Always and Forever (25 page)

“Popcorn?” Melissa asked, passing Jory an oversized bowl of buttered white kernels.

“I can’t eat one more thing.”

“Not even chocolate chip cookies? Mom’s got a batch in the oven.”

“On Thanksgiving Day?”

“She bakes when she’s agitated,” Melissa said, but offered no other explanation.

“Chocolate chip cookies? Well … maybe I could force one down.”

Melissa rose from a matching beanbag. “I thought so. I’ll be back in a flash.”

Alone in the room with Michael, Jory attempted to concentrate on the game, but it was a losing battle.

“What do you think she’ll do?” Michael’s abrupt question startled her.

“Do about what?” Jory sat up and faced him.

“About the bone marrow transplant. I know she’s told you about it.”

Jory nodded. “But she hasn’t made up her mind yet.”

“You’d tell me if she had, wouldn’t you? I know she tells you everything.”

“Yes, I would,” Jory said.

“I mean, it involves me too. It’s my bone marrow.”

“I think it’s a great thing you’d be doing.”

“I’d give her my right arm if I thought it would make her well.”

Jory heard his anguish and longed to comfort him. If only she had the nerve to put her arms around him. “I know what you mean,” she said.

Michael snapped, “How could you? She’s just your friend. She’s
my
sister. Why are you so helpful to Melissa, anyway? What’s in it for Jory?”

His sudden animosity surprised and stung her. “Nothing’s in it for me, Michael. I … I just care. That’s all.”

Michael stood abruptly and paced. “Some people get positive strokes from helping life’s underdogs,” he said accusingly.

Jory’s temper flared. “Is that what you think? That I get some sort of kick out of hanging around Melissa?”

“Look at yourself, Jory. You’ve got money and a rich family and you can have most anything you want. Why Melissa?”

She wanted to shout, “Because she’s like a sister to me. Because your family has been more of a family to me than my own. Because I love you, Michael!” Instead, she said, “Sometimes there’s no explaining why you like some people more than others. It’s just the way things are.”

Michael raked his fingers through his black, disheveled hair and rocked back on his heels. “Forget it, Jory. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. It’s just that I can’t stand this waiting around.”

“Melissa needs time to decide, Michael. It’s not something she can change her mind about halfway through.”

“I know, dammit. It’s all or nothing.” He rotated his shoulders and pressed his eyes closed. “If she tells you first,” he asked hesitantly, “if she says anything to you, let me know. Please.”

Jory almost reached out and touched him, but instead tucked her hand into the pocket of her jeans. “Okay. But I don’t think she will. I think she’ll tell you first. You’re her brother.”

“I’m going for a drive,” Michael said. “Tell Melissa to let Mom know. Tell them not to wait up. I’ll be gone for a long time.”

Jory watched him leave and felt like crying.

Jory and Melissa went Christmas shopping the next day. “Biggest sale day of the year,” Jory said as they plowed through the crowded department store in the mall. “Did you bring your list?”

“Yes, but I can’t stop long enough to fish it out or I’ll get trampled.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure? Come on. There’s a sale rack of sweaters and jeans.”

An hour later, Jory led Melissa to the food area in the center of the mall for a soda. She heaped their packages on a chair and sat next to Melissa.
“What a ratrace. Have we gotten through your list yet?”

“I’ve got a blouse for Mom and two tapes for Michael.” Melissa paused. “Remember last year? I was in the hospital and you had to do my shopping for me.”

Jory remembered. Melissa had been receiving chemo and she’d lost her hair and was sick as a dog. Jory had brought everything back to the hospital for Melissa’s approval. “I did a good job, didn’t I?” Jory asked, above the babble of voices around them.

“Michael still wears that cologne you picked out.”

The mention of Michael made Jory recall his hostility toward her and she gave an offhanded shrug. “I had fun choosing it.”

“Wonder what we’ll be doing this time next year.”

“Shopping, of course.”

“Will we?” Melissa withdrew her straw from the cola and let a few drops puddle on the table.

