In a Heartbeat (15 page)

30

Amelia

Ari’s voice sounded older on the phone. “First, write down everything you know for sure.”

I spoke softly, even though my bedroom door was closed. “I don’t know anything for sure.”

“Yes you do. You know when your transplant took place. That’s a start.”

I wrote down the date in my notebook. “What else?”

“Now write down what you
might
know. You think it’s a girl, right?”

I wrote that down with a question mark. “What about location?” I asked. “I don’t know where she lived.”

“The heart could have come from anywhere. We also don’t know the donor’s age, but your mom said the donor was a teen with a driver’s license, so she had to be at least sixteen.”

I wrote down sixteen with another question mark. “This is hopeless.”

“Hey, I love a good mystery.”

“This mystery doesn’t have any leads.”

“Maybe your donor died unexpectedly. So we’ll search for teen accident deaths, that sort of thing.”

I opened my laptop and typed in “teen accident.” “Only seven million, one hundred and twenty thousand results. This won’t take long at all.”

I could hear Ari typing on his laptop. “Keep narrowing. Search by date,” he said.

I typed in the date and the word “accident.” I opened a site that showed a Nissan wrapped around a telephone pole. That poor teen didn’t have a chance. But I clicked on it and found out that the teen hadn’t died after all.

“What now?”

Ari’s voice was optimistic. “Try using your gut instinct.”

“I have a gut feeling she liked figure skating.” I typed that in. Only five million, eight hundred and ten thousand hits. I clicked on a couple. Duds.

Ari’s typing was like a horse racing around a track. Mine was like a slow trot. A minute later he suddenly stopped. “What about . . . Just a sec. God, it can’t be this easy.”

“What? What did you find?” My heart sped up.

“Type in ‘figure skater death.’ ”

I typed the words and hit the enter key. A page on the death of a former figure skater who died of a drug overdose. The death of an eighty-four-year-old former figure skater. The death of the Ice Capades.

“I don’t see anything, Ari.”

“It’s on the third page.”

I clicked to that page. The fourth entry read “Local Skating Coaches Address Starburst Invitational Death.”

I clicked on that one. The article was dated October 27, three days after my transplant. I read the article about the safety concerns following the death of a sixteen-year-old Wisconsin girl who hit her head on the boards during a skating competition.

“Did you see it?” Ari’s voice was careful. “When she died?”

I kept reading. Her accident happened the night before my transplant. She never regained consciousness and died the exact same day as my transplant! Then I came to her name, and my heart sped up as if it recognized her. “Eagan Lindeman.”

“It’s her! The date . . .”

“Could be a coincidence. You can’t jump to conclusions.”

“She was a figure skater, Ari. Maybe there’s a reason we found her so easily. Maybe she wanted us to find her.”

“Whoa. You don’t even know if she was a donor. People die every day, Amelia.”

“How do I find out for sure?”

“There’s only one way. You have to call them and ask.”

My stomach lurched. “Me? I can’t just call up and say, ‘Hi, I’m sorry about your daughter, and by the way, did she happen to donate her heart because I think I have it?’ ”

“Well, I was thinking of something more subtle, but yeah. That’s about the way it went for Tomas. It took about a week for him to get up the nerve to dial their number.”

“I’m not gutsy like Tomas.”

He sighed into the phone. “
You
should call them.”

“I can’t.”

There was a long silence. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

My voice cracked. “I owe you big time.”

“Don’t thank me yet. They may not want to see you.”

“I know. But
she
wants me to see them.”

“Only transplants can talk that way without sounding freakin’ crazy. I’ll call you back after I talk to them.”

I hung up and waited by the phone. A while later, Mom knocked on my door. I pretended I was reading.

“What do you want?” I called.

She opened the door. Mom had my meds and a glass of juice and a croissant sandwich and chips balanced in both hands. “You know, you always left your door open before. What’s with this sudden need for privacy?”

I shrugged. “It’s too noisy.” Which was a lie. Kyle was at his friend’s house, and I could barely hear the TV downstairs. Mom set the food and pills down on my desk and glanced around as though she’d forgotten what my room looked like. I hoped Ari didn’t call back while she was here. I stuck my head back into a mystery I’d been reading. Now the words blurred before me. I had my own mystery to solve.

“Who was on the phone?”

“Ari,” I answered behind the book.

“That boy who visited you in the hospital?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What did he want?”

I had to look up then. I kept my voice even and my eyes calm. “To talk to me.”

“Oh,” she said, and I could hear her disappointment. She wanted me to tell her everything. Normally I would have. Mom walked toward the door. “Do you want me to keep it open?”

I shook my head. “Close it when you leave.” She frowned, then turned and walked out, closing the door behind her. I heard her footsteps on the stairs.

I opened the laptop and read the article again. Eagan was my donor. I just knew, like I’d known she was a figure skater, like I’d known she was a teenage girl.

