Till Death Do Us Part

by Lurlene McDaniel

  To find out what happens to April Lancaster,

  turn the page for a sneak preview

  of Lurlene McDaniel's companion book,

  For Better, for Worse, Forever

  Chapter excerpt from FOR BETTER,

  FOR WORSE, FOREVER by Lurlene McDaniel

  Copyright © 1997 by Lurlene McDaniel

  Published by Bantam Doubleday Dell Books

  for Young Readers, 1540 Broadway,

  New York, New York 10036.

  All Rights Reserved.

  Alone, April felt the gloom return. It would be another couple of hours before her parents would arrive. Stop acting like a baby, she told herself. This isn't like before. You're seventeen now, not five.

  She was sitting up in her bed clicking through the TV channels with the remote control when someone rapped on her door. “Come in,” she called.

  The door slowly opened, and the boy from the rec room stood there. “Hi,” he said with a sunny grin.

  “Do I know you?” she asked.

  “Mark Gianni.” He held out his hand.

  She took it cautiously. His grip was warm, his palm rough. He was tall and had curling dark brown hair and intense deep brown eyes. But Kelli had been right. He was thin, almost gaunt. “And you're here because …?” She allowed the sentence to trail.

  “Because I want you to know that you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. And I thought I should introduce myself. I mean, we should get to know each other. Since you're the girl I intend to marry.”

  TURN TO THE BACK OF THIS BOOK FOR A SNEAK PREVIEW OF

  For Better, for Worse, Forever,

  the companion to Till Death Do Us Part.

  This book is lovingly dedicated

  to Jennifer Dailey,

  a victim of cystic fibrosis a lovely flower,

  plucked up by the angels after fourteen years

  on this earth, March 12, 1997.

  Dear Jennifer, your family and friends will miss you.

  May your walk in heaven be joyous!

  “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud, it is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails …” (1 Corinthians 13:4-8, New International Version)

  That guy's staring at you again, April.”

  April Lancaster didn't need Kelli to tell her that the boy on the far side of the hospital's patient rec room was looking at her. She could almost feel his gaze. She had been in the hospital for two days and he'd been stealing glances at her every time she ventured out of her room. “Ignore him,” April whispered to Kelli. “I do.”

  “But why? He's cute. Even if he is too skinny for my taste.”

  “This isn't a social club, Kelli. It's a hospital. I didn't come here to meet guys.”

  “Well, I say why let a good opportunity slip away?”

  April shook her head. “You're impossible.”

  Her best friend grinned. “I'm only trying to cheer you up. Take your mind off this whole thing. And if you meet a cute guy in the bargain, then what's the harm?”

  April pointedly twisted in the lounge chair so that her back was to the boy. She didn't want to be stared at, and she certainly didn't want to meet some guy who was sick. She figured he had to be sick; why else would he be a patient in this huge New York City medical complex?

  Kelli interrupted her thoughts. “What is going on with you? Medically, I mean. When can you leave?”

  The last thing April wanted to do was dwell on the frightening possibilities as to why she was in the hospital. “I'm only here for testing,” she said. “I'm sure I'll be out by the end of the week.”

  “But by then spring break will be over. We leave tomorrow, and the weatherman said an inch of fresh powder is falling in Vermont as we speak. This might be the last chance for a ski trip this year.”

  April and her friends had been planning the trip for weeks. It was supposed to be part of her birthday present. And since it was their senior year, it would be their final spring break together as a group. “I can't help it,” she said gloomily. “Even if my doctor releases me earlier, my parents won't let me go.”

  “Why not?”

  April didn't want to say. Not while there was so much speculation about the origins of her numbing headaches. The headaches had built in intensity for the past several months, causing her to get dizzy, even sick to her stomach. When she'd passed out from the pain in school two days earlier, her parents had hustled her out of their Long Island community and into a hospital in the city. The headaches could still be nothing.

  Or they could be the other thing. The “thing” she had decided not to discuss with Kelli. “Oh, you know my parents. They fall to pieces if I have a hangnail. Besides, Dad won't let me drive from New York to Vermont by myself.”

  Kelli chewed her bottom lip. “I could wait till you're released. Then you and I could drive up together.”

  “No way.” April shook her head. “Kelli, I appreciate it, but you go on with the others.”

  Kelli slumped in her chair, crossed her arms, and pouted. “It won't be the same without you there. This is our last spring break together.”

  April sighed, feeling disappointed too. “Maybe we can do something together our first spring break from college next year.”

  “Fat chance. We'll all be scattered to the ends of the earth.”

  “I'm sorry,” April said softly, her eyes filling with tears.

  Kelli scooted forward and seized April's hands. “Don't cry. I'm such a jerk for making you feel worse than you already do. Tell you what, we'll go to the shore this summer when all this is behind you. You've always liked the beach better than the ski slopes anyway. I'll talk to the others while we're away and devise a plan. What do you say?”

  “Okay. Maybe we can go right after graduation, before we have to pack up for college.” April did love the beach, the rolling ocean waves, the warm sand and bright sun. “Thanks for thinking of it, Kelli. You're a real friend.”

