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  Lurlene McDaniel

  ANGELS IN PINK

  Kathleen’s Story • Rainas Story • Holly’s Story

  ONE LAST WISH NOVELS

  Mourning Song • A Time to Die

  Mother, Help Me Live • Someone Dies, Someone Lives

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  Angel of Mercy • Angel of Hope

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  Lified Up by Angels • Until Angels Close My Eyes

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  From every ending comes a new beginning.…

  Published by Laurel-Leaf

  an imprint of Random House Children’s Books

  a division of Random House, Inc.

  New York

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2007 by Lurlene McDaniel

  All rights reserved.

  This edition contains the complete and unabridged texts of the original editions. This omnibus was originally published in separate volumes under the titles Somewhere Between Life and Death, copyright © 1990 by Lurlene McDaniel, and Time to Let Go, copyright © 1990 by Lurlene McDaniel.

  Laurel-Leaf and colophon are registered trademarks of

  Random House, Inc.

  www.randomhouse.com/teens

  Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools,

  visit us at www.randomhouse.com/teachers

  RL: 5.2

  eISBN: 978-0-307-77622-8

  July 2007

  v3.1

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Also Available in Dell Laurel-Leaf Books

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Part 1 - Somewhere Between Life and Death

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Part 2 - Time to Let Go

  Acknowledgement

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Somewhere Between

  Life and Death

  This book is dedicated to the memory of Kaitlyn Arquette, September 18, 1970-July 17, 1989—a flower whose season was all too brief—and to her family, who will treasure her memory forever.

  • • •

  I would like to express my thanks to Erlanger Medical Center, Chattanooga, Tennessee, and to Dr. Reggie McLelland of Covenant College.

  • • •

  To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die … —ECCLESIASTES 3:1–2 (KJV)

  Chapter One

  “Where’s Amy?”

  “Late. As usual.” Erin Bennett didn’t even try to hide her annoyance.

  Her best friend, Shara Perez, heaved a sigh and sprawled across a bench in the deserted studio. “Honestly, Erin, your sister’s gonna be late to her own funeral.”

  “Not so,” Erin muttered, adjusting her leotard and stretching her right leg over her head. “I’ll be in charge of taking her to her funeral, so I know she’ll be on time for that.”

  Shara giggled. “Now what do you suppose Freud would say about that? Maybe you really wish you were an only child, like me.”

  Erin rolled her eyes, hating to admit that she’d often wished that very thing. And with only fifteen months between her and her sister, Erin realized that she’d never had the luxury of being the one-and-only. “I just think Amy’s being a pain,” she said. “She knows how much this dance number means to me.”

  “Come on, Erin. You know Amy’s not like that. She never forgets anything on purpose.”

  Erin began to pirouette across the polished dance floor in wide, sweeping circles. She forced herself to concentrate on her form instead of her anger toward her kid sister. She’d have thought that being a sophomore at Briarwood School for Young Women this year would have matured Amy. Instead, Erin found herself constantly making excuses for her, covering for her tardiness and irresponsible attitude. It was embarrassing, but Erin couldn’t seem to stop. Amy always managed to rope her in and get her own way, while still being sweet, outgoing, and likable.

  As a junior and the president of the Terpsicord Dance Troupe at Briarwood, Erin felt she had a reputation to maintain among her peers. Amy’s lack of seriousness really annoyed her, but she didn’t know what to do about it.

  The door to the dance studio flew open. “Am I late?” Amy called as she skidded across the oak floor.

  Erin stopped spinning, caught her breath, and walked over to where Amy stood, all big blue-eyed innocence. “Three-fifteen, Amy. I said ‘Be here by three-fifteen because we have to knock off by four today.’ Shara made it on time. I made it on time. But you? Well, as usual we’re both standing around waiting for Amy. And you’re so late that we’re not going to get any serious rehearsing done today. The recital’s in March—only four weeks from now.” Erin knew she was wasting valuable time, but she was determined not to let Amy off too easily.

  “Only four weeks? Yikes! Time’s slipping by all right, but just wait till you see what I’ve got.”

  “This had better be good, Amy. Ms. Thornton is counting on the three of us to make this number the high point of the show. I’m beginning to wish I’d never asked you to do the dramatic readings.”

  “Oh, come on. When I’m a famous actress, you’ll look back on this and laugh. He
re, take a look at this.” She handed Erin a large leather-bound book. “Won’t it be perfect on the podium for me to read from? I won’t have to use that dorky library book. I can just tuck copies of the readings inside. It’ll look so much more elegant, don’t you think?”

