Praise for Switching Gears
“An emotional tale of finding love after loss. Switching Gears boasts a cast of wonderfully flawed characters that grow their way into your heart.”
—Kasie West, author of The Fill-In Boyfriend and P.S. I Like You
“Packed full of competitive spirit and restorative heart.”
—Natalie Whipple, author of House of Ivy & Sorrow and Transparent
Praise for Love, Lucas
“Just as readers think they know how this story is going to end, a big plot twist changes the tale’s course…. Fans of Sarah Dessen and realistic fiction with a poignant and sad slant will find this an enjoyable read.”
—School Library Journal
“A deeply moving tale of unimaginable loss and the redemptive power of love. Sedgwick masterfully delves into the painful details of losing a loved one, breaking your heart even as her beautiful words stitch you back together. Romance and friendship, true growth and authentic healing, this story blew me away. It takes a special book to bring tears to my eyes and make me swoon.”
—Rachel Harris, New York Times bestselling author of The Fine Art of Pretending and The Natural History of Us
“Chantele Sedgwick’s Love, Lucas, is a beautiful story about finding hope, first loves, and learning to live again after the loss of a sibling. With a fantastic cast, and the gorgeous setting of the California coast, this book is one fabulous read.”
—Jolene Perry author of The Summer I Found You and Has to Be You
“A beautiful, moving novel of loss and love. Sedgwick’s elegant prose weave a heart-breaking tale that stays with you long after you have finished the last page.”
—G. R. Mannering, author of Roses and Feathers
“An emotional summer of love, hope, and healing! Love, Lucas is easy to adore with Sedgwick’s real relationships, sweet romance, and tale of renewal.”
—Lizzy Charles, author of Effortless With You
“Chantele Sedgwick navigates the dark waters of grief with a deft hand and plenty of heart. Love, Lucas will drag readers under before bringing them back to the surface for a life-saving breath of hope.”
—Amy Finnegan, author of Not In the Script
Copyright © 2018 by Chantele Sedgwick
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews or articles. All inquiries should be addressed to Sky Pony Press, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
Sky Pony Press books may be purchased in bulk at special discounts for sales promotion, corporate gifts, fund-raising, or educational purposes. Special editions can also be created to specifications. For details, contact the Special Sales Department, Sky Pony Press, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018 or [email protected].
Sky Pony® is a registered trademark of Skyhorse Publishing, Inc.®, a Delaware corporation.
Visit our website at www.skyponypress.com.
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.
Cover design by Sammy Yuen
Print ISBN: 978-1-5107-1515-8
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-5107-1517-2
Printed in the United States of America
To my dad—
For being the greatest example of forgiveness I’ve ever known.
CHAPTER 1
Life will lead you nowhere,
unless you take its hand and tell it where to go.
—J.S.
I hate waiting. So sitting in this waiting room is the worst possible thing I could be doing today.
“Sarah?”
I frown as the girl next to me stands and follows the nurse down the hallway. I know I got here before her; I stood in front of her when I checked in. She probably has the other doctor in this office, but still. It’s annoying.
I grab a brochure, glance at the cover, and lean back against the uncomfortable chair
Living with Kidney Disease.
There’s a picture of a dad with an arm around his child. They look happy and carefree.
I want to rip it up and stomp on it.
Kidney disease is anything but happy.
“You’d think they were going to Disneyland or something,” a voice says.
I glance at the man next to me and stare at him a moment before nodding. “Yes. They’re too happy, right?”
He smiles. “They need to make those brochures a little more realistic if you ask me.” He pushes his hair out of his eyes and sits back in his chair again, still watching me. “‘Kidney Disease Sucks’ should go on the front.”
I think of my sister, Maddy. “Tell me about it.”
“How long have you had it?”
I stiffen and glance over at him. “Oh. I … uh … my sister has it. Not me.”
“You’re close?”
“Very.”
He nods in understanding. “I’m sorry she’s suffering. I know how much it sucks.”
All I can do is nod and sit there, staring at the brochure, not knowing what to say for once. Sure, it sucks. My sister has it, but I’m healthy. I don’t have any right to say anything other than I hate that it’s slowly killing her.
And by the way he looks, I’m positive he has the same thing she does. He looks awful. Tired, weak, pale. I want to comfort him somehow, but instead I set the brochure on the empty chair next to me and fold my arms.
Stupid kidneys.
I lean back in my chair, thinking of the old days. Better days. When Maddy could go to school and just be normal. How do things change so fast? And why do they have to change? I hate change.
“Mia?” A nurse stands near the door, a clipboard in her hand and a pencil stuck in her light hair. She glances around the room until her eyes fall on me when I stand.
Finally.
I force a smile and follow the nurse down the hall.
“How are you doing today?” she asks. I’ve always hated the small talk that goes on in doctors’ offices. Just like what’s happening now. When the nurse looks like she’s having the worst day ever but smiles and fakes happy anyway.
“Good. You?
