The Legacy: Making Wishes Come True (15 page)

“What party?”

“The one I promised her the night before her surgery.”

“I remember.” Elaine munched on a cookie. “In spite of it all, we had some good times, didn’t we?”

Jenny gazed thoughtfully at both her friends. “You know, I could still throw her a party.”

“How?”

Thoughts tumbled wildly in Jenny’s mind. “It’s something I could do
for
her, something I could do for all the kids trapped in that hospital.” A plan took shape in her mind. “And you can help me. It’ll be our tribute to Noreen. It’ll be such a bash that no one will ever forget her.”

“Couldn’t that cost a bundle?” Elaine asked.

“So what? Remember—I’m as rich as a ‘freaking Rockefeller.’ ”

“W
HAT KIND OF
bash should it be?” Elaine scrambled up on Jenny’s bed eagerly. “Think about how many little kids are stuck in the hospital. It should be something that is right for them too.”

A radio commercial about Ringling Brothers-Barnum and Bailey Circus coming to Boston Gardens in late spring played on the radio. “We’ll have a private mini circus,” Jenny announced. “A big top. Animals. Clowns. Carnival rides—the whole works.”

“Like how? Have a private performance down at the Gardens and bus the kids in?”

“Some are too sick to leave the hospital,” Kimbra said. “That wouldn’t be fair.”

Jenny thought for a moment. “I know—we’ll set up the circus on the hospital grounds, in the parking lots, right there on the premises. That way, jugglers and clowns and special acts can go up to the floors for those kids who positively can’t leave the building. The others can have their own private performance.
Their families can come, and Noreen’s family can be the guests of honor.” Jenny’s mind was racing so fast that the ideas tumbled out on top of one another.

“How can we pull this off?” Kimbra wanted to know.

“With my grandmother’s help, we can do it.”

“Your grandmother?”

Jenny flashed an impish smile. “I don’t know anybody who can say no to Grandmother.”

Marian Crawford listened intently to their plans the next morning, studying Jenny’s face as she laid out their scheme. “I haven’t seen you this enthusiastic about anything in months,” Marian said over a cup of hot tea.

“I haven’t felt this enthusiastic about anything in months,” Jenny admitted.

“You really want to do this?”

“More than anything I’ve wanted in a long time.”

“It won’t be easy, but I’m not without contacts in this city.”

Jenny grinned. “I figured you’d know the right people.” She leaned over the table, glancing around at Kimbra and Elaine, who were over at the sideboard scooping up helpings of scrambled eggs and brown bread from silver chafing dishes. “You told me I had a trust fund that will one day be mine. Can I spent some of that money now on this?”

She saw a film of moisture cloud her grandmother’s eyes. Marian cleared her throat and set down her china teacup in its fragile saucer. “Dear Jenny, that won’t be necessary.”

“But you shouldn’t have to spend your money on my harebrained ideas.”

“One of the reasons the rich stay rich is because
they know how to get other rich people to
donate
what they want.” Marian patted Jenny’s hand and smiled indulgently. “We won’t spend any more money of ours than is absolutely necessary, Jenny. It’s an unwritten code.”

Jenny laughed long and hard.

“What’s so funny?” Kimbra asked.

“Learning how to be rich,” Jenny replied. “It seems I’ve got a lot to learn.” She reached out and took her grandmother’s hand. “But I have the perfect teacher.”

Each day, Jenny hurried through her lessons with her tutor, then rushed to her grandmother’s study, where a special secretary Marian had hired worked on the project. They arranged for the circus to arrive in Boston two days early for a special hospital presentation, and local newspaper and television reporters publicized the story.

Jenny designed special posters, saw that they were printed, and personally carried them up to the hospital and posted them on every floor. She talked to Kimbra and Elaine almost every night. One evening when the phone rang, she grabbed the receiver and heard Richard’s voice.

“What’s going on up there? I turned on the national news in the frat house and heard about some circus coming to Boston Children’s Hospital. And your grandmother’s name kept being mentioned.”

Just the sound of his voice made Jenny feel warm all over. “You mean you got your head out of the books long enough to see what was going on in the real world?”

He laughed. “I apologize for turning into a scholar.
Believe me, being a playboy’s a whole lot more fun.”

She told him about how the event was intended as a memorial to Noreen. “But so many people have sent in donations after seeing the kids from the hospital on TV that we’ve raised a bundle of money for cancer research. Even though the cost of the circus is covered, people really want to help in some way.”

“Sounds like you’ve started something big.”

His approval meant a lot to her. “It’s been fun, and I know it’s going to do some good too.”

“Is the party private?”

“The kids, their families, and a bunch of reporters are the only ones allowed.”

“How about me?”

Her heart skipped a beat. “I can probably get you a ticket. I know the organizers.”

He laughed, and the sound sent a melting sensation through her. “Then I’ll be there, but only as long as you take me under your wing personally. I won’t settle for less.”

In late April, the circus roustabouts erected a scaled-down version of the big top on the grounds of Children’s Hospital. The weather cooperated, dawning sunny and balmy on the Saturday of the event. “God must approve,” Elaine remarked as the three girls watched the men working.

“I’m sure your grandmother had a discussion with him about it,” Kimbra observed, making the others laugh.

When Richard strolled over to the group, Jenny forgot her promise to herself about acting her age, and threw her arms around him like an exuberant child. He hugged her in return, and Elaine mimicked
a fainting spell behind his back, so that only Jenny and Kimbra could see her antics.

