Reclaiming Lily

by Patti Lacy

  “Don’t! I can’t abide it. Lies by omission are still lies.” Cheryl’s tapping against the counter clawed at Kai’s nerves, as did her words. “God is a lover of truth. I truly think what you’re doing is a sin, not to mention a poor example for a sister who idolizes you.” Cheryl curled her toes around her stool rungs. “Put yourself in Joy’s shoes.”

  “How can I pretend to be nineteen?” Exasperation spewed out, as did resentment. Though Kai had struggled to deny it, she knew that Cheryl spoke truth. Something she was not doing . . . and must find a way to do.

  “Joy is an adult. When we’re talking life or death—and that is what we’re talking here, Kai—Joy’s age isn’t the key.”

  Kai groaned off her stool and paced their tiny den. “What is the key?”

  Cheryl swung about and leveled Kai with stony eyes. “How many times do I have to say it? Joy is family. Family deserves involvement. Family deserves the truth.”

  Kai stared at knotholes in their wood floor. She’d evaded, hedged . . . lied. If Joy had done that to her, she would take the first flight to Texas and ream her out in person. “You’re right.”

  “Never thought I’d hear you say those words.”

  “I may not say them, but I have thought them many times.” Affection for Cheryl welled up in Kai. She hurried to the bar and gave her roommate an uncharacteristic hug.

  When the two separated, Kai was surprised to see tears in the eyes of the usually unflappable Cheryl. “You’re so thin.”

  Kai nodded. She now weighed ninety pounds, counting a sweater and clunky boots. PKD had stripped her of more than weight. Day by day, hour by hour, PKD stripped her of dignity, pride, and pretense. “I’ll be in my room,” she said over her shoulder.

  “Going to Texas in your mind?”

  “Cowtown. When this is all over, we’ll have to visit.”

  “You can count on it. And me.” Cheryl’s voice steeled her for what she was about to do. Kai whispered another prayer, shut the door, and dialed the Powells’ home phone.

  It has to be done. Now. Gloria sat on her bed, the phone in her hand, a prayer on her lips. Andrew pretended to sort the bills and business cards in his wallet. Funny that while I’m dealing with stress by prayer, the preacher is playing with money.

  Gloria dialed the number she’d memorized the day Joy got her dorm assignment.

  “Hello?”

  “Joy. How are you?” She added a lilt to her voice, as if this were a mom check.

  “I know, Mom.”

  Oh, God. Gloria’s fingers clawed the air instead of her fists. She had to somehow release tension. Help me get through this. It’s starting . . . now.

  “It’s okay,” continued Joy. My daughter, soothing me.

  “Tell her.” Andrew hissed and paced, in a most impatient, un-Andrew way.

  Gloria inhaled. “We’d like to drive to Waco tomorrow. Discuss things.”

  It sounded as if half the dorm occupants were in Joy’s room, giggling, conversing—things college girls should be doing rather than contemplating surgery with lifelong implications. Pressure built in Gloria. What was Joy thinking? Why didn’t she answer?

  “Yeah. Yeah.” Gloria could barely hear Joy for background noise.

  “Did I interrupt something?”

  “What?”

  “Sounds like quite a party, Joy.”

  “It’s just a floor meeting. Hey, y’all!”

  Gloria held the phone away from her ears and shrugged at Andrew, whose face had contorted into a frown. They were paying tuition for this?

  “Hush!” Joy screamed.

  Shushes and rustles and moans whooshed through the receiver. Gloria again cradled the phone against her shoulder, then held it to her ear when things settled. At least in Joy’s dorm room.

  “Sorry. I’ve got a break between noon and two. Meet for lunch?”

  Tension loosed its hold. “Great! Should I bring stuff for a picnic?”

  “Sure. That’d be nice. And your cookies, okay? Caroline loves ’em.”

  They said good-bye. Gloria hurried to the kitchen and set out butter to soften, found the jumbo-sized package of chocolate chips. She’d make all of Joy’s favorites, though what they had to talk about was certainly not picnic fodder. “Lord, give us wisdom to say the right words.” She sifted dry ingredients, set them aside, and beat the eggs. “Not my will here, Lord, but yours. Guard my daughter’s heart . . . and her body, Lord. May we be an instrument to reach Kai.”

