A Brush of Wings (11 page)

She leaned her head back against the seat.

A host of recent memories lined up on the screen of her heart. Starting with last night.

The beach had been calling to her all day, but she wasn’t finished packing. So instead of a final walk to the shore, Sami helped her organize her bags.

“Four suitcases?” Sami had laughed. Both of them had tried to keep things light. “You’re coming back after six months, right?”

Mary Catherine never actually answered. She laughed about not really needing so much, and how two of the bags were school supplies. By then Mary Catherine had made her decision. She wouldn’t tell Sami about the transplant, not until she returned from Africa. Besides, she would only be an email away.

When they finished zipping up Mary Catherine’s bags, they talked about the teen mentor program. “I’m still worried about Lexy.” Sami’s eyes clouded over. “Did she ever get ahold of you?”

“No.” Mary Catherine hated that she and Lexy never talked. “I called her a few times and left messages.” She shook her head. “Nothing.”

Otherwise the Youth Center was doing better than ever. More neighbors on board, more people finding life outside the gangs. Their conversation continued through dinner until they watched
Saving Mr. Banks.
Both of them were wiping tears when it ended.

Sami had turned off the TV and looked at Mary Catherine. “I don’t want to say goodbye.”

“I know. I hate this.” Mary Catherine had forced a smile. “Six months will go quickly.” She had used her savings to pay six months’ rent up front. So she would have a home to come back to. If she lived that long.

Like when she was with Marcus last week, Mary Catherine hated not telling Sami the whole story. She might love Africa so much that she would choose to stay until her heart gave out. Yes, she’d paid her rent in case she returned to LA. But truthfully she had no idea if she’d ever come back.

Before turning in for the night, the girls had hugged. Sami promised to pray for her every day. “I try to think about the kids you’ll be helping.” She put her hand on Mary Catherine’s shoulder. “So I don’t feel sorry for myself.”

Her mention of the African children made Mary Catherine smile. This was her purpose now, her passion. “I can’t wait. I’ve dreamed about going back for so long.”

They prayed together, that God would bless Mary Catherine’s time in Nashville with her parents, and that He’d guard and protect her on the way to Uganda and every day she was there.

“Until we’re back here together again.” Sami finished the prayer. “In Jesus’ name, amen.”

“Amen.” Mary Catherine had felt exhausted. So many goodbyes, so much finality.

Sami had still been asleep this morning when Mary Catherine took a cab to the airport. Sami had offered to drive her, but Mary Catherine gently declined. Better to take a cab and not drag out their goodbyes. As for her car, rather than sell it, she left it behind. Sami planned to drive it a couple of times a week—just to keep the engine working. Mary Catherine would ask Sami to sell it if she stayed longer than six months or if . . .

The thought dangled in the shadows of her mind.
What if . . .

A voice came over the plane’s PA system. The captain introduced himself and gave a rundown of the hours ahead. They expected clear skies, a smooth flight. “Right now we’re flying over Arizona.” He paused. “Let our flight attendants know if you need anything at all. For now, sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight.”

Arizona.

Mary Catherine opened her eyes and looked out the window again. The desert stretched out below, and somewhere in the landscape was the Camelback Ranch facility. She had checked the Dodgers’ schedule. Marcus would be getting ready to pitch later today. He’d tried to reach her a number of times, and always—though it hurt her terribly—she hadn’t responded.

What was the point? He needed to get on with his life. The greatest gift she could give him was her silence.
I’m sorry, Marcus . . . God, let him know I’m sorry. Please.

After a while Mary Catherine fell asleep. She woke up as they were landing in Nashville. This time the window gave her a glimpse of everything familiar. The deep green rolling hills and picturesque trees. From the air, Nashville looked like Mary Catherine expected heaven to look.

One day soon she would know if she was right.

THE TIME WITH HER PARENTS
was special for all of them. Mary Catherine and her mother made dinner each night, taking turns with favorite new recipes—all of them ketogenic and low carb.

“You look beautiful.” Her mother commented on the fact often. “A little thin, though. And your blood sugars are good?”

Sometimes Mary Catherine’s mother would look at her a little longer, as if maybe she suspected something was wrong. Once while they were making Mary Catherine’s no-carb pizza, her mom stopped and stared at her. “You’re sure you’re okay? You seem quieter. Like something’s on your mind.”

Mary Catherine only smiled. “Just thinking about Africa.” It was the truth. Her dream trip filled her mind more than thoughts of her failing health. “I can’t wait to meet the kids.”

Her mom nodded, but her expression made it clear she wasn’t quite convinced. “You’re taking care of yourself? Your heart . . . your diabetes?”

“I am.” Mary Catherine cracked several eggs over the bowl of grated mozzarella. “I’m staying in ketosis. Eating less than twenty carbs a day.” She stirred the eggs and cheese. “I can breathe easier.”

That part was true, too. She’d been very careful with her diet these past few days and she was less out of breath. Clearly her heart responded to healthier eating.

She and her parents seemed happier than ever, their marriage better than it had been in their early years. The three of them felt like a family again. Together they took walks each night around the neighborhood Mary Catherine grew up in. Maybe it was the clearer air in Nashville or the way she was eating—but she wasn’t as winded as before. They talked about her childhood days, the time she tried to ride a two-wheel bike the day before kindergarten and knocked out one of her teeth, and the summer she was eight years old, when she won the blue ribbon at the fair in a race against all the boys.

