“Goodness, what’s wrong?” Her mother was peeling potatoes at the sink.
“Mom, I’ve got a huge problem.”
Her mother hastily wiped her hands on a dish towel and hurried over to the table. “Tell me.”
Brenda poured out her story, careful to explain how special Matt was and what a major deal it was to be asked to the military ball. Finally she leaned back in her chair and looked into her mother’s eyes. “So that’s the story. What should I do?”
Her mother didn’t say anything for such a long time that Brenda wondered if she’d lost her voice. Then she finally spoke: “You’re right—you have a problem.”
“Well, thanks a lot! I know that much.”
“Brenda, I can’t tell you what to do. This is something you have to figure out for yourself.”
Brenda gaped at her mother, thinking of all the times she’d had so much to say. Too much, in fact. But now, when Brenda really needed some good advice, her mother wouldn’t come through. “Nothing?” Brenda asked. “No ideas at all?”
“Sorry, honey. You have to make this decision on your own.”
“But what would you do?” Brenda felt desperate.
“What I would do isn’t relevant. You must do what’s right for you.”
“I expected you to help me,” Brenda wailed.
“No, you want me to solve your problem for you. You got yourself in this mess. You’ll have to get yourself out.”
Brenda pushed away from the table and grabbed her book bag from the floor. “Thanks a lot, Mom!” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. Fuming, she hurried from the kitchen.
Nine
“Brenda … Doug’s sick.” Mrs. Drake’s voice sounded tight and worried over the phone Monday night. “It’s pneumonia.”
“That’s terrible!” Brenda had expected Matt to call, but this news broke her heart and made a sick feeling settle in her stomach. “Can I talk to him?”
“He’s sleeping, but I was wondering if you could come by tomorrow after school. We should talk.”
“I’ll be there.” Brenda hung up the phone, a dark feeling of foreboding hanging over her. Across the room, her beautiful velvet dress hung from a hook on her closet door. She knew intuitively that Doug was not going to see her wear it.
Brenda didn’t tell anyone at school about Mrs. Drake’s phone call, preferring to keep the news to herself until after she’d seen Doug. As soon as she got home, she grabbed her mother’s car keys and drove to Doug’s. A holiday wreath on the Drakes’ front door scented the air with pine, but Brenda couldn’t remember ever feeling less in the spirit of Christmas.
Mrs. Drake opened the door before Brenda had even rung the bell. “Come in,” she said. Her face looked drawn, and Brenda’s heart clutched. “I want to talk to you before you see Doug.”
“He must be really sick.” Brenda’s voice was barely a whisper.
“He is.” Mrs. Drake took Brenda into the living room and sat with her on the couch.
A Christmas tree stood in the bay window, partially decorated. It looked half-dressed and forgotten, and for reasons Brenda couldn’t quite understand, the sight of it saddened her.
“Doug’s begged us not to hospitalize him. The hospital is a stressful environment, and since there’s little that can be done for him except for medication and bed rest, his doctors feel he’s better off here. A home nurse will stop by every day to check on him. You see, he doesn’t have much in the way of natural resistance anymore. He’s fought so long and so hard …” She didn’t finish her sentence.
Dread stole over Brenda. “But he will get well, won’t he?”
“Maybe.” She said the word without meeting Brenda’s eyes. “But what’s certain is that he won’t be going out Saturday night. He’s going to tell you that he is, but it’s impossible, believe me.”
“I don’t care about the dance,” Brenda said. “All that matters is that he’s all right.”
“He really wanted to take you to that dance, Brenda. It represented a benchmark for him. And we really wanted him to be able to go. It—It’ll be his last dance, I’m sure. Doug’s father and I would like to reimburse you for your dress and any other expenses. I know these things can get costly—”
“Stop it.” Tears blurred Brenda’s vision. “The dress isn’t important. It—It was something I already owned.”
Mrs. Drake patted Brenda’s hand. “You’re a lovely girl. Thank you for making my son happy.”
