A Blessed Life. Dana Corbit

or even a Labrador retriever. It was odd to be opening her personal life to someone who didn’t seem to possess one himself.

      “And that’s the reason for your visit?”

      Another statement-question. She would get really annoyed if he kept that up. “No, I’m handling that fairly well—as well as anybody can handle failure.”

      He didn’t respond immediately, but must have swallowed hard because his Adam’s apple jerked. She wondered if he had choked back a retort about her divorce.

      “Then, what brings you here today?” Andrew leaned forward on his desk and steepled his fingers in a thoughtful pose. “I’m guessing from the way you always slip out the back door so quickly on Sunday mornings that it’s not to get to know your pastoral staff better.” One side of his mouth tipped up in a smirk, but his eyes twinkled to soften it.

      A chuckle was out before she realized it was building. How long had it been since she’d laughed about anything aside from some of Tessa’s antics? It felt good, really good. “You guessed right.”

      “Why don’t you give me a break and tell me what I can do to help you. I’m trained as a counselor and a youth minister, but I’m terribly under-qualified as a mind reader.”

      Serena nodded and gathered all of her courage into a tight ball before tossing out, “I can’t seem to shake this depression.”

      “Divorce will do that.”

      “No,” she said, shaking her head so hard her neck ached. “The divorce isn’t what’s causing it, at least not all of it. My daughter’s condition is just getting to me. She has juvenile rheumatoid arthritis.” There. She’d said it. Strange how even admitting her depression aloud felt better than the guilt of keeping what she considered her selfish little problem bottled inside.

      “I don’t recognize that one. Can you tell me a little about it?”

      “JRA is a chronic illness where the patient’s body attacks her joints. There are three types of JRA. Only systemic-onset JRA—the rarest one and the type that Tessa has—can also affect internal organs.”

      “What would that mean for her future?”

      Serena leaped off into the rote speech that she used whenever anyone asked for details. If she kept it exactly the same—didn’t change a single word in her dialogue—she promised herself, it would feel no more personal than a memorized poem. Rather than a description of agony.

      “In extremely rare cases, JRA can cause severe crippling and blindness, but we try not to think about those things.” She took a deep breath, trying to slow her racing heart. “With proper medication, most kids do very well. In fact, seventy percent go into permanent remission by the time they’re adults.”

      “That must give you so much hope. How did you recognize that something was wrong?”

      “It started about a year and a half ago when she began to have fevers every day—really high fevers that never turned to the flu or colds.” She folded her hands in her lap, trying hard not to wring them. “Whenever Tessa had them, she’d also get this rash on her hands. Fevers and rash are symptoms only seen with systemic JRA. It wasn’t until months later that she started having hot, swollen joints—the true arthritis.”

      Andrew nodded. “You’ve been through quite an ordeal.”

      “Not me. My little girl.” This was a mistake. She shouldn’t have come here. Talking about it wasn’t helping at all. It was only making her feel worse. “The illness itself is not the half of it. There were six months where the doctors didn’t know for sure what was wrong with her.”

      She waited for Andrew to speak, to ask questions, but he only nodded for her to continue.

      “They tossed around words like tumor, leukemia, tuberculosis and lupus.” With each word, the memories flashed through her mind more clearly. The screams from so many needle pokes. The fear in her child’s eyes that Serena couldn’t soothe. “She went through all kinds of tests—chest X rays, a ton of blood work, ultrasounds. They even tested her bone marrow for leukemia. We didn’t know for a long time if she would…live or die.”

      The last was too much for her. A sob escaped her, though she tried with all her strength to hold it in. It wasn’t like her to lose control. She was usually better at keeping it all boxed in. But this time she couldn’t stop the tears from raining down her cheeks.

      Andrew pushed a box of tissues to within her reach. When she looked up at him, he shook his head slowly. “And you wonder why you’re depressed? Look at all you’ve been through—not just your daughter, but you. The fear, the pain, the frustration. Not to mention a divorce, no matter how well you’re handling it. All of that adds up to some very explainable blues.”

      She crossed her arms to hug away a chill, despite the July heat pouring through Andrew’s open window. “But it doesn’t make any sense. She was diagnosed a year ago. She’s even doing a little better lately. So why am I depressed now? Why not when she was going through all of the tests, when we had no idea what was wrong? Why not right after the diagnosis?”

      Andrew shrugged. “Some people operate in crisis mode. During the most difficult times of their lives they simply handle whatever is happening without really sitting back to analyze it.” He leaned his elbows on the desk and rested his chin in the cradle of his palms. “It’s only when things are better that they can allow themselves to collapse under the weight.”

      As if a lock suddenly had been fitted with a key, she felt a freeing click inside. “Maybe that’s what I’ve done.”

      “Maybe. As well as all of the other changes in your life, haven’t you also just moved?” He waited for her nod. “Why did you pick Milford?”

      “It’s fairly close to Ann Arbor, so I could take Tessa to C.S. Mott Children’s Hospital at the University of Michigan. There are only a few hospitals with pediatric rheumatologists on staff.” Her sacrifice had been small when she thought of the pain that Tessa faced daily.

      “Did you find work here?”

      “I’m a freelance writer. With a modem and my stable of regular contacts, I can live anywhere. Besides, Milford is such a quaint little village. And it’s clear across the state from my former husband and his new bride.”

      He chuckled. “You’ve had so many changes in such a short period. Until now, you’ve hardly had the time to be depressed. Now that your world has slowed, you’re having these feelings, and I’m glad you’re talking about them. That will help a lot.”

      Was there some neat little order that these feelings could fall into, like dividers that create order in a junk drawer? Somehow she doubted it. No, for once she was positive about something. It would never be that simple.

      “I just feel so guilty.” She buried her face in her hands, allowing the blame to cover her like a dark, scratchy blanket. Seconds ticked by as she tried to tuck the feelings back into compartments where she could face them again. “For not being a stronger parent, for not being able stop Tessa’s pain, but, most of all, for mourning the loss of my perfect daughter—our perfect life.”

      Andrew planted both hands on the desk, then lowered them and rocked in the chair. His actions confused her.

      “What do you mean, perfect?” He pressed a crooked index finger to his lips.

      She chuckled at both herself and his counselor’s pose. “I know it sounds silly, but I used to believe I led a charmed life. I had a good home, a nice family—everything anyone could ask for. And then the whole thing fell apart. Tessa got sick, and Trent cheated on me and left me for someone else. No more charmed life.”

      He studied her for several seconds. “I wish I had met you several years ago.”

      To her humiliation, the skin on her arms began to tingle. She couldn’t allow herself to consider how meeting a nice guy like him years earlier might have changed her life. She