Someone Dies, Someone Lives Read online

  “How much longer will you be here?”

  “Who knows? Until my doctor thinks my heart’s fit to travel.”

  “You have a bad heart?” Josh’s expression looked concerned.

  “The doctor’s fixed it,” Katie said, deciding that her story was much too long and involved to tell. Besides, she didn’t want Josh to think of her as an invalid. “I’ll probably be running foot races by this summer.”

  “Are you coming back to school soon?”

  “I don’t know. I have to recuperate at home first, but eventually I’ll come back. What class are you in?”

  “I’m a junior.”

  Katie smiled brightly. “Hey—same as me.”

  “I know—I mean—you look like a junior.” Josh’s face flushed red.

  Katie’s eyes narrowed, and she studied him more closely. He seemed acutely embarrassed, almost guilty, as if he’d been caught doing something wrong. All at once, everything clicked into place. She remembered opening her eyes in the ICU and seeing a red-haired boy with the same expression of embarrassed guilt staring at her through the glass wall. “You were the guy in the ICU!” she blurted out.

  Josh almost leapt up, but Katie’s hand reached out and stopped him. “Don’t go,” she said. “I didn’t mean to scare you off.” Now she was embarrassed. He probably thought she had lost her mind.

  He didn’t pull away from her, only glanced down at her hand on his arm. “I was the guy in Intensive Care,” he admitted.

  “I thought I had imagined you,” Katie said softly. “You were real.” Josh nodded. “But why? Why were you there? Why were you looking at me?”

  Josh’s cheeks colored. “You probably think I’m weird.”

  Until he said it, the idea hadn’t crossed Katie’s mind. “Forget weird—but I am curious.”

  Josh released a long, pent-up sigh. “I wanted to see the person who had received my brother’s heart.”

  Katie felt as if all the air had gone from the room and time was standing still. “Your brother?”

  “You see, he died, and my Gramps and I okayed donating his organs. No one knew … no one knows. I put it all together when I read your father’s column about his daughter, Katie, who’d gotten a second chance at life with a heart transplant. There were some other details in the story … and with the timing of Aaron’s—” He interrupted himself. “Well … I figured it out.” Josh was inches from her face.

  “I wanted to see you,” he explained. “Somehow, knowing that Aaron’s heart was alive inside you made him alive again for me.” He glanced away, looking self-conscious and a little scared. “I can’t explain it really. I’m sorry if I’ve pestered you.”

  For a moment, Katie couldn’t speak. The whole scenario seemed unreal. Then, a mist of tears came to her eyes and a thick lump closed off her throat. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Josh looked up quickly. “I won’t bother you anymore.” He moved, as if to rise and leave.

  “Wait a minute. Don’t go.” She fumbled with the pocket of her bathrobe and withdrew a stethoscope. He looked so surprised that she laughed. “I know … most girls carry a brush. I have to do this several times a day, so I drag it everywhere.”

  “Do what?”

  “This.” Katie leaned forward and placed the earpieces of the stethoscope gently into Josh’s ears. She took the other end and placed it under her robe, snugly against the warm flesh near her left breast. “Listen,” she urged, never taking her eyes from Josh’s face.

  She watched his expression go from wariness to surprise to wonderment. She saw his golden brown eyes fill with tears and his lashes sweep downward as his eyes closed. She knew what he was hearing—the faint whoosh-whoosh of her healthy, beating heart. She heard him exhale and felt the pepper-minty warmth of his breath on her cheek as he whispered, “Hey, bro.”

  Twelve

  JOSH COULD HARDLY swallow around the knot that blocked his throat as he listened to the steady rhythm of Aaron’s heart. How wonderful it sounded! How strong and sturdy. For an instant, he felt suspended in time and space, caught between the present and the past. Aaron was truly alive in the body of Katie O’Roark. Overwhelmed, he felt a tear escape and trickle down his cheek. His eyes flew open when he felt Katie’s finger brush it tenderly.