  Kelli beamed her a smile. “We'll call you from the ski lodge.”

  April nodded. “Don't break a leg.”

  Suddenly a male voice burst upon the two girls in the lounge. “There you are, April,”

  April looked up to see Chris Albright, the senior captain of their high-school soccer team. They'd been dating for a few months, ever since Christmas, but she hadn't expected him to pop into the hospital the day before spring break. She was glad she'd taken the time to put on her sweats and wasn't wearing a hospital gown.

  “I couldn't find you in your room,” Chris continued. “One of the nurses told me to check in here. You feeling better?”

  Chris had caught her when she'd fainted in English class. Literally.

  “Nothing to report,” she said. He straddled the arm of her chair and took her hand in his. From the corner of her eye, April saw the patient who'd been ogling her lean forward. She turned her full attention to Chris. “I didn't think I'd see you until after the break.”

  “I can't go off and leave my girlfriend holed up in the hospital.”

  Kelli, who was out of Chris's line of vision, did an exaggerated swoon that made April giggle. Chris was the catch of their school. April was nuts about him, but she tried not to show it. Clingy girlfriends were a turnoff.

  “What's so funny?” Chris asked.

  “Nothing. I'm just glad to see you.” She laced her fingers through his.

  “What's up, Kelli?” Chris asked.

  “I came to say goodbye too,” Kelli told him. “Actually I was trying to persuade April to sneak away with
me and leave her doctor a note about coming back after spring break.”

  “Makes sense to me,” Chris said. “Have they told you anything yet?”

  April told Chris what she'd told Kelli. Once again she omitted the information that she didn't want anyone to know. The headaches can't be related, she told herself. “So, I guess I'm stuck here until they complete all the tests,” she finished aloud.

  “What kind of doctor have you got?” Chris wanted to know.

  “A neurologist.” She leaned forward. “Personally, I think all this is a ploy to find out if I really have a brain.”

  Kelli rolled her eyes and Chris scoffed. “Right,” he said. “You're on the dean's list every reporting period. I don't think brain loss is your problem.”

  They all laughed and April felt better. More than anything she wanted to be out of the hospital and back in the familiar world of school and friends and graduation plans. Graduation was only nine weeks away. Stupid headaches!

  “Listen, I'd better run,” Kelli said, standing. “I want to catch the train before rush hour.”

  “Thanks for visiting.” April longed to be leaving with her friend.

  “I'll call you.” Kelli bent and hugged her goodbye. She whispered in April's ear, “I know three's a crowd,” and darted out the door.

  Chris eased into Kelli's vacated chair. “I miss you, April.”

  “I miss you too.”

  “You scared everybody when you blacked out in class.”

  “Did I ever thank you for catching me before I hit the floor?”

  He glanced self-consciously around the room. “Is there any place less public than here?”

  “My room.”

  “Let's go.” He helped her to her feet.

  The room spun and she clung to him “It takes me a minute to get my balance whenever I change positions.”

  He looked concerned and put his arm around her waist. As they walked back to her room, April felt the gaze of the guy on the far side of the lounge area following them. She snuggled closer to Ghris.

  Once they, were in the privacy of her room, Chris took her in his arms and kissed her. “I hate to leave you for a whole week.” The soccer team was playing a tournament in Pennsylvania over the break.

  “Go have a good time. But not too good a time.”

  He stayed for another hour before he kissed her goodbye.

  Alone, she felt the gloom return. It would be another couple of hours before her parents would arrive. Stop acting like a baby, she told herself. This isn't like before. You're seventeen now, not five.

  She was sitting up in her bed clicking through the TV channels with the remote control when someone rapped on her door. “Come in,” she called.

  The door slowly opened, and the boy from the rec room stood there. “Hi,” he said with a sunny grin.

  “Do I know you?” she asked.

  “Mark Gianni.” He held out his hand.

  She took it cautiously. His grip was warm, his palm rough. He was tall and had curling dark brown hair and intense deep brown eyes. But Kelli had been right. He was thin, almost gaunt. “And you're here because …?” She allowed the sentence to trail.

  “Because I want you to know that you're the most beautiful girl Pve ever seen. And I thought I should introduce myself. I mean, we should get to know each other. Since you're the girl I intend to marry.”

  Although Mark's bold statement shocked April, she refused to let him see her reaction. Without changing her expression, she asked, “And what makes you think I'm not already married?”

  Mark looked surprised. But suddenly, an impish grin crossed his face. “No ring,” he said, picking up her left hand. “If a guy was married to you, he'd make you wear a ring the size of a baseball. And wouldn't your last name be different from your parents'?”

  She tugged her hand out of his. “I don't believe in changing my name.” Her eyes narrowed. “And how do you know my last name anyway?”

  “I asked the nurses. They said you're April Lancaster and you live on the Island.”

  She wasn't sure she liked him knowing anything about her without her permission. “Well, they shouldn't have told you anything.”

  “Don't be mad at them. I've been coming here for years, so I know most of the nurses really well. They like me.” He grinned again. “I'll bet you could like me too if you gave me a chance.”

