Let Him Live (12 page)

“Our house in Virginia was an imitation of this,” he said. “This is the real thing.”

“Brett would be sliding down the banister every day.”

“And I could have two rooms for myself. One to sleep in, one for my stereo gear.” He walked around, touching the walls. “Mom could have an office of her very own, where she could help with the fund-raising effort for the Wayfarer Inn.”

Meg thought that was a strong feature too. Mrs. Jacoby had become quite involved with the work of raising money for the inn. “Do you think you should look at some others?” Meg asked.

“No, this is the house I want for my mom,” Donovan said, facing Ms. George. “How do I go about buying it?”

“I can have the paperwork started tomorrow. All I need is a down payment.”

“I can write you a check right now. Tell me what else I have to do.”

Meg was amazed that he’d made his decision so quickly. It was true that the house was in a perfect location, but she wanted it to be newer and more modern. While Donovan and the realtor discussed details, she formulated a plan to help spruce up the place. As she was driving him back to his apartment, she said, “We can paint it and clean it up. I know Alana will help if I ask her. There are others too up in pediatrics who will pitch in.” She thought of all the nurses and technicians who cared about Donovan.

“I’d appreciate all the help I can get. I can do some of the work, but I know I can’t do much. I don’t have much energy these days.”

Meg’s heart constricted with his words. She wanted him to be well and healthy. “We can do it,” she said cheerfully.

“I want my mom to see it at its best,” he said. “But we can’t take too much time fixing it up. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but I have to think about getting it done quickly.” He cut his eyes sideways. “Time is my enemy,” he said softly.

Meg gripped the wheel, knowing what he said was true. “We’ll get it done,” she promised. If JWC could supply the money for fulfilling Donovan’s dream, then the least she could do was help him present his dream in the best possible condition.

“It’s a beautiful house, Meg and it’s mine.” He touched her hair, gently tucking it behind her ear. “All mine.”

T
HUNDER RATTLED THE
windows of the old house, and rain pelted the glass panes. “This is some storm,” Alana exclaimed as she climbed down from a ladder with a bucket of paint. “I’m sure glad we’re on the inside looking out.”

Meg paused as she scraped peeling paint off of plaster walls. “Maybe we should take a break.” The empty room amplified the sound of the pounding rain, making it difficult to hear the portable radio plugged in to the wall. She turned toward Donovan. He was sitting on a beanbag chair in the center of the room, watching them work. “Up for a snack?” Meg asked. “I’ve brought food in an ice chest I stashed in the kitchen.”

“I’m okay,” he insisted with a wave of his hand. “But you deserve a break.”

“Thanks for the permission,” Meg joked. She knew it was hard for him to sit and watch, even though it was all he had the strength to do. Meg had organized a crew, and over the past week, they had painted almost every room. Most of the day’s volunteers had left before the heavy rain had started. Now the only ones left were Donovan; Alana; her boyfriend, Clark; Alana’s brother, Lonnie; and Meg.

From upstairs, Meg heard the rumble of the floor polisher Lonnie was using. She hoped Lonnie’s robust health encouraged Donovan. To look at Alana’s well-muscled, broad-shouldered brother, it was difficult to believe he’d been in complete kidney failure. Surely, Donovan would rally physically in a similar way once he had his transplant, Meg told herself.

“I’ll get the food,” Clark said, taking the paint bucket from Alana. “Let’s have an indoor picnic.”

“Who cares if it’s raining,” Donovan said.

“No ants,” Meg added.

Clark pushed aside the door separating the front room from the kitchen. “I’ll help,” Alana volunteered, tagging after him.

“It’s not that heavy,” Meg called.

“There’s help, and there’s help,” Alana replied. “I’m thinking I should help with a kiss or two!”

“I understand.” Meg laughed. She sat cross-legged on the floor beside Donovan and glanced about the partially painted room. “How’s it look, boss?”

“You have paint chips stuck in your hair.” Smiling,
he picked off several. “And on your nose, your cheeks, your neck.”

“I promise to get them all off before the cruise Saturday night. You are still coming, aren’t you?”

“I rented a tux. Clark took me to the mall.”

“That was nice of him.”

“He’s nice, that’s true. And he and Alana really like each other.”

His comment left Meg feeling uncomfortable. She wondered if he was remembering his former girlfriend and wishing he was with her. “They make a cute couple,” Meg said.

“I’m looking forward to tomorrow night,” he said.

“I found a great new dress,” Meg told him.

“Just for me?” He grinned. “But then, I know how girls like to buy new clothes … any old excuse.”

“Not ‘just for you,’ ” she sniffed. “I needed something new.” Ordinarily, she wouldn’t have taken the time to go shopping. She’d tried on her best dress and discovered a lovely surprise—it was too large. When she’d gotten on the scale, she’d seen that she’d lost ten pounds since the beginning of the summer.

“ ‘Needed,’ ”
he echoed with a lift of his eyebrows. “You mean the way Brett needs another laser water pistol?”

“What happened to the one you gave him?”

“He shot one too many girls at summer school, so it was confiscated.”

“He’s a cute kid. I really like him.”

Donovan sighed and surveyed the room. “I hope he likes this place. I hope it helps make up for our having to leave our old house and for life’s being so hard.” He tipped his head and looked deeply into Meg’s eyes. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me,” Donovan said. “I know you’ve spent a lot of time on this.”

“I don’t mind.” She hadn’t realized how much work went into buying a house until she’d helped him spend his Wish money. She’d had the water and electricity turned on. She’d selected and lugged all the paint and supplies to the house. “I want your mother to like it. The realtor was right—it needed paint and cleaning up. It really is a great house.”

“Keeping it a secret from my mom’s been hard, but time’s almost up, isn’t it?”

