I can’t make you live longer. I can’t stop you from hurting, but I can give you one wish as someone did for me. My wish helped me find purpose, faith, and courage.
Friendship reaches beyond time and the true miracle is in giving, not receiving. Use my gift to fulfill your wish.
Your forever friend,
JWC
Flabbergasted, Kara reread the letter and stared at the check. It was made out in her name. She counted the zeros. One hundred thousand dollars. It seemed real, but incredible at the same time. Who could JWC possibly be? The check was signed, “Richard Holloway, Esq., Administrator, One Last Wish Foundation.”
Kara was awestruck. She felt as if she were in a movie or TV show. She looked around the room, but no one shouted, “Surprise!” With trembling fingers, Kara slid the letter and check back inside the envelope. Her schoolwork forgotten, she stared thoughtfully into space. What she wanted more than anything else was to be well, but no amount of money could buy that. Still, there were plenty of things she could do. She wanted to share this incredible event with someone—but who? She decided that her parents would be skeptical of the entire mysterious business, even though the check looked real. Should she tell Christy? Elyse? Vince or Eric? Finally, she decided to take her time and think it through thoroughly. This was a miracle and she didn’t want to do anything foolish.
Kara turned out the light, and cradling the letter to her chest, she fell asleep.
Thirteen
ERIC EASED THE heavy barbells back into their slots on the weight lifting bench and felt the exhilaration that came from pumping iron. He wiped the sweat from his face with a nearby towel. “Not bad,” his spotter said. “That’s the most repetitions you’ve done this week.”
He draped the towel over his neck and stood. Across the gym, he saw Vince, struggling to do arm curls with a set of barbells. When Vince had first appeared at the extracurricular weight lifting program in the school gym, Eric and the others had been skeptical. Now, watching Vince fight for breath as he lifted, Eric felt a grudging admiration for him. Vince wasn’t a quitter, and he was making progress. Eric could see how Vince’s upper body was developing through the course of his workouts.
Eric thought better of going over to Vince. Except for having to see each other in English class, they steered clear of each other. Ever since the night of Howie’s party, Eric had felt uncomfortable around Vince. Eric went inside the locker room; he had showered and dressed and was ready to leave when Vince came over to him. “You got a minute?” Vince asked.
“Sure. What do you need? Is it about an English assignment?”
“No. I want to talk to you.”
“I’m listening.”
The noisy locker room was beginning to fill up. Vince glanced around. “Not here. Want some pizza? I’ll buy.”
The thought of pizza made Eric hungry, and he was curious about what Vince wanted to discuss. “Sounds all right. My car’s out in the lot.”
“You’ll have to drop me back here to pick up mine after we eat.”
“No problem.”
They walked out into the blustery day, and Eric raised the collar of his sheepskin jacket to ward off the chill. Once the two of them were in Eric’s Chevy, Vince directed him toward a pizza parlor. Feeling somewhat uncomfortable, Eric flipped on the radio and turned it up loud.
At the nearly empty restaurant, they chose a booth and ordered. While they waited for their pizza, Eric fidgeted with a paper napkin. “So, what’s up?” Eric finally asked.
“Kara.”
Eric felt confusion, then a small stab of fear. “She’s still doing okay, isn’t she?”
“Do you care?”
“Now, wait a minute—”
Vince leaned forward, close to Eric’s face. “You wait a minute. For reasons that make no sense to me, Kara likes you. I’ve got some things to say to you, and so hear me out.”
Eric swallowed, unsure of how to respond. “I like Kara,” he said, shredding the paper napkin into strips.
“With friends like you, who needs enemies?” Vince said sarcastically. A flare of anger shot through Eric, but before he could react, Vince added, “Do you know what that girl’s been through these last few weeks?”
“Christy told me—”
“No matter what your sister’s told you, you don’t know the half of it. I’ve been there, so I do know, and now I’m going to tell you. When you’re hospitalized with CF, you feel as if you’re drowning in your own body fluids. For every day you’re lying in that bed, the nights stretch twice as long. You’re scared because there’re no guarantees that your doctor’s bag of tricks will work this time—it seems that the nasty little germs get more resistant every time they’re faced with a new antibiotic.” Vince ticked off points on his fingers as he spoke. Eric sat quietly, not interrupting.
“I know what it feels like to think that everybody in the world’s having a good time but you because the only faces you see are nurses and doctors and lab techs who poke you full of needles and suck blood out of you until it hurts so bad, you think you’re going to scream.
“I know what it’s like to cough up your guts and vomit blood. And I know how it feels when you wake up one morning and realize you’re still alive and that you made it through one more episode, only to know that you’ll have to do it all over again. Until the one day you don’t wake up at all.”
Eric had broken out in a cold sweat, but he kept his expression stony, ashamed of the revulsion he was feeling as Vince’s words bombarded him. Poor Kara. Poor Vince.
Vince leaned back against the booth, as if the explanation had drained him of energy. “When you’re recovering, days turn into years. The only thing that keeps you from suicide is seeing friendly faces. Every time I’ve been through it during the last four years, Kara’s been there for me. And I’ve been there for her. This time, I was, too.”