  His smile was infectious and though she tried to hide it, the corners of her mouth twitched. “Well, I'm not here looking for a husband, thank you.”

  He shrugged. “Okay, so maybe my proposal was a little premature. I'll ask again once we get to know each other better.” Suddenly Mark ducked his head and began coughing deeply into his hand. When the coughing fit finally subsided, he looked up and said in a wheezy voice, “Don't worry. I'm not contagious.”

  She blushed because that was exactly what she had been thinking. “So what are you here for?”

  “CF—cystic fibrosis. I was born with it.”

  She'd heard of the disease but knew nothing about it. “I'm sorry.”

  With his coughing spasm over, Mark looked paler, and April saw dark circles under his brown eyes. “Can I sit? I feel a little woozy.”

  Quickly, she pulled her knees up to allow him room to ease onto her bed. “You all right? Should I call a nurse?”

  “I'm all right.” His smile was less bold, more wavering, and his sudden vulnerability touched her. “A person learns to live with it. Sometimes CF gets the upper hand and then I have to come here until I get on top of it.”

  “How often do you get hospitalized?”

  “It depends. When I was a kid, I sometimes came three or four times a year. But now that I'm older, I'm doing better. This is only my second time in eighteen months.”

  “How do you stand it? I hate this place.”

  “So do I. But I don't have a choice. Randy, my RT—that's respiratory therapist—made me come this time.” Mark waved his hand. “But enough of this boring stuff, let's talk about something more interesting—like you, for instance. Why are you here?”

  “Testing.” Talking to him had made her forget her problems for the moment, and she hated the reminder.

  “Well, they can't be testing for imperfections. You're already perfect.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Do you ever get results with such lame lines?”

  “Ouch! I'm wounded. How could you think I'm feeding you a line?”

  “Oh puh-leeze. It's been fun meeting you, but don't I hear the dinner trays?”

  Out in the hall there was the unmistakable clatter of the cart carrying the supper trays for the patients. April's door swung open and an orderly carried in a beige plastic tray with plates covered by stainless steel domes. He set it down on her bedside table.

  “You got room 423 on that cart still?” Mark asked.

  “Yes,” the orderly answered.

  “Can you bring it in here?” Before April could say anything, Mark turned his beautiful eyes on her. “Would you mind?” he asked shyly. “Eating alone is really a downer.”

  Instandy, April realized why Mark acted like such a flirt. He was lonely. “Only if you promise not to use any more dumb lines on me.”

  His grin turned sunny again. “Nothing dumb about them. I work hard to perfect them. After all, it's not easy for me to compete with guys who are healthy.”

  The orderly plunked Mark's tray on the table in the corner and left. Mark lifted her tray and put it across the table from his. “Dinner is served,” he said in a snooty voice.

  She joined him, but before she could take a bite, she saw him take a medicine cup full of pills. “What are the pills for?”

  “CF is a disease of the pancreas. It affects the lungs and also digestion. I have to take pills before every meal to help me digest food. But why are we talking about me again? I'd rather talk about you.”

  She made up her mind to ask a nurse more about CF. “I'm a dull subject.”

  “Not to me. Is that guy who I saw y
ou with earlier your boyfriend?”

  “Yes.” She wanted Mark to know she was unavailable.

  “I'll bet he's a jock.”

  “He plays soccer.”

  “When I'm on top of my CF, I play chess.” He grinned. “Bet I could take him in chess.”

  “Maybe.” April suppressed a smile. She hated to admit it, but Mark's charm was getting to her.

  “Are you in school?”

  “A senior. And you?”

  “I graduated three years ago,” he said. “I take night classes at NYU and I work in a print shop. My uncle owns it. My father's a cop and Mom … well, Mom lives to cook huge family dinners and harass my sisters, who aren't married to nice Italian boys yet. Luckily, my sisters and I each have our own apartments.”

  “How many sisters do you have?”

  His smile lit up his eyes. “Just two—both older. So how about you?” he asked. “Brothers or sisters?”

  “I'm an only.”

  “Makes sense.” He nodded slowly. “I mean, how could they follow an act as beautiful as you?”

  “You're getting lame again.”

  “Sorry. I lost my head.” He gave himself a slap on the cheek. “I'm better now.”

  April smiled in spite of herself. “I have terrific parents. My dad's an investment counselor and my mom's part owner of an antique shop in Manhattan.”

  “Speaking of antiques, do you like cars?” he asked.

  “Cars? Sure.”

  “I rebuild cars—street rods—as a hobby.”

  “Street rods?”

  “Classic cars from the fifties. We've just finished a fifty-seven Chevy. Aqua and white with white leather upholstery.” His eyes sparkled. “The most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Before you, that is.”

  She ignored his flattery. “And what do you do with the cars after they're rebuilt?”

  “We show and sometimes race them.”

  “Like on a racetrack?”

  “Out at the speedway. Ever been there?”

  “Uh—no.”

  “If I'd had a choice about my life, I would have been a race car driver.”

  “I thought you said you did race cars.”