The Legacy: Making Wishes Come True (13 page)

“Yes … that’s better,” she heard Marian say. “Now, make sure one of the lights is positioned directly behind her. I want it to appear as if she’s glowing.”

Jenny smiled to herself. It was like this every year. Grandmother cracking the whip, the staff scurrying to do her bidding. Jenny looked up at the magnificent evergreen that filled the corner of the room and brushed the top of the ceiling with its branches. This was her grandmother’s tree, the formal one, decorated more splendidly than any Jenny had ever seen.

Yet, Jenny’s personal favorite was the tree down in
the rumpus room, the one for just her and her grandmother and their gifts for one another. This was the tree that contained her handmade ornaments and those of her father, left over from when he’d been a boy. This was the tree that she took personal responsibility for decorating every year. She lifted the flap of a box and pulled out a crumpled wreath. “What’s this?” she asked, holding it up.

“I believe it’s the wreath you made while you were in the hospital last summer,” Grandmother said, coming beside her.

“You
saved
this dumb thing?”

“Don’t look so shocked.” Grandmother rescued it from Jenny’s grasp. “I think it’s quite charming.”

“It looks awful.”

“No, it doesn’t. I’m hanging it over the mantel, where the evergreen branches meet in the center.” Grandmother gestured toward the huge brick fireplace, where Mrs. McCully was busy draping pine branches and holly sprigs across the old oak mantel. Grandmother walked the wreath over and handed it to the housekeeper. “I think it will look charming as the focal point.”

“No, it won’t,” Jenny protested. “It’s junky.”

Grandmother gave her an arching look. “This is my room to decorate, remember? You have your own.”

Jenny offered an exasperated sigh, but deep down, it touched her that her handmade wreath would have a place of honor over the mantel. By that evening, the house would be filled with people attending her grandmother’s annual Christmas party, and they would all see the wreath. “I’m going to decorate my tree,” Jenny announced, scooping up a string of bubble lights. “And if any of your guests
asks where you found that old thing, please say I made it when I was ten instead of sixteen!”

That night, Jenny put on a dress of midnight blue velvet. She tied a blue silk scarf streaked with threads of gold and silver around her head and pulled wispy bangs over her forehead. “You look lovely,” Grandmother said.

“Thanks,” Jenny replied, caring only what Richard would think of her.

The doorbell rang all evening as guests arrived. Jenny smiled politely during numerous introductions, but never stopped watching the doorway for the Holloways. When she saw Dorothy sweep into the foyer, her heart wedged in her throat.

Richard stood behind his parents on the living room threshold, looking reserved. Jenny felt her knees go weak. He was even more handsome than she remembered. She longed to run forward and throw her arms around him, but she knew she couldn’t.

His gaze traveled the room, then locked on to hers. The party, the music, the noise all faded as their eyes held. Slowly, he stepped around his parents and came toward her, and she walked forward to meet him in the center of the crowded room.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, looking down at her. “How have you been?”

“I’m fine. And you? How’s your term going?” She wanted to throw herself in his arms. She wanted to hold him and never let go.

“I don’t take my exams until January, but I think I’m doing all right.”

The polite exchange had her nerves on edge. Even their letters were more personal than this. “My
studies are going well too. I’m hoping to be back in regular classes when the new term begins.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “There are a lot of people here. Can we go some place more private?”

“There’s the rumpus room. I haven’t quite finished decorating down there yet, but it’s quiet.”

She led the way down the stairs into a cozy room lined with pine paneling and carpeted in bright red. Timothy had laid a fire in the fireplace, and its flames danced brightly. She crossed to the tree and fingered the needles. “The other tree’s fancier, but this one’s my favorite.”

He reached out and touched one of the decorations. “This tree’s better in a lot of ways,” he said.

Jenny’s heart was hammering hard, and because the room was so quiet, she was fearful he might hear it. “What will you be doing during the holidays?” She wanted him to ask if they could spend time together, do things with each other, no matter how trivial.

