Josh made it a point of learning who Katie O’Roark’s friends were at school. He learned that her best friend was a junior named Melody and that Melody enjoyed giving out frequent bulletins about Katie’s health. As unobtrusively as possible, he hung on the fringes of the small groups that gathered whenever Melody gave an update. That was how he learned that Katie was undergoing rejection of her new heart and that she’d been moved into Intensive Care.
Josh could hardly handle the sense of despair that swept over him. She can’t die! he told himself. She was his only link to Aaron. Katie had to live, because if she was alive, then a part of Aaron would be alive, too.
That night, he lay on his bed, listening to music and bouncing a basketball off the wall. The repetitious movement gave him something to focus on, something to anchor his sanity. Gramps came into the room after knocking and eyed Josh speculatively. “Your school called today,” he said. “The office said you missed two days of classes. You leave here every morning, but you aren’t going to school. Where are you going?”
Josh didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t want to upset his grandfather, but how could he explain that he went and sat in his car in the hospital parking lot, staring up at the ninth floor? “No place,” he answered.
Gramps sat down on the bed. “I know you’re still grieving for Aaron, boy. We both are. It’s not something you can get over right away. Grieving’s good—it’s natural, and you can’t put a time limit on it. What’s not good is getting stuck in one part of it.”
Josh nodded, not wanting to get into a discussion. He wanted to be left alone. “I wish I could change what’s happened.” The sense of helplessness he felt was overwhelming. He had no control over Aaron’s dying, no control over Katie’s rejection. He didn’t even know her, but he felt linked to her.
“When you can’t change things, you find a way to live with them as they are. You find a way to make peace with God and go on in spite of it.”
Josh didn’t think it was possible for him to overcome what was happening.
“That’s what Aaron did,” Gramps added.
“How?”
“When he knew it was impossible for him and you to live at home anymore, he figured out a way around it.”
“We came here,” Josh said.
“That’s right. So, I’m asking you, if you can’t bring Aaron back from the grave, what can you do to make your peace with his dying?”
The answer came to Josh in a flash of inspiration. He could touch Katie O’Roark before she died. Not in a secondhand way, as he’d been doing so far, but in the flesh, with his own hands. By touching her, he could connect with Aaron. He twirled the basketball in his hands. “I’ll think about it,” he told Gramps.
The old man rose and shuffled to the door. “The Good Book says that by helping others, we help ourselves. Josh, having you here with me is good help. I wish I could offer you the same kind of help. If you ever want to talk …”
The old man’s eloquence reached inside Josh, making him soften, calming his fears. “You’re good help to me, Gramps. Tonight, you’ve helped me a lot.” The moment Gramps left, Josh began to formulate a plan.
Ten
JOSH BLENDED INTO the group of people as they stepped into the hospital elevator on the ground floor. He licked his lips, dry from inner tension. Act as though you belong here, he told himself. Only people who look nervous and out of place get noticed.
The elevator stopped on each floor. The door slid open, and visitors stepped out. Soon, Josh was the only occupant of the car, and he was startled when the door opened onto the ninth floor. The halls looked eerily empty as he exited. He stood still for a moment, to get his bearings and to calm his racing heart.
Deep breaths, he commanded silently. Look as though you belong. His brother had taught him the lesson years earlier, when Aaron had been fourteen and Josh only ten. Their mother had been in the hospital, put there by a pounding from their father’s fists. Josh had cried for days, convinced that he wouldn’t see his mother alive ever again.
“You want to see her?” Aaron asked.
“I can’t go up there,” Josh said, sniffing. Aaron was old enough to visit on patient floors; he wasn’t.
“Sure you can. Just come up with me. Keep your eyes straight ahead, and look as if you belong. That way, no one will even notice you.”
Josh had done exactly as he’d been told. He’d seen his mother, her face bandaged, her arm in a cast. She’d wept, and he’d clung to her as if she might disappear. Josh shook his head to clear out the long-ago memories of that other day in a hospital. If only Aaron were here with him now to help give him courage.