“I-I’m glad—”
Vince pinned him with a look. “But she doesn’t want me. She wants you.” Finally, he looked out the window, his face dark with misery.
“I thought she was your girl,” Eric mumbled.
“No, you didn’t. You were just too much of a coward to go after her.”
If any other guy had called him a coward, Eric would have decked him. But Vince had bared his soul, and Eric knew everything he’d said was true. He was a coward, unwilling to become involved on more than a superficial level because he was afraid of sickness, of suffering. Kara had reached out to him the first day of school. He had responded, but when he learned about her problems, he had retreated.
“What should I do?” Eric asked.
“Figure something out on your own, Eric. Don’t expect me to make it easy for you. This is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but I’m doing it for Kara.”
The pizza came, and they ate in silence. Eric barely tasted it. He wanted to tell Vince that he was sorry and that he did care about Kara. She was sweet and decent and kind, and he had blown it.
He remembered the night of Howie’s party. She’d felt feather light and fragile in his arms when they danced. In the moonlight, she’d looked wispy soft and beautiful. That night, the monster disease that lived inside her had been eating her lungs alive. She had been fighting for every breath, and he’d never realized it.
He should have been reaching out to her all this time instead of avoiding her, pretending she didn’t matter. He was ashamed that he’d acted as if her sickness was her fault. He stared at Vince, wanting to find words to explain it to him, but he couldn’t. “I do care,” he said, but the words sounded hollow and flat.
“Caring is doing, Eric. It’s not some head game. It’s doing something that says, ‘I care.’ Lots of people are turned off by CF—by sick people in general. It’s okay if you can’t handle it, but don’t lead someone on. Don’t play games.”
Eric had no comeback for Vince, no defense and no excuses. He hadn’t meant to hurt Kara. It was just so hard for him to give free rein to his feelings.
After they finished, they walked to Eric’s car, and he drove Vince back to his car. Eric switched on the heater, hoping to warm up the car, but realized that the cold feeling was coming from within.
At the school parking lot, as Vince opened the door to slide out, his knee accidentally hit the button on Eric’s glove compartment. It flopped open, and when the contents spilled on the floor, Vince reached to pick things up. A bright blue envelope was addressed to Kara.
“A get well card,” Eric mumbled by way of explanation. He had intended to do something for Kara. Surely, Vince could see that.
“Did you forget your way to the mailbox?” Vince got out of the car and tossed the card onto the seat. “No guts, Eric, my man. That’s your problem. No guts.”
Eric watched Vince walk to his car, climb in, and drive away. Eric sat staring out into the darkness until the chill began to permeate his thick jacket. He felt cold, and alone.
Fourteen
KARA SPENT THE morning thinking about what she should do with her wish money. She still hadn’t told anyone and felt frustrated. She decided to give her mind a rest and occupy herself with drawing. Now she sat in the hospital sun room in a wheelchair, her sketch pad spread across her lap. Deep in concentration, she moved her pencil quickly, coaxing the image in her mind to appear on the white surface. Her brow furrowed. She didn’t even look up when she heard someone enter the room. She was ready for the ride around the grounds that Christy had promised her at lunchtime. Maybe she’d confide in Christy concerning the letter she told herself.
“You look serious,” Eric said.
For a moment, she thought she might have imagined him. She started, almost dropping the pad.
“Have I changed that much in three weeks?” he asked.
Her heart beat crazily, and a smile lit up her face. “I didn’t expect you. It’s great to see you. Of course, you haven’t changed. Why are you here?”
“To check on you.” His hands were shoved in the pockets of his jacket. He came over to her, and she closed the pad swiftly. He was as handsome as she remembered … more so. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”
Something in the hesitancy of his tone of voice made her realize that he thought she might send him away. The notion surprised her. She could never do such a thing. Seeing Eric made her feel as if a surge of electricity had shot through her. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”
He knelt beside the chair and touched the back of her hand, black and blue from IV needles. “You should see my ankles,” she said with a self-conscious laugh.
“No, thanks.” He looked her full in the face, and she felt as if her heart had taken up residency in her throat. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“Me, too.”
“Want to go for a ride?”
“With you?”
“Christy told me she was scheduled to take you outside. I’d like to take you instead—if you’re up to it.”
Up to it, Kara thought. She’d been dreaming of it. “I really would like to go out.”
He stood. “Do you have a coat? Even though the sun’s shining, it’s pretty cold.”
She was wearing a thick cable-stitched blue sweater, but she knew he was right. “There’s a jacket in my room.”
He pushed her down the hall, passing several nurses who waved. In her room, he helped her into a bulky ski jacket and laid a blanket over her knees, carefully tucking it around her legs. Then he pushed her toward the elevators. She would have given anything to be walking alongside of him, but it was out of the question.
In the lobby, people hurried past. She watched them, envious of their ability to move and breathe at the same time. “There are trails all along the grounds,” she told Eric. “Sometimes, you even forget you’re near a hospital.”
Outside, the air was sharp and cold, and it stung her lungs. She swallowed the urge to cough. Pale sunlight flickered through bare tree branches as she looked skyward. When she’d been hospitalized, it had been autumn and the leaves had been brilliant shades of red and gold and orange. Now, they all lay on the ground in heaps, dry and papery, blown about by northern winds.
