Six Months to Live Read online

  They renewed their friendship instantaneously, as if no time had passed between them. They walked the trails, exploring the grounds and each other’s lives.

  “My hair’s growing back,” Dawn said, pulling off her scarf in the privacy of the woods.

  “Mine, too,” Sandy said. “And guess what? It’s goin’ to grow in curly. Can you believe it?” She pulled off her scarf, too, and each girl explored the thick growths of hair on the other’s head.

  They retied their scarfs and continued walking. “How’s it goin’ for you?” Sandy asked.

  Dawn shrugged. “All right, I guess. I do exactly what the doctors tell me to do. I still do my Imaging every day. But sometimes I feel . . .” she groped for a word, “. . . old,” she finished.

  “I know what you mean,” Sandy confided. “One day I was a kid and life’s real simple. Then I got sick,” she shrugged.

  From far away, they heard the sound of a clanging bell. “What’s that?” Sandy asked.

  “That’s the way they call you to meetings around here,” she explained. “Come on, race you back to the main hall.”

  Both girls took off running and arrived back at the central building, breathless. Inside, clusters of campers were already seated on benches along the wall. Several counselors stood in the center of the room. Dawn recognized Joan Clarke and waved.

  A young, dark-haired, muscular man, who looked like an athlete, blasted a whistle that stopped the noisy din of chatter and said, “I’m Dr. Ben Isaacson. Call me Ben. I’m in charge of this place and all of you. We have a few rules.” A loud moan went up. Ben laughed and held up his hands. “But very few rules,” he added.

  Everybody clapped and cheered. “Many of you have been here before,” he continued. “Some of you are new. You all have agenda sheets in your orientation packets. Right now, I want all of you to go back to your cabins, meet your counselors and plan to be back here at six o’clock sharp for dinner.”

  Another cheer went up. “Then we’ll meet down by the lake at sunset for the official bonfire opening of the best little camp in the country!” Dr. Ben yelled. Kids clapped and cheered. Dawn caught their excitement. She scanned the room, seeing her fellow campers for the first time.

  There were kids of every size and shape, some younger, several older than her. Many girls wore scarves. Several boys were bald and seemed proud of it. Some kids wore leg braces. A few were in wheel chairs. Others looked as healthy as horses with no trace of chemotherapy or radiation side effects.

  “I’m gonna have a real good time,” Sandy drawled in her ear. Dawn followed her gaze and saw two very good-looking boys on the far side of the room. Both were tall and lean. But before she could get a better look, the crowd broke up and everyone headed for their cabins and the adventure of the evening ahead.

  * * * * *

  The campers gathered down by the lake in time to watch the sun set. The brilliant red sphere balanced on the rim of the water like a beach ball. Then it slipped beyond the horizon, leaving the soft haze of twilight behind it.

  Dawn and Sandy nestled on log benches facing a massive pyramid of twigs and logs. Excited whispers heralded the coming of the lighting of the bonfire. Dawn waited with anticipation. She looked out across the water in time to see a canoe slicing through the dark, glassy surface. Two people, dressed as Indians, dipped oars into the water, propelling the slender canoe toward their shore.

  Dr. Ben stood and said in hushed tones, “The Indians were the first to see this land, the first to travel across this lake, the first to hunt this area. We pay tribute to them and their spirit of harmony with Nature.”

  By now, the Indians had landed their canoe on the shore. A man and a woman, dressed in the buckskin and feathers of an ancient Ohio tribe, emerged from the craft and walked to the side of the pile of wood.

  Dr. Ben continued. “As you know, our ritual is the same every year. Soon we will light the bonfire. We’ll gather before it, sing, roast marshmallows and watch the fire burn low. Once it’s cooled, each of you will gather some of the ashes in a box and take them home with you. Guard them.

  “Next year, when you return, you’ll bring the ashes back and toss them onto that year’s bonfire. In this way, each of us comes back to this place, bringing some of the past, leaving with some of the future. Will those of you who have ashes from last year please bring them forward?” he asked.

  Over half of the kids stood up pulling small matchboxes from their pockets. Solemnly, they filed forward, opened their boxes and sprinkled the contents on the heap of wood. Some carried two boxes. One boy, who shook out the contents of two separate boxes said, “This is for Parker Johnson, who died last January.”

