She Died Too Young (15 page)

Katie crouched down and took Chelsea’s hand once more. “Listen to her. Don’t put yourself in harm’s way.”

Chelsea allowed herself one long, lingering look at Jillian and began to cry. The nurse pulled the wheelchair backward, and Katie walked next to it, her hand resting on Chelsea’s shoulder.

“Thank you for coming,” Jillian’s mother whispered. “Thank you for caring.”

Mr. Longado echoed her words. DJ said nothing.

Once she was safely in her room, Chelsea lost her composure and sobbed uncontrollably. Katie hugged her. Chelsea looked up through her tears and said, “This new heart they gave me is breaking, Katie. It’s breaking in half.”

The following day, late in the afternoon, when Katie came into Chelsea’s room, Chelsea didn’t have to hear the words—she saw from Katie’s face that Jillian was gone. “When?” Chelsea asked.

“About half an hour ago. They told me her heart just gave out. Her family was with her.”

“What happens now?” Chelsea asked.

“They’re flying her back to Texas.”

“Everybody goes home one way or the other, don’t they? Amanda went home too.”

Katie stood close to the bed, tears brimming in her eyes. “ ‘She died too young,’ ” she whispered. “That was something Mr. Holloway said to me
about Jenny Crawford,” she explained. “We were standing in the lobby at Jenny House last summer, looking at her portrait together, and his voice was full of pain and love. He said, ‘She died too young.’ I think he loved her when they were both young. I think he still loves the memory of Jenny Crawford.”

Chelsea nodded. “Too bad love can’t hold off death.”

“I’ve always thought love was stronger than death,” Katie said.

Chelsea turned her face toward the wall and said nothing more.

Katie picked up the phone and dialed Lacey’s number in Miami.

“C
HELSEA
, I
’M CONCERNED
about you.” Dr. Dawson stood at the foot of Chelsea’s bed, wearing his most serious expression. “If you don’t start eating, if you don’t start improving mentally, I won’t be able to release you. Don’t you want to get out of here?”

Chelsea all but ignored him. She didn’t care. She simply didn’t care.

“Some depression is normal after transplantation, but this isn’t. I want you to talk to Dr. Cummings.”

Dr. Cummings was the head shrink. She and Jillian had been part of her therapy group when they entered the transplant program together. “I don’t want to talk to anybody,” Chelsea said. “Please go away.”

“You’ve been given an extraordinary opportunity,” Dr. Dawson continued. “And you’re doing so well tolerating your new heart. Don’t give up now.”

A cold sweat broke out on Chelsea’s forehead. Fear seized her, and for a moment, she couldn’t catch her breath. Her heart pounded, and she was certain it would beat itself to death. “I hate this crummy heart,” she told him. “I feel exactly the way I did before—with my old heart. There’s no difference. I’m going to die, and this heart will have gone to waste. You should have given it to somebody else. Somebody who would have taken better care of it.”

Dr. Dawson studied her thoughtfully. “It isn’t good for you to feel this way, Chelsea. It won’t contribute to your healing process. You’re alive and well, and I want to see you stay that way. Dr. Cummings will be in to talk to you tomorrow.”

She continued to ignore Dr. Dawson, but when he left, she felt alone and desolate.
What’s wrong with me?
She couldn’t answer her own question. Why were all the old fears, the old symptoms of fear, paralyzing her, keeping her from working with her doctor, her physical therapist. Not even Katie could cheer her up.

A nurse breezed into the room. Trailing behind her was a man carrying a VCR. “This came for you today,” the nurse said, waving a videotape. “The letter accompanying it said it was to be shown to you immediately. Dr. Dawson’s okayed it, so let’s set this up for you.”

“Where’d it come from?”

“The post office,” the nurse said with a smile. In a matter of minutes, the VCR was hooked to the TV in her room, and the tape had been inserted. The nurse brought over the remote control.

When she was alone, Chelsea sighed. She didn’t want to watch some stupid tape. Why couldn’t everyone just leave her alone? After she’d stared at the blank screen for a time, curiosity began to get the best of her. With resignation, she pushed the Play button.

“Hey and howdy.” Jillian’s face sprang onto the screen.

