So Much to Live For (6 page)

I
T rained the next day. As the girls in Dawn’s cabin packed up to go home, the atmosphere was gloomy.

“This is the worst part,” Cindy groused as she shoved clothes into her duffel bag. “I just hate saying good-bye.”

“We can write each other,” Paige offered eagerly.

“Oh, we’ll write each other for a while,” Esther said. “But then we’ll get busy with school and stuff and we’ll forget.”

“Well, we’ll see each other next summer,” Val declared.

Dawn listened to them make plans as she folded up her bed linen. She kept thinking back to when she told Sandy good-bye for the last time. They’d promised to write and meet again the following summer. After Sandy had died, Dawn had tied up all of Sandy’s wonderful letters and put them in the cardboard box.

You’ve got to stop this remembering
, Dawn told herself sternly. It wasn’t helping her mood any.

“I’ve got an umbrella,” she announced to the girls as they packed. “When you’re ready to take your gear to the main hall, let me know.”

Later, she walked them in groups of two while holding the umbrella as the rain fell steady and fine, turning the trails to slippery paths. Cars and vans clustered in the parking lot near the hall where kids and parents greeted one another. She hugged her girls good-bye, and then went back to the cabin to collect her own gear.

Inside the cabin, gloom had settled. The smell of hair spray, perfume, and baby powder lingered in the air, but the building looked sad without all the hustle and bustle of the girls.

“Anybody here?” Brent called through the screen door.

“Just me,” Dawn said, grabbing her bags and crossing to the door.

He stood on the porch in a yellow rain slicker, his hair wet with rain. She was glad to see him. Standing alone in the damp, dreary cabin remembering that other summer so vividly had become almost too much for her to bear.

“Let me help,” he said, taking the bags.

“I’m not in a big hurry,” she confessed. “I told Rob to be here by one o’clock because I figured everyone would be gone by then. Maybe we can just wait here on the porch until the crowd thins out.”

He set her bags down, removed his slicker, and draped it over the railing next to her. “You okay?” he asked.

She stared out at the drizzling rain. “Sure. It’s just that leaving is sort of sad.”

“You can come back next year and see everybody.”

“That’s what the girls said.”

“But you don’t want to come back?” His expression looked quizzical. “Didn’t you have a good time?”

“I had a great time. It’s just that . . .” She searched for words to express her feelings. “I don’t know how to say it.”

His blue eyes looked knowingly into hers. “It’s just that maybe someone will die before next summer rolls around.”

“How’d you know?”

“I felt the same way when Sandy went off to Mexico. I knew there was a chance I’d never see her alive again. It turned out I never did.”

Dawn shivered slightly, and Brent put his arm around her and pulled her to his side. He felt solid and warm against her skin. “You’ve still got another week here, don’t you?”

“Sure do. The sibling campers check in tomorrow.”

“What’ll you do until then?”

“I’m going into town with some of the staff. We’ve got to hit a Laundromat first. After the mud war, my clothes look pretty grim.” He wrinkled his nose. “They don’t smell so sweet either. Then we’ll take in a movie and come back here and get ready to face a new group tomorrow.”

Dawn realized suddenly that she’d miss seeing Brent every day, too. “Did you enjoy doing this camp?”

“I really did. It took a day or so for me to adjust to the ones with cut-off limbs and bald heads and all. But deep down, they’re just regular kids who got handed a bum rap from life.” He gazed down at her. “You glad you did it?”

“I sure am. They’re a pretty terrific bunch of kids.”

“Even Marlee?”

Dawn laughed. “I think she thawed out and had fun toward the end—even though she tried hard not to.”

“You could thaw anyone out, Dawn.”

His beautiful blue eyes stared into hers. She felt her knees go weak. “I, uh, had my doubts about Marlee for a while,” she added. “If she comes back next year, it’ll be proof that she had a good time.”

He turned her to face him. “Can I write you?”

“Uh, sure.”

He smoothed her hair and said, “You’ve got pretty hair.”

“Thank you.”

“You know what?”

“What?”

“I never got that kiss.”

“We kept getting interrupted.”

He glanced around. The steady beat of the rain sounded muffled as it struck trees and foliage. “No one’s here now to interrupt.”

“That’s true,” Dawn whispered.

His arms slipped around her waist, and her arms entwined around his neck. Dawn felt herself rise onto her toes and her chin lift. They stood on the porch wrapped in the sound of summer rain, his kiss resting like soft petals on her lips.

* * * *

When she was certain that the campers had gone, Dawn walked alone to the hall with her things. Brent had left when Dr. Ben had shouted to him that the van was heading for town. “I’ll write,” he promised her, then bounded down the steps.

The rain had stopped, but the afternoon still looked gloomy as she made her way along the trail. She entered the hall and heard the sounds of pots and pans, signaling that the kitchen help was organizing for the next group of campers. In a far corner, Dawn saw a figure hunched over a leather suitcase. Surprised, she asked, “Marlee? Are you still here?”

