Let Him Live Read online

  “When I first got sick in high school, kids were pretty sympathetic, but the sicker I got and the more school I missed, the harder it was to keep up with the old crowd,” Donovan explained. “Some of them tried to understand what I was going through, but unless you’ve been really sick …” He didn’t finish the sentence.

  “I’ve never been sick,” Meg said, “but I really do know what you’re talking about.”

  He tipped his head and looked into her eyes. “I believe you do.”

  Other books you will enjoy

  BABY ALICIA IS DYING, Lurlene McDaniel

  ALL THE DAYS OF HER LIFE, Lurlene McDaniel

  ANGELS WATCHING OVER ME, Lurlene McDaniel

  TILL DEATH DO US PART, Lurlene McDaniel

  FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE, FOREVER, Lurlene McDaniel

  UNTIL ANGELS CLOSE MY EYES, Lurlene McDaniel

  STARRY, STARRY NIGHT, Lurlene McDaniel

  MOTHER, HELP ME LIVE, Lurlene McDaniel

  SIXTEEN AND DYING, Lurlene McDaniel

  IN LANE THREE, ALEX ARCHER by Tessa Duder

  THE LAST SILK DRESS by Ann Rinaldi

  WORDS BY HEART by Ouida Sebestyen

  RL 5, age 10 and up

  LET HIM LIVE

  A Bantam Book / February 1993

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 1993 by Lurlene McDaniel.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  For information address: Bantam Books.

  eISBN: 978-0-307-80015-2

  Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, a division of Random House, Inc. Its trademark, consisting of the words “Bantam Books” and the portrayal of a rooster, is Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada. Bantam Books, 1540 Broadway, New York, New York 10036.

  v3.1

  Contents

  Cover

  Other Books by This Author

  Title Page

  Copyright

  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

  One

  MEGAN CHARNELL WHIPPED her red convertible into the only empty parking space in the crowded parking garage at Washington Memorial Hospital. She screeched to a halt, grabbed her purse and notebook, and ran inside the glass doors. When she reached the elevator, she impatiently punched the button.

  “Late, late, late,” she muttered. Her first day on the job, and she was missing orientation. Her father wouldn’t be pleased. She’d hit an unexpected traffic snarl. Usually, it didn’t take this much time to come from her Virginia suburb to downtown Washington. If her car had wings she would have made it in plenty of time.

  Meg pounded the elevator button until the door slid open. She barreled inside and hit the button for the fourth floor. It was her father’s idea, not hers. She didn’t want to become a candy striper for the summer. “Your therapist thinks getting involved will help you come to terms with what happened to Cindy. Maybe a job will be helpful,” her father had insisted. Meg knew that her last choice would have been to work at the hospital, but here she was anyway. Part of her wanted to move on and connect to people, and yet she still grieved for her lost friend.

  Meg had been overcome with grief at the news that her best friend had been killed in a car accident. She’d seen Cindy only weeks before the fatal crash. After Cindy and her family had moved away, Meg had been afraid their best friendship might end. But Cindy had promised, and so had Meg—“forever friends”—and they’d managed to stay as close as ever, even though they were no longer neighbors.

  When Cindy’s parents called Meg, she couldn’t accept the reality of Cindy’s death. Now, a year later, the therapist Meg had talked with felt she was ready to face new relationships with trust and courage. Easy for everyone to say, Meg thought, but she was nervous.

  On the fourth floor, Meg raced out of the elevator and into the auditorium, grimacing as the door banged open. She was sure every person in the room looked up at her, including her father. He was standing on the stage, giving his opening remarks. Meg slunk into an empty seat in the shadowed depths and heaved a sigh. She mopped sweat from her forehead and wished with all her heart that she could be anyplace but here.

  “As I was saying,” Dr. Charnell continued, “volunteers like you, along with our faithful Pink Ladies, are a vital link to the welfare of our patients here at Memorial. The nurses are already overloaded with duties, so volunteers are necessary to enhance patient comfort. Without your helping hands and smiling faces, this place would be dreary indeed.

  “For those who participated in our Saturday training program, you already know Mrs. Stanton, our volunteer coordinator.” A woman with dark hair in a French knot waved from her chair beside the podium. “She’ll have a few words to say, then she’ll pass out floor assignments.”

  Others from the hospital staff spoke. When, at last, Mrs. Stanton wrapped up the orientation with an invitation for refreshments, Meg halfheartedly walked to a table piled with doughnuts and juice. Because she’d missed breakfast, she loaded a paper plate, then went to check for her name on the assignment sheet posted on the auditorium bulletin board.

  “Hi. I remember you from the training sessions,” said a tall, slim girl who was standing beside Meg. “I’m assigned to pediatrics. How about you?”

  Meg found her name on the list. “Looks like I am too.”

  “I’m Alana Humphries.” The girl smiled and Meg felt she could like this person who seemed so friendly.

  Meg smiled back. “Megan Charnell—but I prefer just plain Meg.” She wiped powder-sugared fingers on her wrinkled pink-and-white pinafore, the uniform of the candy striper. “These stripes make me look like an overripe candy cane,” Meg complained.

