Dream a Little Dream (Chicago Stars, #4)(222)

Emily smiled and shook her head.

“Oh, I’ve got it now.” She touched Emily’s ear. “This must be Blinky.”

Emily giggled. “No.”

They continued to play the game for a few more rounds until Rachel correctly identified the bear. The little girl was a born charmer, and it was heartbreaking to see the devastation the disease had wreaked on her.

Lisa came in with a yellow plastic mug, but just as Rachel began to get up from the side of the bed so she could give the juice to her daughter, the phone rang. Lisa extended the mug toward Rachel. “Would you mind?”

“Of course not.”

As Lisa left, Rachel helped Emily sit the rest of the way up and brought the cup to her lips.

“I can do it myself.”

“Of course you can. You’re a big girl.”

The child grasped the mug in both hands, took a sip, then gave it back.

“Can you drink a little more?”

Even that small effort had exhausted her, and Emily’s eyelids drooped.

Rachel lay her back down and set the cup on the bedside table amidst a jungle of pill bottles. “I have a boy just a little older than you.”

“Does he like to play outside?”

Rachel nodded and took the child’s hand.

“I like to play outside, but I don’t get to ’cause I have ’kemia.”

“I know.”

Old ways died hard, and, as Rachel gazed down into the little girl’s small, pale face, she found herself once again berating the God she didn’t believe in. How could You do this? How could You let such a terrible thing happen to this beautiful child?

From out of nowhere, Gabe’s words came back to her. Maybe you’ve got God mixed up with Santa Claus.

Sitting next to this child who clung so desperately to life must have heightened her senses because the words struck her in a way they hadn’t before. Something inside her grew still and calm, and, for the first time, she understood what Gabe had been trying to say. Her vision of God was a child’s vision.

All her life she’d seen God as someone entirely separate from humans, an old man who arbitrarily dispensed good fortune and bad, all on some divine whim. No wonder she hadn’t been able to love this God. Who could love a God so cruel and unfair?

God hadn’t done this to Emily, she realized. Life had done it.

But even as she sat there, Dwayne’s theology hammered at her. God was omnipotent. All-powerful. What did that mean to this dying child whose hand she held?

It came to her suddenly—the realization that she’d always thought of God’s omnipotence in worldly terms. She’d compared it to the power of earthly rulers who had the mastery of life and death over their subjects. But God wasn’t a tyrant, and at that moment, with Emily’s small hand curled in hers, Rachel’s entire vision of creation shifted.

God was omnipotent, she saw, not in the way of earthly kings, but in the same way that love was omnipotent. Love was the greatest power, and God’s omnipotent power was the power of love.


Warmth stole through every part of her, moving out from her very center, and along with that warmth came a sense of ecstasy.

Dear God, fill this blessed child with the omnipotence of Your love.

“Your skin is hot.”

The child’s voice startled her. She blinked her eyes and her feeling of bliss faded. Only then did she realize how tightly she was gripping the little girl’s hand, and she immediately let her go. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to squeeze so tight.”

As Rachel stood up, she realized her legs were trembling. She felt weak, as if she’d just run for miles. What had happened to her? She’d had a glimpse of something important, but she could no longer grasp exactly what it was.

“I want to sit up now.”

“Let me see if it’s all right with your mother.”

The screen door banged, and a loud male voice rang out from the front of the house. “I know that car. Damn it, Lisa! What’s she doing here?”

“Calm down. I—”

But he wasn’t listening. Rachel heard a heavy tread in the hallway, then a man Rachel recognized as Russ Scudder filled the doorway of Emily’s room.

“Hi, Daddy.”





Lisa pushed past Russ. “Emily, what are you doing sitting up?”

“I got hot.”

Her hand flew to the child’s brow. “You don’t feel hot.” She grabbed the thermometer from a glass on the bedside table and pushed it between Emily’s lips. “Let’s see if you’re running a temperature.”

Russ glared at Rachel, then moved toward his daughter. “Hey, puddin’.”

“You said you’d come yesterday, Daddy.” Emily spoke around the thermometer.

“Yeah, well, I was pretty busy. But I’m here now.” As he sat on the side of the bed and took Emily’s hand, he shot Rachel a venomous look.

“Rachel’s got a little boy,” Emily said. “Her hands is hot.”

Russ’s eyes grew fierce. “Get out of here.”

“Stop it, Russ.” Lisa stepped forward.

“I don’t want her near Emily.”

“This is my house now, and what you want doesn’t matter.”