He was trying to peel off her shield and she resisted. “Nobody knows how I feel. And I don’t want to talk about it with anybody.”
“Why? I’ve been there. I almost lost my mother, Jory.”
She shoved the half-eaten sundae aside and stopped smiling. “When you called and invited me to the movie, I said I’d go because I wanted to forget about Melissa and all that’s going on. I’m sorry I came.”
Lyle stretched out in the booth, jammed his hands into the pockets of his jacket, and studied her. “All right, we won’t talk about it. So what did you think of the movie?”
Her mind drew a blank about the plot. “It was all right.”
“Okay,” Lyle said, “let’s try another topic. Any word about your getting into the U of M?”
When had she told him about that? “No word yet.”
“How about nuclear disarmament, Jory? Want to try that one?”
Anger welled inside her so hot, she felt like throwing something at him. “What’s with you? Get off my case!”
Lyle stood abruptly. “Come on, I’ll take you home. You’re right, this date was a bad idea because you really didn’t want to be with me, you just wanted something to keep you busy.”
The accusation made her squirm because he was right. “Sorry I’m such a boring date,” she flung at him and stalked out to the car.
In the car, Lyle said, “I’m sorry, Jory. I really did want to be with you tonight. I’d like to see you again.”
She shook her head, feeling a wave of depression swooping down on her. “It’s no good, Lyle. I don’t know what I want right now. My head’s all mixed up about everything.”
In her driveway, he reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder. “If you change your mind, if you need anything … ”
“I won’t,” she said, sliding out of the car. She scurried up the walk, not wanting him to follow. She didn’t look back, but the warmth where Lyle’s hand had rested lingered.
Chapter Ten
On the day of Michael’s surgery and Melissa’s transplant, Jory skipped school. She sat in the surgical waiting room with Mrs. Austin, who kept an anxious eye on the clock. A woman from her office and a minister had come to wait with her, but it was Jory Melissa’s mother talked to most often.
“Why do you suppose it’s taking so long?” Jory asked, when they’d been there an hour.
“It could take up to six hours,” Mrs. Austin said. “They remove the marrow a pint at a time and spin out the platelets because that’s what Melissa needs.”
Jory’s jaw dropped. “Then it’ll be after lunch before we hear anything?”
“I’m afraid so. You don’t have to wait the whole time, Jory. You can leave and come back,” Mrs. Austin said kindly.
“Oh no. I don’t mind. Really. I’d go crazy sitting around at school. Besides, everybody at Lincoln is looking to me for a firsthand report.” Jory smiled brightly, knowing that she was as nervous as Mrs. Austin, but able to hide it better. The thought of Michael in an operating room and of some doctor sucking out his bone marrow made her knees go weak. “How’s Melissa this morning?”
“She’s ready for the transplant. I saw her at six and she was awake and waiting. I’ll be checking on her off and on.”
“Is she all suppressed?” The question sounded stupid, but Jory didn’t know how else to phrase it.
“They’ve virtually wiped out her immune system. I’m so edgy around her, I don’t know what to do. What if some germ slips in despite all the precautions? What if she gets a cold? Or pneumonia? It can happen.”
“By then, Michael’s bone marrow will be working hard and fighting off the germs,” Jory said cheerfully.
Mrs. Austin left to check on Melissa and another hour passed. She returned, saying Melissa was fine but bored. “Did I ever say thank you for all the nice things you’ve done for Melissa?” She asked.
“I’ve wanted to do things for her. She’s my best friend.” Mrs. Austin’s gratitude made Jory squirm. “I’ve wanted to do it for you too, Mrs. Austin. It’s meant a lot to me the way you’ve looked out for me over the years.”
“Oh, Jory, I’ve never minded. I knew right from the start that you and Melissa had a special kind of friendship. Besides, I’ve always considered you one of my own.”
“A-And I’ve felt like yours too,” Jory said, honestly, because she’d never felt closer to Melissa’s mother. “You’ve always made me feel special.”
