go home, right? So you can get help?”

“That’s just it.” Mary Catherine could feel the peace in her eyes. “I need a heart transplant but that could take months.” She allowed a weak smile. “Ember, most heart patients die waiting.”

Ember stood and folded her arms. She looked out at the play yard for a long time before turning again to Mary Catherine. “You have to go home if you’re going to receive a heart. Isn’t that true?”

“My doctor told me it wouldn’t matter. Being home wouldn’t put me at the top of the list.”

“But you’re sicker now. That could change things.” A sigh came from Ember. “Your doctor couldn’t possibly have wanted you here.”

“No.” Mary Catherine hesitated. As long as she was being honest she might as well be up front with this, too. “He didn’t want me to leave.”

Ember looked like she might cry. She returned to her seat and stared at Mary Catherine. “Don’t you want to live?”

“Of course.” Fresh tears sprang to Mary Catherine’s eyes. She coughed a few times. “That’s why I’m here. If I didn’t come now, I might never have another chance.”

A hot wind danced through the dusty grounds, and in the distance storm clouds gathered. Mary Catherine could feel the tension from her friend.

Ember waited before speaking again. “I understand. I really do.” But her eyes said she wasn’t ready to give up. “But if you get home and get your transplant, you can come back whenever you want.”

Ember was right, of course. “I guess I’m not much of a sidelines person.” She struggled to take a full breath. “I figured if I have six months to live, I’d rather spend them here. Where I always dreamed of living. Rather than waiting back home only to die without ever . . .” She looked out at the children again. “Without ever knowing this.”

Ember looked at her. “I get that.” She reached for Mary Catherine’s hand and gave it a slight squeeze. “But write to your doctor again. Keep an open mind. Please.” She paused. “Your doctor might think of something new, another way to help you. I’m going to pray for that.”

“Okay.” They stood and walked toward the lunchroom. Mary Catherine struggled beneath a blanket of exhaustion. “Thank you, Ember. For caring.”

“What can I do? To help you breathe better?”

Mary Catherine smiled. “Pray. God’s brought me this far.”

Lunch was chicken and rice, and Mary Catherine was able to eat more than usual. Proof that she felt better having Ember know the truth. Less anxiety in her gut. After lunch she spent half an hour in her hut, resting on her bed and talking to God. Yes, He’d gotten her through to this point, and He would get her through as long as He wanted her here on Earth.

And Mary Catherine had a sense that she wouldn’t be here long. Even so, she felt comforted by peace and contentment, an assurance that knew no boundaries. Her faith was not dependent on circumstances or illness or ever seeing Marcus again.

It was anchored in Jesus. So why was she constantly avoiding telling her friends the truth about her heart? Mary Catherine knew the reason. She didn’t want the people she loved most trying to talk her out of being here.

Mary Catherine put her hand to her chest and felt the beating of her heart. It still
seemed
strong, but she knew it wasn’t. Once a long time ago she had worked out with a trainer at the Santa Monica gym. He led her to a bench press and at first she had rattled off a quick ten reps. Then the trainer put more weight on either end of the bar. When she tried to lift it, the bar settled on her chest. She had choked and gasped for breath, making terrible sounds until the trainer rushed in to help her. The ordeal was terrifying.

Which was how she felt constantly now.

The wheezing, the pressure on her chest, it was part of the process. Her fear wouldn’t get the best of her, though. Mary Catherine reached for her Bible and opened it to Philippians, chapter 1. This was Paul’s letter to the church at Philippi. The Scripture that had brought Mary Catherine so much hope lately. In this book, Paul was near death and in prison. Yet he wasn’t afraid. He was filled with the same kind of peace that kept Mary Catherine company lately.