“How do you get here?” Josh asked.
“I walk. I don’t live that far from the school.”
Josh groaned. “It’s freezing cold that time of the morning.”
“It’s not so bad. Melody would pick me up and bring me if I asked her,” Katie added. “I’m afraid that if she does, though, her mother will start asking questions about why she has to be here thirty minutes earlier every day.”
“Why didn’t you ask me to come get you?”
Katie shrugged. “I guess because I figured you’d be against me, like everybody else.”
Josh placed both hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look up at him. “It’s not you against the rest of the world, Katie. All the people in your life care about you. They’re concerned for you.”
“I want to run in the Transplant Games,” she said, hotly. “I have to be in condition in order to compete. If I compete, my parents will watch me and understand that I’m not some breakable doll—that I won’t keel over dead because my heartbeat gets above sixty beats per minute.”
“Is your doctor aware of your training program?”
This time, she held her temper. “Dr. Jacoby never said I couldn’t train. He’s a doctor, Josh … more concerned with his handiwork than with my happiness.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m a project for him. A case. A statistic.”
“You told me that he was caring and understanding.”
“He is—but—” She threw up her hands in exasperation. “I can’t explain it. Doctors see people through the eyes of sickness. As long as a patient needs them, they give them one hundred percent attention. When a patient gets well, they move on to the next sick one.”
“So, what’s your point?”
Katie looked him squarely in the face. “I’m okay now—my heart’s working fine. My body is healthy. I don’t need him anymore … and he doesn’t need to hover over me.”
“He would want to know how you’re caring for your body,” Josh insisted.
“I told you, I follow a strict diet and exercise program set up by Barry. I’m simply accelerating the program a little bit so that I can attend the Transplant Games in July.”
Josh gazed down at her, long and hard. “You shouldn’t be doing this alone. You should have a trainer.”
The men’s and women’s track teams were beginning to trickle in for their preschool workouts. Katie saw Melody, Karen, and Pat walking out from the tunnel leading from the locker rooms. Her conversation with Josh had taken most of her workout time. “Are you volunteering?” she asked.
“Me?” He felt himself jolt at her suggestion. “I’m not a coach. I wouldn’t know what to do if something happened to you.”
Katie tossed her dark hair defiantly. “Look, I can’t stand around debating this. Here’s the bottom line: You can either help me train or stay out of my life.” She turned toward the tunnel. “It’s your choice, but whether you help or not, I’m training.”
Sixteen
“SO, WHAT ARE the results of my latest biopsy? Is everything still fine?” Katie asked Dr. Jacoby. She purposefully sat on her hands to keep them from fluttering nervously. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”
Dr. Jacoby’s brow furrowed as he flipped through the lab reports on his desk. “Hang on,” he said.
Katie glanced over at her mother and noticed that her face looked pinched and drawn. She was anxious about the tests, too. The results of each biopsy became a benchmark for measuring the possibility of rejection.
Finally, Dr. Jacoby glanced up and smiled. “Perfect. Your tests look perfect. Not only the biopsy, but your treadmill and endurance tests, too.” He peered at her over the top of his reading glasses. “I’d say you seem to be as healthy as an athlete in strict training.”
Katie felt a hot flash of color across her face. She gave her mother a sidelong glance, hoping her mom hadn’t seen her look of guilt. “I’ve been following Barry’s instructions,” Katie replied cheerfully. “He’s a great therapist.” And Josh is a terrific coach, she added silently. After five months of working out, she was in great physical shape and close to her normal times on the thousand-and fifteen-hundred-meter race events—her specialties. In fact, she was almost back to her pre-illness condition in every respect.
Dr. Jacoby shut the file folder and laid it atop his desk. “What’s on your mind, Katie?”
She was surprised that he’d picked up on her inner tension so readily. She sneaked another peek at her mother, then turned back to the doctor. “I still want to run in the Transplant Games in two months.”