“I figure we’ll be finished next week.”

“Good. I’ll feel like I can rest easier after I give her the keys.”

A loud clap of thunder shook the windows. The lights flickered and then went off altogether. From the kitchen, Alana gave a squeal. Overhead, the drone of the polisher stopped abruptly. “Uh-oh,” Meg said. “Looks like we’re alone in the dark.”

“Scared of the dark?” Donovan asked.

“Not a bit. Unless this house is haunted.”

“I’ll bet it is haunted. Just think—a long time ago, some sweet young thing sat in this very room—and some guy—put the moves on her.”

“Maybe guys weren’t like that once upon a time.”

“Don’t bet on it.” He chuckled.

She felt his hand cover hers in the dark. His nearness and the husky sound of his voice in her ear were causing her pulse to flutter. “I’ve read that back long ago, girls and guys were never without chaperons.”

“If chaperons were needed, then that just proves my point.”

“We don’t have a chaperon.”

“Do you wish we did?”

“Why would we need one?” Her heart beat faster as his hand covered hers in the dark.

“We don’t, I guess. You know what I wish?” His breath against her forehead made goose bumps skitter across her skin.

“That the lights would come back on?” She tried to joke, but her heart was thudding hard against her rib cage. She wanted him to hold her.

“I wish you could have known me before I got sick. I wish we could have dated when I was well.”

Meg considered his words, while the rain splattered on the windowpanes. She doubted he would have even noticed her; she was plain and, until very recently, plump. “If you hadn’t been sick, we would have never met,” she concluded softly. “Why else would you ever have come to Washington?”

He was silent, but his hand moved slowly up her arm, to her face, where his fingertips glided along her hair. “You’re right. Funny how good things can come out of bad.”

Meg’s mouth went dry, and she felt lightheaded from his nearness. More than anything, she wanted him to kiss her. “Is that what I am? A good thing?”

“You’re the
only
thing that makes this whole crazy experience worth anything at all.”

Suddenly, a flash of lightning lit the room, and for an instant, Meg saw Donovan’s face etched in eerie brightness. She wanted to grab hold of him. Wanted to keep him from joining any ghosts that might be hovering over the house.

“Alana and Clark to the rescue!” Alana’s voice called from the kitchen. The beam of a flashlight cut through the darkness. “Guess what Clark found in his car?” She flicked the light over Meg and Donovan. “It looks like you two don’t need rescuing.”

Meg scrambled to her feet. “No problem,” she said. Her hands were trembling. “We’re fine. How about your brother?”

“Lonnie?” Alana called. “You all right up there?”

“Fine, sis. I’m just sitting here in the dark with my trusty machine waiting for the electricity to roll.”

“You want Clark to come up with the flashlight and lead you down to us? It might be a long wait.”

“That would be nice.”

Alana handed the flashlight to Clark. He flipped the beam toward the staircase. “I think we
should pack it in for the night. I’ll bet the electricity will be off for quite a while.”

“Suits me,” Donovan said, rising. “I wouldn’t mind hitting the bed early. It’s been a long day, and I’ve got some cruise to go on tomorrow night. I don’t want to miss it.”

“We’re almost through here. We can finish things up next week,” Meg added, still quivery with emotion.

Later, when the rain had stopped, Clark and Lonnie loaded up the cars while Donovan waited in the front seat of Meg’s car. Meg and Alana stood together on the front porch. The fury of the storm had left the night freshly washed and sweet-smelling. “Sorry I came into the room when I did. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. My timing stinks,” Alana said.

“I don’t know what you mean. Donovan and I were just waiting for the lights to come back on. Nothing was going on.”

“Sure. And I’m the Queen of England.”

“It’s true.”

“Why don’t you just admit it, girl? You’re crazy about that boy.”

“Because I’m not—not in that way.”

“Listen, you can deny it with your mouth, but not with your heart. The way you feel about him is stamped all over you.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Denying it won’t make it go away. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that it’s stupid
to love somebody who might up and die on you.”

“Stop it. That’s not true.” Yet, Meg knew it was true. She didn’t want to be in love with Donovan.

“Friends don’t fib to friends,” Alana said. “Don’t be so scared of what you’re feeling. If he does die, you won’t be able to tell him how you feel. Don’t let this opportunity get away from you.”

Meg kept thinking about the loss—so senseless—of her friend Cindy. It had made her empty and afraid when she’d learned that Cindy had died. She couldn’t go through something like that again. Admitting to herself that she loved Donovan would reopen wounds that still weren’t healed, even though she knew she felt better after therapy. Why hadn’t she listened to her father when he’d told her not to get emotionally involved?

Because by the time he told me, it was too late
. Meg answered her own question. “I know you think you’re helping me,” Meg told Alana. “But I know what I feel. It’s concern. It’s overinvolvement with a patient. It’s more than I should be feeling. But it isn’t love. And Donovan isn’t going to die either. The hospital will find him a donor, and my father will save him. That’s his job, you know. He’s saved others, and he’ll save Donovan too.”

Alana shook her head slowly. “Your father’s a wonderful doctor and a fine man, but don’t put that on him. It’s not fair. He’s not God, and he can’t perform miracles.”

“Are you saying that you think Donovan’s going to die?”

“Not me. I’ve seen a miracle happen with my own brother. All I’m saying to you is to go with what you’re feeling toward him and don’t waste the chance to have something special because you’re afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” Meg snapped.

“We’re
all
afraid,” Alana said.

Meg could think of nothing to say to blot out the searing honesty of Alana’s words. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. The rain had cooled the night air, but she knew that her shiver had come from inside herself, and had nothing whatsoever to do with the temperature. Not a single thing.