“She’s in with Jenny,” Richard replied. “Ten minutes doesn’t last very long, so feel free to sit down and wait.”
The girl hesitated, but then crossed to the other side of the small room and eased into a chair. “How’s Jenny doing?” she asked.
“No change.” Richard fiddled with a Styrofoam coffee cup. “You a friend of hers?” He recalled Jenny’s writing to him about a girl who’d lost an arm to cancer.
“I’m Kimbra Bradley, one of Jenny’s roommates. I knew I couldn’t get in to see her, but the nurses in ICU know how worried we are about Jenny, so sometimes they let me stand outside the glass partition and look in at her.” Kimbra sighed helplessly. “I know there’s nothing I can do for her, but I couldn’t sleep tonight, and so I came up just to hang around. You don’t mind, do you?”
“I don’t mind.”
Richard stared at the floor, trying not to let his eyes wander to Kimbra and the empty sleeve of her robe. When he’d been in high school, he’d seen Vietnam vets in an antiwar demonstration. Every one of the protestors had been maimed and was missing an arm, a leg, a hand, or a foot. He could still recall his internal horrified reaction to them. Even now, he wondered what it would be like to go through life handicapped in such a way.
“You’re Richard, aren’t you?”
“How did you know?” Uncomfortable as he felt around the girl, he was glad to have some company.
“Jenny keeps your picture next to her bed.”
“She does?”
“Sometimes, she just lies in bed staring at it. I’ve told her she should let you come up for a visit. I know your visit would do wonders for the morale of her friends.”
“What do you mean?”
“We don’t see many good-looking guys on the oncology floor,” Kimbra explained with a grin.
Richard returned her smile. “I wouldn’t be seeing her now, except that I begged her grandmother. You won’t tell Jenny, will you?”
“Not if you don’t want me to.”
“I don’t want to upset her.” He stretched his long legs out in front of him. “I could never figure why she was so set against my seeing her in the first place. I understand how bad her treatments are, but that’s no reason for her to keep me away.”
“You know us girls—it matters to us what we look like.”
“Jenny’s never made a big deal over her looks before. It doesn’t seem like her to care about it now.”
“It’s not vanity,” Kimbra explained. “Jenny’s not conceited. It’s more than that.… It’s a way a person has of protecting herself, of keeping control of some little area of her life because she doesn’t have control of anything else. I wish I could describe it better.” Kimbra shrugged, making the empty sleeve on her robe bob and swing.
Against his will, Richard’s gaze followed the dangling sleeve. Kimbra’s gaze followed his. “It’s all right,” she told him when he quickly glanced away. “I’m used to people’s reactions.”
“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely.
“My doctor was afraid my cancer was coming back into my shoulder, so I’m going through lots of radiation treatments.”
“Are the treatments helping?”
“I think so.” She grinned again. “I hope so. Although this has kind of put a cramp in my basketball career. Do you suppose they give sports scholarships for tiddlywinks? I can play that with one arm.”
“I’ll check for you when I get back to Princeton,” he joked.
“I’m hoping to get out of here before school starts.” She looked toward the doorway. “I know poor Jenny won’t be able to start school on time even if she gets out of ICU tomorrow. She’ll need time to recuperate.”
He hadn’t thought about school for Jenny. How would she handle attending classes?
“How about you?” Kimbra asked. “You must be going back to campus soon too.”
“Classes start in a few weeks. I’ll be a junior, but even after I graduate, I’ll have four years of law school to face.” Restless, Richard shifted forward in his chair. Marian had been gone a lot longer than ten minutes. “Do you suppose everything’s all right?” he asked.
At that moment, Marian swept into the room, and she was smiling. “Jenny opened her eyes,” Marian exclaimed. “She opened them and looked right at me. The nurse has called Dr. Gallagher, and he’s on his way to the hospital. I think the worst is over, Richard. I think she’s beaten her pneumonia.”
Richard leapt up, feeling such relief that tears misted his eyes. “Maybe I could take one last look at her before she wakes up all the way and knows I’m there,” he said.