Mrs. Austin smiled. Jory saw deep, tired lines around her eyes and mouth and realized that the pressure must be incredible for her. Both her kids were in the hands of doctors at the same time. “Would you like some coffee? I’ll run to the coffee shop for you.”
“No. I don’t think I could keep it down.”
“I know what you mean.”
As the noon hour approached, Jory began to think the day would drag on forever. She groped for a topic of conversation to keep her mind busy. “I think you’ve been so strong through all this, Mrs. Austin.”
“Strong? Hardly. I’ve lost it so many times, I can’t count them.”
Jory was surprised. “I would have never guessed.”
“What choice did I have? I couldn’t let Melissa see me scared. And Michael’s so angry about the whole thing that I was afraid he’d snap if I didn’t keep it together.”
“Melissa says that too.”
“Why not? He’s been a father and brother to her all these years. Now, all this is doubly hard for him.”
“Sometimes I get so angry, I want to punch someone out,” Jory confessed. “But who? Who’s responsible for this?” She eyed the minister and lowered her voice. “I always thought God loved us and wouldn’t let anything bad happen to us. Why did He let this happen to Melissa?”
Mrs. Austin studied Jory. “Don’t think I haven’t asked the same thing. Why my daughter?”
“Did you get an answer?” Jory asked, hopefully.
Mrs. Austin stared off into the air. “I’ve looked for answers everywhere, Jory, and the search isn’t over. Rain falls on the just and the unjust, Jory. God is God, we are His creation, and we have no right to question His authority.”
Jory bristled because she hated arbitrary authority, hated being pushed around by someone bigger and more powerful than she. Like her own mother. “That’s not fair,” she muttered.
“God isn’t fair. And I don’t mean that in a bad way. Fairness implies that we have rights. Do we have the right to tell Him how to run the universe?”
Jory furrowed her brow. “Maybe not.”
“Then why should we have the right to tell Him how to order our lives?”
“But what did Melissa ever do to deserve cancer?”
“Nothing. I suppose that’s where the great mystery lies. People don’t get what they deserve—good or bad. Life isn’t always so logical.”
“The rain falling on the just and unjust?” Jory asked.
“Yes, but regardless, we still have one very real thing going for us. We have hope, and I think that’s what separates us from the rest of creation. We get to hold on to hope … hope for things not seen.”
Jory was moved by Mrs. Austin’s faith and she wondered if she’d ever feel that way herself. Would she ever come to accept gracefully what she couldn’t understand or change? “All I want is for Melissa to get well and everything to be normal again. When I think of all the plans she’s made—of her dream to be a lawyer and all … ”
“Melissa is single-minded. And she’s like a bulldog. Once she latches onto something, she doesn’t let go.”
“That’s good, don’t you think? I mean, if she’s a fighter, it’s got to count in her favor.”
“That’s what her doctors tell me.” Mrs. Austin patted Jory’s hand absently. “I’m glad you stopped wearing that blue fingernail polish. You have pretty hands.”
Jory glanced at her unpolished nails, unable to remember the last time she had done them. “Just one of my phases.” How silly that period of Jory’s lif
e seemed to her now—the strange hairdos and outlandish clothes. She’d done it merely to get a rise out of her mother. It had worked, yet nothing was different between them. They were still butting heads and arguing over everything. Jory sighed, shaking off the direction of her thoughts. There were too many other, more important things to think about now. Like Melissa, and Michael, in surgery.
The door swung open and Michael’s surgeon entered. Jory crowded near Mrs. Austin, determined to hear his report.
“Michael did fine. He’s young and strong and came through like a champ. He’s in recovery now, but we’ll send him to his room once his vital signs stabilize.” The physician took Mrs. Austin’s hand. “We removed six pints of marrow through two holes in his backside. He’ll be sore for a few days, but that’s the worst of it for your son.”
“And Melissa?”
“We’ve sent the bags to isolation.”
Jory noticed that Mrs. Austin’s hands were shaking. “I’d better go on up …”
The doctor started to leave, then turned. “It’s a precious gift your son has given his sister.”
