Keep Me in Your Heart (8 page)

She inhaled deeply. “I love the smell of summer, don’t you?”

He was preoccupied and had to force his mind to change course. He was alone with Jessica in the light of a pale moon rising. He needed to forget their problems and concentrate on her. “I love the smell of your hair,” he countered.

“I have an appointment to get it all cut off next week.”

“But why? I like your hair long, and you always have too.”

“Because it looks terrible.” She fingered it. “Kidney failure is ruining it, so I’ll chop it off and stop feeling bad about the way it’s looking. It’s ugly.”

“No—”

“Jeremy, it’s okay. It’s only hair.”

He could tell that cutting it would be difficult for her, but that she’d made up her mind
to do so. “You can grow it long again after the transplant,” he said.

“Right,” she said listlessly. “ ‘After the transplant’ is beginning to sound like some foreign planet, some faraway destination where I’ll never arrive.”

“It’s going to happen, Jessica.” He hated to hear the sad resignation in her voice.

“I worry about it, though.” She nibbled on her bottom lip. “It’s a big responsibility—taking someone’s organ from them. What if my body rejects it? Then everyone loses. You’re minus a kidney. And I’m back on dialysis.”

“Is that what’s bothering you? You’re afraid you’ll reject my kidney?”

“Yes.” She picked at peeling paint on the arm of the swing. “Dr. Witherspoon sent in a psychologist to talk to me. Some people aren’t good transplant candidates because they don’t plan on taking extra-good care of themselves.”

“What’d you tell her?”

“I told her taking care of myself wouldn’t be a problem for me. She said my fears are natural, that all recipients are uneasy about receiving another person’s organ.”

“And there’s medication to keep you from rejecting.”

“The drugs aren’t guarantees, Jeremy. Sometimes, despite all the best care, a person still rejects.”

He could see how deeply she was troubled by the idea. “Are you upset because you’ll have to return to dialysis, or because you feel it’s necessary to keep my kidney safe and healthy?”

She was amazed at his ability to instantly grasp her deepest, innermost feelings. At the bottom of her fears was the one about being inadequate, about being handed a responsibility that she might fail to live up to by default. “I don’t want to reject
your
kidney,” she mumbled.

“You’re not less of a person if you do, Jessie. It’s not something to be ashamed of, like cheating on an exam or stealing from someone.”

She sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. “Aren’t you scared about losing an organ?”

He didn’t answer immediately, and Jessica listened to the sounds of the night as she waited. Insects hummed, and water from the
garden pond gurgled. Jeremy said, “It’s more like anxious than scared. With the surgery, I go to sleep and a few hours later wake up with a sore side and back. They tell me I’ll recover fast.” He paused, and she heard a dog barking far away. “Maybe it has something to do with Tom’s accident. I walked away with hardly a scratch while he died. I saw the car later; it was crumpled up like a squashed soda can. No one could figure out how I didn’t get hurt. I sure don’t know either.”

She recalled the many discussions they’d had when their friendship was developing about his brother’s death. Over time, he’d expressed anger, guilt, depression. But now his voice was different, as if he’d come to some kind of peace with it.

She listened as he continued. “You told me that God had saved me for a purpose. I’ve come to believe that the purpose was to help save you. Don’t worry, I haven’t got a God complex. But doing this for you is what I want to do. It’s what I
need
to do. In a way, it helps me make sense out of Tom’s dying while I’m still alive.”

She could think of nothing to tell him that
would fully express her gratitude. She slid forward, turned to embrace him, and kissed him longingly on the mouth.

Jeremy was working in the law library the next day at noon, gathering books and articles for one of the attorneys in his father’s office, when a secretary stuck her head through the doorway. “You’ve got a call on line three, Jeremy.”

He quickly picked up the receiver. It was Dr. Witherspoon. Jeremy’s hands grew clammy and his mouth went dry. “How’d the meeting go with my folks?”

The doctor sighed heavily. “Not well. I couldn’t persuade them, son. I’m sorry. Your father is adamant about your not sacrificing your kidney, and there’s no way he’s going to relent.”

