Mom opened the screen door and the man and woman stepped inside. My heart was thumping like crazy. Mom introduced herself.
The man said, “Matt and Terri Eden.”
The woman—Terri—stared at me. “And you?” she asked.
“Arabeth,” I managed through wooden lips. My heart was beating so hard I thought it might fly out of my chest.
Terri stepped in front of me. Tears filled her eyes. “You have my daughter’s heart.” A statement, not a question.
“I do.”
Suddenly Mom was at my side. “Why don’t we all sit down.” She guided me to the armchair across from the sofa. The Edens sat on the sofa. They couldn’t take their eyes off me. I felt like a gawky kid, all elbows and knobby knees and sweaty palms—not one bit the poised teenager I wanted to be.
“Tea?” Mom said. “Cookies?”
She picked up her teapot handpainted with violets and a plate of homemade sugar cookies from the coffee table. Only Mom would think to serve food on such an extraordinary occasion.
Matt took a cookie, but didn’t eat it.
“You’re pretty,” Terri said.
I blushed because she was being nice and trying so hard. “Thank you,” I mumbled. “And I mean thank you for … for donating your daughter’s heart to me.”
“Random selection,” Matt said, to remove them from the process. “Donor services made the choice. Based on need.”
“I needed it,” I told him. “I was dying.”
Mom poured tea for all of us. The sun caught the delicate bone china and shone through it, turning the cups creamy white. “We can never express our gratitude,” she said. “Your daughter—tell me about her.”
“Her name was Elowyn,” Terri said.
“Pretty name,” I said.
Encouraged, Terri pulled a large book from her tote bag. “This is a scrapbook I put together when I found out we were going to meet you. It’s all about her life.”
I took it, smoothed my hands over the cover. It looked handmade. I opened it and saw an eight-by-ten photo of a lovely blue-eyed blond girl. The dates of her birth and death were lettered in calligraphy below the picture. The date of her death coincided with my rebirth. A lump clogged my throat. Until now, the girl had no form or substance. Now I saw how real she had been. I thumbed through the book briefly, then closed it. “Could I keep it awhile? I want time to really look through it.”
“Of course,” Terri said. “Keep it as long as you like. Our address and phone number are on the inside back cover. You can call us to ask any questions you want.”
“This is kind of you,” Mom said. “I have pictures of Arabeth growing up, but I didn’t think to pull them together. Silly of me. I know you might want to know about us.”
“Yes,” Terri said. “We would.”
I was younger than Elowyn, and a whole lot less glamorous-looking. She would have been a junior in high school. She was probably popular and had a ton of friends, all of whom missed her horribly. I grew sadder by the minute.
I deferred to Mom to give the Edens a brief history of our lives. Terri’s eyes widened when she heard about my father’s death, but she never took her eyes off me while Mom talked. I felt squirmy and my heart never stopped thumping. The whole thing was harder than I’d thought it would be, this talking about the dead between us. My daddy had come home in a casket and we hadn’t been allowed to see him—he was too messed up, we were told. The Edens at least got to see Elowyn’s face before closing the lid of her casket.
I was so grateful for the gift they had given me—Elowyn’s heart, strong and young. It sustained me, gave me life. I startled when I suddenly realized that Terri had asked me a question. “Yes?”
“I asked if you liked any sports? Have you ever played anything?”
“Not for a long time. I stopped running when I was eight. I would get too out of breath because of my heart. Did Elowyn play?”
“Volleyball. She was good.”
“I watched the Olympic beach volleyball games. The American team was awesome.”
Terri’s eyes filled with tears. Matt leaned over, took her hand. “We should go now, honey,” he said. “Arabeth can call us after she’s gone through your scrapbook.”
He looked to me for confirmation. I nodded vigorously. “I will call,” I said. “I know I’ll want to know more.”
They stood and so did Mom and I.
“You can call anytime,” Mom said. “We’re so grateful.”
