The Legacy: Making Wishes Come True

by Lurlene McDaniel

  “I had my physician call the ER doctor and afterward, when we discussed their conversation, he suggested that I get her to a specialist as quickly as possible.”

  “A specialist at Boston Children’s,” Richard said with a nod. “What kind of specialist?”

  “A pediatric oncologist.”

  Before Richard could say another word, Jenny’s grandmother spoke. “A cancer specialist,” Marian said, her voice catching. “They believe Jenny has leukemia.”

  Published by

  Dell Laurel-Leaf

  an imprint of

  Random House Children’s Books

  a division of Random House, Inc.

  New York

  Copyright © 1993 by Lurlene McDaniel

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law. For information address Dell Laurel-Leaf Books.

  Dell and Laurel are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

  Visit us on the Web! www.randomhouse.com/teens

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  eISBN: 978-0-307-77635-8

  RL: 5, ages 10 and up

  A Bantam Book/April 1993

  v3.1

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  First Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Dear Reader

  Dear Richard,

  As you must know, I too am deeply grieved over the recent death of your father. To the world, he was Richard Holloway II, Esquire, the attorney who so competently handled my legal affairs all these years. For me, he was a faithful and good friend, and I shall miss him greatly. How I regret being too old and ill to come for his funeral.

  I’m writing to ask if you will come see me. I need your help to complete an extraordinary project that your father and I started. There’s too much to describe in a letter, but I will tell you that it involves our dear Jenny. Since we both have loved her, I felt I could turn to you for help.

  I will be at my home in Martha’s Vineyard, a place I know you remember well. Please, Richard, come at your earliest convenience. We have much to do, and time is short.

  I eagerly await your arrival.

  Marian Ruth Crawford

  RICHARD HOLLOWAY III reread Marian’s letter before tucking it into the pocket of his windbreaker and continuing his solitary walk up the windswept strip of deserted beach. He’d met with Marian, and after hearing her plans, he’d come to this place that had been so much a part of his past. He needed somewhere to think about what she’d asked him to do.

  “Please help,” Marian had pleaded. “We must do this for Jenny.”

  Overhead, a seagull flung lonely cries against a slate gray sky that threatened rain. Tears from heaven. He thought it fitting. Richard skirted the frigid, rolling surf and started toward a soaring cliff of rocks. He was certain he could find the narrow crevice in the wall of granite, even after all these years. His mind churned with thoughts of what Marian had asked of him.

  As he climbed up the rocks, memories from that long ago summer bombarded him. He tried to shake them off, but it was impossible. His brain turned time back to the summer of 1978—the summer when Jenny Crawford turned sixteen. He recalled her vividly—black hair blowing in the breeze, sparkling blue eyes the same deep color of the sea. What had she been feeling on that June day she’d met his sailboat at the marina?

  One

  JENNY RACED ALONG the dock, her eyes never leaving the taut, white sail that dipped in the stiff wind and dazzling afternoon sunshine. Breathless, she halted at the slip where the Triple H would soon dock. She stood on tiptoes, anxiously searching for her first glimpse of Richard behind the sailboat’s helm.

  She hadn’t seen him since the holidays, when he’d come home from Princeton to Boston, spent Christmas Day, then taken off on a yachting trip to the Bahamas. At the time, his brief visit had upset her, but anticipation over his arrival today made her hurt fade.

  She thought he looked like a Viking—tall, with wind-whipped golden blond hair shimmering in the sunlight. His skin, bronzed by the sun, made his green eyes glow like jewels. Richard lowered the Triple H’s sail and started the motor to maneuver the sailboat quickly into its slip at the dock. “Ahoy!” Richard called, waving.

  Jenny’s heart beat faster. “Have a good trip over from Hyannis?” she asked as he threw her a line from the bow of the boat.

  “Perfect! Nothing like the wind in the sheets and the smell of the sea,” he said, jumping from the bow to the dock and tying the line to a post. “I didn’t expect a welcoming committee.”

  He hugged her, and she reveled in his embrace. The moment was over all too quickly. “You didn’t? But haven’t we always spent our summers together?” She smiled eagerly. “I thought we could go visit our special cave. You know, the way we did when we were kids.”

  “A nice offer, JC, but I’ve made other plans for the day.”

  Jenny’s heart sank. “What’s so important that you can’t sneak away to the cave with me?” She had wanted to surprise him with a picnic basket and a gift she’d stashed inside their secret hideaway.

  “Hot date,” Richard said.

  Jenny felt her stomach tighten. “Who’s the lucky girl?”

  Richard tossed back his head and laughed. “Hope the girl shares your opinion. She goes to Vassar and is a friend of one of my roommates. He fixed us up.”

  “Well, don’t forget who your old friends are.”

  “Not a chance.” He gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Will you be at the Club Saturday night? I understand Dame Marian has invited my parents to dinner. Dad wants me to come along.”