  Josh straightened. Unashamed, he gazed straight at her and saw that her own tears were wetting her cheeks. She dropped the end of the stethoscope and gently held his face between her palms. “Thank you, Josh Martel. Because of you … because of Aaron … I’m alive. I was almost dead, you know, when Aaron’s heart became available. Without it, I’d be in a grave right now. I’ve wondered so much about my donor. I prayed that I could one day meet the family. Did you know that?”

  “No.”

  “It’s true. My parents and I—we’re all so very, very grateful to you. I’ve wanted to know about my donor, but the hospital tells you so little. They act as if they want to keep it a secret, as if recipients shouldn’t know who their donor is. I wanted to know more than anything. Will you tell me about Aaron?”

  Josh’s emotions churned, jumbled and wild. He had slipped into the hospital that afternoon only to catch another glimpse of Katie. He couldn’t help himself. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. When she’d struck up a conversation with him, he’d lost control of his role as an observer. At first, he couldn’t believe she hadn’t recognized him from the ICU, but when it became evident that she hadn’t, he’d allowed himself to be questioned by her.

  When he’d given his name and she hadn’t responded to it, he’d realized that she honestly didn’t know how they were linked. When she’d reached over and touched him, it was as if they’d connected spiritually as well as physically. And then, when she’d let him listen to Aaron’s heart … “I would like to tell you about my brother … just not right now,” he said, clearing his throat.

  “But you will tell me? You will come back?”

  Josh knew there was no way on earth he could stay away. Not telling her about Aaron was tearing him up inside. He had to share his memories, and his feelings, with someone. “I’ll be back.”

  “I know my mom and dad will want to meet you. Is that okay? I promise that my dad won’t do a column about you.”

  Her joke made him smile. “I’d like to meet them,” he told her. He rose to leave. She took his hand, as if uncertain whether or not to let him go. The gesture touched him. “Can I come to your room next time? Or should I run the risk of ‘accidentally’ bumping into you in the visitors’ room?” he asked.

  He watched her smile and decided she was beautiful. “My room is fine. Maybe I could meet your grandfather, too.”

  “Once I tell him about you, I’m sure he’ll want to meet you.” Josh squeezed her hand. “One question before I go—who’s this JWC you asked me about?”

  Katie shrugged. “As I told you, I don’t really know, but he or she’s been good to me. I’ll tell you all about it sometime.”

  “Funny how we have the same first initial,” Josh said.

  “A coincidence,” Katie replied. “You look perfectly healthy, while JWC has health problems. That much I know.”

  Josh peered down into her upturned face and for a moment had the bizarre urge to take her with him. He didn’t want to leave her, yet she looked tired and fragile, and he didn’t want her to have a relapse. “I’ll see you soon,” he promised, then turned and fairly coasted out the door.

  “You actually met him?” Her father sounded incredulous.

  “All because of your column,” Katie said. “But please don’t write another one about me.” She was propped up in bed, and her parents had come for their evening visit.

  “I’m not sure how I feel about this,” her mother said. “I don’t think recipients should meet a donor’s family.”

  Katie felt exasperated. “What’s he going to do, Mom? Take the heart back?”

  Her mother flushed. “It may be too much emotional stress on you. On them, too. Did he mention his par
ents? Think how they must be feeling. I know what it feels like to watch someone you love lie dying.”

  “Josh only mentioned his grandfather. I didn’t ask about his and Aaron’s parents.” The oddity of it suddenly struck Katie. Where were Josh’s parents? Why had only he and Gramps made the decision to donate Aaron’s organs?

  “Well, I’d like to meet this young man,” Katie’s dad said. “I’d like to shake his hand and tell him thanks. A lot more people could be saved if more people were willing to donate their organs. Maybe I’ll do a column about it.”

  “Daddy—”

  “Not about you. About organ donation.”

  “I don’t want the whole world to know,” Katie said. “Unless Josh does. I think we should protect his privacy.”

  “That’s fine with us,” her dad agreed. “However you want to handle it.”

  Josh and Gramps came the next evening, and after a round of introductions, the elderly man shuffled closer to Katie’s bed. “You’re right, Josh, she’s a pretty girl.”