At the door, Terri turned to me. “May I touch you?”
I held out my hands and she grasped them like a lifeline. I wondered if she could feel my blood pulsing through my fingers, pumped by Elowyn’s heart. I said, “Thanks for the book. I’ll be real careful with it.”
We went out onto the porch. On the top step, Matt turned and smiled at me. “You’ll never know how much this means to us, meeting you.”
“Good for me too, Sugar Plum.”
The words fell out of my mouth so fast, I had no control over them. I clamped my hand over my lips, stepped back. Matt’s face went white.
“What did you say?” he asked.
I kept my hand tight across my mouth and shook my head.
“Do you know why you said that? How did you know?”
“Know what?” Terri asked. She was still behind me at the door with Mom, but Matt’s reaction made her hurry to his side. “What’s wrong?”
I felt blindsided, like I’d cursed at them. “I—I’m sorry …”
“She said ‘Sugar Plum’ to me,” Matt said.
Terri stared at me hard, her eyes wide and startled. “ ‘Sugar Plum’ was Matt’s pet name for Elowyn.”
“I—I didn’t know,” I stammered.
Mom put her arm around me. “I don’t think Arabeth meant any harm.”
“Right, right,” Matt said. “It just shocked me. No harm done.” His face looked pasty.
Terri slipped her hand into Matt’s. “Maybe you saw it written in the scrapbook when you flipped through it.”
I nodded, unable to explain my outburst.
“Sounds logical,” Mom said. “Subconscious thing.” She laughed nervously.
I agreed, although I was positive that wasn’t what had happened. I told them goodbye without meeting Matt’s eyes. I went back inside the house, grabbed the scrapbook, and hurried to my room. I needed to know a whole lot more about Elowyn Eden, the girl who sometimes seemed to be speaking through me, causing me to say and do things I’d never said or done before.
· 16 ·
Kassey
“So you’re just going to continue to ignore him?”
“You said it was my choice, Mom.” I was folding a basket full of clean laundry when Mom came into the living room and cornered me with her question.
“It is your choice. I just thought you might have softened toward him a little by now. He keeps sending me money and he always asks about you.”
“In other words, as long as the money comes you think I owe him something.”
That stopped her cold. I went back to rolling socks and folding T-shirts.
“I divorced him, Kassey, but he will always be your father. We both created you.”
“And you stuck with me. He left.”
“Payback? Is that what this is?”
No amount of arguing about it was going to change my mind about dear old Dad. I liked my life the way it was. I didn’t want him in it. This year for my birthday, he’d sent me a check for a hundred dollars. I still hadn’t cashed it because I felt like he was trying to buy a response from me. Besides, my mind was too full of other stuff to deal with the problem of my father right now.
“It isn’t payback,” I said. “I can’t explain it. Please stop asking me about it.”
“He just wants to communicate with you. That’s all.”
“You communicate with him. Why don’t you marry him again—then we can all live together like one big happy family. Until I graduate next year, then I’m out of here if h
e moves in.” I jerked the basket of laundry off the sofa where I’d been working.
“That’s uncalled for. Don’t sass me. I’m your mother.”
The go-between, you mean, I thought. “I’ll let you know if I change my mind.”
I hurried to my room with the clothes and shut the door firmly behind me. I flopped down on my bed and chased my thoughts in circles. I wasn’t thinking about my father, but about the thing that consumed all my waking thoughts—what had happened on the first anniversary of Elowyn’s death. Why had Wyatt kissed me? He’d caught me off-guard, and shocked, I’d pushed him away, as if I’d been stung.
“Hey,” he’d said, stroking my hair, looping a curl around his forefinger. “It wasn’t supposed to hurt.”
“It didn’t hurt.”
He lifted my chin and kissed me again slowly. Then he pulled me closer.