J
eremy hung up the phone. His parents weren’t going to let him be Jessica’s donor. In spite of all his pleading, all the information from Dr. Witherspoon, all the testing for compatibility, all the expressions of gratitude from Jessica’s parents, it wasn’t going to happen. Too numb to react, Jeremy sat and stared at the floor. He told himself to call Jessica, but he wasn’t up to talking to her. Not yet. He needed time to think.

A rap on the law library door roused him from his stupor. His father stood in the doorway, his face a guarded mask. “I dropped your mother at her office. I thought you and I could discuss our meeting with Dr. Witherspoon.”

“I heard about the meeting,” Jeremy said, ignoring his father’s offer.

“Your mother and I did what we think is right. I know our decision isn’t popular, but it’s the one we felt was in your best—”

“I know,” Jeremy interrupted. “In
my
best interests.”

“I hope you can be civilized about this.”

“Sure. My girlfriend’s dying and you won’t let me help her.”

“That’s not fair, Jeremy. Her doctor will look for another donor. She’s in capable hands.”

Jeremy gave him a cold stare.

“Your mom and I aren’t the bad guys in this, Jeremy. We’re genuinely sorry about Jessica and we’re willing to support and help out in any other way but this.”

“It’s my body,” Jeremy muttered stubbornly.

“But it’s our decision. When you’re eighteen, you can do whatever you want—although even then I’d counsel against your donating. But for now, you’re our responsibility and we’re going to protect you from making an irrevocable choice.”

“In two years, when I’m eighteen, Jessica may not be alive.”

“You don’t know that. No one knows what tomorrow holds for them, son. You may have a child someday who needs a kidney and you’d be unable to help him. Then you’d regret this decision.”

Jeremy shook his head in disgust. “That’s a far-fetched possibility.”

“Anything can happen,” his father said.
“Anything.”

“You know what’s weird?” Jeremy didn’t wait for his father’s response. “I know you and Mom write a big check to the Humane Society and the Wildlife Preservation League, even that Save the Whales group every year. You have mercy on helpless animals, but not on people. You won’t do a thing to let me help Jessica, and she’s more valuable than any animal.”

His father raked his hand through his short hair and sighed. “Listen, I’ve got a client coming in fifteen minutes. I can’t stand here and argue this out with you right now. If you want to discuss it at home tonight—”

“No,” Jeremy said calmly. “I’m through talking.”

His father looked surprised. “Well, if you change your mind …”

“I won’t.”

When his father had gone down the hall to his office, Jeremy sat fingering the stack of law books. So, the battle was over. He had lost.
No! Jessica had lost
. He picked up the phone and dialed her number.

“I’m not mad at anybody, Jeremy.” Jessica’s voice sounded soft and breathy. Dr. Witherspoon had already called and broken the news to her family. “I don’t have long to talk because Mom’s taking me to dialysis soon, but I understand how your parents feel. I don’t hold their decision against them.”

He did. “What about
your
parents?”

“Mom’s pretty shaken up, but Dad’s more philosophical about it. He seems more understanding. He keeps saying we’ll find some other donor.”

“Can I see you later?”

She hesitated. “Maybe it would be better if you didn’t come around for a few days.”

He felt sick at her suggestion. And afraid they’d never let him see her again. “Why?”

“Just until Mom calms down. She’s … mixed up … and angry.” He could tell it was difficult for Jessica to talk to him about this. “Give her a few days to get a better perspective on things. She’ll come around. I know she will.”

“Things like me?”

“Things like the unfairness of life.”

“I love you, Jessie.”

“I love you too. That won’t change.”

He didn’t want to hang up. Didn’t want to sever the connection. He wanted to hold her, kiss her. Quietly he said, “It’s not over, Jessie.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to find a way to do what I want to do.”

“But—”

“But nothing. I won’t let my father stop me.”

Jeremy spent the next week working and keeping to himself. At home he hardly spoke to his parents. He was aloof and impersonal, and went out of his way to avoid them—leaving the room when they entered, eating no meals with them and staying in his room as
much as possible. They didn’t pressure him, content to give him the latitude to nurse his hurt and anger.

