Reclaiming Lily (41 page)

“Huh-uh. Just e-mail. She hasn’t been calling me back.”

“I’ll try to get through to her.”
Or Cheryl
.

“Something just doesn’t seem right.”

Gloria rubbed the shiny surface of their new portable phone. Like Kai, Joy majored in analytical thinking. “What doesn’t seem right?”

“I ask her about her symptoms, and she just tells me about her patients. Not lying, but not telling the truth.”

How well I know that act.

“I’ve been reading up on PKD. It can get bad fast. Maybe it’s bad.”

Joy at her best. Blunt . . . but good. “I’ll call right now.” Gloria jumped to her feet, flew to the sink, grabbed a rag, and scrubbed the counter with a vengeance. Her motherly side had prayed this day would never come, but she had known, deep inside, that it would. They would help Kai, no matter what it cost.

“Thanks, Mom. Call me back. Promise?”

“Of course, Joy. Bye.” Gloria hung up and punished the counter, as if it were the horrid PKD, which, like germs, could not be eradicated. At least not yet.

Kai balanced a sack full of takeout food on her knee while she unlocked the apartment door and hurried inside. There stood Cheryl, hands on hips. Staring. With a slam, Kai shut out a biting wind that had ended a week of Indian summer weather.
Looks like I’ve run into another storm front. This one named Cheryl.

“I’ve got Chinese.” Kai unloaded containers of ginger chicken, peppercorn shrimp, and steamed dumplings and pulled plates out of the cabinet. She glanced at the phone, which blinked news of four messages.
Will Cheryl notice if I tiptoe over and delete them?

“You’re not supposed to be eating that.”

“I had them hold the MSG and salt.”

Cheryl shook her head, as if to say she didn’t believe a word of it. “Speaking of holding things, you’ve got a few calls.” Cheryl pulled chopsticks and napkins from a drawer and slid onto a barstool. “And I am
not
covering for you.”

Kai studied her roommate, her mentor . . . her best friend. “It’s just so hard.”

“To do the right thing?” spurted from Cheryl.

“I asked David if it was the right thing.”

“When?”

Kai made a show of studying her watch. “About five hours ago. When he stopped by the dialysis center.”

Cheryl arched her eyebrows. “I thought you’d changed days.”

“An opening came up. I just called a cab.”

“Why do you refuse our help? Why are you shutting out the Powells?” Cheryl pointed a chopstick at Kai. “Don’t tell me they aren’t family or I’ll stab you with this.”

“It’s not that easy.” Kai’s voice broke as she mounded steaming food onto two plates. “I’ve got Joy to think about.”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Cheryl jumped from her barstool, pulled glasses from the rack, filled them with water, and slammed them down. Water sloshed onto tile and drew a sigh. “I’m sorry. Let’s pray. We should’ve done that to start with.”

Kai hung her head, sorry that she’d involved her best friend in this mess.

Cheryl took her hand. “God, I thank you for my friend Kai and all she’s meant to me over the years. Make clear the paths for us to walk. Grant us wisdom, courage, and the peace that passes all understanding.” Cheryl squeezed tight. “Lord, I pray in the name of Jesus that you heal Kai, by whatever route you choose. May the food nourish our bodies. May our conversation honor you in every way. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

They shoveled food onto their plates. Though Cheryl ate with her usual gusto, Kai poked at a shrimp and made designs with rice kernels. The phone call she needed to make obliterated hope for a festive dinner and the return of her appetite.

Kai stared at the blinking light on the answering machine. Finally Cheryl set her napkin beside her plate. “I’ve thought a lot about how to say this, Kai. You know I want only what’s best for you.”

“I do know that,” whispered Kai.

“It is wrong for you to lie to Joy.”

Kai gripped the bar’s tile edge. “I am not lying.”

“Don’t! I can’t abide it. Lies by omission are still lies.” Cheryl’s tapping against the counter clawed at Kai’s nerves, as did her words. “God is a lover of truth. I truly think what you’re doing is a sin, not to mention a poor example for a sister who idolizes you.” Cheryl curled her toes around her stool rungs. “Put yourself in Joy’s shoes.”

“How can I pretend to be nineteen?” Exasperation spewed out, as did resentment. Though Kai had struggled to deny it, she knew that Cheryl spoke truth. Something she was not doing . . . and must find a way to do.

“Joy is an adult. When we’re talking life or death—and that is what we’re talking here, Kai—Joy’s age isn’t the key.”

Kai groaned off her stool and paced their tiny den. “What is the key?”

Cheryl swung about and leveled Kai with stony eyes. “How many times do I have to say it? Joy is family. Family deserves involvement. Family deserves the truth.”

Kai stared at knotholes in their wood floor. She’d evaded, hedged . . . lied. If Joy had done that to her, she would take the first flight to Texas and ream her out in person. “You’re right.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say those words.”

“I may not say them, but I have thought them many times.” Affection for Cheryl welled up in Kai. She hurried to the bar and gave her roommate an uncharacteristic hug.

When the two separated, Kai was surprised to see tears in the eyes of the usually unflappable Cheryl. “You’re so thin.”

Kai nodded. She now weighed ninety pounds, counting a sweater and clunky boots. PKD had stripped her of more than weight. Day by day, hour by hour, PKD stripped her of dignity, pride, and pretense. “I’ll be in my room,” she said over her shoulder.

