TO DIE FOR
A Young Adult Paranormal Thriller
By Betsy Haynes
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2012 Betsy Haynes
Seventeen year old Larkin Quinn has just received a heart transplant and is looking to leading the normal life she has always dreamed of. So, why is her mysterious donor contacting her? Is he furious because she has his heart? Does he want revenge? Or is there more?
Chapter 1
I woke up in eerie darkness, with only faint points of light flickering around me. Red. Blue. Lots of blue. There were weird sounds, too. Soft taps and clicks and faint bubbling noises.
Where am I? I was in too much of a fog to have a clue.
Dead, maybe. But was that my name?
“Larkin? Larkin Quinn? Wake up now. It’s all over.”
I blinked a couple of times as my eyes began to focus. A soft white light and a blurry face hung over my head like a smiley moon.
“It’s about time you opened your eyes, you sleepy head.” The woman’s voice softened. “Welcome back, honey.”
She sounded kind, and I tried to smile back at her. That was when I realized a large, rough tube was crammed down my throat and I felt the IV lines connecting to my arms. I tilted my head to see what was causing the sharp spots of pain in my chest. They were lines hooking me to machines that were monitoring every conceivable function of my body. Now I remembered. I was in Intensive Care. Thank God the surgery’s over! And thank God there was no actual pain in my chest. Just a heavy feeling.
Gently the nurse touched my face, sweeping back a strand of hair. “I’ll send word to your mom that you’re awake,” she said.
Mom. The word sounded like heaven. I followed the nurse anxiously with my eyes as she went to a desk near the door and spoke softly into a telephone. She was a chubby woman in white pants and a pale green top. I tried to listen to what she was saying but suddenly I remembered why I was here, and I was terrified all over again. Was there really a new heart beating inside my chest? A stranger’s heart that hadn’t been there before? The nurse hadn’t said so! Or had something gone horribly wrong with the transplant? Maybe they had tried, but it hadn’t worked. Maybe they had put my sick-o heart back in and sewed me up. The same tired old heart that had kept me alive for all seventeen years of my life but could only beat a little while longer before it copped out on me. Sure, I had heard of heart pumps, but they didn’t work for everybody, and even when they did, they didn’t last forever. Maybe I was never going to have the normal life that I so desperately wanted. Never.
Calm down! I screamed inside my head. Wwpd? I added quickly. It almost worked. Almost. Wwpd was my little joke. What would Paul do? Paul Bishop was not only my best friend but the guy I loved more than anyone else in the world. He was also unbelievably calm. I’d give anything to be like him.
Still, I tried to raise my head and shout around the breathing tube. All it did was hurt my throat. Next, I tried to raise my hands, but straps pinned them to the bed.
The nurse’s back was still toward me. Why won’t she look at me? Is there something she’s afraid to tell me?
Questions flashed through my mind like bolts of lightning, ratcheting up my panic. I stared at her back, desperately trying to bore holes into it, screaming in my head for her to turn around. Finally she did.
“Oh, Larkin? Are you okay?” she asked, a frightened look on her face. She grabbed a pad of paper off her desk and rushed over to me, fumbling with the ties that pinned my arms to the sides of the bed. “Here, write on this!”
My hands were shaking as I took the paper and pencil. “HEART!!! NEW ONE?????” I scrawled
“Oh my, yes,” she said, smiling and shaking her head. “For some reason I just thought you’d know. Don’t worry, sweetie. The surgery went GREAT! You have a brand new heart. Look up at the monitor and watch it beating.” She pointed to one of the machines on the right side of the bed near my head that had a line galloping and blipping across the screen. “Isn’t it fantastic?”
Without warning, the tension drained out of my body, and darkness floated in on me again, sending me swirling through galaxies of red, white, and blue stars and into sweet oblivion.
Suddenly I felt my feet fly out from under me. I was falling headlong through water, kicking and fighting with all my strength. My lungs were bursting. I jerked my head upright and panicked. A streaking pain exploded in my brain. I tried to scream, but all I could do was gurgle a stream of crimson bubbles. Then something touched my arm, and my nightmare ended.
A feeling of relief, sweeter than I remembered ever having, washed over me, and I murmured, “Paul? Is that you? Oh, say yes.”
When I opened my eyes again, it wasn’t Paul. Mom was standing beside my bed, dressed in disinfectant hospital garb from head to toe. Above her mask I could see the horrified look in her eyes. I couldn’t have felt more ashamed. Mom and I had been alone together almost always. Taking care of each other. Depending on each other. She reminded me constantly of what I meant to her, and who had I asked for when I woke up from surgery? Paul.
I hadn’t meant to do that. But how could I explain it to her?
Mom forgot the green cap she was wearing and tried to rake her fingers through her short, sun-bleached blond hair. Catching herself, she sighed and rolled her head from side to side to relieve the tension in her neck.
Then, desperately trying to compose herself, she sucked in her breath and whispered in a voice that she was obviously trying to make sound joyful but sounded more like pure panic to me, “Larkin! I’m so glad you’re awake again. Honey, you’re going to be fine! And I brought you a ginormous get well banner, signed by every single senior in the Fort Myers High School. But we can’t bring it in until you’re out of intensive care and into a regular room.” She smiled down at me, tears of relief and gratitude trickling down her cheeks. Then she took my hand his hers and squeezed it tightly.
