Dream a Little Dream (Chicago Stars, #4)(221)

The woman smiled. “It’s all right. She has a lot more faith in miracles than I do. I’m sorry if she’s been bothering you, but her intentions are good.”

“I know they are. I wish I could help that way, but I’m afraid I can’t.”

“Come in anyway. I could use some company.” She pushed open the screen. “I’m Lisa.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Rachel stepped into a small living room overcrowded with a nubby beige sectional sofa, an old recliner, some end tables, and a television. The furniture was of good quality, but mismatched and worn in a way that made Rachel suspect the pieces came from Lisa’s mother.

On the left, a section of counter separated the kitchen from the living area, with the pair of wooden shutters designed to divide off the space folded accordion-style against the wall. The beige Formica counter held the familiar clutter of canisters, toaster, a wicker basket spilling over with paperwork, two ripe bananas, and a lidless Russell Stover candy box filled with broken crayons. As Rachel gazed around at the plain, homey surroundings, she wondered when she’d be able to afford even this much.

Lisa turned off the television and gestured toward the recliner. “Would you like a Coke? Or maybe coffee? Mom brought over some of her poppy-seed muffins yesterday.”

“No, thanks.”

Rachel settled in the recliner, and there was an awkward pause that neither of them quite knew how to bridge. Lisa swept up a copy of Redbook from the sofa and took a seat.

“How is your daughter?”

Lisa shrugged. “She’s sleeping now. We thought her leukemia was in remission, but then she had a relapse. The doctors have done everything they can, so I brought her home.”

Her eyes looked haunted, and Rachel understood what she wouldn’t say. That she’d brought her daughter home to die.

Rachel bit her bottom lip and reached for her purse. From the very moment it had happened, she’d known what she had to do, and now the time had come. “I’ve brought something.”

Rachel pulled out the check for twenty-five thousand dollars that Cal Bonner had given her and handed it over. “This is for you.”

She watched the play of emotions ranging from confusion to disbelief cross Lisa’s face.

Lisa’s hand trembled. She blinked her eyes, as if she were having trouble focusing. “It’s—it’s made out to you. What is this?”

“I’ve endorsed it over to Emily’s Fund. It’s postdated a week from tomorrow, so you’ll have to wait to deposit it.”

Lisa studied the signature on the back, then gaped at Rachel. “But this is so much money. And I don’t even know you. Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want you to have it.”

“But . . .”

“Please. It means a lot to me.” She smiled. “I do have one request, though. I’m leaving town next Monday, and, after I’m gone, I’d really appreciate it if you’d send Cal Bonner a note thanking him for his generosity.”

“Of course I will. But . . .” Lisa retained the stunned look of someone who wasn’t accustomed to hearing good news.

“He’ll love knowing his money will be helping your daughter.” Rachel allowed herself a moment of satisfaction. She would have fulfilled Cal’s terms, so he couldn’t ask for the money back. But he’d also know she’d gotten the best of him.

“Mommy . . .”

Lisa’s shoulders straightened as a small, weary voice came from the back of the house. “Coming.” She rose, the precious check clutched in her hand. “Would you like to meet Emily?”


If Lisa’s mother had been present, Rachel would have made an excuse, but Lisa didn’t seem to expect any miracle healing from her. “I’d love to.”

Lisa tucked the check in her pocket, then led Rachel down the short hallway that opened between the living room and kitchen. They passed a bedroom on the right with a bathroom directly opposite, and then came to Emily’s room.

Little girls in sunbonnets frolicked across the wallpaper and yellow eyelet curtains framed the room’s single window. A bouquet of partially deflated helium balloons bobbed lethargically in one corner and get-well cards were propped on every surface. Many of them had begun to curl at the corners.

Rachel’s eyes sought out the room’s twin bed, where a pale little girl lay in wrinkled blue sheets. Her face was bloated, and dark bruises marred her arms. A few short wisps of fuzzy brown hair covered her small head like thistledown. She held a pink teddy bear and regarded Rachel out of luminous green eyes.

Lisa went to the side of her bed. “Want some juice, peanut?”

“Yes, please.”

She fixed the pillow so Emily could sit up. “Apple or orange?”

“Apple.”

Lisa straightened the top sheet. “This is Rachel. She’s a friend, not a doctor. Maybe you’d like to show her Blinky while I get your juice. Rachel, this is Emily.”

Rachel came forward as Lisa left the room. “Hi, Emily. Do you mind if I sit on your bed?”

She shook her head, and Rachel settled on the edge of the mattress. “I’ll bet I know who Blinky is.”

Emily glanced at her pink teddy bear and hugged it tighter.

Rachel gently touched the tip of the child’s button nose. “I’ll bet this is Blinky.”