A shiver went up Jory’s spine. Melissa’s mood swings were frustrating. One minute she was involved and happy, the next minute she was distracted and pensive. “We’ve done this post-Thanksgiving ritual for four years,” Jory reminded her.

“Except last year.”

“Ah, come on, Scrooge, where’s your Christmas spirit? We’ll be here shopping again next year. We were born to shop!”

“I might not get home for Thanksgiving, depending on where I go to school.”

“That’s a possibility,” Jory said.

“Then again, if I don’t get a scholarship … ”

They stopped talking because Jory wasn’t convinced they were really discussing Christmas shopping. From speakers, Christmas music played. A small ficus tree stood decorated with white lights and the stores were decorated with bright green plastic wreaths with red bows. Suddenly the mall looked too bright. There were too many people and too much noiser “You want to get out of here?” Jory asked.

Melissa plucked at her straw with her thumbnail. “Would you take me someplace special if I asked you?”

“You know I will. Name it.”

“Don’t freak out on me, all right?”

Puzzled, Jory began to gather up her packages. “Would you like to drive over to the beach? It’s chilly, but at least the sun’s shining.”

“Not the beach.” Melissa caught Jory’s eyes and held them. “I want you to take me to Memorial Gardens. I want to visit Rachael Dove’s grave.”

The grounds of the cemetery were beautifully kept, and a gravel road wound through sections of headstones and monuments. A cloudless blue sky stretched overhead and the afternoon sun warded off a chill in the air. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Jory asked, driving slowly in the direction of Rachael’s gravesite.

Melissa glanced up from the map she’d been given at the entrance. “I’m sure. Take a left.”

Jory obeyed, but didn’t like the idea one bit. She’d never met the four-year-old Rachael and knew of her only through Melissa. Yet she did remember how devastated Melissa had been when the child had died the previous spring. Rachael had given Melissa a page from her Cinderella coloring book and it was still pinned to her bedroom bulletin board. “This place is creepy, Melissa.”

“I don’t think so. I think it’s sort of restful.”

“Too
restful for me.”

“Stop, Jory,” Melissa directed. “I think it’s over there, by that tree.”

Melissa was out of the car before Jory could turn off the engine. By the time she caught up, her friend had found the bronze marker with Rachael’s
name on it. Jory eyed the embossed rose at the bottom. It seemed indecent to see the dates of Rachael’s birth and death—too short a time span lay between the two numbers. Other markers stretched row upon row, in both directions. The plots seemed small and crowded together. “You ready to go yet?” Jory licked her lips nervously.

“Not yet.” Melissa stared down for several minutes before she spoke. “I read a poem in English Lit. last month by Gerard Manley Hopkins called ‘Spring and Fall.’ ”

“Could we discuss this someplace else?”

Melissa continued as if she hadn’t heard Jory speak. “It was about a little girl named Margaret who’s crying becuase the leaves die in autumn. I don’t remember it word for word. But the last part goes, ‘Now no matter, child, the name: Sorrow’s springs are the same.… It is the blight man was born for, It is Margaret you mourn for.’ ”

Jory felt goose bumps on her arms. “We’re all born to die. Is that it?”

“So it seems,” Melissa said.

“Are you going to have the transplant?” Jory asked quietly.

Melissa’s eyes were wide and troubled. “I don’t know. I’m scared, Jory. Real scared.”

“I’m scared too.”

“My doctor said he found lymphoblasts in my blood work last time. The chemo isn’t doing the trick for me anymore.”

“The transplant
is
a chance,” Jory observed.

“They shut me in a sterile room, Jory, with machines and monitors.”

“Can you have visitors?”

“Yes, but everyone who comes in has to dress in those sterile green hospital gowns and wear a mask.”

“I look good in green,” Jory ventured, hoping to break the tension.

Melissa looked around the cemetery. “This might be the only way out of that room for me, Jory.”

Jory swallowed hard. “Maybe not. Maybe you’ll beat the odds.”

“Rachael didn’t.”

“But you’re not Rachael. And she didn’t have a bone marrow transplant.”

Melissa nodded slowly. “That’s true.”

“You can lick this thing, Melissa,” Jory said. “I know you can. Didn’t I predict you’d be a National Merit semifinalist? Didn’t you beat the odds on that?”