I squeezed back to let her know I understood and that everything was okay. There was something I wanted to tell her. Was it how guilty I felt for asking for Paul? I couldn’t remember. I was getting sleepy again. The darkness came rolling back, and I drifted away.
I was in the water, just like before. Only this time the movement of the waves was rougher. I was being sucked toward something huge and black above my head. I tried to backpedal, but the current was too strong. Sudden pain filled my brain like wildfire. Red bubbles streamed past my face, but nothing touched my arm to wake me up this time. I was trapped. Under water. Alone. But why me? It felt so real, so terrifying, but I couldn’t be under water. I had never been underwater in my entire life! And when I finally woke up, I was screaming my head off.
Chapter 2
Only no sound was coming out. I was drowning in sweat. Drops rolled out of my hair and down my face. My gown stuck to my wet body. But worst of all, crushing pain seemed to split my head open. What had happened to me? In a sec I knew. A dream. An hallucination. One or the other. So real that I was shaking all over. But why?
I wrapped my arms around my body and rocked gently until my pulse slowed and the pain in my head gradually faded away. Exhausted, I drifted into a dreamless sleep.
The tube in my throat and the hand restraints were removed that same day, and for the next couple of days I slept more than I was awake. It must have been my meds doing their job. Those weird dreams didn’t return when I was asleep, but they sure haunted me when I was awake. It was scary. Especially since I never had nightmares.
“You finally awake?” asked Tobi, my daytime ICU nurse, coming into my room.
I nodded, still in a stupor.
“Well, don’t worry. All that sleep lets the body get used to the shock of being split open and having your heart replaced.”
She gave me a big grin along with her explanation. She was the one who had been with me when I woke up from surgery, and she was fast becoming my guardian angel with her soft, comfortable voice and constant smile.
“I had the weirdest dream,” I said. “Actually I had it twice. It scared the living crap out of me, and seemed totally real. I can’t get it out of my mind.
A frown crossed Tobi’s face. “Want to tell me about it?
I hesitated before saying, “I guess so,” I hated even thinking about it, but it wouldn’t leave me alone. I had to tell it to someone.
“It’s like I’m being sucked down into deep water, and I don’t have any air. I try to go back up, to get some oxygen, but suddenly there’s a humongous pain in my head. I try to scream, but all that comes out are red bubbles floating toward the surface…and then it ends. Why does it keep coming back? Why won’t it go away?
“Well…maybe you’re remembering something that happened to you a long time ago that really scared you. You were scared before the surgery weren’t you? Maybe your mind is having the same reaction,” Tobi said as if it were perfectly normal.
“No, Tobi. You don’t understand. I’ve never been in deep water. Mom was always scared something would happen to me. She never let me take swimming lessons or go in past my knees at the beach even when all the other kids did. She’d never let me out of her sight. I know it sounds bizarre, but it’s because there’s just the two of us. All we have is each other.”
Tobi gave me a worried look and shook her head. “Well then, I certainly don’t know where it came from. Just try not to dwell on it. When it pops into your mind, let it loose. Think about something fun, like getting out of this hospital!” She threw back her head and laughed, but it sounded more like a fake than a real one.
After she left and I was alone in my room, I glanced up at the monitor and watched in fascination as the jagged spikes matched the throbbing beat of the heart of a stranger that was in my chest. My thoughts went to the donor who had given me this precious gift. Had it belonged to a he or a she? How old? What happened to him or her?
“The only thing I can tell you is that your donor was an eighteen-year-old young man, and that he lived here in Florida,” Tobi informed me after I prodded her for two days. “They’re trying to change the law so information about the donor can be passed along, but at least for now, your mother would have to write a letter to the surgeon requesting the donor’s name and more information. Then Dr. Laramie would have to contact the boy’s family with her request, and they would have to agree. It’s to protect everybody’s privacy.
Immediately I thought about my donor. That was a lot to go through just to find out who he was. Still I couldn’t help wondering if his parents were crying at that very moment? Could the agony of his dying cause my life to be happy? How could it? I cringed at the thought. Was saving my life really worth him losing his! What about his friends? Were they still crying, too? Were they asking each other why it had happened to him? Were they talking about how much they missed him?
Wasn’t fair. I hadn’t wanted anyone to die for me. I wanted to tell them that. I needed for them to know that all I wanted was a chance to live. To get to do normal things like everybody else. To hang with my friends. To grow up and do things I’d never been able to do. I took a deep breath. Even though he’d died, I couldn’t spoil my new life by feeling guilty.
I wanted to talk to Mom about finding out who he was, but she was such a basket case, I knew she’d freak out. Actually, she was driving me crazy. She popped into my room at all times of the day. She could do that because she was a rental agent for a local real estate company and was always tearing around showing property. Every time she finished with a showing, she’d come see me. She always had that look of gloom and doom on her face.
