The Legacy: Making Wishes Come True

by Lurlene McDaniel

  Richard broke the kiss. He knew he should apologize, but the words stuck in his throat. He wasn’t sorry one bit. He stroked her face and said, “I love you, Jenny.” Once the words were out, he couldn’t take them back.

  “I’ve loved you forever,” she told him in return. “Don’t you know that by now?”

  He touched his forehead to hers, clasped his fingers behind the small of her back, closed his eyes, and took a long, shuddering breath. He was angry with himself for letting himself go, for following his desires instead of his logic. She was too young. He’d taken advantage of her.

  “You don’t believe me, do you?” Jenny broke away and stepped backward out of the light.

  “It’s not that …”

  “You think I’m just a kid with a crush.” He said nothing. “That might have been true a year ago, but it isn’t now. Don’t you understand? This past year, I’ve been to hell and back, Richard. I know what pain is like. I know what love is like. I’ve felt them both.”

  “Jenny, I—”

  “Hear me out.” She held up her hand. “I’ve shared things with my friends … feelings … dreams. We may never get to live them out. But it doesn’t stop us from wanting all the things other people want. Kimbra wants two arms again. Elaine wants to be well. I want to be well. We all want somebody to love us.”

  He started to speak, but she silenced him again. “Not loved just by our families, but by someone special who sees us from the inside out. Who loves us even when we’re bald and scabby and ugly.”

  She took a deep breath and continued. “Life played a mean trick on me when my parents died. But it gave me Grandmother … to sort of balance the scales, I guess. Life played an even worse trick on me when it gave me leukemia. So how is that supposed to balance out, Richard? What will tip the scales this time and make cancer less horrible?”

  She shook her head, and he saw tears trembling on her lashes. She said, “I don’t know. I keep asking God, but I still don’t know. If … if you really love me, it would be a start.”

  He could hear her breathing echoing off the walls of the cave. Time was standing still, waiting for him to catch up. “I really love you.”

  She broke into sobs and flung herself into his arms. He kissed her, and she kissed him back. They sank to their knees, clinging to one another, raining kisses on lips, cheeks, foreheads, throats. They were in the light once more and glowing with blue-white fire. “Say it again,” she pleaded between kisses. “Tell me again.”

  “I love you.”

  “Forever?”

  “Forever.”

  The sun had long since set when Richard took her back to her grandmother’s. Jenny didn’t care how angry Marian was going to be. Nothing mattered except what she’d experienced in Richard’s arms inside the cave. He loved her. She loved him. Not even the throbbing pain of her body could rob her of her joy.

  “You’re very late.” Marian held open the door for them, but her steely gaze was only on Richard.

  “It was my fault,” Jenny said quickly. “I fell asleep out on the boat and Richard didn’t have the heart to wake me. By the time I woke up, we had a headwind.” It was a partial truth.

  “You look blue from the cold.”

  Richard had driven home with the car heater on high, but still her teeth chattered. “I’ll take a warm bath.”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Crawford,” Richard said, hating not being able to tell her that he loved Jenny and wanted her with him. He didn’t care whether Marian approved or not. Jenny belonged with him.

  “I’ll deal with you later.” Marian’s tone turned icy.

  Anger flared, but Jenny squeezed his hand, and he swallowed his retort.

  Marian took Jenny’s free hand and rubbed it. Jenny wished it weren’t so cold. “Your friend Kimbra’s called three times,” Grandmother said.

  “Kimbra? What did she want?”

  “She wouldn’t tell me. She wants to talk to you.”

  “Maybe I’d better leave,” Richard said.

  “No!” Jenny hung on to his hand. She was suddenly frightened. Why would Kimbra have called—she knew that Jenny was supposed to call her Tuesday when she got back to Boston. “Stay with me until I talk to her.”

  Taken aback by the frightened look on her face, he agreed. He followed her into Marian’s sun room and watched as her fingers fumbled with the ornate phone.

  “Let me,” her grandmother offered.

