The Legacy: Making Wishes Come True Read online

“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.”

  Jenny cast Richard a longing glance, and he nodded, urging her to go on. “We’ll talk later,” he promised. She hurried up the stairs, and he followed, passing Marian as he went.

  Marian’s hand darted out and caught Richard’s arm. “You be careful, Richard. Don’t hurt her,” Marian warned. “I won’t stand for it.” Her eyes looked steely blue as she spoke.

  Richard pulled away from her grasp and held her gaze. “I’m not your enemy, Mrs. Crawford. We’re on the same side. We both want what’s best for Jenny.” He stepped around Marian and took the stairs two at a time.

  At the top, he reentered the lively party crowd. In the corner, the magnificent Christmas tree rose loftily and glittered like a jewel. This is Jenny’s world, he told himself ruefully. Sick or well, this was the world she had been born to. He felt he would forever be an outsider.

  The only thing that broke up Jenny’s monotonous days was sitting for a formal portrait painted in oil by one of New England’s most noted artists. It was part of her Christmas gift from her grandmother.

  At first, Jenny had thought the idea silly, but once she met the artist, and caught his enthusiasm for his work, she warmed to the project. He posed her in her blue velvet gown in the library beside the magnificent arched window that spilled winter sunlight into the room. She posed for two hours daily, at the same time each day, so that the light would remain constant.

  “Where will you hang it?” she asked her grandmother, who often attended the sittings.

  “Why, over the mantel, of course.”

  “But Grandfather’s portrait’s there.”

  “It’s time to hang him in the hall with the rest of the Crawfords. It’s time for youth and beauty to watch over this old relic.”

  “He may not like being rehung,” Jenny teased.

  Grandmother waved her hand. “Posh. I’ll hang him where I choose. He can argue with me in eternity if he doesn’t approve.”

  Jenny also asked about returning to school full-time.

  “I’d rather you not,” Grandmother said. “The tutor is eager to work with you once more, and besides, you’re doing so well with her guidance. I see no need for you to return to the classroom.”

  Jenny felt as if she should put up an argument, but she honestly didn’t have the heart for one. She remembered Elaine’s difficult adjustment in returning to school. She recalled the stories Kimbra had told her over the phone. “People talk behind my back,” Kimbra had said. “They whisper about me and treat me like I’m a freak. I wish there were someway I could hide my problem. It’s the pits not being normal, not being able to fit in.”

  Kids could be thoughtless and cruel, and Jenny didn’t want to be treated that way at her school. If she worked hard and stayed on grade level, then she could return next fall. Surely, she’d be completely recovered by then. Her leukemia would be a thing of the past and, therefore, of no interest to the girls who liked to gossip. She told her grandmother, “I don’t mind being tutored this term, but when I’m a senior, I want to attend regular classes.”

  “Absolutely,” Grandmother agreed. “When you’re a senior, after this whole experience is behind you, you can do anything you want.”

  By February, the artist was putting the finishing touches on Jenny’s portrait, and she was growing excited because Richard had written that he’d be spending spring break at home.

  “You have a phone call, Jennifer,” Mrs. McCully called up the stairs one afternoon, following her sitting.

  Hoping it might be Kimbra or Elaine, Jenny eagerly picked up the receiver. “Jenny here,” she announced.

  “This is Shannon—Nore
en’s sister. Do you remember me?”

  “Of course.” Jenny felt her stomach constrict because Shannon had no reason to call her. “What’s wrong? Is Noreen back in the hospital?”

  Shannon started crying. “Noreen passed away last night. She made me promise that I’d call her friends when it happened. Her funeral’s the day after tomorrow.”

  Twenty

  JENNY PEERED OUT of the darkened limousine, at the lighted front of the funeral home. People streamed in and out of the large double doors, friends of Noreen’s family, paying their last respects. Now that she was actually here, Jenny hesitated to go inside. How could she endure seeing her friend lying in a coffin?

  “I hate being here.” Elaine sat in the seat across from her, sniffing.

  “It’s bad, all right,” Kimbra said beside her, “but at least, we’re here together.”

  Jenny’s insistence on attending had caused one of the worst arguments she’d ever had with her grandmother. “There’s no reason for you to go,” Marian had said. “We’ll send flowers—as large a basket as you want.”