She shrugs, her back to me. “Just another day.”
“I hear ya.” Kind of. It’s not just another day for me, though. It’s the day I save my sister’s life. But I don’t tell her that. I’m sure she knows why I’m here. It’s probably on my chart.
She stops in the hallway near a bathroom door. “Go ahead and step on the scale and I’ll get your weight before we go back to your room.”
I cringe. “Okay.” I always hate this part of the doctor’s visit. The weigh-in. It’s like I’m on some reality show and everyone can see how many pounds I should lose. I always want to go on a crash diet after. Usually I just stop and get a shake on my way home instead.
I stand on the scale while she writes my weight down on her clipboard and smiles as she makes small talk again.
As I step off the scale, I frown. I probably shouldn’t have eaten that Whopper meal for lunch. Or that Chinese food last night.
Oh well. It was worth it—and anything’s better than Mom’s cooking. Seriously.
“I’ll need a urine sample as well.” She holds out a cup and I take it. Why doctors are fascinated with pee is beyond me. “You’ll be in room 3. Just meet me in there when you’re done.”
“Sounds great.” I step in the bathroom and shut the door.
After I do my business, I head back to the room.
She’s there, waiting like she said she wou
ld be. She gestures to the examination table and I step up and sit on it. I relax as she takes my blood pressure and asks me a bunch of questions about my health.
“You’re eighteen?”
“Yep. Yesterday was my birthday.”
“Wow. You’re very …”
“Determined?” I answer for her.
She nods and types something into the computer before she pushes back in the chair. “The doctor will be in shortly.”
As I sit on the examination table, my legs dangling over the edge, I stare at the magazines in a little container by the wall, trying to decide if I want one. By the time I get over there and grab one, though, I’m sure the doctor will walk in. So I just sit, looking forward to the day I get my test results back and I’ll be able to tell Maddy that I’m going to save her life.
The door opens and Dr. Mason walks in. “Hello there, Mia. I knew you’d be here after you turned eighteen, but I didn’t think it would be the next day.” He chuckles and shakes my hand. “You still want to donate your kidney to Madison, right?”
“Yes.”
“Your parents approve?”
“Yes. They’re worried, of course, but they’re supporting my decision one-hundred percent.” Kind of. They want me to think some more before I jump into it. They should know me better than that, though.
He nods. “I’m glad to hear it. Well, we know you both have the same blood type, so that’s great. Let me look you over and then we’ll take a little more blood from you, run some more tests, and see if you’re a match all the way around.”
“When will the results be ready?”
“About two weeks.”
“Okay.” I know I’ll be a match. I’m the perfect candidate. Who would be better than a sister?
No one.
He stares at me a moment, a small smile on his face. “You’ve read the pamphlet I gave you?”
“Of course.”
“So you know what to expect?”
“Recovery is worse on the donor.”
“That’s right. Donors are also at greater risk for high blood pressure, can be prone to hernias, and may experience pain. I’m not saying these things will happen to you—I just wanted you to be aware of what you’re getting yourself into and what could happen down the road.”
“Will my age affect how my remaining kidney functions?”
He shakes his head. “No. You’ll be at a higher risk of reduced kidney function as you get older, but honestly, most donors, especially healthy and young ones, come out just fine and live a happy and normal life. You’ll be fine. I just want you to be prepared for the pain after surgery. But what’s a little pain when you get to save your sister’s life, right?”
I smile. “Right.”
CHAPTER 2
Look at me for real and tell me what you see
Pennies for your thoughts if you can see what’s haunting me
Loneliness, longing, a life full of lies
Tell me, please tell me, what you see behind my eyes
—J.S.
The parking lot is filled with cars. I curse under my breath when I see some monster SUV in my usual parking space.
“What’s the matter?”
I ignore Maddy’s question and drum my hands on the steering wheel while I shoot daggers at that white SUV. “Seriously? Don’t they know that’s my spot? What moron do I have to yell at today?” I frown and glance around for an empty space while Madison chuckles in the passenger seat.
“It’s not like your name was on it.”
My hands tighten on the steering wheel. Maddy always makes me feel horrible when I say something rude. She’s way nicer than me. “Still. They shouldn’t make you walk that far.”
“It’s just across the parking lot, Mia. I’ll be fine.” She smiles and reaches out to touch my arm. “And I’m sure there are people here sicker than me.”
I pull in another spot and put the car in park. “Doubtful.”
The dialysis center is one of my least favorite places. Not just because I have to wait for Madison to get her treatment, but because there’s so much hopelessness in there. So many people battling the same disease as Maddy. So many people dying a slow and horrible death because they’re on that stupid transplant waiting list for too long.
Once I get my results, which should be any day, all that will change. She’ll be healthy and we won’t have to worry about lists anymore.
“Hey. You gonna come in with me or not?”
I glance over as Maddy opens the door. “Wait.” I scramble to get my seatbelt undone. “Let me help you out.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m perfectly capable of stepping out of a car.”
