Let Him Live (10 page)

M
EG SET DOWN
her purse and car keys on the marble-topped table in the spacious foyer. “The project’s been approved? That’s great, Mom. We need the house so much.” Meg kept thinking about Mrs. Jacoby and all the parents like her.

“I knew you’d be pleased. It was your brainchild.” Her mother hooked her arm through Meg’s. “We’ll have a meeting Friday morning with an architect. He’s a relative of Betty Hotchkiss’s and is willing to donate his services. That’s the key, you know—to get as much donated as possible. I think it would be nice if you could attend the meeting.”

“I’ll be working at the hospital.”

“You’re only a volunteer. You may have to reexamine your priorities now.”

Meg didn’t want to reexamine her priorities. She wanted to be around the hospital. Around Donovan. “People are counting on me up in pediatrics.”

“This idea was yours, and your presentation to the Junior League board was so persuasive. I naturally assumed you’d want to be a big part of it. I’m proud of you, Meg. This is such a good idea, but it will require a lot of work. We can do it if we all pull together.”

Meg had assumed that once the Junior League took it over, she wouldn’t be involved. She remembered the ideas she and Alana had joked about regarding fund-raising. “I had thought about a fund-raising letter,” she said tentatively.

“
A
letter! We’ll do many of them. You know, a project of this scope needs the support of the entire community. We have to get everyone involved, from schoolchildren to high-level politicians. However, if you have an idea for such a letter, go ahead and work it up.”

Meg felt a growing respect for her mother. All her life, Meg hadn’t taken her mother’s charity work seriously. Perhaps it was because she was always going off to some luncheon or party, hardly
work
to Meg’s way of thinking, but now Meg saw how significant all her mother’s contacts were. Without the help of important Washington people, the project would never materialize.

“You’re needed at the planning stages also, Meg. Your ideas are important,” her mother said.

My ideas?
Meg thought. All she had been interested
in was a place near the hospital where Mrs. Jacoby could stay close to Donovan.

Her mother continued, “We’ll be having a brainstorming session Sunday afternoon. I’ve invited some of the hospital personnel, several community and business leaders, and some politicians. I’m certain we’ll select a special board of directors from this group, since they’ll be people with a vested interest in our project. Each one of them has a special link to Memorial—a few have lost someone they loved.”

Meg thought of Cindy’s parents. Too bad they lived so far away. “Will big foundations support us?” Meg was thinking about Donovan’s Wish money and the “invisible” One Last Wish Foundation. Perhaps it could be flushed out into the open and asked for a major donation. Perhaps she could learn the identity of JWC, maybe even meet the person who had written Donovan’s letter and been responsible for authorizing his check.

“There’s lots of competition for charitable dollars, but we have a very valid project that will benefit the whole community. I don’t see how foundations and corporations can refuse. They require a special touch, however. Fortunately, some of the people attending Sunday’s meeting have experience in that area.”

“And you want me to attend that meeting?”

“Absolutely.”

“How about my friend Alana? Her brother had a transplant.”

“Bring them both. Your father also thinks we should ask Mrs. Jacoby. She’s got a son in need of a transplant. Who better to speak up about the project?”

“Mom, thanks for all your help.” The words sounded inadequate.

Her mom smiled. “I think our family is extremely blessed, Meg. Your father, myself, our children. I truly believe that giving something back to show appreciation for our blessings is our duty. I know you’ve had a rough year, but it does my heart good to see you pulling out of it.”

A rough year … you could say that
, Meg thought. And yet, her mother was right. Whole days now passed by when she didn’t think about Cindy. A momentary twinge left her feeling disloyal, then the feeling passed. She had others to think about now. She had Donovan, and she wanted to keep him. More than anything in the world, she wanted him to live.

“Two million dollars, Alana! Mom said the architect estimates that the house will cost close to two million dollars. How can we raise that much money?”

“It is a lot.” Alana was sitting out on the hospital patio, licking an ice-cream cone. “More than in this girl’s piggy bank.”

“We’ll be old ladies by the time this house gets built.”

“At least out of high school.”

“You’re not taking this seriously.”

“Yes, I am. I just know it won’t help to get all worked up about that sum of money. You’ve got to think in bite-size pieces.” She took another lick off her cone. “All we need is two million people to give one dollar. Or one million people to give two dollars apiece. Or four big corporations to give five hundred thousand dollars each. Two million doesn’t seem so overwhelming when you think of it that way.”

Meg opened her mouth to argue, but stopped. Alana’s logic made sense. “The other thing Mom told me was that the architect was concerned about the site, the place to build the house.”

“Do they have a site?”

“Right now, land’s pretty scarce around the hospital. Most of it’s already been bought by developers, and it really is expensive. There’s a place here on the Memorial property, but it’s been designated for a new parking lot.”

Alana wrinkled her nose. “A house for parents is more important than a parking lot.”

“We know it, but the hospital board has to approve the change. It’ll go into a committee for study—I swear, this is going to take forever.” Feeling glum, Meg slouched in her chair.

“But it
will
happen,” Alana assured her. “It may seem like it’s taking forever, but one day, you’ll look out across the grounds,” she gestured with her arm, “and you’ll see this wonderful house full of parents with kids up on our floor. And you and I will say, ‘We helped get this house off the ground.’ ”

“Okay. I won’t get too discouraged this early in the project. Will you and Lonnie be at the meeting Sunday?”

“We’ll be there. You want to go to the mall with me tomorrow? I need something new to wear if I’m going to be with all those important people.”

Meg shook her head. “I can’t. I’ve already made plans.” She didn’t explain, even though Alana was looking expectant. How could she tell her that she was going house shopping? Especially when it was Donovan’s secret?