  Alana laughed. “Charnell … Are you related to Dr. Charnell?”

  Meg reddened. “My father.” She hated people’s knowing. She was certain they would think she was going to be given special favor, when in reality she loathed the whole idea.

  Alana’s eyes grew wide. “I think Dr. Charnell is the most wonderful man in the world.”

  “You do?”

  “He helped save my brother’s life.”

  “He did?”

  “My brother, Lonnie, had a disease that was destroying his kidneys. He was on dialysis for years. Your father put Lonnie in Memorial’s transplant program, and two years ago, Lonnie got a donor kidney. He’s twenty now and doing fine. I guess my brother was really lucky. He got a transplant right away, which according to your dad, is highly unusual for African-Americans. It seems that organs are most compatible when the donor and recipient are of the same race, but not enough black people are signing up to be donors. That’s really hurting black people who need organs.” Meg had never really thought about such things.

  Her dad was an accomplished surgeon who had taken over as head of the organ transplant unit at Memorial five years before. Meg couldn’t count the times she’d heard the phone ring in the middle of the night for him. Neither could she recall one single holiday, one special family occasion that hadn’t been interrupted by a
call from the hospital because Dr. Franklin Charnell was needed to handle some emergency. For years, she believed that the hospital was his true home, and that his patients were his preferred family.

  “I’m glad for your brother,” Meg replied.

  “That’s why I signed up to be a candy striper,” Alana explained. “To give something back. I mean, money couldn’t buy Lonnie’s life, so there’s nothing I could give even if I was rich, which I’m not. The least I can do is volunteer to help out, try and make things easier for people who are sick like Lonnie used to be.” She paused. “Did you sign up to work with your father?”

  Meg couldn’t admit the truth—she’d been made to sign up to help her pull out of a progressive depression. “Dad suggested it,” she said, “and it sounded like an okay idea for the summer.”

  “Well, I think it’s going to be fun work. And it’s really cool to know I’ll be working with you. I mean, Dr. Charnell’s daughter …”

  Meg squirmed under Alana’s generous smile. How long before Alana discovered she was a fraud?

  Her father came over, and Meg hoped he wouldn’t mention her tardy entrance. “Hello, Alana,” he said. “Lonnie told me you’d be here. I see you’ve met Megan.”

  “We were just discussing our assignments.”

  Meg nodded vigorously. “Pediatrics.”

  “I know. I asked Mrs. Stanton to put you there.”

  A warning bell sounded in Meg’s head.

  “Super,” Alana said. “I really like kids.”

  “The floor’s divided into units,” Dr. Charnell explained. “One for kids under twelve, one for older kids. Both sections need extra hands.”

  “We’ll do our best,” Alana promised.

  Meg only nodded.

  “My office is in the same general area.” His motives became clear to Meg. He wanted to keep an eye on her, and she resented it. All at once, his beeper went off. “That’s me,” he said. “I’ve got to run.”

  Meg watched him hurry toward a house phone.

  “He’s so busy,” Alana said.

  “You’ve got that right,” Meg replied, without elaborating. She and Alana headed toward the elevator that would take them to pediatrics.

  “I’d like to be a doctor someday,” Alana told her as they rode up to the seventh floor. “How about you?”

  “No way.”

  “You’re kidding? I thought medicine would be in your blood.”

  “I prefer doughnuts in my blood.”

  Alana giggled. “Honestly, girl, you’re such a comedian.”

  They emerged onto the pediatric floor. A huge painted picture of a clown holding a sign that said “Kids World” adorned the wall. Meg paused to study the cute artwork.

  “Get out of the way. You’re in the middle of the drag strip!” a boy’s voice called.

  Meg flattened herself against the wall, turning in time to see a teenage boy pushing an IV stand with lines attached to the inside of his arm. He loped beside a very young boy who was rolling his wheelchair as hard as he could down the length of the hall.

  Astounded, Meg watched them fly past with a clatter of metal and a cascade of laughter. What have I gotten myself into? she wondered. What does Dad think he’s doing?

  Two

  AT THE END of the hall, the boy with the IV stand halted. “You beat me, Mark,” he said to the boy in the wheelchair.

  The child grinned up at him. “I told you I could.”

  “How about best two out of three? Give me a day to rest, and we’ll try it again tomorrow.”

  “You got it.”

  The older boy ruffled Mark’s hair, and Meg watched him approach her, pushing his IV stand. “Sorry I yelled at you,” he said. “I didn’t want you to get mowed down. I’m Donovan Jacoby.”

  “Meg.”

  He glanced at Alana, and his eyes danced mischievously. “You two look like twins.”

  “Maybe it’s the uniforms,” Alana joked.

  Donovan was tall and thin, with curling brown hair, gorgeous blue eyes, and a fabulous smile, but Meg saw that his skin had a yellow cast and that he appeared slightly stooped. He leaned against his IV stand. “Excuse my friend here, but we’re very attached.”

  “Maybe you should be in your bed,” Meg suggested nervously, after a quick smile at his joke.