“Hi, honey. I’ve only got a minute, but I thought I’d check on you,” she said in a breathless voice on her second visit before lunch. “I got to thinking that you looked paler this morning than you did last night and your lips were almost blue. Are you feeling okay? I need to know if anything’s wrong.”
“I’m fine, Mom!” I said gritting my teeth. “It must just be the light in the room.
“Now don’t get snappy with me.” mom said, glaring at me. “You know that I’m the only one you have to take care of you. And I love you so much! I don’t know what I’d do if.
She was starting to puddle up again, so I knew I had to appease her.
“Sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean for it to sound that way,” I said in as apologetic a tone as I could muster. It seemed to do the trick, even though she left my room slower than usual.
Being trapped in the hospital was driving me crazy. It was strange for me to be so antsy for something, anything, to happen. I was sure that it had something to do with my flaring up at Mom and talking so “snappy,” as she put it. But on the third day after my transplant something did finally happen. Actually, it was two things. I had all my wiring disconnected and I got out of bed for the first time. I shuffled down the hall with Tobi close behind me, guiding the drip stand, and I ate solid food.
Finally the moment had arrived when my first food tray was set in front of me. My mouth was watering double time. Solid food. Thank God.
“Now we’ve done this very scientifically,” Tobi said. She was trying to sound serious even though a smile quivered on her lips. “We checked with your mother to find out what your favorite foods are and came up with a menu fit for a princess…or make that a rock star! Bear in mind, of course, that this is hospital food. Still, it has to be better than what you get in the school cafeteria.” Laughing, she raised the metal cover from the plate and stood back to wait for my reaction.
I looked down at the stuff on the tray and cringed at the mushroom and green pepper pizza. It smelled awful, and I had to swallow to keep from gagging. Where was the tomato and pepperoni that I LOVED? How had I ever been able to eat such gross stuff?
Tobi came rushing back.
“Hey, I told you its hospital food. What’s wrong? Can I get you something else?”
My heart leapt. “Oh, would you? How about a dog with kraut and a brewski?”
The instant the words were out, I slapped both hands over my mouth. Hot dogs were okay, but they certainly weren’t my favorite food. And beer? I couldn’t stand the stuff. But somehow, at that very moment, a hot dog smothered in sauerkraut and a cold long-neck beer sounded better than anything in the world.
And for some reason, when my second tray arrived a little while later, it tasted that way too, even though all I got was the hot dog. Surprise. Surprise. I didn’t get the beer.
Chapter 3
“Gawd, you look awful!”
Visiting restrictions had been lifted, and Sarah Caruso stood in the doorway of my hospital room, hands on her hips, looking at me as if she was going to throw up. She looked perfect, as usual, in her denim mini skirt and short ivory sweater that exposed her navel. Her soft blond hair brushed her shoulders as if every strand were following orders.
“Thanks a lot,” I grumbled. “Actually I thought I looked pretty good. You should have seen me a couple of days ago when I was in the ICU.” My hand flew up to my greasy reddish-blond hair that hadn’t been washed since before my surgery.
I smiled and tried not to let Sarah tick me off. I kept asking myself why I stuck with the ditz. Habit, probably. And that’s probably why Meredith Runyon and Paige Pavloc stuck with her too. When we were younger, the four of us were inseparable friends. We did everything together, from pizza parties to sleepovers. We shared secrets and crushes and whispered about other kids. Sometime in seventh-grade Sarah decided she was boss. Nobody really minded, because we knew her big secret, and we were the only ones in school who knew it, which made us feel important. Her mom had run away from the family. It embarrassed her so much that she didn’t want anyone else to find out. We felt sorry for her, and, after all, she was one of our best friends, so we helped her keep her secret. At first it was okay that she played mother and told us what to wear, how to act and who we could and couldn’t talk to. We thought alike anyway. Mostly.
By middle school, not only had Sarah’s attitude changed, but she was way ahead of the rest of us. She was into clothes and makeup. If she told us to buy something, we’d better do it whether or not we could afford it. She had a way of making us feel tacky and cheap if we didn’t. Said we had wardrobes full of NON-brands.
On and off during high school I would ask myself why in the world did we always do what she said. In spite of that, we were a popular clique, which Sarah took all the credit for, and popularity counted. During this time I was getting sicker and sicker as my heart was having a harder time every day pumping my blood. It got so that I couldn’t care less what Sarah and her clones said or did. I practically stopped hanging out with them, and they quit coming around me unless I got special attention, like now. I have to admit, though, I wasn’t that much fun to be around.
“I said, where did you get that weird looking bear? Don’t tell me you sleep with him?” she said.
Sarah’s words caught me off guard. She must have been talking to me while I was thinking about our friendship. At the mention of Sir Cough-a-Lot, I reached for him, but she was faster. She grabbed the stiff little bear with his arms extended out straight on each side and twirled around the room like Cinderella dancing with Prince Charming.
“Give him back, okay? I need him,” I said. I tried not to sound panicky. “His NAME is Sir Cough-a-Lot, AND he came with the surgery.” I paused and tried to think of a light way to explain his function. “You’ve heard of side splitting laughter, right? Well, here in the transplant unit, its breast-bone splitting laughter. Coughing or sneezing isn’t much fun, either. When that happens, they told me to wrap my arms around him and hug him as tightly as I can.
