The Legacy: Making Wishes Come True (12 page)

“I’ll call and write,” Kimbra promised, and retreated from the room.

Without her friends, the room seemed empty and hollow, and although she realized that their beds would soon be occupied by new patients, no one could ever take their place in her heart.

When Jenny came home to her grandmother’s, leaves were tinged with gold and streaked with red, the air was crisp, the sky a brilliant blue. As the chauffeured limo pulled up and parked in front of the pre-Civil War mansion, Jenny saw the house staff waiting on the brick steps. Each of them greeted her as Barry, the driver, carried her into the house and up the long, winding staircase to her room. The familiar scents of the old house—smells of lemon wax, freshly laundered linen, and cut flowers—told Jenny she was home, and evoked the golden comforts of her childhood.

Her grandmother climbed the stairs first, threw open Jenny’s bedroom door, and chided Barry to be careful. A large banner welcoming her home was strung from corner to corner and attached to the crown molding of the ceiling, and vases of flowers adorned the dresser, her desk, and both windowsills.

“It’s so good to have you back,” Grandmother said after Barry had settled Jenny beneath the lace-trimmed covers of her canopy bed. “Are you hungry? Is there anything you want?”

Overcome by emotion, Jenny only shook her head. Looking around at the things she’d taken for granted all her life, Jenny felt as if she were seeing them for the first time. How lucky she was to have so much! Not only material things, but the love and
care of a woman such as her grandmother. “I have everything I want,” Jenny replied.

Marian smiled. “I’ve hired a Mrs. Hunter to tutor you. She has excellent credentials, but if she’s not to your liking—”

“She’ll be fine.” Jenny inhaled the sweet aromas of home and sank back against her pillows. Outside one of her windows, she saw the leafy branches of an old maple tree. “The leaves were green when I left for the hospital,” she observed. “Now, fall’s coming.”

“I know.” Her grandmother’s voice sounded wistful.

“I guess this is how Rip Van Winkle must have felt when he woke up to see that the world had changed.”

“Probably.… But you’re home now, and soon you’ll be as active as ever. I’m having the tennis courts resurfaced come next spring. I know how you like to play.”

Jenny hadn’t thought about a game of tennis in months. “I’m afraid Monopoly’s more my speed these days.”

“You’ll be back in form in no time,” Grandmother countered with a wave of her hand. She opened Jenny’s suitcase and began putting things away.

“Why don’t you let Mrs. McCully do that?” Jenny named the housekeeper who’d been with her grandmother since before Jenny had lived with her.

“Not today,” Grandmother said. “I don’t wish to share the pleasure.”

Jenny’s heart filled to overflowing. “I’m so glad I’m home,” she said. “So glad.”

Grandmother set the silver-framed photo of Richard atop a graceful cherrywood table next to Jenny’s
bed. “I thought you might like this near you. You’ve carted it around for months.”

Jenny gazed longingly at Richard aboard his sailboat. “Yes.”

“According to his father, Richard seems to have turned over a new leaf. He’s buckling down at school and actually seems to be taking his studies seriously.”

“That’s great.” The information both surprised and pleased Jenny. She’d always known that he was smart and capable.

“Richard and Dorothy aren’t sure why he’s done an about-face, but they are pleased.” Grandmother smiled indulgently. “I guess sooner or later, everyone has to grow up, even Richard Holloway the Third.”

J
ENNY FOLDED
E
LAINE’S
letter thoughtfully. She too was worried about Noreen. The last time they’d talked on the phone, Noreen had sounded groggy and drugged. “It’s my pain medicine,” Noreen said. “I hurt all the time, but my doctor says I don’t need to go back to the hospital. My mom cries a lot when she doesn’t know I’m listening. Sometimes, I get the feeling that everyone’s trying to hide something from me.”

Jenny called Kimbra, caught her coming in from school, and read her Elaine’s letter.

“I understand the prejudice bit,” Kimbra said. “I get it all the time. You’re lucky you have a tutor and don’t have to face the high school rat race every day.”

Jenny didn’t feel so lucky. Because of her private tutor, she was certainly caught up with her class academically, and in some subjects, she was even ahead. But studying at home left her restless and bored. “I guess either way has its pros and cons,” she replied. “You sound angry. What’s up?”

“I never could fool you,” Kimbra admitted with a sigh. “I talked with the basketball coach yesterday and told her I wanted to go out for the team. I’m still a good shooter from the foul line, and as I told
her, I wouldn’t have my hands all over the opponents and get called for fouling by the refs.”

“And?”

“And she almost fainted. It seems no high school in Maryland has ever had a one-armed ball player. Can you imagine that?”

Jenny chuckled. “If anyone can be the first, it’ll be you.”

“Over the school board’s dead bodies.”

“What do you mean?”

“They won’t let me play. They says it’s ‘too risky’ for my health.”

“But you’re perfectly healthy. No more tumors.”

“I know, but they aren’t listening. My dad’s fighting mad, and he says he’s going to get an attorney and take the whole school board to court if need be.”