  “Not go! You’re not serious! I have to go. She was my friend.”

  “I won’t hear of it.”

  “Then I’ll catch the subway and go. You can’t keep me away.”

  “Funerals are depressing.”

  “Tell me about it! I was there when we buried my parents, remember?” The words had hurt her grandmother. Jenny saw her wince, but didn’t back down. “I’m going.”

  “Then I’ll go with you.”

  “I don’t want you to go with me!” Jenny had shouted. “I don’t need you smothering me. This is something I want to do alone, so please don’t come along! You’re not doing me any favors.”

  In the end, Jenny had her way, and in an effort to smooth over their fight, Grandmother had arranged to fly in both Elaine and Kimbra, and to have them spend a few days with Jenny following the funeral. They’d come straight to the funeral home from the airport. “I’ve never met anyone who had her own chauffeur before,” Kimbra said when the limo had pulled up to the curb and Barry loaded their luggage.

  “The car belongs to my grandmother,” Jenny replied, feeling as if she should apologize. When they’d all been in the hospital together, they had been equals, but now, her wealth set her apart and made her self-conscious.

  Elaine pulled some makeup from her purse and dabbed it on, while Jenny stared out at the looming entrance of the building.

  “Forget it,” Kimbra growled. “Noreen can’t appreciate it, and no one else cares.”

  Elaine began to sob, and Jenny put her arm around her. “Don’t be mean, Kimbra. This is hard enough on all of us without snide remarks.”

  “Sorry,” Kimbra replied contritely, slinking down into the seat.

  Barry opened the car door, and Jenny scrambled out. Patches of snow and ice on the ground shone in the artificial lights of the parking lot. “Wait for us, please,” Jenny told him.

  The three of them made their way slowly up the walkway of the funeral parlor, holding each other’s hands. They stepped into the foyer. Soft music played, and weeping could be heard coming from various rooms.

  “This way,” Jenny said, reading Noreen’s name and room number on a wall directory.

  “This is all so bizarre,” Kimbra grumbled. “Like taking a ticket to see a show.”

  “Shush,” Elaine demanded. “Show some respect.”

  Jenny’s heart was thudding, and she felt queasy. Her grandmother had been right—she shouldn’t have come. She stepped into a room packed with people. Chairs lined the walls, and she recognized Noreen’s parents sitting and crying softly as people came over and whispered condolences to them.

  “I feel sick,” Elaine muttered.

  “Don’t you dare,” Kimbra warned. “We’re all in this together.”

  Jenny swallowed her own taste of sickness and strained to see through the groups of people. In the very front of the room, she spied baskets and wreaths of flowers and the edge of a coffin. “I can’t go up there. I can’t go look at her body.”

  The three of them clung together, afraid to move. Shannon emerged from a small cluster of mourners. “You’re here,” she said, greeting them like long lost friends. “Please, come see Mom and Dad. They’ve been asking about you.”

  “They have?” Jenny was surprised.

  Shannon led them over to her parents. Noreen’s mother reached up and grasped Jenny’s hand. “It’s so good of the three of you to come. Your friendships meant so much to my darling girl. Your calls, your letters—well, they brought her such pleasure in the midst of all her pain.”

  Kimbra and Elaine mumbled their thanks, but Jenny felt weighed down by guilt. Sure, she’d called and written, but she had also lived right across town and had never come over for a visit. Elaine and Kimbra had an excuse—they lived in other states—but Jenny felt ashamed.

  Why hadn’t she come? She planned to, but had never followed through. Because I didn’t believe Noreen would really die. The answer came to her with sobering clarity. “I—I’m sorry I didn’t see her before … before …” Jenny heard herself say.

  “It’s just as well,” Noreen’s mother said, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. “She was so very ill at the end, and in such terrible pain.”

  “No more pain now, Ma,” Shannon said.

  Jenny felt numb and woodenly backed away. She felt Kimbra take her by the elbow and heard her whisper, “Let’s get this over with.”