Sarah dropped the bear on the foot of my bed and stared at me as if she hadn’t really seen me before. It was as if she hadn’t even known what they have to do when they take your heart out of your body and put another one in. I guess nobody ever told her any of the gory details. Like using a little buzz saw to cut open the breast bone from top to bottom. I know I hadn’t. But she should have figured it out. How else could they get to my heart?
Whirling around, she stuck her head into the hallway. I thought she was getting out of there so she wouldn’t have to hear anymore about my surgery, but I was wrong. The next instant Meredith and Paige hurried into the room a little faster than usual.
“Look who I brought to see you,” Sarah said triumphantly. “The grouchy nurse out at the station said you could only have one visitor at a time, so I told them to pretend they were heading for the elevator, then slip down the center hall and sneak in.”
“Hi, Larkin. It’s good to see you and…” Paige began chattering the way she usually did, only this time she stopped cold when she got a good look at me. She turned instantly white, and her freckles seemed to jump out at me.
Meredith eyed the door and ran her fingers through her spiky black hair. Finally she let out a big sigh and turned to look at me. “So, how’s it going? I mean, does it hurt, or anything?” she asked, in a voice that told me she was afraid of what my answer would
“Right,” said Paige, who had gotten her voice back. “Is it true that they had to break open your breast bone? That’s what my dad said.” At least she knew that
“Yup. But they didn’t actually break it open,” I said. “They used a small electric saw. Want to see my incision?” I teased.
“That’s okay,” Meredith said quickly, backing away and shaking her head. She turned to Sarah and Paige and asked, “Well, guys, what do you think of this place?” It was obvious she was trying to change the subject.
Sarah and Paige looked relieved, and the three of them began poking around my hospital room as if it was more fun than looking at me. I glanced around, too. It was the first time I had really noticed that the walls were painted a soft, soothing green. Or that the faint scent of disinfectant hung in the air.
“What an awesome place,” said Paige, stopping and glancing at all the monitors that surrounded my bed. “What do those things do?”
“Look what I found. Here’s the bedpan!” Meredith said, before I could answer Paige. Meredith had reached into the cabinet beside my bed and held it over her head, rolling her eyes. “Whoa! Imagine sitting on this thing.”
“That’s why they split those adorable hospital gowns up the back,” said Sarah. “It’s not just to show off your cute little butt.” I was the only one who didn’t laugh.
I couldn’t believe how Sarah and Meredith were poking through everything. Only Paige stood at the foot of the bed now, awkwardly silent as she looked around. I got madder and madder as Sarah and Meredith chattered about boys and clothes, opened drawers and looked under things as if they were gathering information for a school report. It was like I wasn’t even there. Some friends!
I sank back against my pillow and closed my eyes, amazed that I was finally admitting the truth. I had known it before, but I hadn’t wanted to face it. The three of them had floated around the outskirts of my world, focusing only on themselves, while someone else, another human being, had to die for me to continue living. And someone had. Couldn’t they understand how serious that was? Had they even thought about it?
“Hey, guys,” Paige said softly. “I think Larkin’s zoned out on us.”
“Yeah, well, it’s time to go anyway,” Sarah said.
Before I could react, a booming voice filled the room. “Excuuuuuse ME!”
My eyes shot open. Ms. Sontag, the daytime duty nurse, was standing in the doorway, scowling at my visitors.
Sarah tried to take charge. “We really needed to see her. All of us. She’s our best friend… and…we just…” For the first time that I’d ever heard of, Sarah sounded scared and her voice trailed off in a weak sputter.
Nurse Sontag turned her glaring eyes on Sarah. “Didn’t you hear me tell you that Larkin could only have one visitor at a time? What did the three of you mean by all coming in at once?”
“You sound just like my mother!” Sarah spat out. Then her mouth sort of twitched, and I couldn’t believe my eyes when a single tear rolled down her cheek.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Please, nurse. They are my best friends. And they really do care about me. They didn’t mean to hurt anything.” The words streamed out before I could stop them. I couldn’t believe I was sticking up for Sarah, but she had sounded like such a scared little girl.
“I guess we really should go,” Sarah offered still looking scared. “We just stopped in for a minute. Bye, Larkin.”
All three of them gave me fluttery little waves and scurried out the door.
Chapter 4
There is more to my dream this time.
“Stop! Stop! My God, you’ve got to stop!”
Someone is screaming. It sounds like a girl? Is it me! Omg! This can’t be happening? I can’t be under water again!
“LISTEN TO MEEEEE!”
A gigantic rumble, heavy enough to shake the earth, sends a concussion slamming against me. It punches me so hard that I tumble and tumble through space. Or is it water? If only I could open my eyes and see where I am. See what had punched me. See who is screaming. But I’m drifting too far away.
”Larkin! Wake up!”
My eyes popped open in terror only to find Paul Bishop bending over me. “Are you okay? You were screaming? Screaming for somebody to stop What the hell’s going on?” His usually half-open, sleepy-looking eyes were wide with alarm.
