Angel of Hope

by Lurlene McDaniel

  “That’s fabulous! Can we get it all done by March first?”

  Janet smiled. “Probably not that soon. I have some loose ends I can’t tie up before then.” When Heather looked crestfallen, her mother added quickly, “But certainly we’ll leave by April first.”

  “I’ll write Jodene and tell her the good news. She’ll be really happy to know that Alice is going to get the best surgeon in the world.”

  Janet laughed. “I’m not the best in the world, but I will do my best.”

  “You’re the best to me,” Heather said. She gave her mother another hug and hurried out of the kitchen.

  Amber sat in stonelike silence.

  “You don’t seem overjoyed,” Janet said. “Do you have a problem with our plans?”

  Amber shrugged, not trusting her voice.

  “I’ll only have a six-week visa, Amber. I think you and your father can tough it out for six weeks, if that’s what’s bothering you.”

  Amber said, “I could care less,” pushed aside her unfinished breakfast, and left the room.

  Now, recalling the morning in vivid detail, she wished she’d said all that had been on her mind when she’d had the chance. She felt like an afterthought instead of a real member of the family. Heather’s needs, Heather’s wishes, always came before Amber’s. Not that she wanted to go down the same road as Heather, but she did want—had always wanted—the respect for her own thoughts and plans that Heather received for hers. Her parents treated her like a baby, and she hated it.

  “There you are.” Dylan’s arrival on the porch broke Amber’s reverie. “Why’d you run off?”

  “I didn’t run off. I wanted some fresh air.”

  “I’ve been looking all over the place for you.” He sounded irritated.

  “What? I have to check in with you when I want to escape the smog in there?”

  “No, but you could have mentioned you were going outside.”

  “Would you have even heard me?” She didn’t wait for his answer. “Listen, Dylan, I don’t need a lecture from you about reporting in on my whereabouts. My father gives them to me often enough.”

  “Well, excuse me for caring.”

  “About me?” She scoffed. “What you care about is not losing face in front of your buddies. Wouldn’t want them to think you don’t have control of your woman.”

  “Hey, knock it off.” His face reddened. “Look, lately you’ve been a real b—”

  “Don’t say it,” Amber warned.

  “You haven’t been one bit of fun ever since your sister got home from Africa. You’re all uptight. And mad at the world. Maybe it would have been better if she’d never come home.”

  Amber balled her fists and stepped towards him. “Don’t you dare say anything bad about Heather. I missed her like crazy and I’m glad she’s home. She could have died over there, you know.”

  “Yeah, well, she didn’t. But you’re acting like somebody died.”

  “Kids die over there every day. As if you care.”

  “And you do?”

  He’d hit a sore spot, and she resented it. “Heather does,” she said. “That’s good enough for me.”

  Dylan looked confused. “What are we arguing about here? I’m trying to be sympathetic toward your crummy moods, and you’re cutting me off at every turn. Are you—you know—having that PMS thing?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, grow up.” Earlier she’d thought she would tell him about her morning and the shock she’d felt at her mother and Heather’s decision to take off to Africa together. But now she didn’t want to tell him anything. She crossed her arms. “Let’s just forget the whole thing. There’s no way I can explain it all to you, and besides, we came here to party, not stand around on the porch talking.”

  “Hey, that’s more like it. That’s the Amber I remember . . . my party girl.” He put his arm around her.

  “That’s me,” she said, forcing a smile and allowing him to lead her inside. Dylan stayed next to her the rest of the evening, refusing to run off with his friends to buy more beer when they asked. Yet despite Dylan’s presence, despite all the noise, music, and laughter, Amber felt as alone as if she were stranded on the moon—far away and looking down on a scene that she didn’t want to be a part of, in a crowd she felt would never understand her. How could they? She couldn’t understand herself. All she knew was that there was a void widening every day, setting her apart from them and the world of high-school popularity she’d once coveted.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Amber told Heather days later. She had decided to try to explain her inner turmoil to her sister. She’d missed their long heart-to-heart talks, and if Heather was heading to Africa, Amber might not be able to talk to her face to face for months. “I mean, I have everything I ever thought I wanted. I have tons of friends, a boyfriend—Dylan’s one of the most popular guys in school. I have a car, clothes coming out the wazoo—Dad’s right about that much. But some days I hate getting up and going to school and pretending life is fabulous when it isn’t.”

  The afternoon had turned warm, and they were out by the pool, dangling their legs in the bright turquoise water. Heather stared into the water, making lazy circles beneath the surface with her toe. “You’ve got a lot going on deep down,” she said. “You have it all, but you’re mixed up, unhappy, feeling like no one understands you, no one wants to understand you, and yet you’re supposed to make life-altering decisions while you’re in this state of turmoil. Is that about it?”

  “That’s exactly it. I know I’m supposed to be grateful—and I am,” Amber added hastily. “But, jeez, is this all there is?”

  “If you could do anything in the world, have anything in the world, what would you want?”

  “You mean besides fame and fortune without having to put myself out for it?” Amber sobered and stared hard at the cool water. “I don’t know, sis. I just don’t know.”