Marian nodded vigorously, her haggard expression replaced by one of elation. Kimbra also stood, saying, “I’m going to go wake up Elaine and tell her. We’ll celebrate and plan something special for when Jenny comes back to the room.” But Richard was already out the door and into ICU before Kimbra finished her comment.
In the glass cubicle, Jenny looked no different to him, but when he touched her cheek, she stirred. He felt torn. He didn’t want her to wake and see him. Still, he couldn’t go away and leave her either. He promised himself that when all this was over, he’d move heaven and earth to be with her.
Richard bent and brushed his lips over hers, hoping that somehow, his kiss might magically communicate his love for her. That his touch might somehow bring her back to him.
Jenny felt as if she were fighting against the ocean’s undertow. The sensation was one of struggling valiantly toward the shoreline only to be sucked backward by a strong ocean current she was too weak to fight. Just when she was certain she would drown, a wave of mammoth size lifted her and spit her onto the beach. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she expected to see sand and seaweed and to taste salt. Instead, she saw Dr. Gallagher bending over her and tasted panic.
“Welcome back,” he said, a relieved smile splitting his face.
She tried to talk, but her throat was so sore, she could barely swallow.
Dr. Gallagher said, “Take it easy. I just pulled your trach tube, so your throat will hurt for a few days. You gave us quite a scare, Jenny, but you came through. All you need now is rest to get your strength back,” She turned pleading eyes on him, and he smiled again. “You want to know when you can get out of here, don’t you?”
She nodded.
“A few more days, then I’ll send you back to your room. Right now, your grandmother wants to see you, and you know how difficult it is to keep her at bay.”
Jenny attempted a smile, but the effort hurt.
“I’ll send her in,” Dr. Gallagher said, “and I’ll check on you in a few hours.” He held up his thumb. “Keep the faith,” he added, stepping away from her bed.
Jenny closed her eyes and listened to the beep of the heart monitor machine. It’s good to be back, she told herself, although she had no earthly idea where she’d been.
Over the next two days, Jenny continued to recover, but she felt weak and listless. She barely had the strength to sit propped up with pillows. The nurses spoon-fed her weak broth, and slowly, the burning sensation in her throat eased. A large piece of white gauze covered sutures on her neck, and deep bruises across the backs of her hands and the insides of her elbows reminded her of what she’d been through.
“Your veins kept collapsing, and they had to hunt for new ones for your IVs,” her grandmother explained, stroking her bruised skin. “The bruises will heal.”
“What did they use—an ice pick?” Jenny asked, her voice sounding hoarse.
Grandmother chuckled. “Nice to hear your sense of humor’s still intact.”
“How are my friends? What about Noreen?”
“She’s been sent home,” Grandmother said. “Now, save your energy. We’ll talk more later.”
On her third day of recovery in ICU, Jenny heard a commotion outside her glass wall. She raised herself up and saw one of the nurses leading Kimbra, Elaine, Betsy, and two other girls she recognized from her floor. The group was dressed in bathro
bes and holding large squares of white paper.
They marched single file and stopped in front of her enclosure, peered in at her with big smiles, then held up the papers, pressing them against the glass. Each paper held a painted block letter. H-E-L-L-O was what the message was to have read, except that little Betsy, who was holding the O, had somehow gotten ahead of Kimbra, who held the H.
The message read: O-H-E-L-L. Jenny blinked. Kimbra glanced down, rolled her eyes in exasperation, and shuffled Betsy down to the end of the line. OHELL. Kimbra offered a helpless shrug, but Jenny caught her eye, and for the first time in weeks, Jenny laughed aloud.
Sixteen
“I’M GOING TO miss you all. Promise you’ll write me.” Elaine spoke as she packed her small suitcase.
“Of course, we’ll write,” Kimbra said. “We can’t break up the old gang, can we, Jen?”
Jenny murmured her agreement, but she did have mixed emotions. She hadn’t been back in her room for twenty-four hours when Elaine had been released to return home, her second remission accomplished. Jenny was glad for Elaine, but envious. She longed to go home.