The thirteen-year-old straightened. “Yeah.”

Dawn approached, remembering that Marlee had no parents to pick her up. “How are you getting home? Is your grandmother coming for you?”

“Grams doesn’t drive. She’s got a heart problem.”

“Gee, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault,” Marlee said a bit sarcastically. “I’ve been living with her since my parents died when I was five. She’s always been sick.”

“Well, do you have any brothers or sisters?” Dawn asked awkwardly.

“Just me and Grams.” Marlee heaved a deep sigh.

“Why don’t I wait with you? My brother’s not supposed to be here to pick me up for another half-hour.”

“I’m not a baby, you know. I can wait by myself.”

Dawn gritted her teeth. The old Marlee was back. Why did she make it so hard to be nice to her? “Can I sit with you anyway?” Dawn asked.

“It’s a free country.”

Dawn plopped onto the bench, determined not to let Marlee get under her skin. She asked, “So did you have a good time at camp?”

“It was all right.”

“Just all right? You’ll go down in camp history for getting Dr. Ben the way you did.”

A small smile softened Marlee’s mouth. “I got him good, didn’t I?” Suddenly, the girl swung around to straddle the bench and face Dawn. “I heard the other girls say they’d write to each other. Will you write me?”

Marlee’s about-face surprised Dawn. One minute she acted hateful, the next, friendly. Would she ever figure her out?

“We both live in Columbus, so why don’t you call me sometime?” Dawn suggested.

“You won’t mind?”

“Of course not,” Dawn said. “Hey, here comes a car. I’ll bet it’s your ride.” Dawn jumped up and peered through the rain-spotted window and watched a long black limousine crunch over the wet gravel.

“Yeah,” Marlee said listlessly. “It’s Grams’ chauffeur.”

“That’s your grandmother’s car?”

Marlee dragged her suitcase outside without answering. Dawn followed. The driver’s door opened, and a man in a uniform got out. “Miss Marlee,” he said with a smile. “I’m sorry I’m running late.”

“How’s Grams?”

“She was feeling rather poorly today. She sent me to fetch you. Said to tell you she’s very sorry she couldn’t come along.”

Marlee’s expression had become a dull mask. “It’s no big deal.”

The chauffeur placed the luggage in the trunk and opened the car door to the back seat. Dawn had a glimpse of a rich gray leather interior as Marlee crawled inside.

“Call me,” Dawn said hastily.

“Okay,” Marlee answered.

The chauffeur returned behind the steering wheel, put the car into gear, and swung it around toward the gravel road. Dawn watched as the sleek black car inched along. Its gleaming metal and smoky dark windows reflected the rays of a weak sun that had emerged from behind clouds. She watched until it disappeared through the forest of green, leafy trees.

“T
ELL me everything that happened— and don’t scrimp on the details,” Dawn’s friend, Rhonda Watson, said eagerly the day after Dawn had returned from camp.

Dawn shut her bedroom door and let Rhonda haul her across the room and push her onto the bed. “You must be starved for news,” Dawn kidded. “I thought you’d be the one with stories to tell.”

Rhonda rolled her eyes and dragged Dawn’s half-unpacked bag onto the floor. Clothes tumbled onto the carpet. “You don’t know what it’s been like around here. Boring wouldn’t
begin
to describe it.”

“First, what about the job? Is it still open?” Dawn was eager to hear if she’d still be working at the ice cream parlor. Now that camp was behind her, she couldn’t wait to start her first real job.

“Of course, it’s open. Three afternoons a week and all day Saturdays.”

Relieved, Dawn said, “Good. I’m saving every penny I make for school clothes. I really want to look amazing when we start in September.”

“Now tell me about camp before I explode!” Rhonda insisted.

She did look ready to pop, so Dawn began unfolding her tale of camp life. She told her about Marlee. Rhonda wrinkled her nose. “Sounds like she’s related to my brother. He’s taken being a brat to new heights, you know.”

“Marlee wasn’t always a brat. Sometimes she tried hard, like the time the girls decided to experiment with makeup. We all had a good time that night.” Dawn picked Mr. Ruggers off the floor and wrapped her arms around his fuzzy body.

“And she really did have things stacked against her,” she added. “Can you imagine growing up without parents? Plus losing an eye?”

“But you said she was rich. That part must be fun.”

“I
think
she’s rich. I’m not sure. But riding in a limo and having designer sheets can’t make up for all the rest.”

Rhonda offered a sympathetic shrug of her shoulders. “Was Marlee the only interesting person at camp?” she asked.

“There might have been one other.”

Rhonda stared at her for a second. Dawn tried to keep a straight face, but the corners of her mouth kept turning up. Rhonda’s eyes grew wide. She blurted, “Dawn Rochelle! You rat! You met a guy, didn’t you?”

Dawn burst out laughing as Rhonda pounced on her. “Tell me everything,” Rhonda demanded.

“Okay. Get off me.” Rhonda obliged and after Dawn caught her breath, she told Rhonda about Brent.