  “Do you want to marry Dylan?”

  “Yuck! No way.”

  Heather laughed. “He doesn’t seem so horrible.”

  “He’s all right. But he acts like a jerk sometimes. He throws temper tantrums if everything doesn’t go exactly his way, or if I don’t want to tag along with him and the gang to some mindless party. And sometimes I don’t want to.”

  Heather continued to make circles in the water with her foot. “How about a job? Maybe if you worked for a while it would help you zero in on something else.”

  “And what kind of a job can I get just out of high school? I sure don’t want to lean out a window and ask, ‘Do you want fries with that burger?’ a million times a day.”

  Heather punched Amber playfully. “There’s always retail. You love clothes. Maybe you can get a job in a store selling clothes.”

  Amber rolled her eyes. “Oh, sure. And see every fashion mistake in the city walk in and out the door. How could I tell some girl that a dress looks fabulous on her when it doesn’t?”

  “Mom and Dad have tons of friends. You could get an office job.”

  “Doing what? Sorting mail? Making the lunch runs for the other workers?”

  “There’s the hospital.”

  “Eek! I pass out at the sight of blood.”

  “You do have a problem, sis.”

  “You think I’m useless too, don’t you?” Amber’s gloom deepened.

  “No. I think you just haven’t discovered your passion yet. I was lucky. I’ve known ever since the fifth grade what I want to do.”

  “You want to save the world,” Amber said, feeling envious because Heather’s dreams were happening. And Heather’s dreams won a high approval rating from all who heard them. Helping sick and hungry children was noble.

  “I learned that I can’t save the whole world,” Heather confessed, her expression enigmatic. “Still, I want to do whatever I can to help. That’s why I’m going back. I can help these orphans.”

  “I’d give anything if I felt that way.”

  “Sometimes you have to do i
t before you feel it.”

  Amber sighed. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should go to Africa with you.”

  “You could, you know.”

  Amber studied Heather’s face. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Very serious.”

  “I can’t see that happening. Dad would pitch a fit.”

  “And there is the problem of your final couple of months of classes. You are going to graduate, aren’t you?”

  “Of course. It’s just so boring, I can barely stay awake. One of my teachers calls it senioritis.”

  “I had it too,” Heather admitted. “Every senior gets it. This time last year, all I could think of was my upcoming trip on the Mercy Ship. It pulled me through my slump.”

  “If only I had something to look forward to like that.”

  Heather patted Amber’s hand sympathetically. “I’ve invited you to Africa. It beats passing out burgers and fries.”

  “And don’t think I’m not worried about it. Dad may have let you back into his good graces, but I’m still in the doghouse.”

  “He’ll ease up on you once we’re gone.”

  Amber wanted to beg Heather not to go, but just then the phone rang. She hurried to answer it, making wet footprints on the stone patio.

  “Kelly here,” her friend’s voice announced.

  “What’s up?”

  “Bad news, I’m afraid. Dylan asked Jeannie Hightower out and she said yes. I thought you should know.”

  5

  Amber felt herself go hot and cold. “So?” she asked, keeping her voice controlled.

  “Well, everybody knows you and Dylan have been together for months. And now all of a sudden he asks Jeannie out. What’s going on? Did you two break up?”

  Amber heard Kelly pause, no doubt waiting for an explosive reaction. Refusing to give her one, Amber said, “Maybe it’s a study date. They’re in the same calculus class.”

  “Some study date. Jeannie told Brooke that Dylan’s taking her to a movie.”

  “And you believe Brooke? You know she just talks to hear her own voice.”

  “I checked it out with Liz. She said it was true.”

  Liz was Dylan’s freshman sister, so the story probably was true. “It’s a free country,” Amber said. “I guess he can date whomever he wants.” She was reeling on the inside, but she was determined not to let Kelly know. If she fell apart over the news, the gossip mill would have a field day.

  “Did something happen between you two?” Kelly tried again to pry information from Amber.

  “Nothing that I recall.”

  “How about at the party Saturday night? You were outside talking for a long time—”

  “Look, Kelly, nothing happened. And I really could care less what Dylan does and who he does it with. I have more important things on my mind.” By now Amber’s hand ached from gripping the receiver so tightly. “But thanks for the update. Where else could I have heard such news except from a friend?”

  The subtle insult passed unnoticed. Kelly said, “Um—well, okay. Just so long as you aren’t hurt, I guess it’s no big deal.”

  Amber’s only satisfaction was hearing the disappointment in Kelly’s voice over her non-reaction. “It’s no big deal,” she echoed, and hung up.

  She stood shaking with anger, holding the receiver, for a long time. Dylan was dumping her. And he didn’t even have the guts to tell her to her face. “So what!” she said aloud. “I was bored with him anyway.” She stalked off, making it to her room before she started to cry.

  Amber didn’t want to return to school the next day but knew she had to in order to save face. As long as she pretended not to care, the gossip mill wouldn’t have as much to talk about. One crack in her facade would ruin everything. She felt the gaze of her classmates on her as she walked down the hall or entered a classroom. And when she saw Dylan and Jeannie huddled in a corner of the cafeteria, she almost caved. All she wanted to do was deposit her food tray on their heads.