“Are you lost?”
The nurse’s voice caused Josh to jump a foot. “Um—I was looking for the ICU,” he said.
“It’s at the end of the hall.” She pointed. “Do you have a family member there? Only immediate family can be admitted to the unit, and then for only ten minutes at a visit. There’s an ICU waiting room next door if you want to visit with someone’s family.”
“I’m not here to see anyone in particular,” he replied, moistening his lips again. “You see, I’m doing a special report on intensive care for a science project. So, I’m up here sort of snooping around for information.” Josh smiled, inwardly startled by the glib way the lie had flowed out of his mouth.
The nurse was young and pretty. She returned his smile. “I’ve only been here a week myself. I’m in training. I don’t know much, but what I do know I’ll be glad to tell you. I’ve had to do reports for classroom projects. Sometimes the books make everything so dull.”
“Then you understand.” Josh felt a wave of relief. “I’d really appreciate a guided tour.”
“I can take you inside the unit, but not into any one patient’s cubicle.”
“Inside would be fine.” He tagged along behind her, crossing his fingers in the hope that he could maintain his charade. She inserted a special card in a doorway security system. When the buzzer sounded, she led him into a large room that was lined with glass-enclosed cubicles. A central island allowed two nurses to see into every cubicle, as well as monitor banks of electronic equipment on one side of the room.
He listened as the nurse, Maria, explained to the other nurses what she was doing. He grinned at them innocently and rocked back on his heels, hoping the quaking of his insides didn’t show on his face. The others seemed busy, distracted, so Maria launched into a spiel about the ICU while Josh pretended to be interested.
All the time, his gaze darted about. He knew that Katie lay in one of the cubicles. “Can I look inside the glass windows?” he asked when Maria paused for a breath. “I promise not to disturb anybody.”
Maria looked hesitant, but finally said, “I guess so.”
He walked slowly down one side of the room. In one cubicle lay a man hooked to machines. Another was empty. A third had a sign posted on the door that read; DO NOT ENTER, ISOLATION PROTOCOL. On the bed lay a girl. His breath jammed in his lungs. He knew he’d found Katie O’Roark. He stood at the glass partition, transfixed. Her dark hair spilled out onto the pillow, and she looked frail and impossibly thin. Her bed was surrounded by machines, wires, tubes, and lines.
Without realizing it, Josh had pressed so close to the glass that his nose was touching it. His heart hammered against his ribs. His fingers curled on the glass. Katie. Aaron. Both only a few feet away.
“You’re not really doing a report on the ICU, are you?”
Maria’s question caused cold sweat to break out on Josh’s face. He glanced sideways at her. “I’m sorry I lied.” His words came haltingly. “But I had to see her. Please don’t be angry at me. Don’t call the cops. I’ll leave.”
The nurse touched his arm. “She’s your girlfriend, isn’t she?”
Josh felt as if he’d been given a reprieve. “How did you guess?” he asked. Another lie.
“It’s written all over your face that she’s special to you. Don’t panic. I’m not going to th
row you out. Take a minute and look at her. Don’t let the others know, okay?” She gestured toward the nurse’s station.
“It’s our secret … and thanks.” Josh continued to stare at Katie. He longed to touch her. He supposed he was going nuts. What else but insanity could have driven him to haunt a hospital for weeks, hang around the lobby, sneak up to the ICU, and lie to get inside so that he could gaze longingly at a girl he didn’t know and had never met? “How is she doing?”
“Actually, pretty well.”
Josh glanced quickly at Maria, then back at Katie. “She is?” His breath made a foggy place on the window.
“With the machines and all, I know it’s pretty intimidating, but she turned a corner this morning. Dr. Jacoby thinks he’s got her episode of rejection under control.”
Josh’s knees went weak. “That’s good.”
“Maybe they’ll move her back into her room in a few days. I know her parents will be relieved. They’ve been here day and night.”