I swallowed my pills with the juice, wondering why some pills couldn’t have helped Eagan instead. How could one teen survive a car crash around a telephone pole and another die from hitting her head?

I ate a few bites of my croissant and read the article two more times, then looked up her obituary in the local Wisconsin newspaper where she’d lived. There was a black-and-white photo of her. I inhaled a sharp breath. There she was—a thin, oval face with long, dark, curly hair and intense eyes that almost made you uncomfortable. More than gorgeous. She was stunning. I ran my fingers across her picture on the computer screen. Accomplished. Beautiful. She was everything that I wasn’t.

I continued reading. She was survived by her parents, Cheryl and Richard, and her grandfather Calvin. Eagan was a sophomore in high school and a promising skater. She was an only child.

How would her parents feel about meeting me after they’d lost their only child? If they decided to meet me, would it be to search for their daughter in me, to hope for some recognition?

I paced the room for fifteen minutes, then picked up my drawing pad and sketched the horse I’d ridden in my hospital dream. I rarely remembered dreams, but this one had been vivid.

I don’t know how much time passed. When I’m drawing, I lose all sense of time. But it calmed my nerves and gave me something to do with my hands. Otherwise, I’d have been pulling my hair out.

I grabbed at the telephone on the first ring. “Please,” I whispered, “let it be him.”

“Amelia?”

“Ari?” Then Mom picked up the other phone. “I’ve got it, Mom,” I said in a hurried voice. We were both quiet until we heard her click off.

“You alone now?”

“Yes. Did you talk to them?”

“No. I got their answering machine, but I didn’t think this was something we’d want to leave as a message.”

My heart dropped. “No, of course not.”

“I have to go now. I’ll try again after school tomorrow.”

“Sure.” That seemed so long from now.

“Promise me one thing,” he said. “Don’t get depressed no matter what.”

“I won’t,” I said, wondering if I could keep that promise.

Five days later, I was more than depressed. Ari had called two more times, and still no one had answered. I wondered where Eagan’s parents were and why they weren’t answering their phone. Ari had promised to call again last night after he helped his dad hang Christmas lights, but then it had gotten too late. This wasn’t turning out to be as easy as I’d thought.

Dad was downstairs filling out insurance paperwork. Kyle was at school. Mom was Christmas shopping. I was supposed to be reading my social studies book, but all I could think about was that phone call.

I had written the phone number inside my notebook in small print. I stared at the number, wondering if this was a good time to call, if there would
ever
be a good time. I picked up the phone and put it back down. I picked it up again and dialed the number then hung up before it rang.

Should I wait for Ari or just do it myself? I couldn’t bear waiting another day. If I called, what would I say? My stomach rumbled. I felt queasy and hungry at the same time, as though my stomach was as indecisive as I was.

I took a deep breath and dialed the number. This time I didn’t hang up.

“Hello?” A deep voice answered.

“Uh . . . hi.” He’d picked up on the first ring. Maybe this was meant to happen after all. “Mr. Lindeman?”

“Yes. Can I help you?”

“I hope so.” There wasn’t an easy way to ask my question, and I didn’t have time to come up with one now. “Was your daughter a heart donor?”

He didn’t answer. There was a distant noise like someone blowing their nose. Was he crying? Then he cleared his throat. “Are you Amelia?”

I let out a small cry. “How did you know my name?”

“We received your letter last week.”

Hearing it out loud made my heart jump. It was really her. How did they get my letter so soon?

“I’m really sorry about your daughter. I wondered if I could meet you, if that’s okay. I live in Minnesota and I’m not that far away and I was just hoping that you’d talk to me and let me visit.” I was rambling on, wanting it so badly but needing to say the right thing, if that was possible.

“To be honest, it’s been very tough, Amelia. I should probably discuss this with my wife first.”

“I understand,” I said. My voice sounded so sad. “I could make it a short visit.”

He sniffed. “I can tell this is important to you. You know what? I’d like to meet you. I’m sure this will be good for Cheryl too. Whenever you’re up to traveling.”

For a moment I was speechless. He wanted to meet me. There was a reason I’d called and it was coming together now. I recovered my voice. “Next Saturday. I’ll be there next Saturday.”

“I look forward to it,” he said. “We’ll see you then.”

I put down the phone and sank onto my bed. I’d really done it. But now what? If I asked my parents to take me, they’d make me wait another six months, or else they’d just say no to the whole thing. Sometimes you know in your heart that you’re doing the right thing, even though it means lying to your parents.

Now I had plans to make and lies to come up with. And I had one more call to make. I had to convince Ari to take me.

31

EAGAN

“I don’t want to be stuck here for another minute,” I complain. “Is there any way I can go back to my life?”

Miki shakes her head. “Not the same way as before.”

“But there’s a way?”

