Wish Me Tomorrow

Warmth rushed through her at his admission. “Don’t give it another thought. And please call me Christie. Would you let me know when John’s condition improves?”

“When or if?”

“When. Think positively.”

His laugh wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy, but then again, it didn’t sound bitter. “You never quit with that faith and hope stuff, do you?”

She grinned as she swiped a damp paper towel across the cooktop. “Nope.”

“Then you’ll have to hope for the both of us.”

“I can manage that. And, Eli?”

“You know. That’s the first time you’ve called me that, Christie.”

Her heart did a little flip. “Oh.”

He cleared his throat. “Sorry. What were you going to say?”

She turned her back to the living room and lowered her voice. “Take care of yourself.” A quiet moment passed. Then another. “Eli, are you still there?”

“Yes,” he breathed. “It’s been a long time since anyone’s said that to me.”

Despite her best intentions, things were getting personal. “Just part of my job,” she said offhandedly, not feeling casual at all.

“Oh. Right. Of course.” His gruff voice returned. “I’ll call you soon. And, Christie?”

“Yes?”

“I’ll see you when I get home.”

For a moment, she warmed to the image. A strong, caring man coming home—to her. Then she shook off the ridiculous sentiment. After tonight, they’d never see each other again. And it was for the best.

She’d vowed to care for support-group attendees. Falling for them, however, was not an option.

* * *

ELI CLICKED OFF the phone and slumped in an upholstered chair in the Bellevue emergency-department waiting room. Beside him, a young mother jiggled a wailing toddler. A large family huddled on a nearby couch, some weeping while others paced. A young man hollered and punched a soda machine until uniformed security officers dragged him away. The air was thick and smelled of antiseptic, illness and despair.

Was it possible to feel both glad to be somewhere and wish you were anywhere else?

He watched the harried nurse at the reception desk briskly sort patients. Her calm, no-nonsense manner reminded him of Christie and the impressive way she’d managed John’s emergency.

He leaned his head against the wall and replayed his conversation with her. The way she’d said his name had loosened something balled up inside him. For a moment he’d imagined himself in another place and time, able to date a woman like her.

He strode to a glass vending machine and glimpsed his reflection.

Fool.

He was a single father recovering from cancer...not exactly the catch of the century.

Hadn’t the desertion of his ex-wife, Jacqueline, taught him anything? Cancer infected more than bodies. It destroyed relationships, too. He might be in remission now. But what if his cancer returned? To protect his children, he’d never let another woman into his life or theirs.

Eli dropped some coins in the slot and grabbed the bag of trail mix that fell to the bottom. He glanced at the clock. How long since the nurse’s last update on John? There was no lineup at her desk. Now was the perfect time to ask.

She looked up from her computer with a weary expression.

“Mr. Roberts, you’re still not allowed to go inside. Family members and caregivers only,” she repeated patiently for the umpteenth time.

“I rode in the ambulance with him.”

The nurse inclined her head, the harsh light casting shadows on her gaunt cheeks. “I’m afraid that’s not enough.”

Eli smiled politely and handed her the unopened bag of trail mix. He’d lost his appetite. “It’s all right. I understand.”

But he didn’t. In what universe did biology count more than humanity? Despite repeated calls, John’s sons hadn’t bothered to show tonight.

He crossed to the window and watched rain blur the city’s lights into a colorful kaleidoscope. Ninety minutes had passed and he needed to reassure John that he wasn’t fighting alone. But how could he get by security? He paced, each step taking him nowhere fast.

A half hour later, his cell phone buzzed.

“Eli?”

Christie. He sat in the nearest chair and gripped the phone. “Are the kids okay?”

“Fine. They went to bed like angels. Listen, I was wondering if you preferred your books alphabetized or lined up according to size?”

What? Was she organizing his apartment? He liked it the way it was. Jacqueline had never allowed Tommy’s toys or Becca’s dance gear around, the regulated order a constant reminder of how he’d never fit into her picture-perfect world. Nowadays, the chaos kept them from remembering their past.

“Christie. Please don’t touch anything.”

“Oh. Okay. Did the test results come back on John?”

He pulled out her rabbit’s foot and ran his fingers along the soft fur. “I don’t know. They won’t let me see him.”

“Who’s on the front desk?”

He peered at the nurse. “I think her name tag says Rachel Smith-something.”

“Smitherson.” Her voice rose. “I know her. Put her on and tell her it’s me.”

“You’re not related, either.”

“No. But I’m also not a defeatist.”

“Or a realist,” he said dryly.

“Please give her your cell, Eli.”