“I was screaming?” I asked in a shaking voice. Had it really been me? This was way too confusing.
“Like a banshee. Like it was life or death! What kind of nightmare were you having, for Christ sake?” “I…I don’t really know. Something stupid, probably.”
I collapsed deeper into what had been my cozy cocoon of a bed. Now, instead of feeling safe, I felt vulnerable. Why was it that when I thought I was screaming, I wasn’t. And when I didn’t think I was screaming, I was? I looked up into Paul’s face, desperate to find the comfort I usually found in his way of acting casual all the time. But it wasn’t there this time. He was definitely as scared as I was.
Paul is my neighbor and my best friend since we were little. He has never liked to play sports or roughhouse, and kids used to call him a sissy. Now Sarah and the others say he’s a fag, swearing he perms his hair. Of course, he doesn’t. Sure, his hair had had tight blond curls when he was six or seven, but they had loosened as he grew older and let his hair grow longer. Now they were a lion’s mane of wild and sexy waves. He puts up with their gossip with quiet dignity. I’ve always admired him for that. He never let things get to him. Like Sarah and her clones. He just ignored them, pretended they weren’t there. But he also made me feel better about everything…until now.
I pushed the nightmare as far down into my memory as I could and concentrated on the moment and the welcome sight of my friend. “So, how’s it going?” I asked, trying to smile.
“Are you sure that’s all it was?” he said. “Your face is all sweaty and so’s your hair. Do you want me to call the nurse?”
I glanced up at my heart monitor. The beeps and blips were tearing across the screen like raging ripples. I forced myself to take a deep breath and watched them slow a little and finally drop to normal speed.
“Nothing to worry about,” I lied. “Happens all the time. Sit down.”
Paul backed into the chair by my bed. I could see that he wasn’t totally convinced that I was okay, but he was going along with it. That was fine with me. I wasn’t ready to talk about those stupid dreams, even to him.
“What’s happening at school? Any teachers murdered? Anybody poisoned in the cafeteria? Any drug rings uncovered? Anything juicy at all?”
Paul shook his head and chuckled, turning the dimple in his left cheek into the size of the Grand Canyon. “You know I don’t listen to gossip.”
“Okay, so call it current events,” I countered. “Surely there’s something that would make the eleven o’clock news.”
He shrugged. “Let’s see, we won our first conference football game. That’s it for news. Oh, yeah. Here, I brought your books and assignments.” He pulled off his backpack and rummaged around in it until he found my books.
“And I thought you were my friend,” I grumbled.
You didn’t think your teachers would ignore you just because you had a heart transplant, did you? Jeeze! Some people will do anything to get out of homework”
I grabbed Sir-Cough-A-Lot and pressed him to my chest just seconds before I laughed out loud. Paul could always make me laugh. He was starting to relax now, which made me feel even better.
“Has your mom been in much?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes in disgust. “Only about a gazillion times. She’s driving me crazy. She questions the doctors, the nurses, reads my chart and hovers over me like I’m going to die in the next five minutes.”
“You know she’s worried about you. Besides, she can’t help it. You’re her kid and you’re all she has.”
“I know,” I admitted.
“Who’s that, a new boyfriend?” he asked, changing the subject again as he set my books on night stand.
I knew he would say that. He’s had a crush on me since third grade, but I only considered him a friend until this year. We seem to be even closer now, and it’s fun to make him jealous. “I’ve always had a thing for teddy bears,” I shot back. “Hey, I have some news. Sarah and her clones came to see me yesterday, and they acted like I was some kind of display. She’s a real piece of work.”
“You could say that again,” Paul muttered.
I sank back into a fit of depression. I was sick to death of the labels Sarah stuck on everybody, whether they fit on not. It was just that I didn’t have many other friends to turn to. Thank goodness for Paul. Then I remembered her strange reaction to Nurse Sontag. I’d never seen Sarah where she wasn’t in charge of everything. She had actually looked scared.
“Hey, Lark. You didn’t go to sleep on me, did you?”
Paul’s voice brought me back to reality. I smiled at him. “Now what were we talking about?”
He stood up and ruffled my hair. “I was talking. YOU were snoring,” he said.
“I was not,” I mumbled. “And I definitely do NOT snore.”
“It’s getting late, anyway,” he said. “I’ve gotta go. Here, save this for when I’m gone. I know it’s your favorite.” He tossed something onto my lap.
“Hey, thanks,” I said without looking to see what it was. “Come back, okay? I promise I’ll talk up a storm.”
“Sure,” he said. “Two rules. No more dreams, and don’t forget your homework.”
I let out a big sigh when he was gone and looked to see what he had brought me. It was an Almond Joy candy bar. The thought of coconut cream and milk chocolate made me shudder. It even smelled awful. How could I have ever eaten a thing like that? I wondered and tossed the candy bar into the drawer of my bedside table.
It was still light outside when I dropped off to sleep, but it was pitch black when I woke up screaming again and trying to thrash my way up through water.
The room lights flashed on, and Medora, the night nurse, rushed to the side of my bed. “Larkin! Larkin! What’s wrong?” she shouted.