  Erin eyed the old leather-embossed volume, struggling inwardly to stay angry. She had to admit that Amy was right. The book would be so much nicer and would really contribute to the overall effect. “Where’d you get it?”

  “It’s Travis’s grandmother’s.”

  Travis. The name alone made Erin’s pulse skip a beat. “Did he loan it to you just for the recital?” She stroked the rich leather cover imagining that Travis had held it.

  “Sure.”

  Erin felt her resolve weakening. Her sister was irrepressible, and no one could stay mad at her for long. That’s probably why she attracted friends so easily—as well as the undivided attention of Berkshire Prep’s cutest senior, Travis Sinclair.

  “It’s a nice touch,” Erin admitted. Amy grinned and bobbed on the balls of her feet. “But I really need you to be on time,” she added sternly, not wanting Amy to think she was off the hook entirely.

  “So what are we waiting for? Let’s get started.”

  Erin signaled Shara, who started the music on a cassette player and began to sing. Soon she was immersed in the dance, and once she was lost in her art, nothing else existed. Not even her aggravation with Amy.

  “Erin! Come help me get dinner on the table,” Mrs. Bennett called.

  Erin wandered into the kitchen. “I thought it was Amy’s turn to help with dinner tonight,” she said. “Where is Amy, anyway?”

  “She’s working on a history paper that’s due tomorrow, and I’m running behind.” Her mother rattled pots and pans. “Honestly, I don’t know why I ever thought owning my own boutique was a good idea. Customers are so scarce that I should just shut down the place until spring comes.”

  “Doing a paper! What about my homework?”

  “Your father and I have the faculty party tonight at Briarwood. I didn’t think I’d ever get out of the store. Thank goodness Inez could stay until nine and close the place up.” She paused from her task of measuring water for rice and pinned Erin with a glance. “You are working this Saturday, aren’t you? I’m counting on you to hold the fort all day since neither Inez nor I can come in.”

  Erin almost exploded. “But it’s Amy’s turn to work. I promised Ms. Thornton I’d help the freshmen dancers for the Terpsicord recital. And speaking of the dance recital, Amy was late again today for our rehearsal. We’re never going to get it together for the show if she can’t show up on time for practices.”

  “You’ve got plenty of time before the show,” Mrs. Bennett said. “Besides, I think I gave Amy permission to go do something with the Drama Club on Saturday. Some car wash, I think.”

  “But it’s her turn to work! Just like it’s her turn to do dinner.”

  “Amy’s filled in for you plenty of times, Erin. All last week in fact, while you took those extra dance classes.”

  “But I traded with her two weeks ago so that I’d have last week free.”

  “Erin, I really don’t have time to quibble over how you and Amy keep scorecards over chores. I need help now. You know how your father hates to be late. And don’t forget, if he wasn’t on the faculty at Briar-wood, we’d never be able to afford to send you girls there.”

  Erin held her breath and counted to ten. She didn’t have to be reminded that she wasn’t in the same league as the rest of the school body, which included Tampa’s richest and most socially elite families. Nor was it easy having her sister and father at the same school with her. Erin was grateful that he taught computer science, which wasn’t a part of her liberal-arts curriculum, so their paths had never crossed in the classroom. Perhaps that was another reason why Amy irked her. It never seemed to bother her that they were different from the other girls.

  “Erin?” Mrs. Bennett said. “Are you going to stand there staring into space all evening?”

  Erin started. “All right, I’ll help tonight,” she grumbled. “But it really is Amy’s turn, and I swear this is the last time I get roped into doing her chores. You let Amy get away with murder.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic.” Mrs. Bennett paused from chopping vegetables. “You know how it is with Amy. Sometimes it seems as if we let her get away with too much; but Erin, you’ve always been the dependable one. I can always count on you.”

  “Thanks,” Erin muttered, not feeling at all as if she’d been complimented.

  Later, sitting at the dinner table, Amy entertained them all with stories about her day at school, and Erin found it impossible to stay mad. Amy did have a dramatic streak, and she smiled at Amy’s accurate imitation of Miss Hutton’s high-pitched nasal voice. “ ‘Miss Bennett,’ ” Amy mimicked, telling a story on herself. “ ‘If we are going to read Edna St. Vincent Millay aloud, it would behoove us to have read her poetry silently first, now wouldn’t it?’ ”

  Mr. Bennett chuckled deeply. “That’s exactly how she sounds at faculty meetings too.”

  “You two are awful,” Mrs. Bennett said. “She’s just a lonely woman whose whole life is wrapped up in that school and you kids.”