Josh couldn’t tear his eyes away from Katie. He saw her chest rising and falling. The image soothed him. Aaron’s heart was keeping her alive. He watched as Katie’s head turned on the pillow. He held his breath as he saw her eyes struggle open, focus, and stare directly into his. Josh gasped and jumped backward. “I should be going,” he mumbled. For some reason, he felt revealed and naked.
A puzzled frown creased Maria’s forehead. “Maybe you should.”
Josh walked quickly to the door and out into the corridor. “Thanks,” he called over his shoulder to the young nurse pursuing him. “I really appreciate your letting me in.” He punched the elevator button. When it didn’t arrive promptly, he ducked through the stairwell exit.
“Wait!” he heard the nurse call.
“See you next time!” Josh yelled. His voice reverberated in the hollow stairwell as he hurried downward. He chased its echo all the way to the ground floor.
Katie drifted, feeling as if she were again floating on a warm sea. She was more aware this time. She heard voices, recognizing her mother’s and father’s whispers. She wanted to tell them, “I’m fine. I’ll be fine,” but couldn’t.
She had glimpses of people coming in and out, of bending and probing. All she could see of them were their eyes sandwiched between green paper masks and green paper head coverings. Didn’t they know she wanted to see their lips and cheeks and chins? Didn’t anyone realize what it was like to be handled through the barrier of latex gloves?
She felt like some laboratory rat in a glass cage, trapped on a bed, held in place by wires and tubes. She wanted out. She wanted to go home. She wanted to feel the sunlight on her skin once more.
Katie knew she’d lost all the progress she’d gained in working out on the stationary bike. She’d have to start all over again. Hold on, heart, she said to herself over and over. She thought about JWC, who knew what it was like to lie in a hospital “… feeling lonely and scared.” Maybe when JWC heard about Katie, he or she would come and talk to her. It would be nice to talk to someone her age again.
Katie struggled to open her eyes. The longing to be with someone like herself was tangible. When her eyes opened, she was looking through the glass wall of her cubicle. A boy with red hair was standing there, looking in at her. It was as if her longing had melded with her imagination and conjured him up from thin air. Katie was so startled that she didn’t even blink.
All at once, the boy vanished. She tried to call him back, but her voice wouldn’t work. Moments later, her eyelids closed as sleep reached out for her. He had simply been a figment of her imagination. Disappointment crowded in on her. He’d been an illusion, a fantasy, constructed out of her loneliness to fill a need for someone human to touch her.
Eleven
KATIE BREATHED A deep, contented sigh. Even though she was only allowed to sit in a wheelchair in the visitation room, her sense of freedom and mobility felt incredible. She’d been returned to her room from the ICU two days before and allowed to leave her room for the first time that morning. With a nurse’s help, she’d washed her hair, put on makeup, and dressed in the beautiful royal blue velvety bathrobe her parents had bought her.
After lunch, she’d worked with Barry and the stationary bike. After she’d told him she was going “stir crazy,” he’d helped her into the wheelchair and she’d rolled herself down the hall under the watchful eyes of the nurses. Katie rolled over to the window and peered out. The weather was sunny, but she could tell it was cold. The trees were barren, and the ground looked brown and lifeless. Typical of November.
“I’ve been here forever,” she muttered under her breath, recalling the glorious autumn she’d left behind when she’d entered the hospital. She still couldn’t pin Dr. Jacoby down on a release date.
“Soon,” was all he’d say.
Soon. The word had lost its meaning. Katie tried not to be glum, but now that she was feeling better, the days seemed impossibly long. At least, she could have visitors—Melody had been the first. She’d come the night before and cried the whole time she visited.
“I can’t believe you’re actually all right,” Melody had said between sobs. “I never thought I was going to see you again. First you were sick, then dying, then the operation … and now … now you’re alive and beautiful. Oh, Katie, it’s a miracle!”
Katie felt that while it certainly might appear miraculous to Melody, only she knew how complicated her “miracle” had been. And how painful.