“What about your outpatient treatments?” Jenny asked. “Vermont’s a long way to commute.”
“No need for me to. Dr. Gallagher’s sending my chemo protocols up to my local hospital.”
“Then who knows when we’ll see you,” Kimbra grumbled.
“You’re leaving too,” Elaine reminded Kimbra. Jenny felt another twinge of jealousy. Kimbra was headed home also. That meant Jenny would be the only one left in the room.
“But I live closer to Boston.”
“Why don’t you both come visit me over the Christmas holidays?” Jenny asked impulsively. “Do you think your folks will let you?”
“Maybe. It sure would be something to look forward to.” Elaine sat atop her bulging suitcase and snapped the locks. “How about Noreen? Do you think she’ll be able to join us?”
Jenny glanced over at Kimbra, who sighed. “Who knows? The last time I called, her mother said she was sick. I don’t think she’s doing very well.”
An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Jenny understood what no one wanted to say out loud—by the holidays, Noreen could be too sick to leave the house. “Well, we’ll all keep in touch for sure. It’s only three months until Christmas.”
“How about you, Jenny? When are you blowing this joint?”
“Dr. Gallagher says that my blood work looks good, but that he wants to make certain I can fight off any other infection before he releases me.”
“I’m sure it won’t be much longer,” Elaine replied. “Now that you’re in remission, they’ll get you out of here as soon as possible.”
“Not soon enough,” Jenny said. She felt as if the pneumonia setback had stalled her life and she couldn’t get it moving again.
“Can you believe I’m actually looking forward to getting back to school?” Elaine exclaimed.
“Me too.” Kimbra flopped into a nearby chair. “Anything beats lying around this place.”
Jenny knew she wouldn’t be returning to school for the start of the term. When she’d mentioned it, her grandmother had said, “I would never allow you to leave the house so soon. I’ll hire you a tutor to keep you on grade level.”
“But I don’t want to lie around doing nothing,” Jenny had cried.
“Going to school with so many possibilities of your getting sick again is out of the question. You’ll have a private tutor. You’ll keep up with your classmates, but there’s no sense in taking foolish chances with your health.”
Jenny had appealed to Dr. Gallagher, but surprisingly, he endorsed her grandmother’s plans. “Wait until after the first of the year,” he told her. “After you complete your outpatient therapy. You’ll be stronger, and we’ll have a better idea as to the course of your illness.”
She started to argue, but realized it would be futile. Perhaps they were right. Maybe by the beginning of January, she’d be completely recovered. Her hair would have had time to grow out, and by then, maybe she wouldn’t look like such a freak. Resigned to having her life once again manipulated by cancer, Jenny told herself to be patient and wait out her recovery without complaining.
Elaine left that afternoon amid hugs and tears. Kimbra returned home two days later. “Don’t forget me!” Jenny begged Kimbra while her parents were packing her things and checking her out.
Kimbra gave Jenny a one-arm hug. “What are you going to do about Richard?” Kimbra asked, pulling away and motioning toward the photo of Richard sitting on the bedside table.
“What’s to do? Grandmother said he’s returned to Princeton for the semester.”
“You should have let him come up to see you.”
“I talked to him on the phone and promised to see him when he comes home for the holidays. And naturally, we’ll keep writing each other.”
“Why are you being so stubborn?”
“Why are you asking so many questions? You don’t even know him.”
Kimbra glanced away. “Maybe not, but I feel sorry for him.”
“Why?”
“Because he cares about you and you won’t do anything about it. Do you know what I’d give to have a boyfriend?”
Jenny shook her head. “If only it were true. No … Richard’s only a friend. I came to grips with that a long time ago.”
“But you love him, don’t you?”
Jenny colored. “The Jenny I used to be loved him. But I was different then. I was well. Now that I’m sick, loving someone, burdening someone with my life, seems unfair.”