  “She does donate a lot of her time to charity work,” Amy said. “And I’m not knocking her; I just think she’s funny.”

  Erin half listened to the rest of the dinner conversation. She wished she could make her parents laugh the way Amy could. Why couldn’t she be less serious about school, her dancing, her whole life? Why did she always feel so out of sync? She looked across the table at Amy. How could two such different people come from the same family? How could two such different individuals coexist in the same house until the day Erin would leave for college?

  Erin began to count the days until she would be on her own and free of her pain-in-the-neck, easygoing sister, Amy.

  Chapter Two

  Later, when their parents had gone out and Erin was alone in her bedroom doing homework, Amy knocked on her door. “I’m busy,” Erin announced.

  “But I’m lonely.”

  “How can you be lonely with your radio going full blast? And didn’t you just get off the phone?”

  Amy cracked open the door and poked her head inside. “I had to tell Travis you were driving me in tomorrow for that—ugh—seven A.M. rehearsal.”

  “Dont you dare complain! If you were on time for afternoon rehearsals, this one wouldn’t be necessary.”

  Amy stepped into Erin’s room. “Don’t gripe at me.”

  “Do you know I work out every morning before school starts?” Erin put her hands on her hips and stood in Amy’s path. “Just think, I’ve stretched and danced for an hour before you even get to your homeroom.”

  “That’s why you’re a dancer and I’m into acting. Plays happen at night. Then you go home and sleep until noon.”

  Erin felt exasperated enough to shake Amy. “You’re impossible. Now would you please leave? Unlike some people, I didn’t get my work done earlier.”

  “Are you still mad about that?”

  “And about working at the boutique Saturday—”

  “Half a day,” Amy interrupted. “That’s all I’m asking, just one teensy, weensy half a day. The afternoon half. I’ll do the morning because I know you’re supposed to help Ms. Thornton—”

  “No way,” Erin was adamant.

  Amy dropped dramatically to her knees and clasped her hands. “Oh please, please? I’ll be your best friend.”

  Erin stepped around her, out the door, and headed down the hall. “Buzz off. I won’t do it.”

  Amy started after her on her knees, her arms pumping at her sides. Erin refused to watch, because Amy looked so ridiculous, she was afraid shed laugh and give in to her. “I mean it, Amy, leave me alone.” Erin ducked inside Amy’s bedroom to escape and stopped short.

  Amy almost rammed into the back of her. “What’s the matter?”

  �
�Good grief, Amy. It looks like a survival camp in here.” Erin stared in dismay at the upheaval. The bed was unmade, clothes hung from chairs and half-open drawers, even the bedside lamp. Papers and books were scattered about the floor.

  “My goodness,” Amy said mildly. “Maybe thieves broke in.”

  “How can you live like this?”

  Amy flounced on her bed, sending pillows and clothes flying. “One of us is neat and orderly, and one of us isn’t.” She smiled innocently.

  “It’s nothing to brag about, you know.”

  Amy jumped off the bed and hauled Erin next to her in front of the mirror. “Look at us, Erin. You’re tall, blond, and graceful, and I’m—well—short, round, and fully packed.” She patted her hips.

  Erin tried not to smile. “What’s your point?”

  “We’re different, that’s all. You got the looks, talent, and brains, and I got”—Amy tousled her shoulder-length curly dark hair—“dandruff.”

  Against her will Erin laughed. “All right, you win. You sure can wear a person down, Amy. I’ll go in for you on Saturday. But this is positively, absolutely the last time I bail you out because you’ve overcommitted.”

  Amy smiled broadly and gave Erin a quick hug. Then she took a frizzy red clown’s wig off her dresser and put it on her head. On her nose she stuck a fat, round red bulb. “What do you think?”

  “You look like Bozo.”

  “Good. I told Miss Hutton I’d do a gig for the Children’s Home at Easter.”

  “I thought you didn’t like her.”

  “She’s okay, but don’t tell anybody I said so. I like doing crazy things like this and making people laugh. I know it’s silly, and it’s not half as important as your dancing, but it’s me.”

  “Amy, my dancing is no more important than your acting. You’ll be a great actress someday—if you ever get serious about life.”

  Amy gasped in horror. “Oh, I hope I never get serious. What would people think?”

  “I’ve got to get back to my homework,” Erin said, shaking her head in exasperation.

  “Wait a minute.” Still wearing the wig and nose, Amy dashed to her desk and picked up a packet of snapshots. “Did I show you these yet? They’re the photos Travis and I took on Christmas Day at his house.”