“I—I haven’t done anything.”
“Yes, you have. When Doug was younger, his dad and I could buy him things to take away some of his pain. A new video game, or software for his computer, or new sneakers. But now he wants things we can’t buy for him. Acceptance, friends, a girl who’ll care about him.”
Brenda realized what Doug’s mother was trying to tell her. She said, “Any girl would be touched to have Doug care about her. He’s a nice guy and doesn’t deserve to be sick. It isn’t fair.”
“I never thought so, either.”
The two of them sat in silence. Sadness embraced Brenda and hung around her heart like unwanted baggage. How was she going to face Doug? But face him she must. “Can I see him now?”
“It’ll make his day.”
Brenda rose and followed Doug’s mother up the stairs.
Doug was propped up in his bed on big pillows. He wore a Braves sweatsuit. His skin looked ashen and dark circles rimmed his eyes. Across the room a TV was on, and lamps glowed, bathing the room in soft light.
“Hi,” he said as soon as Brenda came into the room. “I’m sorry you have to see me like this.” Using a remote, he turned off the TV.
“You look good.” She put on her most dazzling smile.
“I look bad and you know it.”
“You’re sick. You’re allowed to look bad.”
“Will you sit beside me? I just want to look at you.” Brenda sat on the edge of his bed, and he added, “Listen, I want you to know that I’m not throwing in the towel about the dance. I’m doing just what my doctor says—staying in bed, taking medicine, eating even if I don’t want to. Don’t give up hope about going to that dance. I haven’t.”
“Doug, I don’t care about the dance.” Brenda knew that much was true. Not going lifted a huge weight off her shoulders.
“Well, if any other guy asks you—”
“I won’t go with anybody if I can’t go with you.”
“What about your friends? And our double date.”
“Julie and Kevin will understand, believe me.”
Doug leaned back against the pillow. “I don’t know why you even bother with me, Brenda. I can’t give you any of the things I want to give you.”
“You gave me the stars,” she said, thinking fast. “No one’s ever given me that before.”
He reached for her hand. “When my spirit’s set free, I’ll ask God to let me visit the stars and learn all their secrets.” His voice sounded muffled and full of longing. “Then I’ll know all there is to know about the universe. Yes … the stars will be my consolation prize for having to die young.”
Brenda could think of nothing more to say, nothing to make what he was going through go away. She felt helpless, useless. She held his hand long after his breathing became regular, his grip loosened, and he slept.
“Talk about dodging the bullet!” Julie told Brenda the next day at school. “Now you can go with Matt. ’Course that leaves me and Kevin to fend for ourselves”—Julie gave a shrug—“but anything to help out a friend.”
Brenda just stared at Julie. “How can you act so insensitive? Doug’s really sick. He might be dying.”
Julie bowed her head and looked contrite. “I’m sorry. I—I wasn’t thinking. I just figured this was a perfect way out of your problem. I didn’t mean to sound cold.”
On the surface, it did appear as if Brenda’s problem was solved. Doug was too sick to go to the Winter Fantasy. She could go to Matt’s military ball, and Doug need never know. Her procrastination
had paid off. If she had called Matt and canceled, then found out about Doug, she would have sat home alone on Saturday night with a fantastic dress and no place to wear it. But all that had changed now. Except for one thing: she didn’t want to go with Matt. The dream had lost its luster, the fantasy its glow.
“How can I go with Matt when I know what taking me to our school dance meant to Doug?”
Julie offered a hapless shrug. “But what can you do for Doug now? Sit by his sickbed all evening? You can do that on Sunday. Or all next week while school’s out.”
“No … I won’t do either. But I do have an idea, Julie. Doug’s parents will have to help me, and so will you.”
“Of course I’ll help. What do you want me to do?”
“It’s a fact that Doug can’t go to the dance,” Brenda said slowly, her mind working a mile a minute. “But with some hard work, the dance can come to him.”
