A Time to Die Read online

Her mother left and returned with Vince, smiling and asking him questions. Kara felt a flood of gratitude toward her mother for acting as if everything were normal. Once he was seated at Kara’s vanity, she left them alone.

  “Are you wearing your bathrobe to the carnival?” Vince teased.

  “There’s a cat suit under it,” she said. “Do you like my makeup?”

  “It looks great.” He leaned closer. “I like your whiskers and your button nose.”

  “Sit still or I’ll draw your eyebrows on crooked.”

  He caught her wrist and searched her face with his gaze. “You’re not well, are you? I can hear it.”

  She saw no reason to lie to Vince. “I started running a tiny fever this morning, and I’m coughing. But I’ve been pumping cough syrup with codeine, and I feel pretty good right now.”

  “I’ll bet,” Vince said dryly. “You know we don’t have to go. I don’t mind staying here with you.”

  “I’m not staying home,” she said stubbornly.

  “Listen, I want to take you to that party as much as you want to go.”

  “But you’ll understand if I have to leave early?”

  “Just say the word, and I’ll have you out of there faster than a bat out of—”

  She put her fingers against his lips. “Don’t say it.”

  He grinned, then grew serious and stroked the side of her cheek with the back of his hand. “I’ll take care of you, Kara. For just as long as you need me, I’ll take care of you.”

  The school halls were swarming with kids of all sizes in every manner of costume by the time Kara and Vince arrived. Smells of chalk and library paste had been replaced by scents of popcorn, caramel apples, and cotton candy. The gym had been turned into a haunted house, where screams and bloodcurdling cackles rose from audio tapes as well as from people touring.

  As Vince and Kara approached the darkened room, small children moved aside, eyes growing wide at the sight of Vince’s sweeping black cape and vampire teeth. He hissed at one small boy, who ducked behind an older one. Kara whispered, “Sorry I made us late.”

  “No problem. Where’re you headed?”

  “My booth’s set up in the cafeteria.”

  “Do you want a tour of the haunted house before you go?”

  “No, thanks. I never did like the dark.”

  He took her hand. “I’ll come get you as soon as we close up shop here, then we’ll go to the party if you’re up to it.”

  “I’ll be up to it.” She was feeling better. A bit numb and lightheaded, but at least she didn’t have a constant urge to cough. “See you,” she told him, and walked to the cafeteria, touching the wall for support because her knees felt rubbery.

  Once inside, she wove through droves of children and stalls, games and vendors until she found the art booth. “It’s about time,” one of the senior girls snapped. “You were supposed to be here half an hour ago.”

  “Sorry. My date had car trouble.” She didn’t like lying, but she couldn’t say she was sick, either.

  “Well, get busy,” the girl ordered. “There’s a line a mile long.”

  Kara set to work at once on a small girl dressed as a fairy princess who wanted a butterfly on her cheek. Kara’s hands trembled when she picked up a paintbrush. She fought to control them. You can do this, she told herself, and before long, Kara settled into a rhythm. Soon she lost count of all the faces she painted. And even though her back and arms ached, she was having a good time.

  “Can you paint dragons?” a male voice asked.

  Kara paused from cleaning her brush and stared up at Eric Lawrence. A flood of emotions swept through her. She wanted to act cool and distant toward him. She wanted to smile and flirt with him. “If that’s what you want,” she ended up saying, rather stiffly, “a dragon you’ll get.”

  He sat in the metal chair in front of her. His shoulders were broad, his chest wide, making her feel small, like a bedraggled kitten. His brown hair swept over his forehead, and his eyelashes, long and thick, intensified the aqua blue of his eyes. He regarded her through half-closed lids.

  She dabbed her brush into a pot of green paint. “You want a cartoon dragon or the real thing?”

  “The real thing, of course.”

  She began to create a dragon’s face with the brush and saw him smile. “What’s wrong?”

  “It tickles.”

  “It won’t take long.”

  “Don’t hurry.”