Chelsea gasped and dropped the remote control. She fumbled around on the bed for it as
Jil
lian’s voice came clearly into the room. “I was going to write you a letter, but you know we like to do things BIG in Texas. Besides, I’ve always wanted to film myself. Dramatic, huh?” She mugged for the camera.

Fascinated, Chelsea continued to watch. Jillian was sitting up in her bed at the penthouse, telling Chelsea that she had taped the message weeks before. Sunlight was coming from one side, lighting up Jillian’s hair, turning it to copper fire.

“So, you’re probably asking yourself why I am doing this instead of talking to you in person. Good question. It’s because I feel pretty good today. Also, I’ve got lots to say. Besides, you’re a captive audience, and you can’t talk back!”

She grinned, and Chelsea found herself smiling in return at the TV screen.

“This is really for your eyes only, Chelsea James. You can show it to Katie and Lacey if you want, but I’ve got some things to say, mostly just for you.” Jillian’s bright smile faded. “On the serious side: I’m tired of sitting around and waiting for this transplant. But I’m also scared it won’t happen for me. If it happens for you, and it doesn’t happen for me, then I need to let you know some things. Plus leave you some instructions.”

Chelsea swallowed hard. It was weird watching and hearing Jillian. More real than any VR game she’d ever played.
She’s dead
, logic reminded her. This is only an image.

“You know you’re my best friend ever. Too bad we met the way we did, too bad we need the same thing from medical science. But if you get a transplant and I don’t, then I expect you to do something with your life. Grow old, for starts.”

Again the quick smile.

“But mostly, I want you to keep in touch with DJ. Now, I know what you’re thinking. I’m taking advantage because I know you like him. Well, I’m not. I’d ask you even if you didn’t think he was the neatest thing since sliced bread.” She leaned forward. “I’ll never understand how he got the blond hair and good looks and I got red hair, freckles,
and
a bad heart and lungs. Go figure.”

Chelsea found herself smiling again.

“You’re probably thinking, ‘So why does a prince like DJ need looking after?’ For starters, he’s not going to take to my dying and leaving him behind. He acts tough, but underneath, he’s a
marshmallow. I can’t go off and leave him alone with Shelby. Nope, can’t let that happen.

“Also, Mama and Daddy have each other to look after. But DJ … well, he’s only got me, and I may not make it.”

Chelsea felt a shiver. How uncannily accurate Jillian had been about her future.

“So, where does that leave you, Chelsea James? I hope it leaves you smiling and happy. I hope it leaves you with a brand-new heart and a whole new outlook on life.” On-screen, Jillian stared directly at the camera, held up her finger, and shook it as if Chelsea’s nose were in front of her. “I mean this! Forget your virtual reality games. Go after the
real
thing.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be up in heaven, remember?” She pointed her finger upward. “And when I get there, I’m going to look up Amanda and Jenny Crawford, and see if we can’t think up some mischief together.”

Her bright smile flashed, then faded. She leaned forward, as if imparting a secret. “I never figured I’d get old, Chelsea. But I would like to have gone falling off a cliff or being bucked off a horse. If you get a transplant, you have to do everything for both of us. It’s your sacred duty. And don’t forget, I’ll be up there”—she pointed again—“watching you.”

Chelsea pushed the Pause button on the remote control when it was obvious that Jillian was through talking. The picture of Jillian’s face froze on the screen. It was blurry, as photos stopped in
motion are, but it was her—red hair, freckles, smile, and all.

Slowly, Chelsea climbed out of bed and shuffled over to the TV set. She stood in front of the screen, staring long at the image of her friend. Her fingers touched the cool glass, and she traced the lines of Jillian’s face.
“Live,”
her friend had said.

Chelsea placed her hand on her own chest. Her fingers felt the thumping rhythm of her heart—a gift from a stranger. The beat said.
Life
. It was hers. A second chance. She knew she shouldn’t blow it. For Jillian’s sake. For her own.

Chelsea rewound the tape and removed it from the VCR. She glanced at a clock and saw that her session with her physical therapist would soon begin. She still had a long way to go to be as healthy and active as Katie. She felt a surge of resolve.
Yes, a lot of work to do
.

She was grateful and ready to live. And she was no longer afraid.