Katie felt her mother’s instant disapproval when she asked, “Is that wise?”
Dr. Jacoby studied them both. “I have no medical reason for stopping you,” he said carefully.
Katie felt her heart leap expectantly. “I can participate? It will be all right?”
“The Games are quite extraordinary. I’ve never attended them personally, but I’ve seen videotapes. Since the Kidney Foundation sponsors them, I know that medically, they’re well supervised.”
Katie was certain that his comments about medical safety were for her mother’s sake, because she herself didn’t need convincing. “It’s like a mini-Olympics, isn’t it?” she asked, also for her mother’s benefit.
“Very much so. Except that there’s competition at all levels. A participant doesn’t have to be a fabulous athlete. There’s even a walking event for those not in tip-top condition. Plus, there’s a five-kilometer family fun race for both transplant patients and their families.”
“A little something for everyone?” Katie’s mother asked. Her voice sounded chilly, sarcastic.
“Volleyball, bowling, table tennis, swimming, track and field—to mention a few. The people who go seem to have a very good time,” Dr. Jacoby said.
Katie’s mother stood abruptly. “Thank you for the information. Now, if there’s nothing else, I’d like to get Katie home.”
Katie felt the keen edge of disappointment. She’d thought that Dr. Jacoby’s strong endorsement of the games was approval for her to participate—maybe not at the level she desired to participate on, but approval nevertheless. Why was her mother being so stubborn? Didn’t she understand what a good time they could all have together?
Her mother didn’t speak about the visit to Dr. Jacoby’s until they reached the house. Once inside, she tossed her keys onto the kitchen table and turned on Katie. “I don’t appreciate your putting me on the spot the way you did in the doctor’s office,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“The way you broached those Games with him, the way you tried to manipulate him into endorsing your participating was unfair to me. You know how I feel about it.”
Katie trooped to the refrigerator and poured herself a large glass of orange juice. “I’d be hard-pressed not to know how you feel. You scowl every time I mention the Games. I want to go, Mom. I want you and Dad to come, too. Dr. Jacoby approves of them, and you heard him say that I was in good shape.”
“I heard him say what you wanted to hear.”
Katie banged her glass down on the countertop. “I’ve sent away for the registration forms and called about airline tickets. I can pay all our expenses with my Wish money.”
Her mother’s mouth dropped open. “Your Wish money? Is that how you’re planning to waste it—is that how you’re going to piddle it away? On silly, insignificant things instead of the important things in your life?”
Her mother’s reaction surprised Katie. They hadn’t discussed the money since before her operation. “You once said for me to spend it on something I wanted. Something exciting for all of us to do together. The trip won’t cost too much. There’ll be plenty left over. One hundred thousand dollars is a lot of money.”
“You bet it’s a lot of money,” her mother snapped. “Money that can be put to a good cause—like college, or medical bills.”
“Dad said his insurance covered my transplant.”
&
nbsp; “Your operation, yes—but it’s not going to cover your immune-suppressant drugs after the first year.”
Shocked to learn that her father’s insurance coverage would be running out, Katie said, “I take a lot of pills. I can’t live without them.”
“That’s right. And every one of those pills is expensive. A year’s worth is going to cost us around ten thousand dollars. Think of it. Ten thousand dollars annually! That’s why your father and I are working so hard. And now you come to me and say you want to zip off to play in some silly games. That Wish money can mean years of medication for you, Katie. Why don’t you think about spending it to keep yourself alive instead of frittering it away on foolishness?”
“I didn’t know …” Katie stammered. “I didn’t mean to cost you and Dad so much money. I’m sorry … really sorry …”
Suddenly, her mother looked stricken and ashamed. She placed her hand over her mouth and began to cry softly. She stepped away from the table, came over to Katie, and scooped her into her arms. “Oh, baby, forgive me,” she pleaded. “I should have never told you that. I’d pay a million dollars, and scrub floors to earn it, in order to keep you alive. I’m sorry I sounded off. I didn’t mean a word of it. Please, forget I said anything about money. Your father and I’ve been under such pressure lately.”