I was shaking too hard to answer. I was gulping in breath, and searing pain filled my head. I grabbed Sir Cough-A-Lot and pressed him to my chest. “It…it’s okay,” I finally managed to whisper. “Just that stupid dream again. Why is it happening so often?”
Medora’s eyes flashed toward my heart monitor and she gasped. She grabbed her blood pressure cuff, putting it around my upper arm and her finger on my pulse.
I panicked. What was happening to me?
Medora wrote my vitals on her chart and asked, “Was it the dream where you were under water and trying to reach something?”
I nodded. “How did you know about that?”
“There’s a note on your chart from Dr. Laramie. I’m going to have to report this to him right away. Will you be all right if I leave you alone for a few minutes?”
“Sure,” I said, trying to sound confident. The dreams had just been annoying at first, but now they were scary. And if Dr. Laramie wanted to know about them, was he scared, too?
A few minutes later Medora came back with the doctor.
“I was just leaving the hospital for the day. I’m glad your nurse was able to catch me,” he said when he came in dressed in street clothes instead of his usual white coat. “So you had another dream?” He picked up my chart and scanned it with a frown while he waited for me to answer.
“That’s right. They don’t mean that my body’s rejecting my new heart, do they? I mean, I know I take special meds and you give me biopsies to see if that’s happening, and they’ve been okay so far, but I thought…” My voice trailed off. I wasn’t really sure what I thought.
“No, don’t worry. Your body’s not rejecting your heart,” he said. “I’m only monitoring the dreams to see if they disturb you unduly. But tell me, Larkin, was this exactly the same dream as the ones you had before?”
“Yeah, except for the scream,” I said.
“You heard someone scream?” the doctor asked with a frown.
I nodded again. “It sounded like me, and when I woke up I was screaming. Maybe it was nothing.”
“Hmm. Could you see anything new?” Dr. Laramie asked.
“I don’t think so.” I frowned in frustration. “I don’t really like to think about it.”
“Okay,” he said briskly. “Just, uh…keep me posted.”
After the doctor and Medora left, I couldn’t help going back over my nightmare again. It was more than strange. It was eerie. And so freakin’ real. I could actually feel the ebb and flow of cold water. Sea grass fanning in the murky greyness and slapping against my skin. For the first time I felt a dark shadow hanging over my head, but I couldn’t make out what it was. A boat? A shark! Had it been there in the other dreams, or was I just so scared that I was making things up? I hadn’t made up the pain or the red bubbles or the girl that was screaming. What if she really was me? I would stay awake forever if I had to. I could not go through that crazy dream again.
I opened the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out the candy bar Paul had brought me as my head began to ache again. The candy should have made me feel better, but it didn’t. I tried to concentrate on it anyway to muffle the pain and get the nightmare out of my mind. I turned the bar over in my hand, wondering how I could ever have craved that flavor. How many times had I jokingly told other kids that I would practically kill for an Almond Joy? Now, I could barely stand the smell of it.
What was going on with me? First the pizza. Now this. Had the doctors transplanted my taste buds, too?
Chapter 5
The next day was pretty much normal. At least there were no more nightmares and no big surprises on my meal trays. Mom ran in on her way to work, looking as if she hadn’t slept all night.
“I came as soon as I could,” she said in a breathless voice. “But I called earlier to check on you, and they said you’d had a peaceful night.” She sounded like she was reassuring herself instead of me.
She came back on her lunch break, quizzing me on whether I’d taken my meds the way I was supposed to. As if! When she left she promised she would be back that evening.
The best thing that happened was when Paul stopped by again after school. At least that’s what I thought when he first came into my room, wearing his usual sideways grin.
“Hey, Lark. What’s going on? Get any new body parts today?”
I picked up Sir Cough-A-Lot when he walked into the room. As usual, I needed him.
“No, silly,” I said. “But I did break the speed record for walking up and down the hall, and tomorrow I get to try to break out of here on my new ride.” I cocked my head toward the stationary bike two orderlies had brought into the room that afternoon and set underneath the Get Well banner from the kids at school.
“Cool,” Paul said.
“Okay,” I said impatiently. “Now give me your report for the eleven o’clock news.”
“Hmmm. Not much happened today. I didn’t even hear a word out of Sarah and her goons about you. I guess you’re old news. Any more dreams?” he asked, looking concerned.
“Nope. Not so far, anyway. Who knows, maybe they were just a fluke, and I won’t have any more,” I said.
“I think you should talk to Dr. Laramie about them. They might be a fluke, but they could mean something’s wrong,” Paul said.
“I’m way ahead of you,” I said smugly. “I did talk to him and he said not to worry about them. So, there.”
“Gotcha,” Paul started to smile, but his expression turned serious again. “Have they told you anything about…you know…where your new heart came from?”
I shook my head. “Not really. It’s against the law here in Florida to reveal the name of either the donor or the recipient unless both families agree in writing. At least that’s what Tobi said. All I can know so far is that he was a teenage boy, and that he died in an accident.”
“A guy?” Paul asked incredulously. “You’ve got the heart of a guy?”