  “I’ll do it,” Jenny insisted.

  She listened as Kimbra’s phone rang, her heart pounding. When Kimbra answered, Jenny asked lightly, “Checking up on me?”

  “Oh, Jenny … Jenny, it’s you.” Kimbra’s voice sounded choked.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Elaine’s mother called this afternoon. Elaine’s dead, Jenny. She’s dead.”

  Jenny swayed, and Richard’s arm shot around her. Words clogged her throat until she could barely whisper, “I don’t believe it. How?” Her knuckles went white on the receiver. Marian started to take the phone away, but Richard’s strong hand grasped her wrist. For a few moments, their gazes locked in silent battle, but it was Marian who backed off.

  “Remember that flu she told us about? Well, she never got over it. She just got sicker and sicker. She went to the hospital, and they said her resistance was low because of all the chemo she’s been taking.”

  “They didn’t send her to Boston? To Dr. Gallagher?”

  “She was too sick to move.”

  As Kimbra talked, Jenny began to feel disjointed, removed. A nonsensical nursery rhyme played over and over in her mind. One little, two little, three little Indians … “Jenny, Elaine’s gone! Just like that.”

  Four little, five little, six little Indians … “I’ll call her mother.” Jenny said. “W-we’ll do something …” Six little, five little, four little Indians … Jenny didn’t remember what else she said to Kimbra, but eventually she hung up.

  “Honey, what’s the matter?” Grandmother asked.

  “Two,” Jenny said softly, holding up two fingers. “Only two little Indians left.” Then she collapsed in Richard’s arms.

  Twenty-Six

  OUTSIDE JENNY’S BEDROOM window, the trees blazed with autumn colors. She was glad to be out of the hospital once more, but her days were dreadfully monotonous. It had been bad enough when she’d spent her birthday in the hospital in May, but now it looked as if she’d be spending her Christmas holiday in a room that was a replica of the hospital.

  Bottles of pills lined her dresser. An oxygen tank stood beside her bed, next to an IV stand. Bedside tables, food trays, and strange equipment took up space in the room that had once sheltered dolls and teddy bears.

  Grandmother had fixed up one of the guest rooms for Mrs. Kelly, who took care of Jenny full-time. The nurse changed IV bags twice a day, cleaned the catheter surgically implanted in Jenny’s chest, doled out pills in prescribed order, and made certain that the linen was fresh and clean. Jenny drifted in and out of wakefulness, remembering her sailing trip with Richard, their time in the cave, the news about Elaine.…

  Jenny had been too ill to attend the funeral, but Kimbra had gone and had written her all about it. Grandmother had promised to fly Kimbra in over Thanksgiving weekend, and that, coupled with Richard’s coming for the holiday, was all that kept her going from day to day.

  Richard … She turned her head, so that she could stare at his photograph. She missed him so much. But he was now in his junior year at Princeton, with definite plans to enter law school. His life was moving forward, while hers seemed on endless hold.

  She’d had to give up her studies. “Time enough for that after Christmas,” Grandmother had said when Jenny had cried over falling behind in her schoolwork. “Goodness, as bright as you are, you’ll catch up and pass everyone else in no time.”

  Jenny appreciated all that her grandmother did for her. Every afternoon, Marian would bring her needlepoint into Jenny’s room, where she worked even if Jenny slept. “I’m
bad company,” Jenny would say, if she dozed off.

  “You’re wonderful company. This is a special time for me. No phones … no interruptions. I get so much accomplished. And best of all, I get to be with you.”

  Jenny sometimes caught her grandmother staring at her sadly. She would see Marian’s eyes mist over, then watch as she quickly dabbed away the moisture and proceed as if nothing had happened. Jenny hated knowing her illness caused her grandmother grief, but there was nothing she could do about it.

  She did observe a difference in her routine from previous at-home confinements. One day, she asked her grandmother about it. “How come I don’t have to go in for outpatient treatments anymore?”