  “That’s where I’m supposed to be, but it’s pretty boring in my room. I was walking the hall looking for action when I saw Mark. Now, I’ve met you two, and things are really looking up.”

  “This is Dr. Charnell’s daughter,” Alana announced proudly.

  Meg cringed inwardly.

  “No lie?” Donovan asked. “He’s awesome.”

  My father? Meg thought. “We’re working here this summer,” she said hastily, “and according to our training, we’re supposed to help patients. Why don’t I help you back to bed?”

  “You do sound like your father,” Donovan said. Yet, he didn’t protest returning to his room.

  Meg followed as he led the way, half afraid he’d keel over and she wouldn’t know what to do.

  “I’ll meet you at the nurses’ station,” Alana called.

  Donovan’s room was sunny and bright. Although it contained two beds, only one looked as if it had been occupied. “Yours?” she asked.

  “How did you guess? I lost my roommate last Friday.”

  Meg’s heart squeezed. “Lost?”

  Donovan saw her look of distress. “He went home.”

  She realized she’d been a doctor’s daughter too long. In her father’s world, “lost” meant died. “Can I help you?” she asked as Donovan climbed in the bed, trying to keep his IV lines from tangling.

  “Can you hold the stand steady for me?”

  She gripped the cold metal and parked it beside his bed. He lay back on the pillow, and she saw a flash of pain cross his face. “Should I call a nurse?”

  “No. It’ll pass. I—um—guess I overdid things.”

  Meg’s training had taught her to be helpful and polite, but not personally involved. “Now that you’re settled, I think I should be going,” she said. “I haven’t even officially reported in yet.”

  His hand reached out for hers. “Can you visit just a minute?”

  “Maybe for just a minute.” She found it difficult to say no. She glanced around at the bed, desk, windowsill, and curtain that separated his bed from the other one. She saw a child’s drawings pinned to the curtain and taped to the bottom of the sill. There was a photo on the bedside table of a gap-toothed, brown-haired boy and a pretty woman with green eyes. “Your family?” she asked.

  “My mom and my brother, Brett. Those are Brett’s drawings all over the place. He’s six and draws me a new picture for every day I’m in here.” Meg’s eyes grew wide. She began to quickly count the drawings. “Fifteen,” Donovan said, as if reading her mind. “Where do you go to school?” he asked.

  “Davis Academy. I just finished my sophomore year. And you?”

  “Actually, I’m not from the Washington area. Mom and Brett and I lived in a small town on the border of Virginia and North Carolina. When I got sick last March, Mom was determined to find the best doctors possible for me. She sold our home and moved us here because Memorial has one of the best liver specialists in the country on staff. She’s rented an apartment, but it’s miles away, and she has to ride the bus just to visit me.”

  “You have something wrong with your liver?”

  “You could say that. I had to drop out of school, but I would have been a senior if we’d stayed.”

  “Can’t you be a senior here when school starts in the fall?”

  “Maybe.” He shrugged. “So, tell me, what’s it like living with a doctor?”

  It took Meg a moment to adjust to his shift in subjects. “It’s like living with a god. Occasionally, Zeus comes down from Mount Olympus to mingle with us mere mortals.” Her own candor shocked her. Why was she saying such a thing to a guy she didn’t even know? She giggled nervously. “Just kidding
. Dad’s a pretty busy man, so sometimes it seems like he’s hardly at home. How about your dad?” she asked. “Did he come with you?”

  “My dad skipped out five years ago. Address unknown. There’s only the three of us.”

  “He doesn’t know you’re sick?”

  “No, but so what? Mom, Brett, and I are making out fine by ourselves. When this is all over with, maybe I’ll look him up and tell him we made it without his help.”

  “I think I’d better go check in at the nurses’ desk,” she said, glancing at her watch.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you so long.”

  “Want me to turn on the TV?”

  “No, there’s nothing worth watching.”

  Meg felt sorry for him and felt a silent tug-of-war with her conscience. “I’m scheduled to work until three. Maybe I can stop by later and see how you’re doing,” she finally told him.

  “I’d like that. Mom doesn’t come by with Brett until after six because she has to work.”

  She thought his eyes looked tired, and in the sunlight, his skin, as well as the whites of his eyes, looked quite yellow. “I’m not going to see you in the hall racing any more wheelchairs, am I?”

  “Not today.” A grimace of pain crossed his face, but he still managed one of his illuminating smiles. “No promises about tomorrow though.”

  Meg left Donovan and found her way to the nurses’ station. At the desk, an older nurse, Mrs. Vasquez, said, “So, there you are. I’ve sent your partner on an errand, but I need both of you to help with activity time in the playroom for the children under age ten.”

  “I was with a patient named Donovan,” Meg explained even though Mrs. Vasquez hadn’t asked for an explanation.

  “Alana told me. He’s one nice kid. Has a friendly word for everybody and a special affinity for the smaller kids. We don’t get many as nice as him.”

  Meg itched to ask more about him, but just then Alana came down the hall. “Mission accomplished,” she told Mrs. Vasquez.

  “Then it’s to the playroom for both of you.”