“Listen,” she says. She takes my hand and for just a few seconds the mist vanishes and I can see across to that beautiful field of clover and multicolored flowers stretching out toward the grassy hill. And I recognize the woman in purple who was waving before. It’s my grandma. She’s sitting in the grass and swaying to music that’s floating out from beyond the hill.

This music is different from any I’ve ever heard before. Not a choir of angels or a symphony or even a harp. A single voice. One perfect voice. This is way better than gold streets and pearly gates.

“Can I go there?”

“Sure. When you’re ready to leave your life behind.”

Easier said than done. But that voice is like the most perfect jump in skating history. It’s like silky chocolate pudding sliding down my throat, like a perfect kiss, like every single thing in my life that was good. It makes me forget every pain, disappointment, or heartache I ever had.

And seeing Grandma in that beautiful field is so tempting, especially since I’m surrounded by gray. Every color is eye candy, brighter than I thought possible.

Maybe dying young isn’t as awful as I’d thought. I had a good life, something I didn’t always see when I was alive. But there were moments when I recognized it. Like my last conversation with Scott.

Scott grabbed a book out of his locker. “I hate missing your Invitational. Sure you’re not mad about it?”

I pushed Scott into his locker. “No, dummy. It’s your football banquet. I can’t ask you to miss that. Besides, I have lots of upcoming competitions that will bore your socks off.”

“Nah.” He grabbed me and turned me around, and before I could react, I was pinned against his locker. His strength always impressed me. I had strong legs from skating every day, and I lifted weights for my arms, but they were never a match for his. His shoulders pressed closer and he spoke softly in my ear. “How can I ever be bored when I’m watching you skate around in that sexy little dress?”

I felt my face flush. Just his voice had that effect on me. I was in way over my head with this guy. The hallway was packed with students, but I zoned out all the voices except Scott’s.

I remembered the homecoming dance, how he’d slipped a corsage on my wrist made of miniature white roses, how he’d made me feel as if I was the only one on the dance floor, and how he’d kissed me three times that night, each kiss more lingering, each one just as soft as the petals on my corsage.

Okay. I hadn’t ever had a boyfriend before. Maybe we were still in that “honeymoon phase,” because we hadn’t had a single fight yet and I never felt bored or tired of him. How likely was it that I’d found my soul mate on the first try?

“So what did my dad say to you last night?”

Scott shrugged. “He was cool. He didn’t ask me what my intentions were or anything like that. Just told me that they prefer that we stay downstairs when they’re gone. Better than my dad would have been. He’d have gone berserk.”

I smirked. “That’s my mom’s specialty.”

“Sorry. You got stuck with her. Did she ground you?”

“Uh, no.” It struck me then that she hadn’t punished me. Had she forgotten or was she saving it for later? I’d left early this morning, before she’d come down. What would she have said if she’d found me asleep on the living room floor?

Scott raised his eyebrows. “You know, you gripe about her all the time, but she doesn’t sound so bad.”

I sighed. “She’s hard to explain. Skating is the one thing that binds us together. If it weren’t for that, I don’t know how we’d survive each other.”

Scott pulled back, but ran a finger across my cheek, and I felt the familiar rush from his touch. “So, your mom didn’t ground you, and your dad didn’t seem too mad. Then we’re still on for Friday night?”

I gave him a sideways glance. “That depends. What
are
your intentions?”

The bell rang. Scott grabbed a book from his locker and flashed me a sexy grin before he left. “My intentions are to hit you with a power sweep before you get a chance to trade me. I’m not a free agent, Eagan. I’m a franchise player.”

Scott gave me a quick kiss and walked off to class. I had no idea what he’d just said, but it sounded sweet.

Several girls were watching us, a look of envy in their eyes. I was so damn lucky. I had an awesome boyfriend who was as crazy about me as I was about him. I had a future in a sport I excelled at, a sport I loved.

I thought back to when a local reporter had done a story on me when I’d won the State Novice title. She wrote that I was making a huge sacrifice to skate, but I didn’t see any sacrifice at all. Skating was my life. Not until I’d met Scott did I begin to rethink that idea. The good part was that Scott supported me. He wasn’t jealous of my skating time and commitment. He understood.

And I got to see Scott every day at school and do something I loved afterward. Not too shabby.

I sprinted to class. The halls looked brighter than before and people acted friendlier. I thought of Grandpa, of how he could still be upbeat even when he was living in a nursing home, drinking through a straw with his droopy mouth while half of his body was totally useless.

I even had hope for Mom. Maybe someday we’d have more than skating to bind us together.

For now, skating was enough. I skated pretty darn good, come to think of it. I’d skate my best tonight, and if Bailey dropped out of Nationals, I’d skate my best there too. My parents would always be behind me in skating. And I still had Grandpa and Scott and my friends. Maybe the future wasn’t as bad as I thought.