  She felt her heart hammer against her rib cage and wondered if it was the effects of her medications or his nearness. “Do you want the dragon breathing fire?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I would guess you do.” She swirled red-yellow flames from the dragon’s mouth. She was so close to him that she caught the scent of his breath—cool and minty. When she finished, she backed away and surveyed her handiwork. She thought it pretty good. “All done,” she told Eric, as businesslike as possible.

  He was staring at her hands, at her funny-looking clubbed fingers. She quickly put the brush aside and slipped them under the smock she was wearing over her costume.

  Eric glanced into a hand mirror alongside her brushes. “You do good work. Thanks.” He stood, looking down at her, and for a moment, she thought he might say something else. But he didn’t and she watched him walk away. Why did he always make her feel as if she were on a roller coaster? She hated the constant turmoil she felt every time she was around him, but couldn’t bear the thought of not feeling it, either. Face it, she told herself angrily, you’re going crazy, and all because of Eric Lawrence.

  By the time the carnival wound down, Kara had painted over fifty faces. She was exhausted. She’d been fighting off a constant urge to cough. Her chest felt as if bands of steel were tightening around it, her head hurt. She knew her fever was rising. She slipped into the bathroom, took more cough syrup, and rested her cheek against the cool tile. “Give it up, body,” she muttered through gritted teeth. “I’m going to that party.”

  By the time Vince came for her, she was feeling more human. They drove to Howie’s, a large Colonial-style house right outside the city, on rolling pasture land. They parked alongside a white split-rail fence and walked up a shale driveway slowly, so that Kara could catch her breath. A full harvest moon shone down in a clear, star-studded sky, and an autumn chill tinged the air. The cold felt good to Kara, and she almost hated going inside the house filled with noise and light and too many dancing kids.

  People called greetings, but all Kara wanted to do was find a chair and regain her strength. “Let me get you something to drink,” Vince shouted above the music and voices as he deposited her on a sofa.

  Too out of breath to speak, she gave him a thumbs-up signal. Her lungs felt on fire. She longed to cough, but held her breath until the urge passed. She watched Vince shoulder his way back through the crowd, balancing two sodas. He sat on the arm of the sofa beside her, putting his free arm around her protectively. “You sure you’re all right?”

  She took a big swig of the cola. “No problem.” She wanted to change the subject. “Everybody looks great,” she told him.

  Around them, people in colorful costumes danced. “You’re the only black cat,” Vince said, leaning down toward her ear. “And a beautiful cat, too. Pur-r-rfect, I’d say.”

  “You big bloodsucker … I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.”

  Vince laughed. “Howie has a basement full of video games. Will you come with me downstairs and we can try a few?”

  Kara didn’t want to navigate the stairs, or manipulate the buttons for the games. “Go on without me,” she urged. “I’d just like to sit here a while and watch everybody. I’m okay. Don’t treat me like I’m sick, Vince. Please.”

  “You sure?”

  She gave him a little shove. “Go on.”

  Vince bent and kissed her forehead. “I won’t be gone long.” He untied his black cape and laid it across her lap. “I don’t want this thing in my way. ‘Vait for me.’
” He used his best Transylvanian accent.

  “I ‘vill,’ ” she mimicked. The urge to cough was overwhelming her. She remembered how cool the night air had felt and decided she needed to get outside before she fainted.

  Kara threaded her way through the throngs of dancers and was almost to the doorway when an arm reached out and circled her waist. “Look what I caught,” a familiar voice said.

  She felt herself spun around, locked in a muscled embrace. As she came to a stop, she looked up to see a fire-breathing dragon staring down.

  Ten

  “DANCE WITH ME?” Eric asked. Someone had lowered the lights, and a slow song was playing.

  Before Kara could say anything, he locked his arms around her and began moving with the music. Eric’s arms felt solid and secure, and the flannel of his shirt felt soft against her cheek. She felt as if she were floating. Her heart hammered, then slowed as she lost herself in the music and the sheer physical nearness of him. “Everybody’s telling me that the dragon you painted is awesome,” he reported.

  She pulled back only slightly. “What is your costume, anyway?”