  A pop quiz in chemistry added to her misery. By the time she arrived home, she had a headache and a need to punch something. She went to the gym room at home and worked out with a kickboxing tape. The wall of mirrors told her she wasn’t very good at it, but after forty-five minutes of kicking and thrusting, she felt better.

  She was running on the treadmill when Heather found her. “I wondered where you were. Everything okay?”

  “No.” Amber turned off the machine and sank to the floor, her back braced against a wall. “It’s been a crummy day.” She told Heather what had happened, all the emotion gone out of her.

  “You told me Dylan wasn’t that important to you. Was that the truth?”

  “He wasn’t. It’s just that I’ve always been the dumper, not the dumpee.”

  “So your pride’s hurt. Is that it?”

  Heather had settled next to her on the floor, and Amber looked sidelong at her. “It’s just one more thing to add to my list. You see, that’s the problem—no one thing is huge, but added all together, my life is nowhere.”

  “You’re positive you’re not really broken up about Dylan. You’ve dated him a long time. You used to tell me about how much fun you two had together.”

  “That was a lifetime ago.”

  “You never loved him?”

  “I don’t love him. Why the third degree?”

  Heather picked at a thread on the carpet. “Did you ever . . .? Well, have you and Dylan ever . . .?” She left the questions hanging.

  Amber wiped perspiration on a towel. “Did I ever go all the way with him? Is that what you want to know?”

  Heather’s face turned red. “It’s none of my business. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “The answer is no. I could have. He asked me plenty of times, but I never did.”

  “That’s good.”

  “I sure think so now. How about you?” Heather shook her head. “Not even with Ian?”

  Tears filled Heather’s eyes, and Amber regretted prying. Still, Heather chose to answer. “The first time I kissed him was also the last time I kissed him. We stood in the moonlight together under the skies of Africa. He held me and he kissed me. He told me he loved me. I was too overwhelmed to say ‘I love you’ back to him. I thought I’d have all the time in the world to tell him how much I loved him. I thought I’d kiss him a hundred more times. But I didn’t.

  “I’ve never been sorrier about anything in my life. I should have told him how I felt when I had the chance. I had one chance, and one chance only. Then it was gone. Then he was gone.” Heather took a deep, shuddering breath. “That’s why I asked you about Dylan. If you really care for him, fight for him. Don’t let your pride stand in the way of telling someone you love him and want him back.”

  Tears welled in Amber’s eyes as she felt the depth of Heather’s pain and loss. They made her own problems suddenly seem petty. Many times she had wished that Heather would talk to her about Ian. Now that she had and Amber saw how raw and open the wound was on her sister’s heart, she realized that to have discussed Ian carelessly would have lessened what he and Heather had shared. Amber clasped Heather’s hand. “I’ve never felt that way about Dylan. I’ve never felt that way about anyone. I wish I could have met Ian. He must have been very special to have snagged my sister’s heart so completely.”

  Heather wiped her eyes and gave a self-conscious laugh. “I didn’t mean to get carried away. You were talking about your problems and I butted right in with mine. Sorry. I remember how stupid high school can be at times. But by June it will be behind you. You’ll have something else going on and high school will be a memory.”

  “And by June you and Mom should be heading back from Africa,” Amber said, attempting to brighten the mood. “Just in time for my graduation.”

  “Well, at least Mom will.”

  “What about you?”

  “You may as well know this. I’m going to find a way to stay. I belong there. And Amber, this time I’m not coming back.”


  Ted Barlow came into Heather’s room waving a packet. “Guess what I picked up from our travel agent today.”

  “Our tickets? Oh, Dad, let me see.” Heather snatched the packet from his hand and opened it. “Yes!” she said. “Here they are.” She waved the tickets high in the air, then hugged her father.

  Amber watched from her perch atop the desk chair in Heather’s room, her heart sinking. It was really going to happen. Heather and their mother were going off to Africa in a week. Amber and their dad would remain behind.

  “You’ll land at Gatwick in London, spend the day sightseeing, then board a British Air flight for Entebbe,” he said. “The trip takes two full nights of flying. I hope you’re up to it.”

  “I did it at Christmas, remember?”

  “Then I hope Janet’s up to it.” He appraised Heather through narrowed eyes. “You look a bit thin to me. You eating right?”

  “I’m not very hungry these days—too excited.” Heather stuffed the tickets back into the packet and plopped it beside Amber on the desk. “See—I’m packing.”

  A large suitcase lay open in one corner. Casual clothing, shoes, and other personal items lay in neat, organized rows across the floor.

  “You’ve been packing for days,” Amber grumbled. “How long can it take?”

  “Don’t you have homework?”Ted asked.

  Amber bristled. “No.”

  “Did you finish the application forms for the University of Miami you brought home last week?”

  “Almost.”

  “How long can it take to fill out a simple form? Amber, please get serious about this. The freshman class will close out and you won’t get in.”

  “Wouldn’t that be a tragedy?” she muttered.