  Dame Marian was Richard’s pet name for Jenny’s grandmother. “Yes, I’ll be there. Will you be too busy for me this summer?”

  He turned her to face him. “You’ll always be my special girl, and we’ll have lots of time to bum around this summer. But right now, I need to smooth things over with my parents.”

  “What things?”

  “My grades came, and Dad blew up. I’m afraid I’m on academic probation.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  Richard shrugged and stepped back onto the boat as he continued to talk. “It only matters to Dad. He’s still set on my going on to law school, even though I’ve told him a hundred times I don’t want to be an attorney and take over the family firm.” Richard’s duffel bag landed on the dock with a thud. He jumped back over, picked it up, and draped his arm around Jenny’s shoulders.

  He treats me like a baby sister, she thought with resignation. They walked to the
parking lot where Jenny handed over the keys to Richard’s Malibu. She’d gone by his house, gotten the keys from his mother, and driven down to the docks. “Thanks,” he told her. “Hop in, and I’ll drop you off at your place.”

  Disappointed that they wouldn’t be able to spend the afternoon together, she slid across the front seat. She kept thinking about his date and wondered if he would hit it off with this new girl.

  “What happened to your legs?” he asked, pointing at large bruises.

  She glanced downward and tugged at the hem of her Bermuda shorts. “I don’t know. These bruises just started showing up for no reason.”

  “Some of them look pretty mean.” Richard lifted her chin with his forefinger. “You feeling all right?”

  She felt as if a train had run over her, but that was because he was busy with some other girl. “I’m fine.”

  “You have dark circles under your eyes.”

  “I didn’t sleep very well last night.” She almost added, Because I was thinking of nothing but seeing you.

  He brushed his hand over her cheek. “Maybe you should go for a checkup.”

  “Good grief. I’m fine. Maybe a little tired, but the last few weeks of school were hectic. Don’t mention anything to Grandmother, or she’ll have me under lock and key for the summer.”

  Richard studied her face for a moment, then turned on the ignition, saying, “We couldn’t have that, could we? I expect you to save me a dance Saturday night. And don’t get any new bruises on those gorgeous legs.”

  She covered her knees self-consciously and wondered where so many bruises might have come from. Then she put the whole issue out of her mind, because at the moment, she was with Richard. And nothing else in the world was more important to her than that. Nothing.

  Richard forced himself to concentrate on driving. It wasn’t easy with Jenny sitting so close beside him. He shouldn’t have come for the summer. He should have told his parents that he didn’t care to make the annual summer trek out to Martha’s Vineyard, but his father was angry at him and in no mood for compromise.

  “You’re quiet,” Jenny said. “Thinking about school?”

  “I never think about school. That’s my problem.”

  “All right, so you’ve blown a semester. You can make it up.”

  “More than the semester. I’ve blown the whole year.”

  “You don’t sound too remorseful.”

  Her profile looked cut from fine porcelain, her skin smooth and pale. A little too pale, he thought. “I can’t change the past, so why talk about it? How are plans going for your big ‘coming out’ party?”

  “I don’t want to be a debutante, but Grandmother’s insisting. I can’t understand why my introduction to Boston society is so important to her.”

  “Well you know these Boston bluebloods—they must keep the lineage pure. Can’t have a potential carrier such as yourself off mucking up her genes with the riffraff.”

  Jenny socked him playfully on the arm. “Blueblood! How awful-sounding. It sounds as if my blood’s frozen.”

  “I’m sure Dame Marian wants you to have every opportunity to meet only the most eligible men,” Richard said soberly. “That’s what coming out parties are all about, you know—so that the finest can officially meet the finest.”

  Jenny wrinkled her nose. “I want to do something grand with my life. As my father did.”

  “You want to join the Peace Corps?”

  “Perhaps. Would you miss me terribly if I went off to Africa or South America?”

  “I’d miss you terribly.” He winked, not wanting her to guess how much he would miss her, how much he did miss her and had missed her during the past year, when he’d been away at college.

  Jenny crossed her arms defiantly. “Honestly, Grandmother treats me like I’m still a child. Doesn’t she see how much I’ve changed? You think I’ve changed, don’t you?”

  She had changed all right. He remembered the first time he’d ever seen her. She had been a child of eight, crying at the side of her parents’ graves in an old New England cemetery. He had been twelve and had felt sorry for her. Since then, she’d grown from a child into a woman. He thought her beautiful. And very desirable.

  He hated himself for the attraction he felt toward her. It wasn’t right. They’d practically grown up together. He was twenty. She was sixteen. But he’d been fighting his growing feelings for her for over a year. He’d even gone off on a sailing trip at Christmas trying to keep his mind—and hands—off her.

  He couldn’t have her—even if there were no age difference. She was a Crawford, the light and life of his father’s oldest and most powerful client. He was a nobody, with no purpose and direction for his life, and he certainly didn’t have the social background her grandmother wanted for her. “Yes, you’ve changed,” he said, answering her question. “Boston society never had it so good.”