“May I help you?” asked the woman behind the front desk of the real estate office when Meg entered.

Nervously, Meg licked her lips and smiled. She had spent two hours trying to make herself appear older than sixteen. She had selected her finest designer clothing and accessories and donned her best gold jewelry. She was glad that her mother had taught her how to dress for a strong first impression. While she certainly felt more comfortable in jeans, she knew the best way to be believed was to appear believable. “I have an appointment with Ms. George.”

The receptionist buzzed an inner office, and soon a tall woman with blond hair came out to greet Meg. If she was surprised by Meg’s youth, she didn’t show it. Stepping into Ms. George’s office, Meg took a seat on a sofa.

“I’m positive I can find you just the right home, Miss Charnell. After our phone discussion, I’ve
chosen several houses I think you will find satisfactory,” Ms. George said.

Meg cleared her throat. “As I told you, I’m doing this for a friend. He trusts my judgment for the preliminaries, but he’ll be making the final choice.”

“Don’t think a thing about it. I understand completely. I’ve done many real estate transactions via third parties. Just last month, a wealthy foreign businessman sent his daughter to me. It seems that she’ll be starting at Georgetown University in the fall, and he wanted her to buy herself a house near the campus rather than live in the dorms. It’s not only a place for her to live, but an investment for him.”

Meg returned the agent’s cheerful smile. “You understand that my friend needs to be around the Memorial Hospital area.”

“So you said.” The agent frowned thoughtfully. “I must tell you that it won’t be easy. That area rarely has houses on the market.” She brightened. “But I have many alternatives to show you. Lovely homes that are only minutes from Memorial via the Beltway.”

“Let’s take a look,” Meg said. “My friend wanted to get this house business settled as quickly as possible.” She didn’t add her deepest concern: “
Because he might not have too much longer to live
.”

They spent several hours looking at prospective homes. Meg liked some, yet found only two she wanted to show to Donovan, and they weren’t
perfect. Frankly, she thought the residences were too far from Memorial in spite of their proximity to bus routes.

When they arrived back at the real estate office, Ms. George told her, “Don’t be discouraged. Finding the right home takes time. It’s not like buying a dress you can take back if you don’t like it.”

Meg agreed. “Keep looking, please. And call me anytime you think you have something to show me.”

“I shall. Your friend won’t be disappointed. We’ll find something that’s just right for him.”

Meg drove home, disappointed that she hadn’t done better in her search. She was feeling the pressure of time more acutely than ever. Donovan was stable at the moment, but she knew that could change in the blink of an eye. She gripped the wheel and prayed his health would hold until his dream was accomplished to buy his mother a home with his One Last Wish money.

“H
OW CAN
I help?” Donovan asked once Meg explained her idea to him.

“As soon as Alana gets here, I want the three of us to work on a fund-raising letter together.”

“What kind of a letter?”

“It was an idea I had when I heard all those people sharing ideas at Sunday’s meeting. Everyone agrees that we need some letters to get public support. Did I tell you that several of the TV stations are carrying the story on their six o’clock news shows throughout the week?”

“My mom told me. She’s pretty excited about the project. It’s all she talked about when she visited me last night.”

“So about the letter … I thought, ‘Why not do
a letter from an actual patient? Someone who knows about the problem firsthand?’ ”

“You mean me?”

“Of course, I mean you. I had this idea because I saw how difficult it was on your mother and Brett having to be so far away from you.”

“You mean something like JWC’s letter?”

“Something like it, only different.” Meg admitted that the One Last Wish letter and its personalized, informal feeling had impressed her. Surely, they could do something similar, except using it to ask for money instead of giving away money.

“It’s a good idea, but I’m not much of a letter writer,” Donovan said.

“That’s why Alana and I are volunteering to help. If the three of us write one terrific letter, the board will have no choice but to use it. It’ll be our contribution.”

“Sounds all right to me. Who will you mail it to?”

“The new board for the project has a big mailing list of people who’ve been patients at Memorial, or who are known to give contributions to worthy causes—especially medical ones. This whole project is going to take off like a rocket.”

“You really think the place is going to get built?”

“I do. First of all, we’re naming it the Wayfarer Inn, a home away from home. Do you like it?”

“It sounds like a hotel.”

“Oh, it’ll be more than a hotel. It’ll have ten to twelve bedrooms, a central kitchen, a playroom, a
TV room, a game room, laundry facilities, a library—” She paused to catch her breath. “And any family who has a child over here in Memorial for long-term treatment, like an organ transplant, can stay at the inn for only five dollars a night.”

“I’m impressed,” Donovan said.

“You’re impressed with what?” asked Alana, breezing through the doorway.

“I’m impressed with the plans for the Wayfarer Inn.”

Alana pulled up a chair alongside Meg’s and sat down. “I’m so excited about the whole thing that I was awake half the night. Lonnie has a great idea—a fund-raising marathon.”

“It works for me,” Donovan replied.

“And did Meg tell you our ideas for the schools next year?”

“I haven’t had a chance yet.”

“So, tell me.”

Meg moved forward. “We’ll get kids in the elementary schools to bring a penny a day for a whole month to plop in jars in each classroom. If every kid brings just a penny a day, we’ll collect a fortune.”

“We figure every kid can afford a penny,” Alana inserted.

“For the middle schools, we’ll have walkathons and bake sales. In the high schools, we’ll have highway holdups.”

“Never heard of them. Are they legal?” Donovan asked.

“Sure are,” Alana said. “Certain kids get official
badges to stand at busy intersections and hold buckets for motorists to toss in their pocket change. Everytime the light changes, there’s a new crop of cars and a new source of coins.”