Caught in his arms, with the taste of him on my mouth and my insides on fire, I felt myself melting into a puddle, and wanting more. I surprised us both when I ducked my head, twisting my body to one side. “No,” I said. Trembling, I slid off the hood of the car. “Can you please take me home now?”
“What’s wrong?” He looked confused.
“I want to go.” I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering with the cold.
“I don’t get it. We were having a good time.”
“Please,” I said. “Just drive me home. We are only a ‘we’ because we are mourning Elowyn.”
We hardly spoke during the long drive. He kept stealing sidelong glances at me, but I focused my attention straight ahead. In front of my house, I grabbed the door handle. He caught my arm. “We still friends?”
“Sure.” I bolted for the front door.
The next day in school, he acted as if nothing had happened and nothing had changed. But for me a lot had changed. I felt guilty. He was Elowyn’s boyfriend. It was as if she were standing in the dark behind me, her arms crossed, a look of disbelief on her face. How could you, Kassey? I trusted you.
Had I betrayed her? Friends don’t go around letting another friend’s guy kiss her. She’s gone … a whole year gone. And yet I couldn’t let go of the feeling that I’d done something unforgivable. Why? The honest truth was that I had liked it. Wyatt’s lips had been soft and warm and the warmth had spread to the center of my body. It wasn’t fair that the kiss I liked and that meant something to me should never have happened. It certainly never would have happened if my best friend hadn’t died.
I was trying to sort out all these crazy emotions and feelings—figuring out why kissing Wyatt felt both good and bad and if this had anything to do with steering clear of my father, and wondering how my life fit together—when I got a call from Terri. “We met the girl who got Elowyn’s heart. She lives in Roswell, can you believe it?” Terri said excitedly. “I loaned her a scrapbook and have talked to her twice since. She wants to know if—if she could meet you too. Would you be willing to meet her?”
• • •
I had no one to share the news with except Wyatt. “Are you jerking me around?” he asked.
Taken aback, I said, “Why would I do that?”
“You’ve been mad at me for weeks. And now you’re acting like we’re best buds because El’s mom calls you. What’s your message to me here?”
Apparently he made no connection between kissing me and being Elowyn’s boyfriend. No guilt at all for Wyatt Nolan. I felt my face get hot and returned to the main topic. “I’m telling you the truth … the girl who received Elowyn’s heart lives in Roswell. And she wants to meet me. I figured you’d understand how weird this is to me.”
He slumped back in his cafeteria chair. The sounds of dishes, of kids talking, of dropped silverware were all around us. An ordinary day. Except that it wasn’t.
“You going to meet her?” he asked.
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Kind of creepy.”
“Creepy? What do you mean? You know her organs went to other people to help someone else live. Somehow the heart seems different than the other organs, and the recipient is someone almost our own age. Here’s a chance to meet this girl. I want to know all about her. I don’t understand exactly why, but I feel compelled to, now that it’s possible.”
He scraped back his chair, stood, and picked up his tray. “It won’t bring El back.”
Nothing would bring Elowyn back.
The first Saturday in May I was to meet her at her house, a bed-and-breakfast. To say I was curious and yes, a little scared, put it mildly. The girl, this Arabeth Thompson, had Elowyn’s heart inside her chest, keeping her alive. A miracle of medical science, but a transcendent experience for me. Maybe Wyatt was right—maybe it was creepy. But my desire to meet her and talk to her overrode my doubts, and I pulled up in front of her house on Saturday afternoon. A couple of cars were parked to one side of the old Victorian house and a sign proclaimed: WELCOME TO THE HONEYSUCKLE INN BED & BREAKFAST. DINNER SERVED DAILY.
Pots of violets surrounded the freshly painted white porch arranged with white wicker furniture. The screen door swung open and a long-legged girl in jeans with long dark hair stepped out. “Kassey?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Arabeth. Come sit down.” She gestured to a sofa with flowered cushions.