“Yeah. A guy. What’s so funny about that?”
“I don’t know,” said Paul. I could see that the wheels were turning in his brain. “Do you think you’ll get a crush on a girl now? They say love is all in the heart. What if you fell for Sarah? Or Paige? Or one of your nurses?”
“You idiot!” I cried and grabbed Sir Cough-A-Lot as I burst out laughing. “Besides, if I was going to fall for another girl, I’d fall for someone beautiful and famous and with lots of money, like Beounce or Taylor Swift. I’d make it worth my while.”
We carried on like that for the next half hour or so until we’d completely worn out the subject. Finally, just before he left, Paul gave me a serious look and said, “How do you ask in writing who your donor is…or was? Are you going to try to find out?”
I had been avoiding asking myself that question every since I had found out that I could try to find out his identity. I shook my head. “What do you think Mom would say? She’s the one who would have to do the asking.”
“I’d think she’d be dying to know who saved your life. Don’t you?”
I didn’t answer for a second. “But if I found out who he was, his family would know who I was. You know how overprotective she is.”
You’ve got to try, Lark,” Paul insisted.
“I’ll think about it,” I said with a shrug.
After he left I started wondering all over again about my donor and if having his heart would actually change my life. It sounded ridiculous at first. After all, it was just an organ, a body part, but a majorly important one, I had to admit. But it had been in his body his whole life. It had pumped his blood and kept him alive, and now it was doing the same thing for me. For the first time since the surgery, I felt uneasy. What if the dreams had been a message from him, where ever he was, telling me that he wanted his heart back. What if the screaming to stop meant he wanted the surgery stopped. But now, it’s too late!.
I’m walking alone on the beach and I feel comfortable in my dream this time . It’s almost sunset, and the sky is a brilliant coral. Offshore a pelican skims an inch above the water, searching for his supper beneath the gentle waves. Seagulls peck among the candy wrappers and soda cups dropped by afternoon sunbathers. I am kicking along through the sand halfheartedly gazing at the seashells that have been washed ashore by the tide when I stopped. In front of me is a tide pool filled with baby starfish the size of kindergarten stars. They’re so beautiful and delicate they almost take my breath away. I don’t know how long I stand there, drinking in their beauty, until suddenly I am aware of someone standing across the tide pool looking straight at me. Our eyes meet.
He’s a little taller than I am with dark serious eyes. He’s also around my age. I know he has been in the water because his swim trunks are wet and beads of water cling to his shoulders and face. He doesn’t say anything. I don’t either. I don’t want to. I don’t need to. Something strange is flowing between us. A sort of energy that fills me with peace and draws me closer to him. And closer. Until our lips meet and I seem to draw him into me like a breath of sweet air. I blink and he is racing into the water. I sprint after him. He is motioning for me to follow, but no matter how fast I run, I can’t catch him. A moment later he is gone.
I tried to hang on to the sweet serenity of the dream, but it was slipping away. The boy I had kissed had disappeared in a fleeting second and left me lying alone in the dark feeling the strange sense that we had met before. Then something else occurred to me. This dream was different. It wasn’t in the water, but it was at the beach. Could the dreams possibly be connected? I tried not to think about them, to relax, but I couldn’t.
Still, I must have relaxed enough to drift off to sleep because I felt myself waking up and I knew that instant something was wrong. Terribly wrong. My eyes flew open, but it was too dark to see anything. All I could figure out was that I was crunched up in a ball, lying on something hard. It wasn’t my bed. It felt like the floor, and I was in a corner. My God! Where was I?
Before I could even think, there was a sudden hum, a vibration, the feeling that the whole room was moving.
Then a stab of light hit my face and someone screamed, “Oh my God! There’s a patient in here! She’s passed out on the floor!”
It took me a minute to realize I was in an elevator and the herd of people stampeding toward me were all wearing hospital garb. From the pungent smell of food in the air, I vaguely thought I must be near the cafeteria. How in God’s name had I gotten here?
“How in the world did you get here?” echoed a man in green scrubs and a dark crew cut. “Are you okay?” He gently pulled me into a sitting position and checked the pulse in my neck with his fingers. “Code Red!” he shouted and seconds later a nurse rushed to his side dragging a crash cart behind her.
The next few minutes were a blur as they checked all my vital signs and lifted me onto a gurney. They must have finally been satisfied that I wasn’t in danger of dying on the spot because an orderly rolled me back to my room where a nighttime duty nurse met me at the door. I had never seen her before, but alarm was written all over her face.
“What happened? Why did you leave your room?” she asked frantically as she helped the orderly lift me back into my bed. “Why didn’t you call me if you needed something?”
“I…I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head. I was as bewildered as she was. “I had this dream. I was at the beach looking at baby starfish. Then a boy walked up. He kissed me and ran away. I went after him, but I couldn’t catch up. And then I woke up in the elevator.”
“That must have been some dream,” she said, checking all my vital signs. Then she frowned and scribbled notes on her chart. I was getting sleepy again, and the last thing I remember was the blanket being gently tucked around me.