“I’ll come visit you every day. I’ll tell everyone at school how great you’re doing,” Melody insisted. “Everybody asks about you. In fact, the main office puts updates about you on the central bulletin board. I think Mr. Clausen is going to declare a Katie O’Roark Day when you come back to school.”
Katie was mortified. She didn’t want all the attention, especially since she hadn’t done anything to deserve it. It wasn’t like winning a race, or the medallion for top high school female runner in the district. So far, all she’d done was survive a heart transplant.
Katie sighed and pushed her wheelchair away from the window. She glanced around the room and saw that a few more patients had entered, some with visitors. The people in street clothes looked out of place to her. Actually, she felt a twinge of jealousy. She’d give anything to put on blue jeans and a sweatshirt again.
From the corner of her eye, she saw a boy with red hair who was about her age. He stood near the doorway, looking nervous. With a start, she realized he was watching her, because he kept diverting his gaze when she glanced his way. Odd, Katie told herself. Katie had a nagging sense she’d seen him before, even though she couldn’t place him. As nonchalantly as possible, she rolled her wheelchair closer, picking up a magazine as she passed a table.
She flipped through the magazine, pretending to be interested, all the while glancing discreetly toward the boy. Even though he also picked up a magazine, Katie could tell that he was preoccupied with studying her. Suddenly, she grew self-conscious. Was something wrong with the way she looked? She’d thought she looked better than she had in months when she’d left her hospital room that afternoon. Why was he watching her?
A flash of insight caused her to gasp. Could he somehow be connected to the mysterious Wish Foundation? Katie turned the chair and in one smooth move rolled it right up to him, almost pinning him against the wall. “Excuse me,” she said. “By any chance, are your initials JWC?”
She caught him totally off guard, and his face turned as red as his hair. “Yes,” he stammered, trying to get out of her way. “I mean, no. That is, my first name begins with a J, but that’s all.”
Katie felt both disappointed and foolish. She thought that he was good-looking, tall and lanky with a square jaw and gold-flecked brown eyes. In an effort to appear in control, she asked, “What’s the J for?”
“Um—Joshua,” he said. “But everybody calls me Josh.”
“Where do you go to school?”
“Ann Arbor High.”
“So do I. When
I’m not in the hospital.” She tipped her head upward. “Do I know you from school?”
He flushed beet red once more. “No. I mean … I just transferred in September.”
Why couldn’t she shake the feeling that she’d seen him somewhere before? “Do you like it?”
“Sure. It’s okay.”
Katie was running out of small talk, yet she still couldn’t place him. However, it was so good to be around someone her own age that she didn’t want him to leave—even if he did look cornered. “Would you like to sit and talk to me? You don’t have to,” she added quickly. “It’s just that I’ve been cooped up in this place for so long, I’m ready to scream.” She tacked on an encouraging smile.
He dropped his gaze. “Well, maybe for a few minutes.”
She rolled toward an empty sofa on the far side of the room where he sat and peered anxiously around. “Are you waiting for someone?” she asked. Secretly, she hoped not.
“No,” he said.
“So, why are you here?” She watched him lace his fingers together and stare down at them. Once she asked, it occurred to Katie that it did seem strange that he would be here for no reason. “I guess you probably thought I was crazy asking you about your initials,” she said.
“Why did you?”
“Someone with those initials has been very nice to me, but I’ve never met the person. Are you sure you’re not JWC?”
“My name’s Josh Martel.” He jerked his head up and looked at her hard, almost as if he expected her to recognize the name.
Katie searched her memory, but drew a blank. “I guess I don’t know you,” she admitted haltingly. “I can’t help it, though … you really look familiar to me.”
He suddenly appeared more at ease. “I have a ‘regular’ face. Nothing special.”
“It’s probably all the medications I’m taking. I’ll bet they’ve turned my brain into soup,” Katie remarked wryly. “I can’t wait to get out of this place.”