for coming here to share this wonderful opportunity.”
Kelsey’s voice jerked her to the present. Surprised that she’d returned to the front of the room without her awareness, Lexie’s dropped the brochure to her lap and clapped her hands with the other women, her gaze on the man with the engaging smile.
Kelsey stepped away as a few members surrounded Ethan, and drawing up her shoulders, Lexie rose and slipped the leaflet into her shoulder bag. She glanced at her watch, thinking how quickly the time had passed before she remembered she’d been late for the meeting. She’d missed the women’s time to share their weekly ups and downs. Today she appreciated not having to add their emotional needs to her own.
As she reached for her bag, she felt Kelsey’s hand rest against her shoulder. “Interesting idea?”
Her mind pulled itself from her muddle of thoughts. “What idea?”
“Dreams Come True.”
A moment passed before she found a response. “For some, it is.” She grabbed her purse and then looked up. “Cooper’s not well enough yet.”
Kelsey’s face sank to a frown, but as her expression flickered, her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, Lexie, I should have guessed. The phone call. Was it bad news?”
“No worse than usual. It was the doctor, but nothing drastic. Just discouraging. Cooper’s last treatment didn’t show any improvement. His white cells are still too low.” Saying it made it too real. Her chest emptied of air, but she grasped the positive. It could have been worse. The test could have shown he’d regressed and it hadn’t.
“I’m sorry the news wasn’t better.”
“It’s part of life, right?” She curled her arm around Kelsey’s back. “How’s Lucy doing?”
“So far so good. Tumors are shrinking. You know how it is. It all takes time.” She gave Lexie a squeeze and lowered her arm. “Speaking of time, it’s shopping day for me. Groceries. Pharmacy. Service station.” Her head bobbed as she listed her tasks. “So I need to run, and…” A playful grin curved her mouth.
“Sure you do.”
“Maybe you could wait until Ethan’s finished before leaving. I hate to rush off without seeing him out of the building.”
“Good planning, Kelsey.” Lexie shook her head at her friend’s obvious plot.
“Thanks.” Kelsey wiggled her fingers in a silly goodbye. “I saw the eye contact.” The words flew over her shoulder.
Before Lexie could rebut the insinuation, she’d vanished beyond the doorway.
Lexie tossed the strap of her bag over her shoulder and rocked back on her heels, eyeing Ethan as he spoke to the last woman. They seemed so eager for information, and part of her wished she could be as enthusiastic.
Turning her back on them, she dealt with her feelings as she dug into her shoulder bag for her car keys. Brain tumors. Leukemia. Heart disorders. So many illnesses were part of life for the people who attended. Yet some had higher hopes than others. Some children were in remission. Some weren’t—like Cooper. But Cooper could be worse, and she had to remember that. No progress was better than his exacerbating. Big strides were wonderful, but small steps moved them forward. She’d learned to find joy in small steps. Each time she looked into Cooper’s face her heart filled with the same kind of happiness.
When she found her keys, Lexie stepped back and smacked against someone. As she spun around to apologize, her shoulder bag slipped down her arm and dropped to the floor beside a pair of men’s shoes.
“Sorry about that.” Ethan bent to retrieve her purse. He smiled as he rose. “What do you carry in that thing? A wrench?”
Lexie gathered her composure and managed a friendly smile. “You never know when you’ll need one.”
Ethan chuckled and returned her bag. “You’re a woman after my own heart. Always be prepared.”
If only she were. Lexie’s pulse escalated. “Thanks, and it was my fault, you know.” She slid her bag onto her shoulder again, realizing it was heavy.
“Michigan has the no-fault ruling.”
“That’s for cars.” Silly talk, but she enjoyed it.
Ethan rested his hand on the back of a chair. “No men in this group, I see.”
“The M in MOSK stands for mothers. Mothers of Special Kids.” Still, he’d made a point. She studied his face, wondering why support for men interested him. “A number of us are single mothers, and the married women haven’t asked.” But the question did arouse her curiosity. “You’re a man. Do you think—”
“Glad you noticed.” A twinkle lit his eyes.
His look tripped her pulse, and she worked to regained her composure. “As I was saying, do men really want to talk about their feelings?” She eyed him. “I thought men preferred to take action. We have so little we can do to make things better. It’s the emotional ups and downs that cause us problems.”
His smile had faded. “True for many men, too.” He motioned toward the front of the room. “So, what did you think?”
“About Dreams Come True?”
The corners of his mouth edged upward.
“The idea is wonderful, but…” Why had she added “but”? From his expression, she’d put a damper on his excitement about fulfilling the hopes of sick kids. “My son is not well enough. He’s being homeschooled right now. Clawson district has been great with his schoolwork, but it’s not the same. A child wants to attend school.”
“They miss the friendships and being part of it all. It makes learning more fun.”
“I think it does, too.” His compassion touched her. “It’s not that your foundation isn’t a lovely idea. It is. Whoever started this certainly has a generous heart.”
His eyes searched hers.
Perspiration dampened her palms, and she ran her free hand down her pant leg while her other clung to her shoulder bag strap.
A faint frown darkened his face. “But it won’t work for some kids. That’s what you’re saying.”
She closed her eyes and opened them again, releasing a ragged breath. “Yes. Some aren’t well enough to enjoy trips or days at an amusement park.”
“But one day maybe. Illnesses go into remission. Sometimes they nearly vanish. Isn’t that true?”
“True.” Curiosity spiked Lexie’s thoughts. “Have you had a child with—”
“I don’t have any children.”
From his sad expression, she feared she’d caused him to feel ill-at-ease.
His shoulders lifted. “I’m not married, and I’ve only read up on children’s illnesses and read about remissions that cause physicians to marvel. I realize that’s nothing like