  “I don’t want Boston society,” she said stubbornly.

  He stopped the car at the gate of Marian Crawford’s summer home, and the security guard opened the car door for Jenny. “See you Saturday,” he said. He watched her walk away and noticed an enormous red, splotchy bruise on the back of her shapely leg. “You should have those bruises checked out,” he called.

  “Don’t worry about me. Just worry about how you’re going to get me to forgive you for running off with some other girl this afternoon.”

  He started to confess that there was no other girl. That he’d made the whole thing up. It was all a lie, but a necessary lie. He couldn’t have her know how he felt about her. “We’ll go sailing next week,” he said.

  She brightened. “Promise?”

  He reproached himself for caving in to his desire to be with her. “Promise.” He put the car into gear and quickly drove away.

  Two

  “GOOD MORNING, SLEEPYHEAD. I was beginning to think you weren’t going to join me for breakfast. And you know how much I enjoy starting my day with your company,” Marian Crawford said as Jenny entered the breakfast room.

  Jenny bent and kissed her grandmother’s cheek before taking her customary place. The brightness of the morning sun spilling through the windows hurt her eyes. Her whole body ached, and although she’d slept fourteen hours, she felt as if she hadn’t slept at all. Her joints hurt, and she felt lightheaded, but she forced herself to ignore her aches and pains. It was Saturday, and she was hours away from being with Richard. She wasn’t about to let a bout of the flu keep her away from something she’d been anticipating for days. “I guess I did oversleep.”

  “Aren’t you feeling well?”

  Jenny sipped her orange juice as her grandmother’s eagle eyes studied her. “It’s summer. Can’t I be lazy if I want?”

  “You’ve never been lazy before. I’ve practically had to tie you down to keep you in the house during the summer.”

  “Maybe I’m changing. Maybe I like the idea of lying in bed until noon.”

  Marian smiled wryly. “And maybe cows will sprout wings and fly to the moon.”

  “Oh, Grandmother, stop worrying about me.” Jenny spread honey on a piece of dry toast and hoped that she could force it down. She didn’t want any more health questions from her grandmother. In truth, she was concerned about the way she’d been feeling lately. More unexplained bruises had popped out. One on her hip looked especially gruesome, yet she honestly couldn’t remember banging into anything that might have caused it.

  Her grandmother poured herself a cup of tea. “You know we’ll be dining at the Club tonight.”

  “I haven’t forgotten.”

  “It’s the twenty-eighth wedding anniversary of the Holloways, and since Richard Senior has been my right hand in business all these years, this dinner is the least I can do to help them celebrate.”

  Jenny knew little of her grandmother’s business affairs. She knew that her grandfather had died before she’d even been born, leaving control of his Boston bank to his wife. She knew that her father, Warren, their only child,
whom she barely remembered, was supposed to have been their sole heir. But something had gone wrong between Warren and his mother, and he’d moved to London and married Jenny’s mother, a British girl; together, they’d joined the Peace Corps. Jenny had been born in Uganda. When she was seven, both her parents had died in a freak train wreck, and she’d come to the United States from Africa to live with her grandmother.

  “I understand Richard’s son will also be joining us,” Jenny heard her grandmother say. “I trust you won’t be too bored.”

  “No. He and I’ve been friends forever. I don’t mind spending an evening with him.”

  “He’s so much older than you.”

  “Four years isn’t ‘so much older,’ ” Jenny insisted. She felt her cheeks color when her grandmother gave her a penetrating stare.

  “Is that all you’re eating?” Grandmother changed the subject.

  Jenny had placed the uneaten piece of toast onto her plate. “I don’t want to spoil my appetite for dinner tonight.”

  “But that’s hours from now.”

  “And I don’t want to get fat.”

  “Hardly a problem,” her grandmother said, eyeing Jenny carefully. “If anything, you’ve lost weight. Now, tell me you aren’t going to turn into one of those self-centered girls who are always counting every calorie, are you?”

  “You’re not exactly a typical portly granny, you know,” Jenny teased. Her grandmother was tall and slim and regal in her bearing. True Bostonian nobility, Richard had often remarked.

  “Don’t be impudent,” Marian scolded, her blue eyes twinkling. “ ‘Portly’—the very idea! I’ll have you know that none of my friends fit that kind of granny stereotype.”

  Jenny rose and dropped her linen napkin on her untouched plate of scrambled eggs. “And none of mine pig out when they know they’re about to face a seven-course dinner. I’ve got some things to do today, and I need to get moving.”

  “But your breakfast—”

  “See you later.” Jenny dashed out of the room and into the hall. She made it to the staircase before a wave of nausea overtook her. She swayed, steadied herself, and groaned inwardly. She didn’t want to be sick. She wanted to feel good and look good for Richard. She gripped the banister and slowly walked up the stairs. Maybe a little nap would help.