Kimbra stepped backward, looking incredulous. “That’s one of the dumbest things I’ve ever heard pass your lips, Jenny Crawford! Are you saying that sick people shouldn’t fall in love?”
Jenny felt flustered. “I’m saying Richard has a regular life and doesn’t need me messing it up. He always looked out for me when we were growing up, but now it’s my turn to look out for him. I know that girls are crazy about Richard. I know he can have any one of them he wants. He shouldn’t be stuck with me out of some sense of family loyalty.”
“You might give him a say,” Kimbra counseled.
“Maybe if I stay in remission, I will.” Jenny patted Kimbra’s shoulder. “Don’t keep your parents waiting. Go have a life.”
“I’ll call and write,” Kimbra promised, and retreated from the room.
Without her friends, the room seemed empty and hollow, and although she realized that their beds would soon be occupied by new patients, no one could ever take their place in her heart.
When Jenny came home to her grandmother’s, leaves were tinged with gold and streaked with red, the air was crisp, the sky a brilliant blue. As the chauffeured limo pulled up and parked in front of the pre-Civil War mansion, Jenny saw the house staff waiting on the brick steps. Each of them greeted her as Barry, the driver, carried her into the house and up the long, winding staircase to her room. The familiar scents of the old house—smells of lemon wax, freshly laundered linen, and cut flowers—told Jenny she was home, and evoked the golden comforts of her childhood.
Her grandmother climbed the stairs first, threw open Jenny’s bedroom door, and chided Barry to be careful. A large banner welcoming her home was strung from corner to corner and attached to the crown molding of the ceiling, and vases of flowers adorned the dresser, her desk, and both windowsills.
“It’s so good to have you back,” Grandmother said after Barry had settled Jenny beneath the lace-trimmed covers of her canopy bed. “Are you hungry? Is there anything you want?”
Overcome by emotion, Jenny only shook her head. Looking around at the things she’d taken for granted all her life, Jenny felt as if she were seeing them for the first time. How lucky she was to have so much! Not only material things, but the love and care of a woman such as her grandmother. “I have everything I want,” Jenny replied.
Marian smiled. “I’ve hired a Mrs. Hunter to tutor you. She has excellent credentials, but if she’s
not to your liking—”
“She’ll be fine.” Jenny inhaled the sweet aromas of home and sank back against her pillows. Outside one of her windows, she saw the leafy branches of an old maple tree. “The leaves were green when I left for the hospital,” she observed. “Now, fall’s coming.”
“I know.” Her grandmother’s voice sounded wistful.
“I guess this is how Rip Van Winkle must have felt when he woke up to see that the world had changed.”
“Probably.… But you’re home now, and soon you’ll be as active as ever. I’m having the tennis courts resurfaced come next spring. I know how you like to play.”
Jenny hadn’t thought about a game of tennis in months. “I’m afraid Monopoly’s more my speed these days.”
“You’ll be back in form in no time,” Grandmother countered with a wave of her hand. She opened Jenny’s suitcase and began putting things away.
“Why don’t you let Mrs. McCully do that?” Jenny named the housekeeper who’d been with her grandmother since before Jenny had lived with her.
“Not today,” Grandmother said. “I don’t wish to share the pleasure.”
Jenny’s heart filled to overflowing. “I’m so glad I’m home,” she said. “So glad.”
Grandmother set the silver-framed photo of Richard atop a graceful cherrywood table next to Jenny’s bed. “I thought you might like this near you. You’ve carted it around for months.”
Jenny gazed longingly at Richard aboard his sailboat. “Yes.”
“According to his father, Richard seems to have turned over a new leaf. He’s buckling down at school and actually seems to be taking his studies seriously.”
“That’s great.” The information both surprised and pleased Jenny. She’d always known that he was smart and capable.
“Richard and Dorothy aren’t sure why he’s done an about-face, but they are pleased.” Grandmother smiled indulgently. “I guess sooner or later, everyone has to grow up, even Richard Holloway the Third.”
The Legacy: Making Wishes Come True Page 8