Chapter 6
To my relief, when I opened my eyes in the darkened room I could hear the 6 a.m. bustle of nurses bringing around early morning meds and of breakfast trays clanking down the hall. Wisps of the dream clung to my memory. But I wasn’t afraid of the dream this time. Only what it was that had made me race to the elevator and curl up into a ball. I tried to remember the sound of the voice, but I couldn’t. Maybe it was just the moan the wind makes. Still, it haunted me as voices in the hallway and the distant whoosh of a toilet flushing drowned it out.
“Mornin’ darlin.’ How are y’all this beautiful morning?” Essie, the LPN from southern Georgia who always brought my breakfast, hurried into the room, flipping on the overhead light. “And it IS a beeee-utiful morning.” Her pale face was beaming, as usual, under a mop of dyed black hair.
Squinting in the sudden glare, I watched as she made one fluid motion to bring the stand across my bed and slide the tray under my nose. Then she helped me up into a sitting position and fluffed the pillows behind me.
“Thanks, Essie,” I said.
“Now you eat up,” she said as she bustled out of the room again.
I stared down at the poached egg and dry toast and thought about Mom for the zillionth time. When I was younger she had plopped a scrambled egg, bacon and toast in front of me every morning with the warning that I couldn’t leave the table until I ate it ALL. Even if it meant being late for school. She thought that not eating breakfast would stunt my growth. She thought a lot of weird things, most of them because she was scared she wouldn’t do the mom thing right being all by herself. And she didn’t. One morning, when I was in fifth-grade, I’d had it. She set my usual plate of eggs and toast in front of me, and I lost it.
“I hate eggs! I hate you! I know my dad wouldn’t make me eat eggs every single day. I want to go live with him!”
“Larkin, honey, you…” Sobs choked off her words, and a look of devastation spread across her face as she dashed out of the kitchen and into her bedroom. That was the last time I said anything like that to her. I sighed at the memory and dunked a point of toast into the runny yolk and tried to eat it the way I always had.
After breakfast and all the morning rituals were over I started feeling drowsy. Maybe a nap.instead of starting on my homework.would be the best idea. Nobody in the hospital should have to do homework.
I closed my eyes and slid into a dreamless existence. Rest and strength washed over me and made me feel as if I were getting whole again. Finally, I turned over onto my side and stretched like a lazy cat as I opened my eyes
“Oh, no!” I screamed. “Help me!”
My entire pillow was covered with blood. Had my sutures popped? Was my heart in danger? My life? I pushed up onto my elbow and reached for the call button. I could feel the stickiness on the side of my face and the warm liquid racing toward my chin. The shoulder of my hospital gown was drenched with bright red.
“Help me! PLEASE help me!”
A nurse I’d never seen before, with short blond hair and glasses, came walking into my room and started rummaging through the drawer in my night stand as if she’d never heard my scream.
“Thank…thank God you’re here!” I stammered. “Where did all this blood on my pillow come from?
She stared blankly from me to the pillow and back to my face again. “Blood?” she asked. “There’s no blood on your pillow. Maybe you’re hallucinating. I’ll call your duty nurse.”
I could see out of the corner of my eye that she was telling the truth. My pillow was stark white. And so was my shoulder. Slowly I brought my hand up to my face and felt my dry skin. This is impossible! I thought as I bit my lips together. I knew that I had just seen blood!
“Did you hear me?” asked the nurse. “I said I’ll get your duty nurse.”
Shaking my head uneasily, I stared at her. Oh, my God. I must be going crazy. But I couldn’t say that out loud.
“No, don’t call anyone. It was just a dream,” I insisted. “What are you looking for?”
“Your tennis shoes and shorts,” she said. “You’re supposed to begin riding the exercise bike this morning, unless you’re not feeling up to it.”
I had been told the same thing by Doctor Laramie yesterday, but now that it was actually time to do it, I was terrified. What if I see blood again? Or have some other kind of hallucination? What will it mean? Will it stop my recuperation? Will it hurt me?
“Do you think I’m really ready? Maybe I need another day or two of rest,” I said hurriedly. I couldn’t climb on that bike. Something terrible was happening to me.
“Of course you’re ready,” she said with a smile. “I understand how nervous you are. And how frightened you are after such serious surgery. But don’t worry. I’ll be right here with you. Ring for me when you’ve finished changing.”
There was no way I was going to get out of it, no matter what I said to the nurse. She was a real hard ass. A few minutes later I had my tennis shoes and shorts on and was sitting on the bike gripping the handlebars for all I was worth. The rehab nurse, who told me her name was Maria, stood close and smiled reassuringly.
“Put your feet on the pedals and slowly turn them.” she said.
I hesitated.
I moved my right foot forward until my big toe touched the pedal. I wished mom were here, or better yet, Paul. I needed someone I trusted to hold my hand.
“Go on,” Maria urged.
I pushed, and the pedals started a slow spin. My left foot caught the other pedal as it swung around. Now I was turning them with both feet. I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. I felt good. No. Surprisingly, I felt great. I sat up a little taller as I continued to pedal the stationary bike. It felt wonderful to be moving again. I couldn’t remember when I’d felt so good.