He stood staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, completely dressed, but still unable to get to where he was ready to leave.
A knock at the front door jarred Creed from his solemn reverie. The pity party was over immediately, and his game face was on. “I’m coming,” he called as he hurried across the room to the door. He opened it and stood face to face with Dr. Winter.
“Good morning, Creed,” she smiled. “Are you hungry for breakfast?”
He saw right away the dark circles under her eyes. She looked like she had aged five years in one night.
“Oh, I’d be fine with just a glass of milk,” he said trying to pretend he hadn’t noticed how haggard she looked. “How about I cook something for you? I’m pretty good in the kitchen, you know. Well, at basic stuff. I can fry a mean egg,” he offered politely.
“I might just take you up on that someday, but Paulie is the chef this morning,” she smiled ruefully. “No telling what he’s cooked up for us. He keeps trying to perfect local dishes and well…I’d rather not know what concoction he’s created this morning. I usually end up with coffee and a piece of toast on the days Paulie cooks,” she said with a tired smile.
“Coffee does sound good,” Creed said opening the door to the house for Dr. Winter before following her in.
“Evan was up all night with Meg, so he’s taking a nap now, and Alik is on watch. I’ll be relieving him after I grab a bite to eat,” Margo said as though she were casually discussing the 7am news.
“How is Meg this morning?” Creed asked hesitantly.
“About the same as she was after we gave her the blood transfusion last night. At least she’s not worse,” the worry lines grew deeper in her brow just talking about her daughter.
The two walked into the aroma-filled gourmet kitchen.
“Morning, Creed,” Paulie said with obvious forced chipperness. He looked almost as exhausted as Margo.
“Good morning, sir. Can I give you a hand with anything?” Creed asked trying to be of some help. His guilt-o-meter was flipped all the way into the red range. These were good people, probably the best people he ever met, and he was here to hurt them. Crap.
“Yeah, can you stir the sauce over there on the stove? It just brings out the rich flavor of the squid. You’ll love it!” he said happily.
Margo exchanged a look with Creed that said, I tried to warn you, didn’t I?
“Squid for breakfast, eh?” he said taking up a wooden spoon to stir the sauce.
“Oh yeah! The locals love it! I got this recipe from a rather large Samoan lady who used to teach marine biology at the university. I tell you what, if that woman hadn’t already been married I would have pursued her myself just for her cooking!” Paulie looked over at Creed mischievously and winked.
Creed couldn’t help but laugh at the good-natured old guy. Even Margo was giggling. She really was a beautiful woman when she smiled.
“What are we laughing at?” Dr. Andrews asked as he walked into the kitchen and headed directly for the coffee pot.
“Paulie’s telling us about his love life, or lack thereof,” Margo teased.
“Gee, I’m glad I missed that.” Theo smiled over at Margo as though they shared an intimate secret.
Creed wondered how these people could be so obviously stressed and terrified for Meg, yet maintain a sense of humor and closeness. He was willing to play along, but he still didn’t understand it.
All three of these doctors had every reason not to trust him, but they did. They all had every reason to shake their fists to the sky and hate everyone and everything out of spite because one of their own was critically ill in the next room, but they didn’t.
Margo had more reason than any of them to hate, but she didn’t. She had given up everything to live in hiding with three children who weren’t even her blood. She suffered horribly at the hands of Williams. She has to know things are going to be a whole lot worse before they’re better. How can she feel any sense of peace? Yet, Creed could see it in her eyes that she did.
“What is it Creed?” her voice came from the other side of his thoughtful fog.
“Hum?”
“You have a strange look on your face. What were you thinking?” Margo asked him even as she handed him a glass of milk.
“I have to ask you something,” he said unsurely.
“Okay, shoot.” Margo said.
“It’s obvious you love your children, so how is it that you’re able to keep your spirits up when we all know Meg is so sick?”
“Isn’t that obvious, too?” she asked cocking her head to one side studying him even as he studied her. “I have faith, Creed.” Margo’s voice was steady and sure.
“Faith, ma’am?”
“Yes, faith that God’s will, will be done. That is how I stay strong. My faith that God’s hand is on Meg—on all of us, is solid.”