“My father’s dragging me down to the Bahamas on a weeklong fishing trip the day after Christmas.”

“You’re leaving?” She averted her eyes, hoping to hide her disappointment. He’d gone off and left her last Christmas.

“The trip has a purpose,” he said with a sigh. “These fishing buddies of Dad’s are prominent attorneys, and he thinks that my meeting them will give me an edge in getting into law school when I apply. Getting into one of the top Ivy League schools isn’t easy.”

“Law school? Last summer, you said you hated the idea of being a lawyer. When did you change your mind?”

“Later in the summer.” He lifted her chin with his
forefinger, and his gaze burned into hers. “After I worked at the firm, I saw that some aspects of law interested me. I can become a good lawyer if I put my mind to it.”

Staring into the green depths of his eyes, having him so close, smelling of bayberry and fresh pine, was almost making her crazy. “You never told me that in your letters.”

“There was a lot I couldn’t say in my letters.”

“Are you angry with me because I wouldn’t let you come see me when I was in the hospital going through chemo? That I insisted on using the mail?”

“Yes.” He said the word flatly, causing her stomach to constrict. “You hurt me.”

“I never meant to hurt you. I was so sick. I was out of it for so much of the time. In ICU, I remember being afraid I would never see you again, and the feeling was horrible. By the time I got well enough to return to my room, you’d gone back to school.”

“We’ve been friends for years, Jenny. You shouldn’t have kept me away.”

“Will you forgive me? Can we still be friends?” She saw the muscles working in his jaw. He lowered his hand, but her skin couldn’t forget where his touch had lain.

“I’ll always be your friend. But friends don’t leave friends out. Friends share … good and bad.”

His lecture stung. She must seem more like a child to him than ever before. All at once, the age difference between them loomed like a gulf. “Well, if I relapse, I’ll let you come up for a visit.”

“Don’t even tease about that happening.” His eyes were serious, his tone hard.

She realized he’d never find her dark humor
amusing the way Kimbra, Noreen, and Elaine had.
Why should he?
she thought. Richard was healthy and had never known the inside of her world. “I didn’t mean it literally. I was only trying to tell you I’m sorry I acted so weird while I was hospitalized.”

Richard reached out and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “Please, don’t shut me out again.”

Her heart fairly leapt out of her chest. “It’s a promise.” She allowed herself to look up into his face, and for an instant, she saw something there she couldn’t read. Was it longing? Concern? Pity? She didn’t want his pity. She took a step backward. “So you’ll be out in the Atlantic Ocean on New Year’s Eve. Sounds like a nice place to welcome 1979.”

“It would be better if I were on the
Triple H
with a beautiful girl instead of with a bunch of old guys smelling like fish.” He walked to the fireplace, and with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, he stared into the flames. “What will you do?” he asked. “Didn’t you write that one of your hospital roommates was coming for a visit?”

“Kimbra was supposed to come, but now she can’t.”

“What happened?”

“Let’s sit down,” Jenny said, “and I’ll tell you.”

R
ICHARD SAT ON
the sofa with Jenny, making certain that he kept to one far end. He was afraid of getting any closer. If he did, he might not be able to control his impulses. All he wanted to do, all he’d wanted the whole evening, was to pull her into his arms. She looked fragile to him, her skin pale as ivory. And she was thin, as delicate as fine crystal. “Tell me about your friend,” he said.

“It’s good news really.” Jenny tucked her feet under herself on the sofa. “The school board was giving Kimbra a hard time about playing basketball. They didn’t want a one-armed girl on the team, but that’s discrimination, you know.”

Jenny looked so offended on Kimbra’s behalf that Richard grinned. “I know. I worked in a law firm.”

She smiled sheepishly. “Anyway, her parents had a fit and threatened a lawsuit, so the board put a bunch of restrictions on Kimbra. They wouldn’t tell
her no, but they wanted to make it so difficult that she’d give up.”