  Gloria made the chocolate chip cookies Neiman Marcus had made famous. For the first time ever, she didn’t nibble on the dough.

  It looked for all the world like a festive occasion. Gloria had packed a checkered tablecloth, sandwiches, chips, and drinks into their warped old basket. Tins held six dozen of Joy’s, Caroline’s—and apparently half the dorm floor’s—favorite cookies. Joy chattered and Andrew nodded as they spread the cloth on Burleson Quad’s lawn. Pansies winked, just for them. Live oak leaves whispered pretty nothings. Gloria acted carefree and smiled pretty, but nothing was pretty about PKD and their reason for coming. Despite her misgivings about how it might affect Joy, it was time to quit playacting and make plans.

  One look transmitted her message to Andrew. They’d prayed as they drove this morning on I-20: for God’s will, for peace, for the right words. Gloria distributed sandwiches, making sure Joy got the one with double cheese, pickles, and no mayo. Andrew tore his sandwich into bites and sipped Coke. Coeds strolled by wearing everything from green and gold fleece, Greek and Baylor T-shirts, to heels and designer dresses. Lovely tower bells pealed over laughter and chatter, the whole quadrangle oblivious to the Powell drama.

  Andrew cleared his throat. “Mom said you talked to Kai.”

  Joy nodded, her mouth full of chips.

  “She told you she’s at end stage?”

  Another nod. Except for a rogue gust blowing about Joy’s hair and that munching jaw, their girl didn’t move.

  “We’ve been praying about this, Joy.”

  Joy swallowed, slugged her drink, and wiped her hands on a napkin. “Yeah, me too. Like, our whole floor’s really into it.”

  “I don’t think we have any option but to take the next step.”

  Joy shook her head wildly. Hair slapped her cheeks. “There’s no need for that.”

  Gloria studied her hands. Who could blame a young girl, who might carry the deadly genetic marker herself, for having doubts? Joy, so desperate for friends just two years ago, now had the world—or at least this campus—eating out of her palm.

  “I know we haven’t talked about this for a while, but after Boston and our Christmas get-together, I thought we agreed—”

  Joy bit off more sandwich. A pickle slice plopped onto the cloth as Joy waved her hands . . . and her food. “You . . . don’t . . . understand.” Words mixed with chomps.

  Gloria’s heart sank yet pressure eased from her chest and let her breathe. It was awful to want Joy safe in the Baylor bubble yet to know in the depth of her soul that Joy should help Kai. She gripped her Coke can, as if its chill could cool questions setting her afire. Had Joy’s faith cooled so quickly by the collegial atmosphere?

  “Joy.” Andrew laid a hand on her knee. “Chew that and then talk to us.”

  The perfect eyes narrowed. Then Joy nodded, bowed her head, and cleared her throat. “Sorry,” she managed as she wiped her mouth.

  Gloria’s heart swelled. At times, Joy looked just like Andrew.

  “It’s all settled.” Joy shrugged, as if they should know what she was talking about. Gloria pulled her knees to her chest and gripped her legs with all her might. Would she ever understand this child?

  “What . . . what do mean?” Andrew also played clueless. Looked clueless.

  “I’m a perfect match—y’all already know that.” Joy tossed crumbs to a bold blue jay. “Caroline—she’s from Dallas, you know.”

  Gloria felt her head begin to shake, as if it were not connected to her body. What did Joy’s
roommate have to do with any of this?

  “When I went home with her last month . . . um, like, we skipped class on Monday.”

  “Okay . . .” Andrew’s voice was calm despite a tightening of the lines about his mouth. Gloria sat as still as the statue of Pat Neff to keep from crawling across the lawn and shaking Joy. They were paying all that money for her to skip class?

  “Like, I’d called the week before. Made an appointment at the medical center TU. Transplant Unit.” Her words mixed with bird tweets and laughter. “The people in Boston hook up with the people in Dallas, just like they did with the genetic matching.”

  “Okay” seemed to be the only thing Andrew could say.

  “You wouldn’t believe what they put me through. Enough questions to drive me crazy. They have to do it. I mean, it’s a national standard.”

  “What are you talking about, Joy?” Andrew screeched.

  “The prelims for donors. To make sure I know what I’m doing.”