  Huddled together, the three friends walked toward the coffin. Jenny’s heart hammered, and her feet felt leaden. Baskets and bouquets lined the floor surrounding a coffin covered by a mantle of pink roses. Inside a polished blue casket, Noreen rested on a bed of white satin. Jenny heard Elaine gasp and begin crying harder.

  Her own eyes were dry, as if she’d passed beyond feeling, beyond emotions. She’d become a camera, simply recording pictures and scenes. She wasn’t a part of this event. She was removed, floating above it.

  Noreen was dressed in white, and in her folded hands, she held a crucifix. “Her confirmation dress,” Jenny heard someone say in passing. “Doesn’t she look like a sleeping angel?”

  “White should be reserved for brides,” Kimbra remarked stonily.

  “She would have preferred red,” Elaine added, between sobs.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Jenny said, pulling them toward the door. She knew she couldn’t stand to be trapped in that room another moment. Noreen wasn’t there—only a waxlike substitute of her.

  Jenny hurried outside into the biting cold air. Her teeth chattered, but she was drenched in sweat. “Are you all right. Miss?” Barry asked.

  “Just get us home, please” she replied, desperately trying to hold back tears. Once they were on the road, she allowed herself to weep. “It’s not fair,” she murmured.

  “None of it’s fair,” Kimbra said, “but it’s the way things are.”

  When Barry pulled the car into the long driveway, both Elaine and Kimbra stared out of the window openmouthed. The great mansion was lit with floodlights, and the massive front doors gleamed with brass accents. “You live here?” Kimbra asked.

  Again, Jenny’s defenses surfaced. “It’s my grandmother’s—been in the family for generations.”

  Grandmother greeted them cordially, but Jenny thought Marian clung to her a fraction too long. She didn’t want to be treated like a baby in front of her friends, so she pulled away quickly. “I’ve had Timothy set up extra beds in your room,” Grandmother announced. “And Mrs. McCully has laid out snacks on your bureau, so please, relax and enjoy yourselves.”

  All the way up the winding staircase, Kimbra and Elaine kept their gazes darting every which way, and when they were alone in Jenny’s spacious bedroom, Elaine blurted, “Gripes, I had no idea you were a freaking Rockefeller! Have you been rich all your life?”

  “Only after I was seven … after my folks were killed.” Jenny hoped to stem a flood of questions by reminding them th
at she was an orphan and hadn’t been born to this luxury.

  Kimbra tossed her purse on one of the rollaway beds. “Noreen would have loved it. To think you lived with us in the ward all that time, and her little nose for news never got wind of it.”

  “I didn’t see that it made any difference between us. We were all sick. It—it doesn’t matter to either of you, does it?”

  Kimbra and Elaine looked at one another. “Not to me,” Elaine said. “You’re right—we were all sick.”

  “Yeah … cancer, the great equalizer,” Kimbra mumbled.

  Elaine helped herself to a cola and chocolate chip cookies from the sumptuous tray Mrs. McCully had prepared. “That viewing business at the funeral home was the pits. When I die, promise you all won’t come stand over my coffin and stare at me.”

  “Promise me you won’t die until we’re all too old to travel,” Kimbra countered.

  Jenny sat heavily on her lace-trimmed coverlet. “I wish Noreen were here. This sleepover is something she should be a part of.”

  “She would have loved it,” Kimbra said, poking her head into Jenny’s private bathroom. “No lines for the toilet.”

  Tears started trickling down Elaine’s cheeks. “I miss her. She was the first friend I made in the hospital.”

  “She wouldn’t want us to sit around bawling,” Kimbra said, handing Elaine a tissue.

  “You’re right,” Jenny concurred. “It’s time to send in the clowns.”

  “What’s that mean?” Elaine blew her nose.

  “It’s an old circus trick. Whenever some disaster happens under the big top, the ringmaster sends in clowns to divert the audience’s attention.” Jenny raised a glass of cola. “Here’s to Noreen. I hope she’s happy in heaven.”

  “To Noreen.” Kimbra and Elaine joined in the toast.

  Jenny set her glass down. “You know what makes me feel bad? I never gave Noreen that party.”

  “What party?”

  “The one I promised her the night before her surgery.”

  “I remember.” Elaine munched on a cookie. “In spite of it all, we had some good times, didn’t we?”