Katie remembered the argument she’d overheard months before and realized that her parents had never truly resolved their differences. The additional news about the loss of insurance benefits must be putting an additional burden on them. “I had no idea my pills cost so much money,” Katie said.
Her mother pulled away and looked deeply into Katie’s eyes. “I don’t care about the money. All that’s important is you,” she insisted. “I’m afraid the Games might be dangerous for you.”
Surely, JWC had known about the expense in keeping a transplant patient alive, Katie thought. That’s probably why she’d been selected to receive a check in the first place. Yet, even though that idea crossed Katie’s mind, she simultaneously recalled something JWC had said in the letter: “Use my gift to fulfill your wish.” Deep down, she knew she didn’t want to spend all her money on immune-suppressant medications, nor did she believe her benefactor would have wanted her to.
Katie grasped her mother’s hands. “Mom, don’t you see what’s happened to us? We’ve all become so involved with my medical problems that we’ve not taken any time to ‘stop and smell the roses’.” Katie used one of her grandmother’s favorite phrases. “I agree—I should use some of the money to help with my medical expenses.”
“Honey, no—”
Katie ignored her mother’s interruption. “Wait. Hear me out. I want to help. But I also want to spend some of it on having a good time. I really think that’s why JWC gave me the money in the first place. Whoever this person is, he or she understands what it’s like to be sick enough to die. I figure that’s why JWC gives money away—so that people who are sick can have some fun.”
Katie’s tone had grown passionate. “You know, Mom, until this happened to me, I didn’t appreciate what a sick person has to go through day by day. I didn’t appreciate living until I almost died.”
Tears shimmered in her mother’s eyes. “I never want to have to go through the fear of losing you again.”
“Maybe you won’t,” Katie said. “We don’t know, because no one can see the future. All I know is that right now, I’m alive and well and happy. And I want us all to go to the Games, and I want to run again competitively. I won’t hurt myself. I’ll be sensible and careful. If you and Daddy are with me, I’ll have to be, won’t I?”
Her mother smiled sheepishly. “Your father tells me I’m much too protective.”
“If you got any closer, we’d be Siamese twins,” Katie said, mixing the truth with humor.
“I get your point.” Her mother fumbled for a paper napkin and wiped her eyes. “So, you’ve checked everything out for the Games?” she asked in resignation.
“The travel agent I talked to is working up a package deal—flight, hotel, the works.”
“For the three of us?”
Katie hesitated briefly before plunging ahead. “Actually, for us and for Josh, too. I think he should come—and Gramps if he wants. But Josh for sure. He loved Aaron so much, and it would be pretty special to him if he could see me run.”
Her mother nodded. “You’re right, of course. He deserves to come. In a roundabout way, he’s the reason you’re alive.”
Katie gave her mother a hug. “Why don’t you call Daddy and tell him we’re going on a vacation? Then I’ll call Josh and the travel agent. We’re going to have the time of our lives, Mom—thanks to someone whose identity I don’t even know.”
Seventeen
“HOW’S YOUR ROOM? Do you like it? Are you having a good time?” Katie was all but dancing in the corridor of the luxury hotel as she fired questions at Josh.
“Quit bobbing around,” Josh said with a laugh. “You’re giving me motion sickness.” He propped his arms over her shoulders to settle her down. “My room’s fine. And yours?”
“The best. Mom and Dad’s is nice, too.”
“You got everybody a separate room?”
“How many kids would want to bunk with their parents?” Katie made a face to underscore her point. “Too bad Gramps didn’t come,” she added.
“It meant a lot to him that you asked, but between us, I think the trip would have been too much for him. He said, ‘If the Good Lord wanted people to fly, he’d have given them wings instead of arms.’ ”
Katie laughed at Josh’s perfect imitation of Gramps’s voice. “Also, I think he was afraid to leave his rose garden for too long,” Josh said.
