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Grace in Strange Disguise

By Christine Dillon

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PROLOGUE

“You have cancer.”
Acid surged in Esther’s throat. No, no, no, no, no. Impossible. William Macdonald’s daughter couldn’t have cancer. Esther wrapped her arms around her stomach. The nausea reminded her of that horrible day she’d taken her first rollercoaster ride as an eight-year-old. The car had chugged slowly, slowly, slowly to the crest of the ride, then plunged down, down, down. She’d been unable to escape, unable to do anything but hang on, knuckles white, and try not to throw up.
The doctor was still talking, but Esther’s brain was stuck on those three short words. Thirteen fateful letters. Meaningless on their own, but strung together. Cannonballs. Cannonballs, punching ragged holes in her life.
She was only twenty-eight. How could she have cancer? This wasn’t what she’d been promised. Or, what she’d been raised to expect. Hadn’t her father always preached that those who have faith would be protected from the problems that plague other people?
She’d taken the tests the doctor had ordered ten days ago, but only because that was expected of her. She hadn’t anticipated anything would be wrong. Not this wrong. And if there was something wrong, surely God would cure her. Wasn’t that his job?
You have cancer.
Three stark words.
No more fantasies of health. No more hiding. No more false hope.
Cancer.
There was no escape. No way out. Just like on the rollercoaster. The only option was to hang on for the ride, and hope she’d survive.

CHAPTER 1
EIGHT MONTHS EARLIER
November, 1994
Sydney, Australia

Esther had been running late all morning. No time to dawdle or daydream, and no time before the weekly staff meeting to do anything but park her car in front of the cluster of sprawling white cottages housing the physiotherapy department. A stark contrast to the modern mirror-glass buildings surrounding the hospital.
Esther locked her car and rushed towards her workplace, hoping she hadn’t dropped her diary nor forgotten her lunch.
She stopped at the door. Rearranged her blouse. Dabbed the sweat on her upper lip.
The building was quiet. Too quiet. No familiar clatter of therapists preparing for the day, no opening and closing of drawers, no cubicle curtains whizzing wide, no voices exchanging morning greetings.
Had she messed up and arrived early? She checked her watch. No, the time and date were correct. She gently touched the door. It swung open with a slight squeak. Silence.
Strange. More than strange.
Esther took five steps into the room, shoes tapping on the polished wooden boards. Perhaps she should tiptoe. Or stop breathing.
“Surprise!”
Shoes stomped, toy trumpets tooted, party streamers popped. A cacophony of cheering, clapping and congratulations. At the far end of the room was a banner, blazoned gold on blue. Close to the banner stood a stranger with an impressive camera. Why the celebration? It wasn’t her birthday.
Her boss, Sue, came towards her, arm outstretched in welcome. “You should see your face.”
“Sue, what’s going on?” Esther’s cheeks flushed. After a lifetime of being on show, she never liked being the centre of attention.
“I nominated you, ‘Hospital Employee of the Year’. And you won. First time ever, for a physiotherapist.”
Now Esther understood. Not only was she the first non-doctor to win in, what was it—ten years? But the prize also came with a $100,000 cheque for the winner’s department. Sue was probably already planning how she’d spend the money.
Sue clapped her hands for attention. “Sorry to rush this. We’ll have our usual staff meeting in a moment.”
Esther’s knees shook but she must smile. This was a big deal for Sue.
“Esther has been at this hospital since she graduated. Her clients love her and so do we.”
Other therapists nodded.
“She’s a team player. She pitches in whenever and wherever we’re short-staffed. Always quick to encourage others. Always ready to do the less glamorous jobs to keep this department functioning smoothly.”
Esther wanted to shuffle her feet at the stream of compliments, but she controlled herself. She avoided looking at her colleagues so she wouldn’t blush under everyone’s scrutiny.
“In addition, she has initiated practical research that has made this department proud. Her example inspires others.”
Sue was focusing on the physiotherapy side of things, but Esther suspected running the annual hospital fete was the clincher. No one else had wanted the unpaid task that consumed so much time. This year’s fete had raised more money than ever before. The cynic in her guessed the hospital hoped this award would make her feel obligated to organise the event for years to come. Would five years work off her debt?
“We’re privileged to have Mr Ron Scott, the hospital director, here to present the cheque,” Sue said. “And lucky Esther wins a weekend for two at the historic Hydro Majestic Hotel in the Blue Mountains.”
Esther walked forward to the applause of her workmates, shook hands with Ron Scott and accepted the oversized presentation-style cheque. She couldn’t stifle a feeling of triumph as they posed together for photographs. What would Dad say? He’d opposed her choice to be a physiotherapist. He’d championed a ‘real’ medical career, but Esther hadn’t wanted all the pressure. She’d wanted time to volunteer at church, and volunteering required regular work hours. Maybe this award would placate him for her first act of rebellion, something he still seemed to resent.
“Speech, speech,” called her workmates.
They wouldn’t want her to waffle. “First, thanks to Sue for having the audacity to submit a physiotherapist’s name for this award.” Esther was popular at work but it was still encouraging to see her workmates smile and nod. “And thanks to all of you. I love working here with such competent and enthusiastic colleagues. This award belongs to all of us. Thanks for allowing me to be part of your team.”
Her colleagues clapped and Sue flashed her a grateful look. The hospital director shook her hand one more time, then left, and Sue brought the meeting to order.
There weren’t many announcements, so the meeting was soon over and everyone could get going with their appointments. Esther turned to leave.
“Esther.” It was Sue. “Can you walk with me back to my office? There’s something I need to run past you.”
A flicker of anxiety caught in Esther’s throat, the same anxiety she used to feel whenever she’d been summoned to the school principal’s office. Not that she’d ever had a reason to fear, but the fear had always been there. Was it a fear of failure? Of rejection? Or simply the fear of not pleasing somebody? Surely there was no need to be nervous.
The two women entered the sun-filled office, and Sue waved Esther towards a seat.
“This’ll only take a moment. I’m delighted you won. I only have one problem—”
That flicker of anxiety returned, along with faint nausea. Had she done something wrong?
“—You won’t let me promote you.”
Esther’s shoulders relaxed, and she let out a shaky breath. She should have noticed the twinkle in Sue’s eye. This was a conversation they’d had several times before. A promotion would mean more administrative work and less of the direct client contact she loved.
“But I think I’ve come up with a solution that allows you to keep your client contact. I’ve talked to the board, and they suggested I offer you a Grade Two post, on the condition that you do extra mentoring of junior employees. You already do this, so you won’t be any busier. What do you say? Will you accept a Grade Two position with matching salary?”
“On those terms, how can I refuse?”
The window behind Sue showed an incredible day outside, glorious and golden. And now this. An award, a paid holiday, and a promotion. Esther wanted to caper around like a small child, bouncing and anxious to tell her father and her boyfriend, Nick, about her day. They would both see these things as sure signs of God’s abundant blessings.

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