  A girl shook out two boxes and said, “This is for Ruth Myers. She passed away in May.”

  Goose bumps traveled the length of Dawn’s back. “‘Ashes to ashes, Dust to dust.’” She remembered the quote from Sunday School.

  After all the ashes had been sprinkled, the Indians stepped forward and lit a torch. With a cry and a whoop, the man dipped the torch onto the wood, trotting around the pyramid, lighting it in several places. The dry twigs caught and the fire spread in bright consuming flames to the crest of the pile.

  It burned and crackled and a giant cheer went up from the assembly. Dawn felt a dampness in her eyes for all the kids she’d never met who’d been here before her. Then she clapped and cheered, too. “I’ll be back!” she told herself as she watched the great fire burn and glow in the darkening sky. “I promise. I’ll be back!”

  CHAPTER

  10

  “Don’t look now, but those two boys are starin’ at us,” Sandy’s soft whisper said in Dawn’s ear. Dawn focused extra attention on the end of her marshmallow roasting stick. She slid her eyes casually to the direction Sandy had indicated.

  Two guys, the same two she’d noticed earlier at the orientation, were indeed staring at her and Sandy! Dawn’s heart did a staccato beat and she forced her attention back onto the marshmallow over the bonfire. It had turned charcoal black.

  “It’s ruined!” she moaned, tossing the gooey mess onto the ground.

  Sandy giggled. “They’re real cute, aren’t they?”

  “The marshmallows?” Dawn asked teasingly. But she agreed with her friend. Both boys were tall, well-built and very cute! One boy wore jeans. The other boy wore shorts showing lean, muscular, athletic legs. The one with jeans had a full head of curly brown hair, while the other boy’s hair danced with bright blond glints from the firelight. Both looked vital and healthy.

  The bonfire glowed lower and lower. The counselors led the group in some songs and Dawn kept noticing the way the two boys kept looking at her and Sandy. It made her feel feminine and exciting. The boys were definitely interested! It was a good feeling.

  Dr. Ben, as the campers called him, stood up and raked sand over the dying embers of the fire, letting the night air cool and extinguish it. Other counselors handed out boxes and each camper quietly filed forward and received a small pile of the ashes from Dr. Ben.

  Dawn closed her matchbox over its ashes and clutched it firmly in her hand. Afterward, Dr. Ben dismissed everyone to the cabins with the message, “Tomorrow’s a big day. Breakfast is at eight A.M., followed by arts and crafts, swimming, lunch, rest, horseback riding, dinner, a nature walk and games in the mess hall. I suggest we all get some sleep!”

  Cat calls and cries of “Boo!” filled the evening air. Dr. Ben laughed and held up his hands for silence. “All right! All right! But remember, we old people need our rest. After all, we’re in training for the Special Olympics on the last day of camp. And we’ll trounce the wimps who don’t get their rest!”

  More boos and hisses arose. Open challenges were loudly issued. And then everyone broke up and headed down the moonlit paths toward their cabins.

  “What’s the Special Olympics?” Sandy asked. Dawn shrugged, but it sounded like fun.

  “It’s a day of games and trophies,” a male voice explained from behind
them.

  Both girls turned, and the two boys who’d been eyeing them all evening fell into step beside them. Dawn’s mouth went dry. The boy next to her stood almost six feet. His muscular build rippled under his T-shirt and shorts. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Greg Buchannan. This is my friend, Mike McConnell.”

  Dawn managed to utter her name. Sandy introduced herself as well.

  “You talk funny,” Mike blurted out at Sandy. “Where are you from?”

  “West Virginia,” Sandy drawled in her thickest accent. Dawn suppressed a giggle.

  “Greg and I, we’re from Cleveland,” Mike said.

  Greg asked Dawn, “This is your first year here, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” she said. “How about you?”

  “We’re veterans,” Greg told her. “This is my third year and Mike’s second.”

  Surprised, Dawn blurted, “You both have cancer?” She felt her cheeks flame and was glad it was dark. Of course they have cancer, stupid! she admonished herself.