Her mother laughed. “Every one of those boys thought they had you beat.”

“But no!” Her dad grinned. “My girl took the prize.”

At night they played spades and Password and watched old home movies. Mary Catherine loved her time with her parents more than she could’ve imagined. They had accepted the fact that Mary Catherine would be in Africa for six months, but she avoided the conversation about her pending heart transplant. No need to ruin the mood for everyone.

In a blur of happy times, the visit was over and her parents were taking her to the airport. They stepped out of the car at the curbside departure area. Her father helped her with her bags and then hugged her. “You’ll be so far away.” He paused. “Be careful, sweetie. Please.”

“I will, Dad.” Mary Catherine kissed his cheek. “I’ll check in every few days. Promise.”

He looked satisfied. “We’d like that.”

Mary Catherine turned to her mom. She loved her parents so much. And seeing them together again was nothing short of miraculous. Mary Catherine looked deep into her mother’s eyes. “It means a lot that you understand this.” The two of them hugged and Mary Catherine fought the tears.

“We’re proud of you, honey.” Her mom’s smile emanated kindness and support.

A memory rushed at Mary Catherine. She was twelve and so excited for her first day of middle school. Her mom had smiled as she said goodbye, but every sort of concern showed in her eyes.

It was that way between them now. Mary Catherine searched her mom’s face. “It’ll be okay.” They hugged again. “Really.”

Her mom put her hand gently on Mary Catherine’s cheeks. “You being here . . . made me realize how much I’ve missed you.” She stood a little straighter, clearly trying to be strong. Her mom wiped a single tear from her cheek. “Go. I love you.”

Mary Catherine stepped into the curbside baggage line, and for a long moment she held on to the image of her parents standing there. They exuded the kind of love a girl could only get from her mom and dad. She waved one more time as they climbed back into the car and drove away.

Was this it? The last time she would ever see them? Mary Catherine closed her eyes and forced herself to be brave. Was she wrong not telling them about her heart? The conflict tore at her. If her parents knew, they would never agree to her trip to Africa. And she wanted this so badly. She could already see the children’s faces.
Lord, please . . . let me live long enough to be back here one day.

She blinked and focused on the passengers ahead of her. The line wasn’t long. A couple more people and then she’d check her bags and get her boarding passes.

Now that the goodbyes were behind her, she could hardly wait for Uganda.

BECK RAN THROUGH THE AIRPORT,
dodging tourists and slow-moving families, just another passenger late for a flight.

He was a businessman today, black suit and tie, racing through the ticketing area and darting outside just as Mary Catherine was about to step up to the skycap counter and check her bags.

“Excuse me!” He was still running, and he glanced at Mary Catherine. “Sorry. I checked the wrong bag.”

Mary Catherine stepped back and waited.

Beck shook hands with the man behind the counter. “Sorry for cutting the line, but I’ll miss my flight if I don’t get this figured out.”

The skycap looked confused. “Did I help you today?”

“Yes.” Beck waved his thumb toward the cars dropping off passengers. “My buddy dropped me off here. I checked two bags.” He shook his head. “One of them was supposed to be carry-on.” He checked his watch.

“Do you have your baggage claim tickets?”

Beck drew a blank. He needed to make this moment last as long as possible. Timing was everything. He patted his pants pockets, checked them, and then did the same to his suit coat pockets. Behind him he could feel the people getting antsy.

He turned around and looked at Mary Catherine. “So sorry.” He gave her a weak smile. “Gotta find my claim tickets.” He looked on the ground around the baggage center and then checked his pockets again.

“What’s your name?” The skycap looked frustrated. “Maybe we can find your tags that way.”

Beck gave the man a last name with six syllables. It took three minutes just to enter the spelling correctly in the computer. Every minute or so, Beck looked over his shoulder and apologized to Mary Catherine. Each time she nodded, pleasant.

Another minute and then the skycap shook his head. “No passengers by that name. Not on any flight.”

“You’re kidding.” Beck crossed his arms and did his best to look baffled. “Maybe you entered the name wrong.”

Another three minutes getting his name into the computer again and this time when it didn’t turn up, the man behind the counter shook his head. “I need the claim tickets. Maybe your wallet?”

“Yes!” Beck pulled out his wallet. In the process he fumbled and it fell to the ground, credit cards and receipts scattering on the cement. He crouched down and made an effort at gathering each piece and dusting it off.
Come on,
he thought.
Hurry . . . I can’t do this forever.

There were a dozen people behind Mary Catherine now. Out of the corner of his eye, Beck watched her check the time on her phone and glance through the window at the counter inside. The line there was even longer. Beck was certain Mary Catherine wouldn’t leave when she was next up.

Three people behind Mary Catherine, a large man shouted, “Hey, buddy. Maybe step to the side and look.” His face was red and sweaty. “We got planes to catch!”

The skycap walked out from behind the counter and tapped Beck on the shoulder. “Sir, I’ve got a long line. Wait over there.” He pointed toward the wall near the doors. “Until you find the claim tickets.”

“Okay. Hold on.” Beck could feel his heart racing. He should be here by now. Where was he? Beck had killed nearly ten minutes but he was out of reasons to hold up the line any longer.

Then from his place crouched on the ground, still collecting the contents of his wallet, Beck saw something that allowed him to relax again. He returned the cards and receipts to his wallet, stood and nodded at Mary Catherine, and then at the others. “Sorry.” He pointed to the doors. “I’ll look inside.”