  Katie felt self-conscious, and Josh didn’t look too comfortable, either. “I look better now that they’ve cut back on my steroid dose. For a while, I resembled a Halloween pumpkin,” she said.

  “I can’t imagine that you ever looked bad,” Gramps said. He turned toward Katie’s parents. “Aaron would be pleased to know Katie’s alive because of his heart. He was an athlete, you know.”

  “I didn’t know,” Katie’s father replied, his face bright with interest.

  Katie was surprised, too, but delighted. She’d received an athlete’s heart, which put her that much closer to her dream of running again.

  Gramps glanced at Josh, who explained, “Aaron was the University of Michigan football kicker who died on the field in the first game of the season.”

  Katie’s dad looked stunned. “Aaron Martel? Of course! I remember when it happened, but I was so caught up in Katie at the time that I never reported on it. One of my colleagues did. Then, that night, when the call came that they’d found Katie a heart—well, I didn’t have time to follow up on the story.” Mr. O’Roark shook his head. “It was a real tragedy, and we’re sorry. He was a fine football player. I remember his stats from preseason.”

  Katie noticed that Josh had turned his head as a look of pain crossed his face. She felt unbearable pity for him and wished there were something she could do to help him.

  “Josh here is an athlete, too,” Gramps said, in an attempt to smooth over the awkward moment.

  “Track,” Josh said quickly. “Aaron was into football, and I took up track.”

  Katie sat upright. “Me, too!” she cried.

  “I know.” Josh’s honey-color eyes bore into her. “I read it in your dad’s column.”

  The mention of the column brought comic relief, and all of them laughed. “What can I say? I love having a jock for a daughter,” Katie’s dad kidded.

  Gramps took Katie’s hand in his. “You take good care of Aaron’s heart, young lady. And when you run your first race, I’ll be cheering for you.”

  “I’m not sure Katie will be resuming her track career,” Katie’s mom said. “Her doctors must approve any exertion, any strenuous exercise.”

  Katie bit her tongue, not wanting to have a scene in front of strangers. “We’ll see,” she said stubbornly. “The quality of my life was supposed to improve with the transplant.”

  “It has improved. You’re alive,” her mother countered.

  Gramps turned toward his grandson. “It’s getting late. Maybe we’d better get home.”

  Josh agreed, and Katie watched them leave after extracting a promise from Josh that he’d come again the next day. “We have a lot to talk about,” she called to him.

  Once they were gone, Katie’s mother said, “We’d better go, too. I promised one of the schools I’d substitute-teach tomorrow. Can I get you anything?” She acted casual, as if her and Katie’s exchange about exercise hadn’t occurred.

  Katie sank down into the bed. “All I want is to get out of here.”

  “In due time,” her mother assured her. “But let’s not push it.”

  Katie felt like screaming. Couldn’t anyone understand that she was fine now—that because of Aaron’s healthy heart, a great surgeon, and the wonder drug cyclosporine, she was well? She wanted out. She wanted to pick up her life again. She wanted her freedom. She had been given a second chance at life—if anyone would allow her to take it!

  Thirteen

  “HOW OFTEN DO I have to have this done?” Katie asked Dr. Jacoby.

  “After this heart biopsy, you’ll have another at three months and another at six months. Eventually, you’ll have one a year,” Dr. Jacoby explained as a nurse readied instruments in the procedure room. “If today’s test looks good, I’ll release you.”

  Katie lay on a stretcher while the doctor cleaned her neck with an iodine solution. The promise of going home made it difficult for her to lie still for the procedure. “Why do I have to have heart biopsies?”

  “They reveal whether or not your body has accepted your new heart.”

  “I thought it had.”

  “This is the only way to know for certain. Now, relax. I’m pretty good at this procedure, if I do say so myself.”

  Relax! What a joke, Katie thought. How was she supposed to relax when a doctor was about to make an incision in her neck, thread a special wire along her jugular vein and into her heart, and snip off a piece to be examined under a microscope? “Will it hurt?”