Ten
“Let me take your coat, Brenda. Everything’s ready downstairs, and Doug doesn’t suspect a thing.” Standing in the foyer, Mr. Drake spoke in a conspiratorial whisper.
“Oh, my, you look beautiful!” Mrs. Drake said when she saw Brenda’s blue velvet gown.
“Thanks.” Brenda had run a wild race against the clock to finish her plan, then rush home and dress for the evening, but she had succeeded. It was just eight o’clock, and at school the Winter Fantasy would be starting.
“We’ll never forget you for this,” Mrs. Drake said. “It’ll mean so much to Doug.”
Doug’s father said, “Why don’t you go downstairs, and we’ll bring Doug. He’s weak, but his fever’s down. Still, he’s pretty depressed about having to miss the dance.”
Her heart hammering with anticipation, Brenda went into the family room and the “winter fantasy” world she and Julie and Doug’s parents had spent the afternoon creating. First she and Julie had called in sick to their job. Then they’d set to work. Now giant snowflakes sprinkled with glitter hung from the ceiling. Crepe-paper streamers crisscrossed the walls, and a mirrored disco ball suspended from the ceiling slowly spun around. Beams of light showered the room like stardust. A decorated Christmas tree sat in one corner, and a fire glowed in the wood-stove.
When Brenda had first come to the Drakes with her idea, they’d been hesitant. But as she had elaborated on it, they’d grown enthusiastic.
Even her own mother had been touched by Brenda’s plan. “I knew you’d do the right thing,” her mother had said warmly. “It’s a fantastic idea, and I’m proud of you.”
The only person who hadn’t taken the news well had been Matt Forrester. Not that she blamed him. On Wednesday night, she’d called and canceled their date. “What?” he’d said. “Is this some kind of joke?”
She heard the noise of his dorm in the background. “I’m really sorry, Matt. I feel awful about this. I should never have said yes in the first place. I really wanted to go with you, but I have to be with Doug on Saturday night. He’s so sick—”
“What about me? This dance is a really big deal. You’re leaving me in the lurch.”
She didn’t remind him that he’d waited until almost the last minute to ask her, or that he’d never made her feel special the way Doug did. “I can’t help it, Matt. I have to be with Doug.”
“Well, thanks a lot.” His voice was tight with anger. “And by the way, you were my second choice. My girl’s parents grounded her, so I asked you. But she’s the one I really wanted to take.”
Brenda had had no way of knowing if he was telling the truth or just trying to hurt her. “Then maybe you’d better go sit with her on Saturday night. Why should she spend the evening alone when she can have the great Matt Forrester to keep her company?” She’d hung up without waiting for his response.
Now, standing in the family room, gazing around at all they’d done to fix it up, Brenda knew she’d truly done the right thing. She’d have the rest of her life for the Matt Forresters of the world. But she only had this one special night with Doug.
From above, she heard the sound of voices. “Dad, I don’t want to go downstairs. I’m fine in my room.”
“But your mom and I want to show you what we’ve done. We want you to tell us if it works.”
“Can’t we do it tomorrow?”
As they cleared the edge of the stairwell wall, Brenda could see Doug being helped down the stairs by his parents. They stopped just at the point where Doug could take in the entire room.
Brenda stepped forward. The mirrored ball bathed her bare shoulders in sparkles of light. “Hi,” she said. “Welcome to the Winter Fantasy.”
Speechless, Doug just stared. When he found his voice, he asked, “You did all this for me?”
“The only thing we canceled was the limo. Come on, let me show you around.”
Doug’s father settled him in the wheelchair. Doug protested, but it was obvious he couldn’t navigate on his own.
“Over here is the photo center.” Brenda led him to the Christmas tree, where Doug’s father took several pictures of them. “And here’s the refreshment table,” she said as he wheeled the chair beside her to the kitchenette. “Your mother made little hors d’oeuvres and Christmas cookies.” She held up a platter. “Gingerbread, my favorite.” Brenda pointed in all directions. “We have music, lights, everything except the crowds—and who needs them anyway?”
