Epilogue
DELLA
Three Years Later.
B reathing through the tears is excruciating. This wasn’t the outcome any of us were expecting. Little Betty James was a four-year-old with a curious nature who made me happier than I ever thought possible.
She was diagnosed with an incurable brain tumor, and for months, I’ve been gradually trying to heal her, but my efforts have been in vain because this morning, in her mother’s arms, she lost her battle, and I haven’t been able to breathe since.
“Baby, come on, you need to get some air.” Holy hasn’t taken his hands off me since we learned the news.
I allow my husband to guide me outside to the car. I don’t ask where we’re going because I just don’t care. I feel broken…lost. About two years ago, I asked Selena to assist me in getting a volunteer position at the children’s hospital so I could use my extraordinary gift to help the vulnerable of our world. This is the first time I’ve been unsuccessful. Sometimes, I’m able to heal them in hours; others may take days or weeks, but none have been as severe as Betty.
“You know it’s not your fault, right?” Holy says, but I can’t help but feel like it is.
I don’t respond; I just lean my head against the cool window and close my eyes as he drives. I’m not sure how much time has passed, but when the car stops, I sit up and look out.
“Holy,” I gasp when I notice where we are.
This past week, there was an ice sculpture contest happening here, and Betty and I spoke a lot about it. She filled me in on her desire to do one with her dad when she was better, and now, I can’t curb the tears when they fall as Holy opens my door and offers me a hand.
It’s not often it gets cold enough for these kinds of events, but I’m so grateful this year it was. “Come with me; there’s a special one I want you to see.”
I follow along as we meander through the maze of sculptures, marveling at the artists' talent and creativity. When he stops and pulls me forward, I begin to sob. In front of me is the perfect little ladybug. They even used dyes to run through the figure to bring it to life.
“She would have loved this.” Stepping forward, I place my hand on the frigid ice and close my eyes. A sensation of peace overtakes me, and I wilt in relief at knowing Betty is okay. That she’s finally pain-free. I don’t understand how I know it’s her, I just do.
Spinning, I’m in Holy’s arms before he can react. “Thank you.” Kissing him, I let the feelings of Betty’s spirit infuse him, as well, so he knows what I just experienced. How happy she is, and how her parents will be okay, too.
Sliding down his body, I press my ear to his heart and savor the pounding, reassuring me that he’s the strong sail in my rocky storm.
“I’m sorry, Holy.” For so many things.
“What the hell for?” He lifts my chin, snaring my gaze in his turbulent eyes.
“Not being able to give you children. For being a mess today. For being less…” I’ve struggled a lot since we received the news of my fertility two years ago. I think it has to do with what Dr. Graves forced me to do, but we’ll never truly know.
“Baby, don’t do that. We’ve talked about it, and you know it could be anything. That’s not something you can control, and I sure as hell don’t think it’s the end of the world.” Kids freak my husband out a little bit.
“I know. I do. And I understand that when the time is right, we can adopt. I’m just sad we won’t have a perfect mix of us.” Sniffling, I turn back to the statue and smile. Betty loved ladybugs. Her mom and dad had decorated her hospital room in the little critters, which made her so happy.
“Della, I mean it. I’m happy with just us. If and when you’re ready, we’ll do our best to find a child who needs us.” Closing my eyes, I pull his arms around me and hug him tightly.
This day started out terribly, but, as always, my husband knows how to take care of me. To make me see that even though I have this gift, I can’t fix the entire world, and learning to accept that has been the hardest lesson of all.