I jump out anyway and slam the door before running around to hold on to her arm and help her out.
She frowns as I lead her across the parking lot. “I’m fine, Mia. Seriously. You’re freaking me out with all this big-sister stuff.”
“That’s what I’m here for, so get used to it.” I don’t let go of her until we go through the building’s double doors. I wrinkle my nose at the smell of cleaning products and medicine. Yet another reason I hate it here. A nurse, probably in her thirties, greets us at the check-in desk. “Hello, Madison. You’re right on time. Why don’t you come on back?”
“Thanks, Jane,” Madison says.
I swear she learns the names of every single person she meets. And remembers them. She’s been coming here for a few months, but I don’t even remember my friends’ names half the time, let alone strangers’.
“Let’s get your weight real quick,” Jane says, stopping halfway down the hall. Maddy hands me her purse and steps on the scale. I keep my eyes on Jane. I don’t want to see how much more weight Maddy has lost. Jane frowns a little as she adjusts the scale to get Maddy’s correct weight and writes it down. “You can step off.” She writes something else on her clipboard and turns down the hall. “Let’s go get your blood pressure and temperature.”
I wonder why she frowned but decide not to ask. Yet. I’m sure it’s just because of her weight, but what if it’s something worse? Like Maddy could use more bad news.
Jane leads us back to the dialysis room. There are beds and recliners everywhere with red tubes stuck in every occupant’s arm. I can’t stand the whirr of the machines or how bright the lights are. And the sound of voices humming through the room reminds me how crowded it is in here. It makes me feel like Maddy is on display for everyone to see. Which she is. You’d think they’d have a little more privacy, but no.
“Hi, Ruthann,” Maddy says as she passes an older lady reading a magazine. “How have you been?”
Ruthann looks so fragile with her wrinkled skin and big purple veins poking out of her hands. She sets the magazine down, her eyes finding Maddy. “Madison, it’s good to see you. I’m good. First time in this week? I didn’t see you on Monday.”
“I had an appointment with my doctor.”
Ruthann frowns. “Everything good I hope?”
Maddy just shrugs and Ruthann reaches out and pats her on the hand. “You hang in there, darling girl.”
“Thanks, Ruthann. You too. I’ll see you later.”
We finally reach Maddy’s station and she sits in the recliner and leans back, ready for her treatment.
“Did you bring anything to do today?” Jane asks.
Maddy pulls a book out of her purse.
“Oooh, I love that one.”
Maddy runs her fingers over the cover. “I haven’t started it yet, but I’ve heard it’s good.” She gives Jane a tiny smile, but I can tell she’s just being nice. I know her real smile and that’s not it.
Jane keeps making small talk as she gets her equipment ready, and Maddy holds out her right arm, chiming in only when she’s asked a question. She’s used to this. She comes in three times a week, after all, but I still turn away as Jane hooks her up to the machine.
I’m not scared of blood. I don’t pass out when I see it or anything like that. But seeing IVs and tubes sticki
ng out of Madison has always made me nauseous. Maybe because she’s my sister and I know how sick she is? Maybe because I can’t stand to see her in pain? I don’t know. Whatever the reason, I focus on something else until they get the gauze and tape wrapped around her arm.
“You okay?” Maddy asks as I sit in the chair next to her.
I stare at her. She’s the one in pain and she asks if I’m okay. “I’m good.” I grab two magazines out of the stand next to us and put them on my lap, trying to avoid looking at the red tube in her arm.
She picks up her book, but instead of reading it, she sets it on the table next to her after Jane walks away.
I sit up straight and touch her hand. “Are you okay?”
Her eyes open and she shrugs. “I’m fine. Just tired.” She closes her eyes again and I sit back in my chair. She’s never this … down. Normally she’s all peppy and happy. Joking around with the nurses. Something’s up.
“You don’t want to talk about it?” I try, hoping she doesn’t shut off and stop talking to me.
“I told you, Mia. I’m fine. I’d just rather sleep during my treatment today.”
“Okay …”
“You should take a nap, too. We have three hours. And you look more tired than I feel. And that’s saying something.”
I touch my face and frown. I don’t look that bad, do I? Because when people say you’re tired, usually you look horrifying. “Thanks?”
She settles into her chair and doesn’t say anything for a while. Which makes for a deeper frown on my face. I’ve shared a room with her long enough to know the exact second she falls asleep, and the whole time we sit here, I know she’s awake. Listening to the conversations around us. Or thinking about … something.
It makes me nervous.
Instead of worrying about her, I glance around the open room to distract myself but end up staring at the green curtains that line the windows. Booger green curtains. Seriously. This facility is pretty new, so you’d think they’d get a better decorator.
I notice a man across from us reading a magazine, not bothered at all by the tubes hooked to his arm. Or the fact that everyone else can see him. He glances up, meets my eyes, and watches me. I give him an awkward smile before I look away and shift in my chair, my cheeks heating. I don’t like being stared at or being the person doing the staring.
Interlude Page 1