The worst part of his self-imposed exile was not seeing Jessica. If she didn’t answer the phone when he called, her mother hung up on him. In a way, he didn’t blame Mrs. McMillan. Her daughter was acutely ill, and her best chance for recovery had been snatched away. He had gotten their hopes up and then failed to deliver on his promise.

It was only mid-July, but the remainder of the summer stretched before him like an unbroken chain of dreary days and endless nights. He knew he’d have to do something to turn things around, not only for himself, but for Jessica.

He began spending his lunch hour poring over law books, making notes as he waded through the legalese. Slowly he began to formulate a plan, and as it started to coalesce, he began once again to find hope for Jessica’s impossible situation. But he needed help to carry out his plan. Serious help.

He called Jessica’s father, catching him by surprise. Jeremy said, “I need a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“I want you to help me get in to see a law professor at Georgetown. A
good
law professor.”

Don McMillan set up an appointment for Jeremy with one of the top professors of law at Georgetown University. On the night of the meeting, Jeremy drove to the campus, parked in front of the law building and went into the lobby.

Don McMillan was waiting for him. Jeremy held out his hand. “Thank you, sir, for helping me.”

Jessica’s father smiled wanly. “Judson Parker is a good friend of mine. And an excellent professor of law. We haven’t seen much of each other ever since Jessica got sick, but he was willing to meet with us when I called and asked. Besides, Jeremy, I hold no ill will toward you. Your heart was in the right place when you tried to give Jessica … well, you know.”

“How is she?” Jeremy had sneaked in to see her that very afternoon at the dialysis center. He’d come before her mother was to pick her up and had sat beside Jessica’s chair, holding her hand while the machine finished cleansing
her blood. They hadn’t talked much; Jessica was ill. But being near her had calmed and comforted him. And it had given him renewed resolve to face tonight’s meeting.

“She’s not well,” Don McMillan said in answer to Jeremy’s question. “Dr. Witherspoon tells us she’s struggling with high blood pressure and water retention, despite the dialysis. He’s changed her medications again. That’s the third time in four months.”

Jeremy was dismayed.

Her father patted him on the back. “It’s not your fault, Jeremy. Don’t put yourself under so much pressure.”

Jeremy knew he was talking about his parents’ refusal to sign the consent form for the transplant. “I know,” he said. “Maybe after tonight, though, I’ll be in a position to turn things around.”

Don led him into a lecture hall with built-in chairs on risers that angled down to a flat floor with a table, a podium, and a blackboard along the back wall. Tonight three people were seated around the table. Don introduced Jeremy to Professor Parker, who in turn introduced them both to the younger man and woman beside
him. “This is Fran Beckner and Jacob Steiner, two fourth-year students and two of my brightest and best.”

Jeremy’s nervousness was calmed by the friendly smiles of the dark-haired Fran and the frizzy-haired Jacob. “Jake,” the man said. “I prefer that people call me Jake.”

Professor Parker offered Jeremy a chair at the table opposite them. “Don says you work at your father’s law firm, but you have some legal questions.”

“Yes,” Jeremy said, taking a seat. Jessica’s father settled next to him.

“Isn’t there anyone at his firm who could help you?”

“No one.”

“Travino …” Fran turned the name over thoughtfully. “Is your father
the—
”

“Yes,” Jeremy said, cutting her off. “He is.”

The two students exchanged glances.

“How can we help you?” Professor Parker asked.

Jeremy took a deep breath. “I want to be free of my parents’ legal hold on my life. I want you to help me declare my emancipation.”

“E
mancipation?” Professor Parker asked, sounding surprised. “Declaring independence from your parents is both serious and complicated.”

“I know, but there’s plenty of legal precedent for it.” Jeremy reached into the portfolio he was carrying and removed a manila folder. He opened it, saying, “An eleven-year-old Florida boy filed to ‘divorce’ his biological parents and be adopted by his foster family. He won the case. Other kids have also been granted legal freedom from their biological families. I have some examples here.” He handed Professor Parker several sheets of paper documenting his findings in legal books.

The professor skimmed Jeremy’s notes. “These cases all involved abuse. Have your parents abused you?”

“No.”

“Then on what grounds do you plan to petition the court?”

“Constitutional grounds.”