  He was dressed in jeans, boots, and a shirt with one sleeve torn off so that his large biceps showed. A bandanna was wound around his forehead. “Texas barroom brawler.”

  “You fit the role.” She snuggled back into his chest.

  “And you fit pretty good right here.”

  All too soon for Kara, the song ended, and breathless, she drew away. Adrenaline had carried her through the dance, but now her physical strength started to ebb. Silently, she cursed her weak lungs, her lousy genetics. “I was headed out for fresh air,” she told him as casually as she could.

  “I’ll come with you.” He held her hand and led the way outdoors. She followed him along a flagstone patio, down a terraced pathway, toward a single pine tree that kept a lone vigil alongside the split-rail fence. Moonlight spilled across rolling meadows and gave the night a ghostly quality.

  Kara used the tree’s trunk for support, and discreetly turned her head and coughed, clearing her lungs as quietly as possible, ignoring the cough’s attempt to rip out of her. The chilly night air permeated her flimsy cat suit, and she struggled to keep her teeth from chattering. She couldn’t bear the thought of deserting this moment in the moonlight with Eric just because she was cold.

  “You’re freezing,” he observed, rubbing her arms briskly with his hands.

  “Just a little.”

  “Put this on.” He took Vince’s cape, which was still draped over her arm, and which she’d all but forgotten while they’d danced, and draped it over her shoulders. It offered surprising warmth. He tied it under her chin. She didn’t trust herself to look up into his eyes, because then he’d know—really know—how she felt about him.

  “There,” he said, his big fingers fumbling with a lopsided bow. He stepped back and leaned on the split-rail fence.

  “Thanks,” she said. She studied him. Why couldn’t he simply act flip and clever, as he had the first day they’d met? She wished she could turn back the clock and relive the lightheartedness of that afternoon, before he’d known about her CF.

  “What am I going to do about you, Kara?”

  His tone was subdued and so sincere that his question caught her by surprise. “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t stay away from you.”

  “You seem to be doing a fine job of it,” she said quietly, but without malice.

  “I know it seems that way, but you don’t know how hard it’s been.”

  She was skeptical. “We just danced together, but after tonight, how will it be between us? Will you still ignore me in the halls? Will you duck into the nearest open door whenever you see me coming?”

  He turned his head, and she saw his jaw clench. She thought he might walk away, but instead he asked, “What’s between you and Vince?”

  “We’re friends.”

  “Vince doesn’t act as if he’s just your friend.”

  “Vince understands me. We’re a lot alike.” There were so many things she couldn’t say to Eric because she didn’t want him to think of her as sick.

  “I would like to understand you, too.” Eric’s words came haltingly.

  No you wouldn’t, she thought, knowing the overwhelming burden of her illness. He had no idea what he was asking. “Haven’t you ever had a best friend?”

  “No. I’ve only had lots of friends. Tons of friends,” Eric added sardonically. “I’ve always known how to have a good time, and people like me for that.”

  Especially the girls, she thought. “Having fun’s important.”

  “I don’t get close to people very often. It keeps things from getting complicated. But with you and Vince—it’s different. I can tell.”

  “Vince and I go back a long time. We’ve always shared this condition.” She hated to bring up her illness. “People who aren’t sick don’t understand. Christy does. It’s complicated.” She shrugged and stared up at him. “What do you want me to be to you?” She wasn’t sure where she found the boldness to ask such a question, but she had to know. She didn’t want to be one of “Eric’s girls.”

  “I’m still trying to figure it out.” Her heart sank. What had she expected? A pledge of commitment and devotion? She turned her head, and Eric quickly added, “I didn’t mean that the way it came out. I guess I want to get to know you better. It’s a start.”

  Knowing her meant knowing about CF. And accepting it. “I’d like that,” she blurted out before she could stop her lips from saying what her heart was feeling.

  “And Vince?”

  “He and I will always have a special relationship. Why does it have to be either-or? It’s different with both of you.”

  “It usually doesn’t work out for a girl to bounce between two guys.”