“Going to Texas in your mind?”

“Cowtown. When this is all over, we’ll have to visit.”

“You can count on it. And me.” Cheryl’s voice steeled her for what she was about to do. Kai whispered another prayer, shut the door, and dialed the Powells’ home phone.

It has to be done. Now
. Gloria sat on her bed, the phone in her hand, a prayer on her lips. Andrew pretended to sort the bills and business cards in his wallet.
Funny that while I’m dealing with stress by prayer, the preacher is playing with money.

Gloria dialed the number she’d memorized the day Joy got her dorm assignment.

“Hello?”

“Joy. How are you?” She added a lilt to her voice, as if this were a mom check.

“I know, Mom.”

Oh, God.
Gloria’s fingers clawed the air instead of her fists. She had to somehow release tension.
Help me get through this. It’s starting . . . now.

“It’s okay,” continued Joy.
My daughter, soothing me.

“Tell her.” Andrew hissed and paced, in a most impatient, un-Andrew way.

Gloria inhaled. “We’d like to drive to Waco tomorrow. Discuss things.”

It sounded as if half the dorm occupants were in Joy’s room, giggling, conversing—things college girls should be doing rather than contemplating surgery with lifelong implications. Pressure built in Gloria. What was Joy
thinking
? Why didn’t she
answer
?

“Yeah. Yeah.” Gloria could barely hear Joy for background noise.

“Did I interrupt something?”

“What?”

“Sounds like quite a party, Joy.”

“It’s just a floor meeting. Hey, y’all!”

Gloria held the phone away from her ears and shrugged at Andrew, whose face had contorted into a frown. They were paying tuition for
this
?

“Hush!” Joy screamed.

Shushes and rustles and moans whooshed through the receiver. Gloria again cradled the phone against her shoulder, then held it to her ear when things settled. At least in Joy’s dorm room.

“Sorry. I’ve got a break between noon and two. Meet for lunch?”

Tension loosed its hold. “Great! Should I bring stuff for a picnic?”

“Sure. That’d be nice. And your cookies, okay? Caroline loves ’em.”

They said good-bye. Gloria hurried to the kitchen and set out butter to soften, found the jumbo-sized package of chocolate chips. She’d make all of Joy’s favorites, though what they had to talk about was certainly not picnic fodder. “Lord, give us wisdom to say the right words.” She sifted dry ingredients, set them aside, and beat the eggs. “Not my will here, Lord, but yours. Guard my daughter’s heart . . . and her body, Lord. May we be an instrument to reach Kai.”

Gloria made the chocolate chip cookies Neiman Marcus had made famous. For the first time ever, she didn’t nibble on the dough.

It looked for all the world like a festive occasion. Gloria had packed a checkered tablecloth, sandwiches, chips, and drinks into their warped old basket. Tins held six dozen of Joy’s, Caroline’s—and apparently half the dorm floor’s—favorite cookies. Joy chattered and Andrew nodded as they spread the cloth on Burleson Quad’s lawn. Pansies winked, just for them. Live oak leaves whispered pretty nothings. Gloria acted carefree and smiled pretty, but nothing was pretty about PKD and their reason for coming. Despite her misgivings about how it might affect Joy, it was time to quit playacting and make plans.

One look transmitted her message to Andrew. They’d prayed as they drove this morning on I-20: for God’s will, for peace, for the right words. Gloria distributed sandwiches, making sure Joy got the one with double cheese, pickles, and no mayo. Andrew tore his sandwich into bites and sipped Coke. Coeds strolled by wearing everything from green and gold fleece, Greek and Baylor T-shirts, to heels and designer dresses. Lovely tower bells pealed over laughter and chatter, the whole quadrangle oblivious to the Powell drama.

Andrew cleared his throat. “Mom said you talked to Kai.”

Joy nodded, her mouth full of chips.

“She told you she’s at end stage?”

Another nod. Except for a rogue gust blowing about Joy’s hair and that munching jaw, their girl didn’t move.

“We’ve been praying about this, Joy.”

Joy swallowed, slugged her drink, and wiped her hands on a napkin. “Yeah, me too. Like, our whole floor’s really into it.”

“I don’t think we have any option but to take the next step.”

Joy shook her head wildly. Hair slapped her cheeks. “There’s no need for that.”

Gloria studied her hands. Who could blame a young girl, who might carry the deadly genetic marker herself, for having doubts? Joy, so desperate for friends just two years ago, now had the world—or at least this campus—eating out of her palm.

“I know we haven’t talked about this for a while, but after Boston and our Christmas get-together, I thought we agreed—”

Joy bit off more sandwich. A pickle slice plopped onto the cloth as Joy waved her hands . . . and her food. “You . . . don’t . . . understand.” Words mixed with chomps.

Gloria’s heart sank yet pressure eased from her chest and let her breathe. It was awful to want Joy safe in the Baylor bubble yet to know in the depth of her soul that Joy should help Kai. She gripped her Coke can, as if its chill could cool questions setting her afire. Had Joy’s faith cooled so quickly by the collegial atmosphere?

“Joy.” Andrew laid a hand on her knee. “Chew that and then talk to us.”

The perfect eyes narrowed. Then Joy nodded, bowed her head, and cleared her throat. “Sorry,” she managed as she wiped her mouth.