This Very Moment by Rachel Ann Nunes

her—I saw how interested she was. What did she want? Liposuction, a facelift?”
    “Well . . .”
    “Come on, Bill. You have to tell me! I’m going to be running into her again, and I want to make sure I don’t say anything to offend her. Besides, I think it’s great that she felt comfortable enough to go to you.”
    “I thought you didn’t agree with casual plastic surgery.”
    “Not really, but if it makes her feel better about herself, then maybe she should do it.”
    “That’s just it. I don’t think she has a problem with her appearance. I don’t believe she even wants to do it. I think her friends are pressuring her. So I recommended a good face cream and put her on a diet and exercise program. With any luck, she won’t feel the need for liposuction.”
    “Good.” Kylee had seen liposuction done once on a TV program and it hadn’t been pretty. “I guess that means you really are a good doctor. I wish you could be the one to . . . never mind. I’d better get on my way.”
    “Okay, we’ll see you tomorrow.”
    Kylee hung up the phone, wondering again why Bill didn’t want to help the children with their surgeries. He actually seemed to care about his patients—even the overbearing Mrs. Boswell—and had donated a lot of money to Children’s Hope. That showed he cared about the children at least up to a point. So why didn’t he want to get involved further? She shook her head and started for the door.
    Despite Bill’s odd attitude toward doing surgery for the children, it sure had felt good to share her news with a friend she could trust with her feelings. Once, she had felt that way about Raymond—before he had deserted her. The comparison didn’t stop her budding hopes for the future. Bill wasn’t Raymond and wouldn’t act like him. And while she wasn’t Nicole either, perhaps there would be room enough in his heart for both of them.
    What concerned her most was that he claimed not to believe in God. But couldn’t people change? She had. Bill might too, given the right circumstances. Maybe she could show him the way, as someone had shown her.
    She began whistling aimlessly as she slid into the seat of her car, thinking again how wonderful it was to have someone she could tell her good news.
     
    * * * * *
     
    Bill heard Kylee hang up, but he still gripped his phone, knowing what she had wanted to ask and relieved that she hadn’t. He didn’t want to think about becoming involved with those children any more than he already was. What if they couldn’t be helped? What if their deformities couldn’t be repaired to an acceptable degree? Would they look at him with reproach in their eyes, as he imagined Nicole had done while she burned in the train? He had recognized that some of the children Kylee wanted to help had diseases that were degenerative. Even with surgeries they would digress, and some would eventually die. How could he agree to be involved with something so terrifying? He’d already lost too much. Better that he give sterile money and stay a safe distance away.
    I’m sorry, Nicole. I know you’d want me to, but I can’t.
    He leaned his head on his fist and tried to calm his racing heart, replaying the conversation with Kylee in his mind. Her voice had been vivacious and alive, and Bill was grateful for her call—that she felt close enough to him to want to share her news. He had wanted to talk with her all week, but each time he picked up the phone, something had stopped him.
    I can’t help her. I can’t do it.
    He took a deep breath. What bothered him even more was that he hadn’t thought about Nicole for at least two days. As much as he had tried to forget her these past five years, that had never happened before.
    He looked at the phone still clutched in his hand and put it in his pocket carefully. He thought again of the excitement in Kylee’s voice and how happy he had been to hear from her. She was like a slice of day in the darkness of his night.
    In their