“But she didn’t?”

“Not Kimbra. She passed all their tests. In fact, she’s the best shooter in the entire school, one-armed or otherwise. A couple of weeks ago, she was contacted by some coach who heads up a sports camp for handicapped kids. He’d read about Kimbra in the papers.” Jenny spread the hem of her dress so that the blue velvet fell like a curtain over the edge of the cushion.

“This coach invited her to his camp, said it wasn’t for wimps, said he’d be tough on her … but that if she did well, he’d go to her school board and fight for her to be allowed on the team.” Jenny clapped gleefully. “Isn’t that great? I wish you could meet Kimbra. You’d really like her.”

Richard recalled Kimbra vividly from the night he met her in ICU, but of course, he couldn’t tell Jenny, or she’d know how he’d hovered at her bedside when she’d been unconscious. “I hope things work out for her.” He picked a loose thread from a pillow.

“Maybe she can visit over spring break. Will you come home, or run off to Florida like so much of the college crowd does?”

“It depends.”

“On what?”

On if you’re well
, he almost blurted. “On what’s happening here at home,” he said carefully. “I may put in a week at Dad’s firm.”

“You’re really serious about practicing law, aren’t you?”

“Very serious.”

“You must have had some revelation this summer,”
Jenny said with a laugh. “I remember when all you wanted to do was sail around the world.”

“People change.”

She dropped her gaze self-consciously, concentrating on her hands folded in her lap. “You can say that again.”

Once again, he lifted her chin. “Have you changed?”

“I … look … different … now.” She found the words difficult to say.

Suddenly, he couldn’t control his urge to touch her any longer. Gently, he tugged at the scarf. She recoiled. “Trust me,” he begged. “Please.”

Her heart thudded, but she didn’t pull away a second time.
Trust him!
She felt him slide the scarf from her head, felt it flutter over her shoulders. Without the scarf’s covering, her head felt cool and exposed. She resisted the urge to cover her crop of dark fuzz with her hands. “It’s growing back,” she said nervously. “It’ll just take some time.”

His fingers brushed through the downy fuzz. “It’s soft,” he said. “Really soft.”

She felt unexpected tears brim in her eyes, as an overwhelming sense of loss swept through her—not for her hair, but for her summer, her health, her innocence. “It was horrible, Richard.” Her voice came out in a whispered crack. “All the needles, all the pain … it was so horrible.” As if a dam had opened, Jenny wept. She clung to him, and he stroked her once long, dark, beautiful hair. She expected to feel naked and vulnerable, but in his arms, she experienced protection and shelter.

“Jenny … Jenny …” he whispered. His arms wrapped around her, and she sank against his chest.
His heart thumped beneath her cheek. “I wish I could have been with you.”

Richard wished he could soak up her pain, blot out the terrible memories. He felt frustrated and impotent. All he could do was hold her and let her cry it out. He wanted to tell her that he loved her, that he would be there for her no matter what, but he didn’t know how.

“Jenny. Are you down there, dear?” Marian Crawford’s voice called from the top of the rumpus room stairs.

Quickly, Jenny pulled away from Richard, wiping her tear-stained cheeks hurriedly. “I’m here, Grandmother,” Jenny called.

Richard willed Marian to go away, but she came downstairs, halting at the bottom, surveying the room with one piercing glance. “You’re crying.” Marian shot Richard a threatening look.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Jenny said, fumbling with a tissue box on an end table. “We came down here to talk, to catch up on things, and I fell to pieces.”

Richard was beside Jenny in an instant. “It’s my fault. I started her talking about the hospital.”

Another scathing look from Marian. “Why don’t you freshen up, dear,” she told Jenny. “Go up the back way through the kitchen. I’ll be up in a minute.”

“I don’t want to ruin your party,” Jenny said.

“Nonsense. It’s my party, and you can cry if you want to.” Jenny smiled shakily over her grandmother’s humor. “Now, run along.”