Page 109 of The Last Straw

“It is me?”

“Yes. You’re all over social media again.”

“Why?”

Charlie heard despair in the question, and it broke his heart.

“It seems you healed a dying child of cancer and it was recorded by the father. Her doctor just confirmed the cancer in her body and the tumor in her brain are both gone.”

Tears welled. “Bethie.”

“Yes,” Charlie said.

Wyrick’s heart sank. “I didn’t know that was being filmed, but I wouldn’t change what I did.”

“I know,” Charlie said. “But this isn’t going to be the end of it.”

“It never is,” Wyrick said. “I’ll be home soon.”

“I’m sorry,” Charlie said.

“I can only imagine,” Wyrick said. “This is not what you signed up for.”

She disconnected and searched until she found it, then sat and watched her life going down the drain.

Charlie’s heart sank. He’d never heard her sound defeated before. She was going to try to push him away in some grand gesture of self-sacrifice, and he wasn’t having any of it.

He was anxious all the way up to the moment he saw her drive through the gates then head for the back of the house to carry in the groceries, and he met her coming in.

A chill blast of wind came with her, and he blamed the cold wind for her pale face and cold hands as he took the bags from her.

“I’ll get the rest. Go do whatever it is you need to do.”

“I’m making spaghetti,” she said. “I have a new recipe.”

“Yum,” Charlie said, then put the bags on the counter and went back for the rest.

Wyrick’s steps were dragging as she went upstairs to change. She came back down in old jeans and an even older sweatshirt from the University of Maryland.

“Nice shirt,” he said.

“I bought it in an airport years ago because I was cold and it was pink.”

Charlie laughed. “How does the dragon feel about your passion for pink?”

She almost smiled. The image of the red-and-black fire-breathing dragon wrapped around her body, then hiding it behind pink, was a dichotomy of images and colors.

“I never thought of it like that, but she gets me, so I suppose she’s tolerant of my foibles. One has to be tolerant to put up with my life,” she said and then went to the sink to wash her hands.

She helped him put up the food, keeping out what she wanted for the meal.

“Need any help?” Charlie asked.

“If I do, I’ll give you a shout. I kind of need to be alone for a bit.”

“Have you seen the video?”

She nodded. “I watched it while they were loading the order. I have this ability...and the child is well, and that’s all that has to matter.”

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