Jenny wished she could console Kimbra. “I can tell my grandmother. Maybe her attorney can recommend a good lawyer to take your case.”

“That’s nice of you, but I’d rather not become a media event. It’s bad enough that I’m different from everyone else. I don’t really want my troubles aired in the newspapers and on local TV.”

“Maybe the board will change its mind.”

“I doubt it. I guess I should just give it up.”

“Don’t do that.” Jenny was surprised by the vehemence in her own voice.

“Why not?”

“Because you can’t let them push you around. Because if you don’t fight now, it’ll be harder to fight next time.”

There was a pause as Kimbra thought over what Jenny had said. Finally, she broke the quiet. “I’ll think about it. I’ll talk to my parents.”

“Good.” Jenny toyed with the phone wire. “Are we still on for Christmas?”

“As far as I know. What do you hear from Noreen?”

Jenny shared her concerns about their friend. “I wanted to go over and see her last weekend, but her mother said no, that she wasn’t up to visitors.”

“Maybe we can both go visit when I come at Christmastime.” Kimbra cleared her throat. “So, what do you hear from the hunk?”

“You mean Richard?” Jenny asked with a laugh. “He’s doing great. He wrote to say that he’s in danger of making the dean’s list this semester.”

“That’s a danger?”

“If he does, his parents will expect him to make it every time.”

“Yeah, I see the problem. Will you see him at Christmas?”

“Yes. I’m over my recluse period. Besides, I almost look human again. My hair’s almost an inch long. If I slather it with gel and comb it straight up, I look like a porcupine.”

“Very funny.” Kimbra giggled into the receiver. “Why don’t you buy a wig for yourself?”

“I did, and I hate it. It’s hot and makes my scalp itch. No, either I wear the real thing or go bald. I do know one hundred and one ways to tie a scarf, however, so this experience hasn’t been a total waste.”

“You always have been able to look on the bright side.” They shared another laugh, then Kimbra asked, “How’re your maintenance treatments?”

“I go in every few weeks, but I never get used to the chemo and how sick it makes me. At least, the stuff is milder than what they dumped in me when I was in the hospital, so now I’m only sick for about
a day. No new blasts in my blood work, and that’s a relief. I don’t think I could endure another stint in the hospital. Especially not without my three cellmates.”

“Well, if you’re reconfined, I’ll visit you, but there’s no way they’ll lock me up in that place again. No way.”

The next time Jenny went in for a treatment, she decided to visit the pediatric oncology floor, something she hadn’t done since checking out in September. When she stepped off the elevator, she was struck by how much the same everything looked and sounded—the gaily painted murals, the checkered linoleum, the clatter of dish carts, the hurrying nurses. She had been prepared to feel revulsion for the whole atmosphere, but was surprised to feel a sense of identification and belonging.

She peeked inside the activity room. Christmas decorations, strings of lights, and paper chains brightened the playroom. Except for a few kids playing video games and the TV blaring out cartoons, there wasn’t anything going on. A Christmas tree in the corner was lit up, and its branches looked so burdened with handmade decorations that she wondered why it hadn’t fallen over.

She recalled her art therapy sessions with her friends and smiled. In spite of it all, she had had a few good times in the hospital.
But it was because of my friends
, she reminded herself. If it hadn’t been for them, she would have gone stir-crazy.

Jenny thought about doing something nice for them, something to show her gratitude for their friendship, but at the moment, her mind drew a blank. Maybe when Kimbra came for her visit right after Christmas, Jenny could do something special
for her. Too bad that Elaine couldn’t come. Not to mention Noreen.

She pushed aside her concerns over Noreen because she didn’t want to think about her friend’s prognosis.
What did the doctors know?
she asked herself. Noreen could beat their odds, their gloom-and-doom predictions. Hadn’t Kimbra? And both she and Elaine were doing fine. Everybody who got cancer didn’t automatically die from it. With the start of 1979 just around the corner, they were all going to have a good year.…

A spray of cartoon bullets from the TV set jerked Jenny out of her thoughts. She glanced at her watch and realized she was late for her chemo treatment. She dreaded it. She was guaranteed a twenty-four-hour spell of vomiting afterward. “Get moving,” she told herself under her breath.

This would be her last treatment until after New Year’s. She looked forward to the weeks of feeling human and of forgetting she was still in therapy. At the end of the week, Richard would be home. Her heart skipped a beat when she thought about seeing him. Of course, she still didn’t look like her former self, but she didn’t look like death warmed over either. The dark cliché made her smile.

Richard
. Jenny hurried down to the outpatient therapy wing of the hospital, her thoughts and her heart full of hope for his homecoming.

“T
HE ANGEL’S LOPSIDED
, Timothy. Straighten her up.”

Jenny sat on the floor of her grandmother’s enormous living room, sorting through boxes of ornaments and listening to Marian issue instructions to the house staff. Above her, balancing on a ladder, Timothy, one of the handymen, struggled to please her grandmother’s discerning eye.