“Yes.”

“Then you can do it again.”

Melissa sighed and gazed up at the bright blue sky. “We can go now,” she said.

When Jory got home she called Doug, even though they weren’t dating anymore. “There’s a party over on Davis Island,” she told him, forcing a happy voice. “Want to go?” They ended up at a mansion with white pillars and a circular, shrub-lined driveway.

“Who owns this place?” Doug asked in genuine awe.

“Friend of a friend.” Jory led him inside, where music screamed and kids danced in tight bunches, shouting above the noise. She wanted to laugh and dance and have a ball. She wanted to forget about the cemetery and Rachael and Margaret, the girl in the poem. Doug nuzzled her neck, but she shied away. “Cool it, Doug.”

“Well, excuse me. I thought we were here to have a good time.” He tried again to pull her close.

“I plan to have a good time, but hands off. Okay?”

“What’s with you, Jory? First you’re hot, then you’re cold. I don’t like being jerked around.”

Jory stepped out of Doug’s grasp. “Look, this was a bad idea. I don’t really feel like partying after all, but there’s no reason you shouldn’t stay.” Before he could do anything, Jory escaped into the crowd and headed for the door.

Once outside she took in big gulps of air and squeezed her eyes shut, because she suddenly felt like crying. “You’re being stupid,” she told herself aloud. “You like parties. Parties like you.” But no matter what she said, she felt only like going home and being by herself.

The atmosphere at the Austin’s dinner table was tense. For Jory, it didn’t seem much like Christmas Eve. Melissa was withdrawn, Michael was sullen and brooding, and Mrs. Austin was
overly chatty, insisting everyone have seconds, when they hadn’t even finished their firsts.

“Tell me, Jory, what’s your family planning for Christmas Day?”

“My mother’s got a party lined up in the late afternoon. I’m not sure where.” She did, but hated thinking about spending a tedious afternoon with her parents’ friends. Naturally, Mrs. Delaney had seen to it that a “charming young man” would be there for Jory. Their fight over it still rang in her ears, but she was going.

“I was thinking that we might go to a movie,” Mrs. Austin said. “You know how long Christmas Day can be. After the gifts are unwrapped and the dinner’s eaten, what’s left to do?”

Jory envied Mrs. Austin’s plans. There were no parties to attend, just family togetherness. She’d have given a million dollars to go to that movie with them.

“Would you like more lasagna, Michael?”

“No, thanks. I’m full.”

“But you hardly ate anything and it’s your favorite—”

“No, Mom.” His abruptness caused a strained silence to fall.

“This isn’t fair.” Melissa spoke. “Everybody’s on edge and it’s all my fault.”

“That’s not so …”Mrs. Austin began.

Melissa slammed her fork against her plate. “Yes it is. This is Christmas Eve and it’s worse than a funeral around here.” She backed away from the table and left the kitchen. Michael exchanged
glances with his mother and the two of them hurried after her. Jory had no choice but to follow.

In the living room, Melissa stood fingering the needles on the decorated Christmas tree. Jory hung back, fidgeting, while Mrs. Austin went to her daughter. “What can I do to help, Melissa? Tell me, please.”

“Nothing. There’s nothing anybody can do.” Melissa’s voice was soft and Jory had to inch closer in order to hear.

Michael came up on the other side of his sister. “Remember the Christmas we went to Disney World?”

Melissa nodded. “I was ten and you rode Space Mountain with me and didn’t even hassle me afterward when I threw up.”

“You never did have a strong stomach.”

Melissa turned her head and smiled wistfully at him. “You told me that I should go ride it with you one more time. That it was like falling off a horse. You had to get right back on and ride again.” With sudden swiftness, Melissa spun and said to her mother, “What should I do, Mom? Please tell me what to do.”

Mrs. Austin held her daughter and stroked her hair, which by now was almost past her jawline. “You’re my baby, Melissa. It’s killing me watching you have to make this decision. But I believe it’s your decision to make. I want you to grow old, Melissa. I can’t stand the thought of your not living a full life.”