The stark contrast between his five-bedroom house on six acres and Emma’s tiny, rundown house wasn’t lost on him.
“Father, I don’t truly know what’s going on in Emma’s life, or her relationship with You. But I pray that she finds someone who can help, whether that’s You or someone You lead her to. Please open her mind and heart to Your voice and comfort.” Marty paused. “If there’s something I can do to help, please let me know that, too.”
He breathed an amen and allowed himself to collapse on his couch when he got inside. He reached down and unstrapped his prosthetic. He pulled the sock off and looked at the scars that crisscrossed the end of his limb and peppered much of the rest of his leg.
Some scars would be visible no matter how hard he tried to hide them.
Then there was Emma, whose scars remained hidden, though no less damaging. He kept hoping he’d have an inkling of what he could do to help her. The more he thought about it, the bigger the chasm seemed between them.
He remembered what Wyatt said about not discounting the importance of emotional support.
Maybe Marty couldn’t eliminate Emma’s medical debt, buy her a new car, or take away her insecurities. But he could offer his time and friendship. It’d be up to her whether she accepted them or not.
7
It was nearly lunch by the time Emma pulled into the gym’s parking lot. Her appointment in San Antonio had taken way longer than she’d anticipated. Not only had her appointment started late, but her doctor diagnosed her with hypertension. Just what she didn’t need, and the last thing she wanted to do was take yet another medication.
Her doctor gave her two months to get it under control through diet and, most importantly, exercise before prescribing something to help.
Which meant Emma had to get serious about being active again. A thought that raised her blood pressure for a whole different reason, even though the doctor assured her that her heart was fine.
Now she dreaded Marty asking her how the appointment went once she got to work. She didn’t want to talk about it. At all.
Guilt hit her over the fact that she’d been avoiding him since Saturday. She’d even missed their stretches yesterday afternoon so she wouldn’t have to talk about church and her reasons for not going. How could she have that conversation with Marty when she couldn’t even parse the issue out herself?
Why couldn’t he let things be? Every time she started to relax around him, he got pushy again.
With a sigh, Emma steeled herself for the questions she knew were coming and headed inside. Thankfully, Marty was in the middle of class. He glanced up when she walked in, but otherwise kept his attention on his students.
Caleb was at the counter, and he greeted her with a smile and hello. “I appreciate the updates on your delayed appointment time, Emma. But please know I understand. There’s no need, just come in when you can on those days. Okay?”
She knew he meant it, but it was less stressful for her to give Caleb updates than to make him wait. “I appreciate it, Caleb.” She motioned to the desk. “Want me to take over?”
“It’s all yours.” With that, he headed toward the back office.
See, Caleb didn’t feel the need to pepper her with questions about the appointment.
Emma completed a couple of calls and finished some filing while the class ended. Parents led their hungry kids from the building. Emma’s stomach growled in anticipation of lunch, especially since she’d skipped breakfast for the fasting bloodwork this morning. The small granola bar she ate on the drive back to Clearwater hadn’t done much to curb her appetite.
Everyone cleared out and Marty approached her, just like Emma knew he would. He gave her a hesitant smile, his forehead wrinkled, and Emma instantly chastised herself.
What kind of impression had she given when she returned? Had she glared at him? Made it clear she didn’t want to talk? And still, he’d approached her regardless. This is what she did—she pushed people away.
For the first time in a long while, she wished she could be different. Why couldn’t she be a friend to all like Chrissy? Someone who was easy to get along with and who found it natural to chat with others without worrying about their opinions.
Her emotions must have marched across her face because Marty walked around the counter, placed a hand on her shoulder, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Emma? Are you okay? Did you get bad news at your appointment?”
His kindness whispered to her heart like honey soothed a burn. Tears built as she blinked them away. “Yes. No. I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “I’m just tired. Maybe a little overwhelmed.”
Without asking, he gently folded her in his arms. His warmth engulfed her, and Emma relaxed against him as the scents of cedar and mint filled her senses. She ought to push away, assure him she was fine. She could handle this.
But for a moment, a bit of her burden was lifted away. She reveled in that for several heartbeats before stepping back again. When she looked up, she found his eyes full of concern.
“I’m okay. Really. I dread these appointments, waiting for the other shoe to drop.” She hesitated. Sharing her health information wasn’t something she was good at. “I’ve got hypertension. On its own, it’s not a big deal but could be a precursor to future issues. I don’t want to add another medication. I have two months to bring it down, or I’ll have no choice.” She shrugged. “I know, it’s not that big of a deal but…”
“But it is a big deal to you.”
She dipped her chin in agreement.