  She wanted to debate with him, but her chest was tightening up again and a headache pounded behind her eyes. She was certain that her fever had returned.

  “Kara?” Vince’s voice called to her, and she and Eric both turned toward it. Vince was standing in the moonlight, in his costume. He looked like a prince out of darkness from a fairy tale. For Kara, his presence was like a lifeline thrown to a drowning person. She was sick, and he would help her. She trusted him.

  “I’m here,” she said.

  Vince ignored Eric, came up beside her, and put his arm around her. Gratefully, she leaned into him, and immediately, he bolstered her with his body. “I was thinking that I should get you home,” Vince said, sounding casual. “You know what happens to us vampires if the rays of the sun hit us.”

  Kara’s knees felt rubbery, and if it hadn’t been for Vince’s arms, they would have buckled. Inwardly, she pleaded, Don’t let Eric see me get sick. “I wouldn’t want to be responsible for your turning to dust particles,” she managed as cheerfully as she could.

  Vince turned to Eric. “So, we’re splitting. See you at school next week.”

  Scowling, Eric shoved his hands into the hip pockets of his jeans. “Sure. I’ll see you Monday,” he said directly to Kara.

  “We’ve got that scene to read in English,” Vince said. “Do you know your lines?”

  “Like my own name.”

  Kara wasn’t sure she could stand upright, even with Vince’s help. Deftly he led her around the back of the house, and as soon as they were out of sight of the pine tree, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her.

  “I can walk,” she mumbled against his neck.

  “You can’t even stand,” he said, his own breath coming hard.

  “But you’ll have problems. Your lungs—”

  “Hush. Don’t make it any worse. I want to be able to help you. To be strong for you.” He didn’t say “like Eric,” but she knew what he was thinking. Pain racked her, and breathing became more difficult. “It’s not much farther,” he said.

  In a daze, she watched the house recede in the distance, watched the moonlight falling like a pale white shroud, and saw in her mi
nd’s eye Eric standing against the fence, his arms crossed, while the dragon on his cheek spit fire.

  * * *

  Kara lay in her bed, propped up with pillows, her breath coming in short, rapid gasps. A pool of light from her bedside lamp flooded onto the bed, making the patterned sheets jump out in vivid colors. Her mother held her hand and every so often stroked her face. “Dr. McGee should call back any minute now.”

  Kara felt tears trickle down her cheeks. “He’s going to put me back in the hospital. Oh, Mom, I don’t want to be sick. I hate CF.” She didn’t want to cry because crying only worsened her breathing problems, but she couldn’t help herself. “I’m so tired of being sick. This was supposed to be such a great year.”

  Her mother dabbed Kara’s face with a tissue. “I know, honey. But maybe they can clear up the infection quickly. You could still be back before Thanksgiving if you respond to the antibiotics.”

  “I wish Daddy were here.”

  “He’s stuck in bad weather out in Chicago, but he’ll get a flight back as soon as possible.”

  Kara wadded the bed linens with her fists. “It’s not fair! Why am I being punished like this? What did I do to deserve this disease?”

  She heard her mother’s voice catch. “You didn’t do anything, dear. If your dad and I weren’t both carriers, if we only had known before we were married …” She allowed the sentence to trail.

  “Are you sorry you had me?”

  “Oh, no, baby. Never. Even seeing you suffer could never make me wish you’d never been born. I love you so, Kara.”

  Kara twisted away. “Well, I wish I’d never been born.”

  “Please don’t say that.”

  Kara turned her fevered face toward her mother. “I had such a good time tonight. It was like magic. I painted a bunch of little kids’ faces. They were so cute. And then later, at the party, I danced with Eric, and we talked in the moonlight. Just for a little bit, I felt I was just an ordinary girl, flirting with a really cool guy. Oh, Mom, it was so perfect.”

  The phone on her bedside table rang. Her mother snatched up the receiver and after a short conversation hung up. “Dr. McGee wants us at the hospital right away. Can you manage in the car if I take you, or should I call the paramedics?” her mother asked.