“You’re quiet,” Eric said. “Anything wrong?”
“I was just thinking that I’ve gone and missed autumn this year. I hate that. Did you know that if a person lives a hundred years, he only gets to see the leaves change colors a hundred times? That doesn’t seem like much, does it?”
“Not when you put it that way. I guess I take it for granted. Autumn comes. Autumn goes.”
“I never take autumn for granted,” she said. “It’s beautiful and my very favorite time of year.”
“I like summer. No school.”
“Summer’s nice. Houston’s near the Gulf, isn’t it?”
“It’s not too far a drive. My friends and I used to hang out plenty at the beach.”
“Do you miss Houston?”
“A little.”
“Will you be going back when school’s out?” she asked, but he didn’t reply right away. At least, he was with her now. If he was going back, she didn’t want to know.
“Summer seems a long way off in November. Too far to make plans now.”
Vince had once told her the same thing. No use making plans with anyone, she told herself. “There’s a rest area. Why don’t we park for a minute. You can sit on one of the benches, and we can talk.”
“But we’ve hardly made a dent in the path.”
She wanted to look at him, be with him, not just hear his voice over her head. “I’d like to stop rolling for a minute,” she said lightly. “A person could get motion sickness doing any kind of speed in one of these things.”
He parked the chair and set the brake, then brushed dead leaves off one of the benches and sat down in front of her. “Are you sure you’re not cold?”
“Not a bit,” she lied. Truth was, it now hurt to breathe.
He picked a fallen leaf from her blond hair. “A souvenir from an autumn gone bye-bye,” he said, handing it to her.
“I’ll put it in my scrapbook when I get home.”
“Any idea when that will be?”
“Dr. McGee is acting like a sphinx. I ask, but can’t pin him down.”
Eric glanced at his watch and jerked upright. “Oh, my gosh, I promised Christy I’d have you back in twenty minutes. We’ve been gone over thirty.”
She wasn’t sure if he was telling her that because it was true, or if he was bored. “I’ll tell her it was my fault. Don’t worry.”
Eric took off the brake and started the chair back toward the hospital. “You don’t know my sister. She’ll have my butt.”
Kara giggled. “I can’t believe you’re scared of Christy.”
“Are you kidding? She’s a terror. She cracks her whip, and I have to jump. I do laundry, cleaning, and cooking like a slave.”
“Should I report her to the authorities for child abuse?”
“Don’t laugh. I’m telling you, she’s tough.”
By the time they got back to Kara’s room, Eric’s outrageous tales of his life with Christy had Kara laughing so hard, she couldn’t catch her breath. Eric rolled her inside and came to a screeching stop. Vince was waiting.
“Looks like I missed a good joke,” he said, his eyes on Kara.
She reached out to him, and he bent down and hugged her. “Eric’s been telling me how Christy’s turned him into a slave.”
“He looks abused,” Vince said drolly, unzipping Kara’s jacket and helping her take it off. “Glad you could make it,” Vince added to Eric.
Kara sensed an undercurrent between them. “You two haven’t been arguing at school, have you?”
“No,” they said in unison.
“Help me get back in bed,” she said, suddenly struggling for breath. “I guess I’m not used to so much fresh air.” She wanted to cough hard and would have if it had been only Vince in the room with her.
Eric scooped her up in his arms, and Vince pulled aside t
he covers. Eric placed her down gently, and Vince draped the covers around her body. “Such teamwork,” she said.
“Well, if it isn’t Dopey and Grumpy,” Christy said to Eric and Vince as she breezed into the room. She came swiftly to Kara’s bedside. “I was checking to make sure you were all right.”
“I’m in good hands.”
“Dr. McGee wants some more chest X rays right away. I told the tech I’d bring you down.”
Kara groaned her displeasure. She was so tired. Even the little bit of exercise she’d done had wiped her out. “Do I have to?”
“Yes, you have to,” Vince said. “Eric will put you back in the chair.”
“We can wait here until you come up again,” Eric offered.
“No,” Kara said wearily. “Do me a favor. Go take each other out for a soda. Pretend I’m with you. Then come by tomorrow and tell me how much I enjoyed myself. I feel better just knowing you’re together having fun.”
Eric and Vince exchanged glances. “That what you want?” Vince asked.
Kara nodded. “Maybe Dr. McGee will give me a pass this Saturday.” She turned to Christy. “Will you help me persuade him? Just for a few hours?”
“A pass?” Eric asked.
“Sometimes the doctor will let us check out of the hospital to take in a movie or something. We’re not well enough to go home, but we’re not sick enough to be penned up on this floor twenty-four hours a day, either. It keeps us from going stir-crazy,” Vince explained.
“And the nurses from throwing us out a window,” Kara joked. “Sometimes we can act pretty rank.”
“Let’s see how you’re doing after your morning treatment,” Christy urged. She shooed the boys toward the door once Eric had settled Kara back into her wheelchair for the ride down to X Ray.
“Don’t forget,” Kara said. “Go have a soda for me.”
A Time to Die Page 7