  “I’ve been in remission three years,” Greg said. “I like coming to camp. I look forward to it all year.”

  Three years! Both boys looked about 15 years old to Dawn. And they looked so strong and healthy.

  “Which cabin are you in?” Greg asked Dawn. The moon ducked behind a cloud cover and the woods grew dark. Dawn pulled closer to the big blond boy next to her.

  “Coyote,” she said. “We’re in Coyote cabin. How about you?”

  “Quail,” Greg said. Dawn noticed that Mike had fallen behind with Sandy. She was walking alone in the beautiful soft summer night with Greg. The hushed air of the woods filled with the scent of pine. Her heart thudded expectantly.

  “You’re going to have a great time,” he said. They turned a corner on the trail and Coyote cabin rose out of the dark.

  “Here we are,” he stated.

  Sandy and Mike arrived beside them. “See ya tomorrow at breakfast,” Greg said, looking down at Dawn from his height. The moon reemerged and cast silver patterns on his hair and eyelashes.

  “Sure,” Dawn said, hoping she didn’t sound too eager. “See you at breakfast.”

  Quickly, she and Sandy bounded into the cabin. The other girls had already arrived. Dawn let out her breath and felt a grin stretching from ear to ear.

  Sandy squealed and plopped dramatically onto her bed. “I think I’m in love!” she sighed.

  Dawn’s heart swelled and she fell onto her bed in total contentment. “I’m going to have a wonderful time, Sandy. I just know it! Isn’t Greg the cutest thing to ever breathe air?” she asked.

  Both girls barely noticed their cabinmates as they settled in for the night. Dawn lay on her bunk in the dark for a long time, too excited to sleep. Whispers and giggles sounded throughout the cabin late into the night as girls swapped stories and told jokes. This was going to be the best two weeks of her life!

  * * * * *

  Greg and Mike sat with Dawn and Sandy at breakfast. The food tasted wonderful! Arts and crafts proved a little boring, so Mike livened things up by draping toilet paper over the natural beam rafters of the building’s interior.

  “Decoration!” he told everyone.

  Before lunch, Sandy and Dawn eagerly changed into their swimsuits in their cabin, anxious to meet Greg and Mike by the pool. Joan surveyed her cabin charges and told the group of eight girls, “Ladies, do yourself a favor. If any of you are growing back hair from chemotherapy, please wear a scarf to the pool. It’s no fun rubbing lotion on sunburned heads in the middle of the night!”

  Everyone laughed, and Sandy and Dawn both retied their scarves securely.

  At the pool, the aqua water beckoned invitingly. “Wish I wasn’t still so skinny,” Sandy complained, searching the crowd for Mike. “I don’t have a curve left!”

  Dawn agreed, wishing the same thing for herself. But the effects of the chemotherapy had almost worn off. Except for re-growing hair and adding about twelve pounds, she felt she looked pretty good in her one-piece emerald green swimsuit.

  Greg and Mike arrived at the pool minutes after Dawn and Sandy. Greg was tanned and lean, testifying to many hours spent in the sun. Mike still wore jeans, but his bare chest was also firm and muscular like Greg’s.

  “You’re not swimmin’?” Sandy asked, the disappointment showing in her voice.

  Mike dropped his eyes and jammed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “Naw,” he said.

  “But why?” she asked, her blue eyes wide. “Can’t you swim?”

  Mike stood self-consciously for a moment. “I, uh, had a kind of bone cancer,” he said quietly. “They had to cut off my left leg below the knee. I wear a prosthesis,” he continued with a shrug, “you know, . . . an artificial leg. I, uh, I have to take it off to go in the water.”

  The hot sun beat down. The sounds of kids laughing and splashing enveloped the poolside air. The biting smell of chlorine filled Sandy’s nose. Her insides ached for Mike.

  Sandy looked him full in the face, tipped her head and said, “I don’t care about your leg, Mike. I’d like you to come swimmin’ with me.”

  Mike allowed his eyes to settle into hers. “What does bother me,” Sandy continued, a teasing tone coming into her lilting voice, “is bein’ around a boy who has more hair than I.”

