A Brush of Wings (3 page)

Even if all she gained by remembering him was the assurance that—for the briefest moment—she had known what it felt like to be in love.

Something she would never know again.

Mary Catherine started at the top of the next page and wrote,
Things I Need to Do Before Africa.
Beneath that she scribbled a brief list.

Get shots and extra heart medicine. Call Mom and Dad. Buy school supplies for the kids at the orphanage.

She paused.

This wasn’t how she wanted to spend her morning. She didn’t need a list to know what she had to do before leaving for Africa. She turned the page and poised her pen at the first line. Her heart overflowed with dreams and hopes, doubts and fears. She didn’t have time for lists.

And like that every thought of her heart began pouring onto the page.

Sometimes I close my eyes and I’m there again, I can feel the creaking boards beneath my feet, dancing on that back deck with Marcus. He holds me in his arms, and his quiet laughter fills my soul. The stars hang in the night sky and I can feel his breath against my skin, his lips against mine. And I do everything I can to hold on to the moment, to etch it into my heart in a place where I can relive it whenever I want. The truth is, I’m lonely and afraid. Marcus is gone, and I’ll never see him again. And the scant days ahead are slipping through my fingers.

Mary Catherine closed her eyes. Maybe God would allow her to keep the memory alive—even till her dying day. And since that could be sometime this year, she was even more determined to find a way to hold on to the brightest and most beautiful moments of her life.

Like the one she should’ve had this morning out on the beach.

Never mind that her doctor didn’t want her in the ocean. Too much exertion. Too much adrenaline. She had been taking medication to prepare her for a heart transplant, but it could be years before a donor heart became available. She had to take care of herself, give herself the greatest chance at living long enough to get a heart. If Mary Catherine ran her heart into the ground before a donor could be identified, then . . . well, then she would go home to heaven and she’d spend every morning at the beach.

Forever.

But she would never have another chance to see Marcus.

Mary Catherine read what she’d written. Why was she running off to Africa, anyway? Maybe she should go to Phoenix. Walk up to Marcus at a break in his practice and tell him she was wrong to send him away without a bit of hope, wrong to believe they could never have anything between them.

As soon as the crazy idea landed on her, she dismissed it. The reason then was the reason now. She was dying. It’d be different if she and Marcus had been dating when the news came. If that were the case, she couldn’t deny him the chance to ride out this season with her if that’s what he wanted.

But they weren’t dating. Marcus was just finding a relationship with God, just realizing what was important in life. He needed a love who could walk that journey of faith at his side. Someone who would be there for him through the years.

Not someone who needed a new heart.

She began to write again.

Love isn’t God’s plan for my life. It never was. I wasn’t that girl with the long line of guys trying to get my attention. Real guys . . . guys who loved Jesus . . . they weren’t at my school and they weren’t around at college.

She thought for a moment. Sure she had dated a little bit, but no guy had ever turned her head.

Until Marcus Dillinger.

Star pitcher for the Los Angeles Dodgers. Of all people. She put his face out of her mind and moved her pen across the page once more.
Your love is enough. It is. Thank You, Lord, for that.

A smile lifted the corners of Mary Catherine’s mouth. She breathed in and felt the presence of God in the most real way possible.
Look at all the things I’ve done, Lord . . . all because You let me live. Really live.
She closed her eyes again and she could see herself, skydiving over a field near Castaic Lake, and riding her bike down Ocean Avenue and across hundreds of miles of paths that ran along the beach from Will Rogers to Redondo. She had known what it was to have the sea breeze against her face, the sunshine in her long hair.

She had swum with the dolphins and looked long at the horizon. She had taught second-graders at church and sat bedside with elderly people at the Santa Monica Summer Hospice Home. She had walked foreign soil in a number of countries to tell people about the hope of Jesus.

Yes, God had already allowed her so much life. Mary Catherine could never complain about the fact that she was running out of time. No matter how sad the next six months might be, she couldn’t dwell on what she would never have. The love she would never know. She would anchor herself instead on what God had given her, the ways she had lived. Some people never had a minute of the wonderful life she’d already experienced.

She moved her pen to the bottom of the page.

As for the dreams that will never be . . . maybe, God, You’ll let me live them out at night when I sleep. The unimaginable joy of standing face-to-face with a man like Marcus and promising him forever. The precious warmth of my very own newborn in my arms and the journey of growing old next to the love of my life.

Together loving You and loving people for a hundred years.

If You’ll let me live those things out when I sleep, Lord, that will be enough. I promise. No tears, no complaining, no doubting. I am Yours, always. No matter how many days You give me.

There was one more adventure just ahead, one more dream that actually would come true. Her dream of going back to Africa. The orphanage in Uganda had just opened. Already forty-three kids called the place home. Mary Catherine would organize it and make a plan for food and schooling. She would teach, and hire other teachers, and bring in caretakers for the children.

Yes, Mary Catherine would make sure the orphanage thrived. She knew exactly what needed to be done. God had given her this mission—she had no doubt.