“Lucky you,” Rhonda sighed. “He sounds totally awesome. Are you going to see him again?”

Dawn thought about her answer, because actually she had very mixed feelings about Brent. She really liked being with him, but she also realized that her attraction for him was somehow tied up in his being Sandy’s brother. He was a link to her friend, a living bridge to her memory. She couldn’t explain it to Rhonda—she could scarcely understand it herself. So she told Rhonda the things she could explain. “He’s starting college in the fall.”

“So what?”

“Think about it, Rhonda. I’m going to be a high school sophomore. By the time he settles into campus life and meets college girls, I’ll just be a kid to him.”

“Sort of like my crush on Rob, huh?”

Rhonda’s mention of her attraction for Rob caused Dawn to smile kindly. “Well, Rob does talk about Katie a lot,” she told her friend, trying to let her down easy.

“I know. It was always the impossible dream for me. Sort of like having a crush on a movie star.” Rhonda hunkered down on the bed and gazed thoughtfully up at Dawn. “But let’s not write this Brent off for you too prematurely.”

“Oh, Rhonda—”

“Don’t ‘oh, Rhonda’ me,” the brown-haired girl declared. “What are you going to do if he calls you? Hang up on him?”

“Of course not.”

“Then who knows? There may be hope for the two of you yet.”

Dawn flung Mr. Ruggers playfully at her friend. “Let’s forget camp and think about the rest of the summer. I can’t wait to start my job.”

“We’ll go in together early Saturday. That way I can give you your apron and cap and show you the ropes. It’s fun, and sometimes really cute guys stop in.”

Dawn flopped back on her bed in exasperation. “Is that
all
you ever think about? Meeting guys?”

“No way,” Rhonda said with an indignant sniff. “I also think about fudge ripple, rocky road, French vanilla—”

Dawn squealed and threw a pillow at her friend. Together, laughing and tickling, they tumbled to the floor like playful kittens.

* * * *

By the middle of July, Dawn had settled into a pleasant routine. She slept late, watched a few game shows, did chores for her Mom, read novels, and went to work. Brent wrote, full of news about sibling cancer camp and getting ready for college. She enjoyed getting his letters and hoped her letters to him sounded half as interesting to him.

She loved her job. The ice cream parlor was a tiny little cubbyhole in the mall, just big enough for five small glass-topped tables and old-fashioned parlor chairs. She and Rhonda worked behind a counter that doubled as a freezer case filled with vats of ice cream. She learned to run a cash register and to make milkshakes, hot-fudge sundaes, banana splits, and the Monster Bowl—a giant concoction made up of a scoop of every flavor, swimming in toppings, whipped cream and nuts.

Mostly, people bought cones to go, but sometimes every table would be filled with customers, and Dawn felt as if she were drowning in ice cream orders. Rob and Katie often dropped in, and Dawn could see their happiness spilling out of their smiles.

“You never come see me on the floor,” Katie grumbled good-naturedly during one visit when Rob had stepped into the washroom.

Dawn knew she was talking about the pediatric oncology floor at the hospital. “No offense,” Dawn said. “But I’ve seen all I want to see of that place.”
I almost died there,
she thought.

Katie nibbled on a nut embedded in her butter pecan cone. “Joan Clark tells me that you were a fabulous CIT. The staff and the kids really liked you.”

Dawn was pleased by the compliment. “They were a pretty nice bunch. I had a good time.”

“Think you’ll do it again next year?”

Dawn hesitated to say yes. She was having such a wonderful time being a normal, regular, ordinary, typical fifteen-year-old girl that she hated to be reminded about her leukemia. Except for her clinic visits and blood work, parts of the past seemed only like a bad dream.

“I’m not sure,” she told Katie. “I think I’d like to try working full-time next summer.”

“Too bad,” Katie answered. “You’re a real inspiration to some child going through it.”

Dawn wanted to tell her that it was hard being an inspiration. But Rhonda interrupted just then. “Good grief,” she cried. “Look! A whole busload of senior citizens is coming straight toward us.”

“We better get busy,” Dawn told Katie with a bright smile.

“Well, come and see me at work sometime,” she called, taking Rob’s hand as he came up beside her.

“I will,” Dawn said, knowing deep down that she wouldn’t willingly go up to the oncology floor ever again.

* * * *

The next Friday night. Dawn was sitting in the living room watching TV with her parents when the phone rang.

“I’ll get it.” She hurried to the kitchen phone for privacy.

“May I speak to Dawn, please?” The girl’s voice on the other end of the receiver sounded quivery and familiar.

“This is Dawn. Who’s this?”

“It–it’s me—Marlee Hodges.”

For no reason, Dawn’s heart skipped a beat. “Hi. How are you? Is everything all right?”

“No.” Marlee’s voice wavered.

Dawn clutched the receiver so tightly that her fingers hurt. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m back in the hospital, and I’m scared. Please, come see me, Dawn. Please.”