“Well, anyway, you came,” Katie said. When she’d first asked him, he’d been hesitant.
“I have to work this summer,” he’d told her. “I need to save money for school.”
She’d assured him that the trip would cost him nothing and had told him about the Wish money—which greatly impressed him. “The trip’s my treat,” she had insisted. “And we’ll only be gone four days. You’ve got the rest of the summer to work.”
Looking down at her in the hallway, Josh could hardly believe that they were actually in Los Angeles. “Melody wanted to come, too, but she had some special family reunion coming up,” Katie said.
“This way, I won’t have to share you,” Josh replied, and winked.
“As I’ve had to share you with my father,” Katie teased. “The two of you talked during the whole flight.”
“I like your dad.” Josh found Katie’s father easy to like. He talked to him like an adult, asked his opinion, and respected it when Josh gave it. If only he had a father like Mr. O’Roark …
“My dad was pretty impressed with your track season,” Katie said. “Ann Arbor will be a contender for State next year.”
“The girls’ team would have done better if you could have run.”
“Next year,” Katie declared. “When I’m a senior, I’ll be back on the team.”
“It seems to me you do everything you set your mind on, Katie.”
“Daddy says it’s nothing but Irish bullheadedness and that it’s a very unfeminine trait.” She tipped her chin upward and grinned. “Maybe he’s right.”
Josh wanted to tell her that she was anything but unfeminine or unattractive. When he’d first started training with her months before, he’d done so partly out of fear for her life, fear of losing his one link to Aaron. Josh wasn’t sure when his feelings began to change, he only knew that they had changed. Being with Katie was a constant adventure—a six-month joy ride for him. Her determination, her grit, her dedication impressed him. She’d worked harder than anyone he’d ever seen to get in shape for the Transplant Games. Only Josh knew that she hadn’t come merely to coast around a track for appearance’s sake. Katie O’Roark had come to win. He felt a little guilty for not sharing his knowledge with her parents, but his first loyalty was to Katie, and he knew she’d worke
d too hard to have anything abort her grand scheme.
“Are you listening to me, Josh?”
Katie’s question quickly dragged Josh out of his thoughts. “Sure.” His face flushed. “What did you say?”
Katie punched his arm. “I said that according to the brochure, there’s going to be a big fiesta with dancing tonight. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”
“What’s a fiesta?”
“A party, silly! Can you dance?”
He rocked back on his heels. “You’ll just have to wait and find out.”
She shoved him playfully and darted quickly inside her hotel room before he could retaliate. “See you tonight,” she called. “And you’d better know how to dance, buster!”
The fiesta was held on the UCLA campus, outside, under the stars. The smells of sizzling ribs and chicken filled the air, and colored lanterns swung over tables draped in checkered cloths. Music from a Mexican band, playing in front of a wooden dance floor set up on the grass, floated above laughter from groups of people gathered on the sprawling lawn.
“I never dreamed there’d be so many people,” Katie heard her mother say as they crossed the grassy field.
Katie, holding Josh’s hand, felt euphoric. The number of people amazed her, too. Everybody looked so normal, so healthy. She couldn’t begin to even guess which ones were organ recipients like herself. The four of them chose seats at a table with several strangers, and after a round of introductions, Katie knew that she was sharing dinner with a heart-lung, a liver, and two kidney transplant recipients. She discovered that these people were much like herself—very grateful to donors and their families, without whom, they would all be dead.
Beside her, Josh remained quiet as the others shared their stories. After a while, she leaned over and asked him, “How about that dance?”
The dance floor was full, but Katie hardly noticed. In Josh’s arms, she felt as if they were all alone. “Did the conversation depress you?” she asked intuitively.
“A little,” he admitted. “I feel kind of strange being here. None of the others seemed to know who their donors were, like you do.”
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