“I know,” Mrs. Austin said. “He’s given her a second chance at life.” The doctor left, and the minister and Mrs. Austin’s friend gathered closer. Mrs. Austin told them, “Thank you for coming. Both of you.” Then confusion clouded her face.
Jory asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Suddenly, I don’t know what to do.… I mean, Michael’s in recovery and Melissa’s waiting for me. I want to be with both of them. But there’s only one of me.”
Jory said, “Michael would want you to go to Melissa.”
“Yes. Of course, you’re right.” Mrs. Austin headed for the elevators for the ride up to the isolation ward.
“Tell her I’ll buy her a five-pound box of chocolates,” Jory called as the elevator doors closed behind Mrs. Austin. Alone in the roomful of strangers, Jory picked up her purse and started for the elevators too. She punched the button for the ground floor when an idea struck. She could wait in Michael’s room until he came down from recovery. Then she could see with her own eyes that he was fine.
Jory held her breath as she slipped inside the private room where Michael was already asleep. Jory stepped close to the bed. The hollows below his eyes appeared darkened and bruised, showing how stressful the surgery had been on his body. She listened to the soft sounds of his breathing. She fussed over the sheet, pulling it closer to his neck, and let her hand linger on his shoulder, tentatively, careful not to wake him.
His black hair fell over his forehead and she gently brushed it aside, allowing herself the luxury of touching him. He didn’t stir and Jory grew bolder. She stroked his cheek and felt the rough stubble of his beard. She placed her palm along the length of his face and her heart pounded. How long had she dreamed of touching him like this? “Michael … ” she whispered.
She remembered all the times he’d teased her and ignored her. She was a kid—Melissa’s “little rich friend.” It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the love she felt that made her pulse throb and her heart ache.
“Prince Charming’s asleep,” she murmured, amused by this ironic turn of events. Jory glanced around the room. They were alone. Closed blinds held off twilight, and in the soft arms of shadow Jory leaned forward. With measured purpose, she traced the outline of his lips with her fingertips, then bent and kissed him longingly on the mouth.
Only immediate family members were allowed to see Melissa for the first week. It infuriated Jory to have to get information from the nurses’ station or from Mrs. Austin. “Nothing yet,” Melissa’s mother told her over the phone when Jory called. “So far nothing’s happening with the transplant.”
Jory worked up her courage to visit Michael, who was recovering but still in a lot of discomfort. “I feel sixty years old,” he grumbled. “I can’t even stand up straight.”
A nurse clucked over him and assured him the pain would pass. “Here. I brought you a present,” Jory said, placing a book about ballooning on his bed after the nurse had left.
He picked it up and flipped through beautiful color photographs of earth taken from hot-air balloons. “Geez, Jory, this book must have cost fifty bucks.”
His comment stung, but she ignored it. “It was on the discount table and I thought it would get you close to the sky until you felt like doing the real thing again.”
He closed the book. “Thanks, but I don’t know if I’ll ever go back up. It all seems so pointless now.”
She wanted to protest, but what right did she have to encourage him? “Will you be out soon?” She asked.
“Not soon enough. Maybe tomorrow. I went up to see Melissa, though.”
“How’s she doing?”
“Not much change. It makes me mad. I thought for sure they’d be able to tell something by now.”
“It’s not been that long … ” Jory said, letting the sentence trail when Michael glared at her. She hated it whenever she said silly, innocuous things. And she hated it when Michael looked at her like she was a child. She remembered kissing him and her cheeks flushed.
“I hate this place,” Michael said through clenched teeth. “I feel like I’m in a cage.”
Jory shifted from foot to foot, understanding exactly what he meant. She opened her mouth to speak, but Mrs. Austin came through the door. She looked pale, like she hadn’t slept in a week.
Michael sat straight up in his bed and blanched. “Man, that hurt,” he mumbled. He reached out to his mother. “What’s wrong, Mom?”