  “They didn’t call us?” flew out of Gloria, whose palms ached from her digging.

  “I’m of age. One of the committee members had doubts ’cause I’m so young and all. But I explained how Kai sacrificed to find me, how she’s my only link—right now, at least—to China. They’re big on reclaiming heritage, you know?”

  No, I don’t know. But apparently you do.

  Joy picked chips out of her bag and stuffed them in her mouth. “There’s a few more hurdles—all in Boston. A CT scan, a meeting with the medical director and a social worker—you know, to make sure I’m of sound mind.”

  Gloria felt her eyes widen. Listening to her, who could doubt Joy was not only of sound mind, but ready to run a major corporation? Or plan for med school . . .

  “After the final cross-match, we’re good to go.”

  “What . . . how . . . What’s the time frame?” Andrew’s words garbled. Like my mind.

  “A minimum of two weeks. I’ve got our flight booked already—used that emergency charge card y’all gave me. We’ve got twenty-four hours to cancel, like, but we can’t. You know.” Joy slapped her hands together, as if that settled it.

  Andrew and Gloria stared openmouthed at each other. No, they really didn’t know, at least not yet. Joy seemed to know enough for all . . . four of them.

  As Gloria unraveled the hem on their tablecloth, they discussed a thousand loose ends. Paper work, deadlines, tests, phone calls. Joy had made the decision about her kidney. Worked out details. And we support her. Despite anxiety that robbed cravings for even one Neiman Marcus cookie, Gloria’s peace matched the idyllic Baylor setting. In the strangest way, Gloria saw the past, present, and future here under a canopy of live oaks. With Joy’s decision, Kai had a chance for a future. It was right. So right.

  29

  BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS

  JANUARY 11, 2000

  It was just a hospital room. Abstract prints. A television mounted on a beige wall. The window view showed spindly branches and rooftops spattered with snow. Kai lay under a thin blanket in the same standard-isue bed where dozens of her patients had waited. With Joy holding her hand, the scent of violets masking Mr. Clean’s ammonia smell, a mountain of cards, drop-in visits by Paul, David, nurses, and aides, Kai might have been ensconced in a luxury hotel. The love of friends and the Powell family cushioned her from what lay ahead . . . mere hours from now.

  “I’ve gotta go.” Joy kissed Kai’s forehead.

  Kai nodded. Joy’s coaxing of a Chang story had drained Kai’s last energy reserves. Oh, that all the Changs could be here, for Joy’s sake! She shoved away such sentiment. First and Third Daughters and poor Father had seen enough, had smelled enough, of death. If . . . when she and Joy returned to China, death would have been bested.

  At least temporarily. Kai shuddered. Death could not be defeated . . . except by God.

  “We’ll be real close soon.” Joy blew a kiss as she headed for the door. “Literally! Like, up close and personal!”

  Kidney to kidney. Kai smiled. It was impossible to stay mopey with Joy around.

  Those precious bow lips puckered into Joy’s serious look. “I’ll be praying.”

  You and David and the Powells and Roberta at the nurses’ station and Cheryl . . .

  Christian co-workers and church members who prayed had not surprised her. The one who had surprised her was Paul. “I’ve done all I can do,” he’d whispered as he’d brought her another bouquet of violets. “Even graced the church doors.” Kai had experienced a strange tightening of her throat to hear of Paul turning to God, just for her.

  After Joy left, Kai tiptoed around sleep, flirted with time, passed seamlessly from America to China. Nurses bustled in to check her vitals. Peasants nodded as they shouldered their sickles. The face of old Dr. Ward appeared in her dream-wake state, as did Father’s face. One moment, she stared at a blank TV screen in her hospital room; the next, her toe tested the swift-flowing waters of the river near her childhood village. . . .

  With her sisters, Kai skipped through rice paddies. Each footstep splashed liquid diamonds onto First and Third Daughters, who giggled and showed perfect dimples. Father waved from an adjacent field. He had the unlined but tanned skin of a young laborer. As he worked, he sang, “Little swallow, little swallow, comes here every spring.”

  Kai waved to him as she ran faster, faster, away from their village, away from First and Third Daughters. Determined to find the sun, she climbed grassy slopes. The shop owner’s wife called, “Stop! Stop!” but Kai paid her no mind.