She opened her eyes. Long ago when no guys seemed interested, when no one invited her to the prom and all of her friends were finding someone special, Mary Catherine had made a pact with God.

She could live without love, as long as she could love where she lived.

And that place—she had known from the minute she went on her first African mission trip—would be Uganda. At times she had hoped she might have years there, pouring herself into the people, helping them know the salvation of Jesus and giving them a purpose. Teaching trades and digging wells for clean water and providing education to better their chances at a future.

She moved to Los Angeles intent on making a difference and saving money before moving to Africa. But she hadn’t known how little time she actually had.

A text from Sami flashed on her phone.

How was the beach?

Mary Catherine felt a ripple of guilt. That was something else. She had told Sami about her valve condition, but her friend had no idea that without a heart donor, Mary Catherine might have less than a year to live.

No one knew but the doctor. Mary Catherine hadn’t even told her parents—although she needed to find a way to do that. Probably before Africa. The problem was, she didn’t want her family or her best friend feeling sorry for her or worrying about her. She wanted them to believe in this trip, and to pray for a miracle. And if she didn’t get one, then she wanted them to rejoice that she had lived a full life.

Regardless of how the news was perceived, Mary Catherine had promised her doctor that sometime soon she would tell Sami. Her, at least. She would make Sami promise not to tell Tyler or Marcus. Nothing good could come from them knowing how sick she was. They needed to focus on the coming baseball season.

But in case something happened in Africa, she really should have at least one friend who knew the truth, who could get word to her cardiologist in an emergency. Sami would be that friend. No matter how much Mary Catherine didn’t want to tell her.

Mary Catherine closed the journal. She could still see the concern on Dr. Cohen’s face when she told him she was serious about spending six months in Africa. He had tried to talk her out of it, but ultimately he had agreed. Six months, no longer. And only if she had easy access to transportation back home.

In case she became sicker.

And so with what might be the final months of her life, she would live out the one dream she could still make a reality. The dream of helping orphans. And at night, when the strange sounds of the African plains kept her awake, she would allow herself to go back. Back to Marcus Dillinger, and a love that would only ever be possible when she fell asleep.

In the quiet of her dreams.

2

S
AMI ONLY HEARD FROM TYLER
every few days—whenever he had a spare moment and no one needed him to run a meeting or stage a coaching conversation or help out in the dugout. Spring training in Arizona kept him constantly busy.

Sami missed him with every breath.

So when Tyler’s call came that morning midway through a long meeting at the Youth Center, Sami immediately stepped into the hallway.

“Hello?” Her heart skipped a beat. “Tyler?”

“Baby.” He was breathless, as if hearing her voice had given him permission to inhale. “I’m so glad you picked up.”

She closed her eyes. “I miss you.”

“I knew it would be a long month, but it feels like a year.” He sounded so close, like he was holding her in his arms. “I need you, Sami.”

She leaned against a cool wall and pictured him, Dodgers baseball cap, shorts, and a polo shirt. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Me, too.” Wherever he was, the spot was quieter than usual. More intimate. “Skype tomorrow?”

“You have time?”

“I do. Finally.” He sighed. “Where are you?”

“At the Youth Center. Back-to-back meetings this morning.” She peered into the room. A volunteer was speaking to the group. “Things are great here, Tyler. Every program is full. And the teen mentoring class starts tonight.” She smiled. “Lexy will be here. I just wish we could have Mary Catherine.”

“She leaves in two weeks, right?”

“Yes.” Sami glanced back at the meeting. “My friends from college are helping tonight in her place. Five of them.”

Tyler laughed. “It’ll take five of them to replace Mary Catherine.”

“True.” Sami exhaled. She would miss Mary Catherine so much.

The subject bounced back to Tyler and Marcus and spring training.

Tyler sounded subdued as the conversation ended. “Sometimes . . . I think about the past. My years in the minors. I was such a fool, Sami.” He fell quiet for several seconds. “I’d give anything to have that time back. To never have left you.” His sincerity rang through the phone line. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She was touched to the depths of her heart. “The past is behind us. All that matters is now.”

When the call was over, for a long moment Sami could only stand there and relive the conversation. God was so good to give her this new, faithful Tyler Ames. The conversation was proof of something that filled Sami with joy.

Nobody would ever love her the way Tyler Ames did.

THE LAST TIME IN
program had always been a short-term answer to a long-term problem. Scare teens with the reality of prison and follow up with a series of counseling meetings.

But then what?

Sami and Mary Catherine had worked together when the program ended last year to come up with a next step. A place where troubled girls could find hope and faith and a future.

In the end the answer was obvious—a mentoring program for teenage girls. Another way the Chairos Youth Center could make a difference in Los Angeles.

Tonight’s meeting was the first, but Sami believed it would be the start of a long-running forum where girls were given an alternative to gangs and crime. She had prayed that many girls from the Last Time In program would come tonight, and sure enough, several were among the twenty-four teens from the community who showed up for the meeting.