On a glass-topped table in front of the small sofa lay one of Terri’s scrapbooks. I’d recognize it anywhere. My heart was pounding and my mouth was bone-dry. A part of Elowyn lived inside this girl. My eyes got misty.
“Tell you what,” said Arabeth. “I’ll get us some water. Oh, and how about some ice cream? Everything’s better with ice cream.”
I nodded, not sure I could keep my voice from quivering.
Arabeth grinned. “How about a dish of Chunky Monkey? It’s my favorite.”
· 17 ·
Kassey
Chunky Monkey. Elowyn’s favorite flavor. By the time Arabeth returned with a tray holding two water glasses and two bowls of ice cream, I had regained some composure. She set the tray on the table next to the scrapbook and handed me my dish of ice cream. I stared into the cold mixture, realizing I hadn’t eaten or even tasted the flavor for over a year. “How long has this been your favorite?” I asked.
“Not too long. I was always a plain vanilla girl, but one day I was in the grocery store passing the freezer cases and I looked over and saw the row of Chunky Monkey cartons inside. I just stopped in my tracks. I don’t know why, but I just had the biggest urge to try it. So I bought it and it’s been my favorite ever since.”
I stirred the mixture with my spoon, took one small bite, and thought I might burst into tears. I set down the bowl on the table. “Brain freeze,” I said.
“That happens to me a lot,” Arabeth said. “I don’t know why I crave the stuff. It’s loaded with calories.”
I poked the bowl with my big toe. “Elowyn liked it best too.”
She looked up at me, startled. “Really?”
“I’m guessing it’s a lot of people’s favorite,” I said dismissively.
Arabeth set aside her bowl, her expression thoughtful. She rocked in the small chair across from the sofa. She stared at me like she had something to say but wasn’t sure how to say it. Finally she asked, “Can I tell you something?”
“So long as it isn’t about aliens and flying saucers.”
She stared hard, like I’d spoken in a foreign language. “Oh, you’re joking.”
“Not a very good joke,” I said. “Tell me something.”
“Ever since—” She stopped, started again. “I woke up from the transplant and ever since then many—some weird stuff has been happening to me.”
This grabbed my interest. “What kind of stuff?”
Her face flushed. “You’ll think I’m crazy.”
I could tell she was troubled. “We’re all a little crazy, I think.”
A small smile lifted one corner of her mouth. “Okay, here goes.” She took a deep breath. “I like things I’ve never liked before. I
think things I’ve never thought before. I do things I’ve never done before.”
“Like …?”
“The most recent? Wanting to meet you.” She picked up the scrapbook. “When I looked through this, when I saw pictures of you and Elowyn together, I got this feeling of utter happiness. My heart went all fluttery and I wanted to laugh out loud. It was like I knew you and hadn’t seen you in such a long time and you and I were—” Words failed her. “Close,” she added lamely.
I got goose bumps, and a shivery feeling shot up my back. I’d never seen this Arabeth before in my life. I scooted into the sofa, away from her eager face.
“See? I told you it was weird.”
“What else?” This girl was creeping me out. I wished Wyatt was with me.
“Like the ice cream just now. Why that flavor? There are a million flavors, but I hone in on the one that was her favorite.”
My heart thumped hard and I felt as if I’d run a marathon. “Coincidence,” I said without conviction.
“The worst was the day her parents came to meet me.”
Terri hadn’t said a thing about anything strange happening.
“What happened?”
“I—I said something. He was the only one who heard me. You know, Matt, her father.”
“He loved her a lot.”
“We were on the porch and he’d taken a step down and Terri and my mother were back near the door and I stepped up behind him and he was telling me how good it had been to meet me and I said …” Her eyes were wide and sincere. “I said, ‘Good for me too, Sugar Plum.’ That’s what I said, and he went white as a sheet. Like he’d seen a ghost. And I have no idea why I said such a stupid thing to him.”
By now my goose bumps had goose bumps. This was beyond weird. “It’s what he used to call her.”
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