  “Dr. Gallagher feels we can administer whatever you need right here,” her grandmother explained.

  “It seems strange. He’s never done that before.”

  “You know doctors, just when you think you’ve got them figured out … Anyway, I thought you’d be glad not to go in. Don’t tell me you want to.”

  “No way. I hope I never see the inside of that place again. Still, I think about the kids on the pediatric floor, and I miss them. I feel so sorry for the little ones because they don’t understand why they’re being tortured.”

  “Yes, it must seem like torture to them, but it’s necessary. I know they must miss you. You were a help to them.”

  “Only a cure for cancer can help,” Jenny insisted softly.

  Now, Jenny’s days seemed to melt into one another in an endless chain of pills and bed rest. She focused on the calendar next to Richard’s picture. Another week until Thanksgiving. Then Christmas and a brand-new year. Perhaps things would turn around for her in 1980. She hoped so.

  “Jenny’s dying, isn’t she?” With great effort, Richard kept his voice even. “I’ve been with her thirty minutes, and I can tell things are different this time. She’s never going to get well, is she?”

  He’d come home unexpectedly for the weekend, concerned about Jenny. It had been fun to surprise her, but her wasted appearance alarmed him, and so once she’d fallen asleep, he’d gone down to Marian to confront her. Marian studied him guardedly. “Be honest with me,” he begged.

  “All right,” Marian said quietly. “The truth is, she’ll never get well, but she doesn’t realize it yet. Neither do I want her to.”

  Instantly, his stomach churned, and he had to clutch the edge of her desk for support. “Please tell me everything.”

  Marian pinched the bridge of her nose wearily. “The time between each relapse has been briefer, and each round of chemo more potent. Her last hospitalization was especially harrowing. I honestly didn’t think I would even be able to bring her home.”

  He’d been away, and Jenny had almost died. The reality made cold fear sit like a stone in his stomach. Suddenly, he knew he’d done the right thing the night before, even though it had caused a heated argument with his father. Now, he had to tell Marian. But before dropping his bombshell, he asked, “Dr. Gallagher’s giving up?”

  “Dr. Gallagher’s out of options.” Marian resettled her glasses. “He says all we can do now is bring her home, make her comfortable, and … wait.”

  “How long?”

  “Maybe another month.”

  Her words felt like blows to his midsection. “She kept talking about the new year and plans for school—”

  “Pain control is our objective now. Mrs. Kelly is authorized to give her as much morphine as necessary so that she won’t hurt.”

  A film of tears sprang up in Marian’s eyes that she didn’t bother to hide. Richard felt sorry for her. She was losing the one thing she loved above all else. But, then, so was he. “I’ve dropped out of Princeton,” he told her.

  His announcement caused Marian to straighten in her chair. “You’ve what?”

  “I think about Jenny all the time. I can’t study. I can’t concentrate in class. There’s no sense in my staying there when I want to be here.”

  “I’m sure your father disagreed with your decision.”

  “He did at first. But I explained that I’ll have the rest of my life to get my diploma and go to law school. I have only now with Jenny.”

  He toyed with the old inkwell on her desk. “In a way, Jenny’s responsible for my even having a future.”

  “How so?”

  “If she hadn’t been who she is, I would have never gotten it together with my father. I would have wasted years of my life. Jenny made me dream dreams. She made me want to be somebody.” He couldn’t confess that his goals included to one day marry Jenny. “Now that I know time’s running out for her …” He couldn’t finish his sentence.

  “Have you told Jenny about your decision?”

  “Not yet.”

  “She’ll suspect something’s wrong. I—I don’t want her knowing—”

  “You can’t stop her from knowing.”

  “But I will postpone it for as long as possible.” Marian’s eyebrow arched, and her tone was adamant.

  “You should let her talk about dying. She needs to talk to someone about it.” He wasn’t sure how he knew that, but he did.