“You remember my friends, don’t you?”

Richard greeted them with one of his heart-melting grins. “How did your basketball season turn out?” he asked Kimbra.

“I rode the bench for the first part of the season, but I got my chance when one of our starters got hurt.”

“Did you impress your critics?”

Kimbra chuckled. “On the night of my first start, one of my opponents came over and said, ‘Just because you’re a cripple, don’t think I’ll go easy on you.’ ”

“How rude,” Elaine said, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

“Psyching out your opponent is part of the game. I didn’t mind—it made me feel like I’d be treated as an equal.”

“Were you?” Richard asked.

“She knocked me on my butt.” Jenny gasped, but Kimbra shook her head. “Rule number one: Don’t get mad, get even.”

“What did you do?”

“Next time we were up close and personal, I rammed her face with my stump.” Kimbra raised her partial arm and grinned innocently. “I broke her nose too.”

“Oh, such violence!” Elaine cried, placing her hands over her mouth in mock horror.

“Yeah—aren’t I a bad girl?”

The four of them laughed, then Kimbra said, “I never got hassled again, and best of all, my coach was so impressed with the rest of my season that she’s sending me to basketball camp this summer.
Not a handicapped kids’ camp either, but a regular one.”

“Good for you,” Richard said, then turned back to Jenny. “How about a tour?”

“Oh, sure,” Elaine called as Jenny and Richard walked away. “Leave us alone to face the clowns by ourselves. What kind of friends are you anyway?”

“The best kind,” Jenny called back. “Not in your way.”

By noon, the grounds swarmed with kids from the hospital and their families—kids in wheelchairs and on crutches, kids bald from chemo and missing limbs. Yet, they were laughing, yelling, having fun. Jenny walked the premises with Richard, feeling a sense of kinship toward them.

Together, she and Richard toured the wards where kids recovering from surgeries or confined to isolation watched circus veterans in wide-eyed wonder. The performers worked fully costumed in sequins and feathers, in elaborate headdresses, in exaggerated makeup, in glitter and greasepaint. She watched the eyes of children reflect disbelief as magicians made objects disappear and reappear; turned water into confetti, bedpans into flowers, IV lines into strings of colorful scarves; and offered up cuddly bunnies from beneath bedcovers. She clapped for clowns who materialized by the dozens from cramped janitorial closets. She helped nurses pass out balloons and popcorn, candy and souvenirs.

That evening, under the tent, she sat with her friends and grandmother and applauded lion tamers, circus ponies, high-wire acts, and a dazzling trio of high-flying trapeze artists. When the performances were over, she went with Richard to the carnival
and rode the merry-go-round while he held her hand.

Laughing, they dismounted from painted ponies, and Richard pointed at the glittering Ferris wheel. “Feel up to it?” he asked.

“See you around,” she shot back, dashing toward the enormous wheel. They climbed aboard, and she watched the earth fall away as the wheel rose skyward. The weather had turned chilly, but a blanket lay on each seat. Richard pulled it around both their shoulders so that they snuggled warmly beneath it. When the wheel was at the very top, it groaned to a halt.

“What’s wrong?” Jenny asked, peering over the side. Below, people looked like ants, and lights glittered like colorful fireflies.

“Not a thing,” Richard said.

“But we’re stopped.”

“I know. I slipped the mechanic ten bucks to give us twenty minutes alone up here.”

“T
EN BUCKS
? Is that all I’m worth?” She joked, but felt flattered.
Alone with Richard on top of the world!
Jenny couldn’t think of a single place she’d rather be.

He grinned, but then grew serious. “This circus was really a wonderful idea, Jenny. I’ve never seen kids look so happy.”

“When you’ve got cancer, you don’t usually have much to be happy about. Besides, Grandmother made it all happen.”

“Dame Marian did look pretty pleased about the whole thing. I’d say the two of you make a great team.”

“I guess … my wild ideas and her money.”

The sound of calliope music drifted up from the merry-go-round. Richard smoothed her hair, now grown past her jawline. “How are you doing? You know, with your treatments and all.”

She felt a black cloud descend. “I go for more
blood work next week. It’s like playing Russian roulette. Once my sample of blood is analyzed, will they discover blasts or not? Sometimes, it’s all I think about for days before and after the test. And when the ‘all-clear’ signal comes, I almost faint with gratitude.”

“Blasts are the immature cells that signal the return of leukemia, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” she said, surprised that he knew the term.

“I read everything I could get my hands on when you first got the diagnosis,” Richard confessed.

“Then you know that every time a person relapses, it’s harder to get back into remission.”

“Yes, I know.” He recalled his conversations with Marian and the sense of hopelessness he experienced when he realized Jenny’s options if chemo and radiation no longer worked.

“It scares me when I think about it. It’s hard to think about running out of options,” Jenny said.

“So don’t think about it.” He nestled her against his body. “The hardest thing I ever did was not see you last summer.”

“I made a mistake. I see that now, but at the time, I couldn’t deal with it.”

“It won’t happen again?” His question sounded more like a command.

“It won’t have to happen again. I’m not going to allow leukemia to return to my body.”

He squeezed her shoulders. “That sounds more like it. Don’t give up your positive thinking.”

She looked to the ground below. “The world looks so different from up here, doesn’t it?”