  A slow, shy grin spread over Mike’s face, reaching from his mouth to his eyes. He nodded and said, “You’re all right, Sandy. You’re all right.”

  The tension eased. Mike laughed and headed to his cabin to change. Sandy waited for him, and Dawn and Greg slid into the cool, fresh water.

  “Actually,” Greg said, breaking the surface and slinging the water off his face and hair, “Mike’s a super swimmer. We’re both on our high school swim team and we belong to the same swim club. We used to go to meets together all the time. Course, Mike can’t compete any more. It’s not a sport for a one-legged athlete. But he still works out and stays in shape.”

  “You’re a swimmer?” Dawn asked, surprised.

  “Since I was six,” he told her. “I’m hoping for an athletic scholarship to college. I’ve already won meets and tournaments at the State and National levels. And who knows? Maybe I’ll make it to the Olympics someday.”

  Dawn felt awed pleasure in his presence. Greg was planning a full and active future. And he had cancer, just like her. “What kind of cancer do you have?” she asked, no longer shy around him.

  “Leukemia,” he said, “since I was twelve. Two more years and they’ll call me ‘cured.’ I think I’m going to make it.” His blue eyes danced bright and colorful as the water. Small droplets clung to his golden skin and wet hair.

  “Race you across the pool!” he called.

  Dawn ducked under the water. She pushed off from the side of the pool in one smooth motion. She surfaced and stroked quickly over the surface.

  “Hey!” Greg cried, caught by surprise.

  Dawn laughed as he pulled alongside her with only a few strokes. Then he slowed and glided next to her through the water to the far side. She’d never felt happier, never more joyful.

  “You’re not a bad swimmer!” Greg said as they touched the far wall.

  “Thanks,” Dawn said. “I love sports.”

  Just then Sandy and Mike swam up alongside them. Dawn couldn’t help but glance below the rippling water at Mike. His thick and muscular thigh ended at his knee. But he pushed off from the wall with his good leg and did a beautiful back flip under the water. Sandy clapped gleefully as he surfaced and Mike took her hand and pulled her playfully up to his chest.

  Greg tapped Dawn on the shoulder. She glided toward him in the water and his strong hands reached out for her. She realized, suddenly, that camp was only two weeks long. There would be only two weeks with Greg, Sandy, and Mike, only two weeks out of an entire year . . .

  CHAPTER

  11

  Glorious summer days passed in idyllic splendor. The four campers went swimming, riding, canoeing and on nature hikes. They spent velve
t summer nights at barbecues, camp movies and on long moonlight walks. Greg Buchannan became friend, beau and big brother to Dawn. Mike became the same to Sandy.

  They sat under the trees together after lunch and during the heat of the day, relaxing, talking, sharing. They talked about having cancer. There was a bond between them, an invisible thread that bound them together for all their tomorrows.

  “I’m a lot more serious about my future,” Mike confessed one day. “Sometimes the guys I hang around with seem to waste so much of their time and energy on the dumbest things!”

  Sandy laughed and nodded. “Isn’t it the truth? I have friends who think a Saturday night without a phone call or a date is grounds for suicide,” she said.

  Dawn agreed. “I wonder a lot about going back to school. Will my old friends treat me normally?” she asked.

  Greg shrugged. “Some will. Some won’t. Sometimes you have to start all over again. You have to prove to them that you’re all right, you know, socially acceptable. People are still afraid of cancer. One of my friends kept away from me because he thought he’d catch cancer if he was around me!” he said.

  The other three broke out laughing at the idea. “What a dumbo!” Dawn cried.

  The hot afternoon sun beat down through the canopy of the overhead trees. Sunlight and shadows flitted across Greg’s face and shoulders. Dawn watched as he chewed on a long stem of grass. It was so easy to be around him. He understood. He really understood all the things she was feeling, because he had felt them, too. Would any other boy ever understand? Would the boys back home in her circle of friends understand and accept her the way Greg did?

  “Hey!” Mike cried suddenly, sitting up from his prone position on the grass. “Not to change the subject, but I have a dynamite idea!”

  His friends leaned in eagerly. “What?” “Tell us!” they whispered, catching the excitement in his voice.