“I guess we should get out of here,” Mr. Drake said, putting his arm around his wife’s waist and starting for the stairs. “Have fun,” they called.
The silence in the room seemed deafening, and suddenly Brenda wasn’t sure Doug was pleased with their efforts. Then he caught her hand and, looking up at her, said, “You’re the most beautiful girl on the face of the earth.”
Her heart swelled. She gave a slight curtsy. “It’s nice of you to say so. But you may have noticed how I’ve cleverly eliminated any competition.”
“Brenda, I—”
Afraid she might start bawling, Brenda interrupted. “So, what do you want to do first?”
“I just want to sit here and look at you.”
“That’s going to get old, Doug. I know, let’s put on some music.” She went to the jukebox and punched several buttons. Soft music replaced the silence.
“You know what I’d really like to do?” he asked. “I’d like to go out on the patio and look up at the stars.”
“I don’t know …”
“There are blankets in that chest over there. Grab a couple and let’s go outside. Please.”
“Your parents will kill me.”
“We won’t stay out long.”
She found the blankets and an old baseball jacket. She tucked a blanket over his lap, helped him with the jacket, and put another blanket over his shoulders. She found a second jacket for herself. Then she opened the sliding glass doors and pushed his chair out onto the patio. The night was cold, but not frigid. Overhead, a thousand stars sparkled. “It’s a pretty night,” she said, breathing in the crisp air.
“A perfect night,” he said.
Dreamy music spilled through the open door. “Would you like to dance?” Brenda asked.
“I—I can’t—”
“Sure you can.” Brenda lowered herself onto his lap, careful to keep the blanket secure around him and making certain that the arms of the wheelchair took most of her weight. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and nestled her cheek against his neck. She felt his arm encircle her waist and his free hand turn the wheel of the chair.
They moved in a slow, lazy circle, clinging to one another while the music played in the starry, starry night.
Book Three
KATHY’S LIFE
One
“Chad, stop it. What if we get caught?” Ellie Matthias pushed her boyfriend away. All the lights in the house were off. The TV was on with the sound muted. The picture cast an eerie glow across the sofa in Ellie’s living room.
“Come on, El … just one more kiss. I like being with you.” Chad Wilson stroked Ell
ie’s hair and cheek and pressed his mouth to hers.
Ellie twisted away. She couldn’t let her mother walk in on her and Chad this way. Not when her eight-year-old sister, Marcy, was upstairs asleep and Ellie was supposed to be baby-sitting—alone. If Ellie’s mother found out that Ellie had let Chad come over to study, she’d be grounded for weeks. “Maybe you’d better leave,” she told Chad. “Mom might come home early.” Ellie’s mother worked evenings at a department store in the nearby mall.
“The stores close at nine,” Chad countered. “It’ll take her at least a half hour to get out of there and drive home. We have plenty of time.” He pulled Ellie into his lap, locked his arms around her waist, and began nuzzling her neck. “Ummm, you smell good—like flowers.”
“What if she sees your car?”
“I parked way down the street. The second we hear her drive up, I’ll be out the back door. Now stop freaking on me.”
Ellie felt ready to jump out of her skin, not only because she was sneaking behind her mother’s back, but also because she was finding it harder and harder to say no to Chad. He was one of the most popular senior boys in her high school, and he was interested in her—her, a girl who’d never been very popular among her classmates. She felt Chad’s hands move over her body. His touch excited her, made her blood sizzle and her knees weak. But she knew she had to make him stop. Trembling, she pushed at his shoulders. “I’m not freaking. I just don’t want to start anything right now. Right here. What if Marcy came downstairs?”
“You’ve got a million excuses, don’t you, babe?” Chad sounded irritated. “I thought you loved me.”
“You know I love you,” Ellie said quickly. “But what’s wrong with taking things slow and easy?”
“We have been going slow and easy for almost two months. I’m tired of you pushing me away. There are plenty of girls who wouldn’t, you know.”