Jory stepped aside, trying to make herself unobtrusive. Cold fear knotted her stomach, because she could tell something was wrong. Very wrong. “Melissa has a fever,” Mrs. Austin said, taking Michael’s hand. “She’s sick, Michael. And it’s either an infection or the first signs of rejection.”
Chapter Eleven
“Melissa needs blood. Will you help me?” Jory spoke to Lyle, who was sitting at a table in the school library with books and papers spread out in front of him.
“I’ll give blood,” he said.
Jory fidgeted. “She needs lots of blood. I’ve asked permission from the principal to organize a blood drive for her. But I need help.” Lyle was watching her so intently that she almost turned and ran off. “You said to come to you if I ever needed anything,” she said, almost accusingly. “Will you help, or not?”
Under the table he shoved back the chair across from him with his foot. “Sit down.” Jory sat on the edge, tapping her foot impatiently. “What’s happened?” Lyle asked.
“I’m not sure. Mrs. Austin just said that she needs blood. She’s getting it through the blood bank, but they need to replenish what Melissa uses. I figured it was something I could help with. There’re plenty of kids at school who would like to do something. Everyone asks about Melissa. I know people care.”
Lyle hunched forward, wrinkling his brow and nodding thoughtfully. “We could do more than organize a blood drive.”
“What do you mean?”
“I told you that my mom had cancer. It almost wiped us out financially. I’ll bet the Austins are hurting for money by now too. Can you guess how much all this must be costing them?”
Jory shook her head, but recalled that Melissa often worried about money and what would happen when her mom’s insurance ran out. What Lyle was saying made sense. She wished she’d thought of it. “What have you got in mind?”
“A carnival here at the school. Something that the whole community can come to. We’ll call it Melissa Austin Day—”
“—and we’ll charge a donation of blood for admission!” Jory cried, catching on to his idea.
Lyle grinned. “Two bucks if you’re squeamish.”
“We can have the newspaper write it up. Maybe some radio stations will give us some time on the air to talk about it. There are lots of stores in this area. We could ask them for merchandise and raffle it off,” Jory rambled on, her mind racing with ideas. “We can charge for games of chance. Different clubs her
e at school can man booths, and all of the proceeds will go toward Melissa’s hospital bills. Of course, we’ll take straight donations too. We’ll have to set up a special account at a bank.…”
By now, Jory was bursting. “It’s a great idea, Lyle. You and I will be the main committee. Let me get some of the faculty to help too. I know Mrs. Watson will. Melissa’s always been her favorite.” Jory scrambled for her notebook and began jotting notes furiously. “If we get right on it, I’ll bet we could get it together in two weeks. That’s right before Gasparilla. Maybe we could even have a float in the parade … ”
“Whoa,” Lyle cautioned with a laugh. “Boy when you catch on to something, you go all out.”
Jory shrugged sheepishly. “Okay. I got carried away. No float. But the carnival is perfect and we can use a pirate theme.” She tapped her lips with the end of her pencil. “My parents are wired to everybody in this city. They could help get some nice donations.”
“Would they?”
Jory thought back to her party and wondered the same thing. “Sure,” she said, with a confidence she didn’t feel. “A few things anyway.”
Lyle crossed his arms and studied her. “You’re really into this idea, aren’t you?”
Jory looked straight at him. “Last summer, I promised Melissa that we’d have the best senior year ever. But she got sick again and I feel like I haven’t followed through on my promise. This will make up for it.”
“You’re a great friend, Jory.”
She blushed and stood up quickly. “Geez, I’ve got a million things to do. Let me get started and I’ll call you tonight. And thanks, Lyle. I mean it. It’s a great plan, and Melissa’s family needs it.”
Lyle caught her hand and squeezed it. “It’s not just for Melissa, Jory. It’s for you too.”
She felt her breath catch in her throat as she stared into his amber eyes. “Then thanks from both of us,” she said and skittered away.
“That’ll be one pint of blood. Step into the bloodmobile behind me.” Jory flashed a flirtatious smile at the two senior boys waiting to donate blood and get into the carnival.