  “Done properly, it shouldn’t. I’ve deadened the skin at the site of the incision, and you have no nerve endings inside your veins. Do you want your parents in here with you?”

  “Are you serious? Dad almost passes out when he watches the lab draw blood, and Mom acts as if I’m going to break apart.”

  Dr. Jacoby smiled. “They’re just concerned, and their behavior is very typical. You want to watch this on the fluoroscope?” He motioned to a portable X-ray camera with a screen for following the path of the biopsy instrument.

  “Can I?”

  “You’ll be getting a lot of biopsies over the years. You may as well see what’s being done.”

  She was nervous, but became curious after the sting of the injection administering the local anesthetic was over. “Will I have a scar on my neck?”

  “A small one.”

  “Will I have a new scar after each biopsy?”

  “Yes.”

  “That stinks. I’ll look like Dracula’s girlfriend.”

  Dr. Jacoby laughed. “Katie, I don’t think I’ve ever had a patient with your sense of humor.”

  Katie watched the procedure on the TV screen as objectively as possible, trying not to think of what she was seeing as her insides. The wirelike instrument with pincers on the end slid along her neck and into the chamber of her heart. Aaron’s heart. She’d give Josh visitation rights. What an odd way to meet a guy. The idea caused her to smile faintly.

  “The human heart,” Dr. Jacoby said as he worked. “It beats one hundred thousand times a day, pumping two thousand gallons of blood for eighty—sometimes ninety years and more. I can’t believe we’ll ever come up with a mechanical pump that can perform as well.”

  “This is a good heart, isn’t it?”

  “Very good.”

  “Barry says I’m doing well in my exercise program.”

  “I know.”

  “He told me about the Transplant Games. I want to run in them.” What she had wanted to say was, I’m going to run in the Transplant Games.

  Dr. Jacoby caught her eye, then resumed his work. “Katie, I’m not going to say you can’t do anything. I am going to warn you, though, that no matter how good you feel, you’ve still got medical problems. Frankly, compared with most patients in the transplant program, you received your transplant very quickly. I have patients who’ve been waiting for years; others have died waiting for a suitable organ. The waiting process often makes people more aware of what an extraordinary blessin
g a donor organ can be.”

  “Don’t you think I’m grateful? I am. But I don’t want to always be afraid to live, either. Don’t you see? I can be a real asset for organ donation. I can be an advocate. If I do well—really well—on the track, thousands of people will know. They’ll be able to see that donating organs is a good thing and that recipients can live normal, useful lives. Who wants to be an invalid? When people see someone with a transplant doing well, they’ll be doubly impressed.”

  “Perhaps we should send you on a PR tour. You make a good case,” Dr. Jacoby said as he stitched up the small incision. “Look, continue to work with Barry. He’ll outline a gradual program to get you back in shape. Personally, I would like to see you aim for next year’s Games. I know that’s hard because you feel good now.”

  “Better than I have in almost a year,” Katie admitted.

  “Nevertheless, when I do send you home, I’ll want you to stay housebound with light exercise for around six to nine weeks. Then, after regular checkups and another biopsy, if all’s well, you can return to school.”

  “That won’t be until at least January, though,” Katie said, dismayed.

  “Correct. And the Games are in July. That’s really not a lot of time to be fully competitive.” Dr. Jacoby gave her a sidelong glance. “Of course, I’m assuming you’re planning on running to win, not just running for fun, which is another conversation altogether.”

  “That’s the only way I’ve ever run,” Katie said.

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “But you’re not telling me that I can’t be competitive by July, are you?”

  Dr. Jacoby slapped the palm of his hand against his forehead. “You’re as stubborn as a bulldog, Katie O’Roark.”

  She offered him a dazzling grin. “That’s true, but how else can a person become a winner unless she sets her sights on being one?”

  “Talk to Barry,” Dr. Jacoby said, signaling the nurse that Katie could be taken back to her room. “And follow what he tells you, to the letter.”

  The biopsy showed that Katie’s body was accepting Aaron’s heart, and Dr. Jacoby told her, “Pack your things. I’m tossing you out of here.”