  Marian stared at him for a long time, so long that he began to grow nervous. Had he overstepped his bounds again? So what if he had! He couldn’t stand on ceremonies now that he knew Jenny’s days were numbered.

  “You are not the man I would have wanted for her,” Marian said.

  “I know.”

  “But you’ve always been the one she’s wanted for herself.”

  Her candor caught him by surprise. “I’ve loved her for a long time. I still love her, and I want to be with her. Not because she needs me, but because I need her.” A hard knot formed in his throat.

  Marian struggled slowly to her feet. She looked old to him and battle-weary. “I won’t stand in your way, Richard. Her happiness is everything to me. It’s all I have left to give her.”

  For an instant, he wanted to reach out and touch Marian Crawford. They were two people who loved the same person, who were going to lose the same person. Jenny had bound them together in an intricate and extraordinary way. He wasn’t sure what future course that bonding would take. “Thank you,” Richard said.

  “We’re setting up her special Christmas tree tonight. Perhaps you could carry her down to the sofa and let her tell you how she wants it decorated.”

  “I’d like that very much.”

  Marian walked to the door and paused. “I’ll arrange for you to have a key to my house. That way, you can come and go as you like.”

  He was stunned. “I—I don’t know what to say—”

  “Make her happy. Make my Jenny happy for whatever time she has left.”

  Twenty-Seven

  JENNY WAS SITTING in her bed and writing in a spiral notebook when her grandmother came into her room one December afternoon. “Richard said you wanted to see me.”

  Jenny lowered the notebook and smiled. The effort hurt, but she’d purposely told Mrs. Kelly to delay her routine dose of pain medication. She wanted a clear head when she talked to her grandmother. She had much to say and didn’t want drugs to muddy her thought processes. “Come sit with me.” Jenny patted the side of her bed.

  Her grandmother complied. “I was coming later for my needlepoint session.”

  “I know, but I wanted to talk to you now.”

  “Is something the matter?”

  “You mean besides never getting out of this bed?”

  “Foolish question.”

  A pain seized Jenny, and she held her breath and wadded the sheets in her fists until it passed. She wiped a film of perspiration off her face and forced her thoughts back on course. “First of all, thank you for allowing Richard to hang around so much. It means so much to me to have him nearby.”

  “You mean a great deal to one another. It would be terrible of me to try and keep you apart.”

  “I don’t know what the next few weeks will bring,” Jenny began haltingly. “I know I’m fighting hard.”

&
nbsp; “Yes, you are.”

  “Don’t look so sad. I’m going to be all right.” She longed to give her grandmother some sense of peace about what was happening, but didn’t know how. Jenny cleared her throat. “Actually, I need your help.”

  “My help? For what? Name it.”

  “I want you to help me make out my will.” Her grandmother looked stricken, as if Jenny had suddenly let loose with an obscenity. Jenny hurriedly continued. “It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a while, but I can’t do it without you. You see, I learned some things when I spent so much time in the hospital. I learned that suffering does not respect people and who they are.”

  “That’s very true.”

  “I know you understand because you lost Grandfather and then my dad.” Marian nodded. “When I learned I had cancer, I was pretty scared. And no matter how many people were around me, I still felt alone. Things improved when I met others who were sick like me.”

  “You did seem happier once you made friends.”

  “They made a big difference, even though the worst part has been watching them die. Kimbra and I are the only ones left, and I’m not sure about myself.” Jenny smiled at her own black humor. “I used to think about what I would do, what I’d be when I grew up. Mostly, I’d pick stupid things, like being a famous actress or a brilliant surgeon.”

  “You could be anything you wanted.”

  “Except healthy,” Jenny said. “I can’t be healthy.”

  “Please, dear, don’t think negatively.”

  Jenny ignored her grandmother’s well-intentioned comment and added, “So, I got to thinking about why God even bothered to put me on earth in the first place.”

  “For my sake, for Richard’s … Your parents loved you very much.”

  “But is that enough? Why be put in people’s life when you’ll eventually bring them unhappiness when you go out of it?”