  Her lungs burned as she climbed higher. Occasionally she stumbled, but she struggled her way to a plateau. “Where are you?” she cried to the sun, which hid behind a cloud. Tears mingled with sweat. “I have fought for you. I have labored for you. Why will you not shine your light on me?”

  A white-hot ray beamed onto Kai’s outstretched hand with such intensity, her skin became translucent. She saw white-gray bones, pink-red muscles. Fear triggered a desire to run, yet the flash of heat and light rendered her incapable of moving.

  Second Daughter.

  Kai leg’s turned rubbery, though she neither fell to the ground nor sagged. It was Old Grandfather’s voice, or what she had always assumed was Old Grandfather’s voice.

  I am not Old Grandfather, though he is here with me.

  Kai inwardly trembled; oddly, not a muscle moved. Was God speaking to her now? Had He often spoken to her, though she had not known it was Him?

  I created your inmost being. I knit you together in your mother’s womb. I crafted that Healing Right Hand! I am that I am!

  It is the Lord! Truth assaulted Kai, along with a splendid booming sound, pure and holy like the white-hot light. Still she could not move.

  You ask why I have not shone my light on you.

  Kai dared not speak, now that truth had been revealed. She dared not even nod.

  You have not asked me, Little Kai. How I have longed to shine my light, not only on you, but in you. But you have not asked. You have not believed in the Spirit. Most important, you have not died to yourself so I can live in you.

  As Kai stood motionless on the plateau, a terrible force pressed against her. It was akin to a giant hammer, attempting to pound her into the ground. The force pummeled her head and shoulders.

  Yes! I need your light! I want your light! Tears streamed. I believe! Kai labored to speak the words screamed by her heart. She could not make a sound.

  The heavens parted. A ball of light exploded and filled the sky with white-hot light. Kai’s heart expanded with joy, then shrank with fear.

  I am Jesus, Son of the Living God. The voice pierced Kai to the core. Images from the past throbbed into her field of vision. Little Kai, stealing candy from her sisters, Little Kai, lying to Mother. Kai, peeking at a classmate’s exam answers. Kai, too stubborn and proud to seek help. Though Kai still could not move, the sky, the air, even the plateau whirled. Time flitted away, as did Kai’s very sense of being. It is as if I am dead. . .

/>   If you believe in me, you will not perish, but will have everlasting life.

  But I am not worthy! Kai screamed, still unable to move.

  A howling wind whirled Kai into a black funnel. Debris blinded her, choked her, scratched her skin. Still she could not move.

  The tornado made a sucking sound. With a thud, Kai was thrown to the ground. Trembling, her breathing raspy and excruciatingly painful, Kai wobbled to her feet.

  Through the blood of the Lamb, you are a new creation.

  A humming such as Kai had never imagined energized the air. Bees buzzed. Birds chirped. A warm glow filled Kai, who extended a tentative finger.

  The sound swelled, as did a wonderful power within. Kai stretched toward the white-hot light. “I am free!” At first her voice was tight and hoarse, but it loosed to shout, “I am free!” Kai spread her arms and leapt, as she had on that long-ago day, when she stood on the roof. . . .

  As she sailed through the air this time, powerful hands cupped to catch her. The wind whistled, the clouds whirled, but Kai was safe. Oh, safe! In His hands . . .

  Someone shook Kai’s shoulder. She startled awake.

  Gone was the bright light. Gone were the hills of her village. She stared at the wall-mounted television. Yet so vivid was her dream memory, she extended her arm, looking, feeling . . .

  There was no translucency. No radiating light. Yet Kai knew her soul was now white-hot clean.

  “Oh, Jesus,” she whispered as nurses explained what came next. Strong hands slid under Kai and scooted her onto a rolling stretcher. “Praise Him.” Her eyes fluttered. She was in this world but not of this world. She had died but was alive. What a glorious feeling!

  Doors whooshed open. The stretcher clanked. Bells rang. Orderlies told her they were taking her to surgery. Perhaps Joy was already there. . . .

  Strangely, or perhaps it wasn’t strange at all since she was a new creation, she smiled at the ceiling tiles of the hospital wing hall. No one knew it, but God was going with her into surgery. Whatever happened, they would be together. Forever and a day.