All the Days of Her Life (13 page)

If only it were that simple, she thought. But at the moment happiness seemed like a recipe for which she didn’t have the ingredients. Nor was she certain where to begin looking for them. “I’ll try,” she told Dr. Rosenberg. “I promise … I’ll try.”

H
ER UNCLE GAVE
her permission to leave the hospital long enough to go out with Jeff on a date. Jeff took her to a quiet, romantic restaurant, where she carefully chose a dinner of all the right foods, prepared in all the right ways, from the menu.

Afterward, they walked hand in hand in Biscayne Park on a promenade that ran parallel to Biscayne Bay. The night was balmy and a light tropical breeze stirred the palm fronds overhead. A full moon shone across the water, and in the distance they could see the huge Caribbean cruise ships at anchor.

Lacey told Jeff about most of her session with Dr. Rosenberg, excluding the part concerning purging. She decided the image of her forcing herself to
vomit wasn’t very romantic, and besides, she was ashamed of what she’d done.

She asked, “Do you think he could be right about me being mad at my parents and using my diabetes to get back at them? I’d hate to think my subconscious mind could make me do something like that.”

“Shrinks love all that subconscious stuff,” Jeff said. His smile looked sexy in the moonlight. “But it’s true that sometimes we act in ways we don’t mean to. I think we make excuses for ourselves because it’s easier than changing the way we’re acting.”

“Well, I didn’t set out to get even with them, but when I was sick at least they stopped fighting with each other. For once they were concentrating on me and not themselves.”

Jeff nodded in understanding. He asked, “Has your uncle said anything about when you might go home?”

“Another day or so. ’Course, I still have to meet with Dr. Rosenberg even after I leave the hospital. And there’s no way I can get out of attending one of the support groups Uncle Nelson’s been wanting me to join.”

“That shouldn’t be so bad.”

Lacey wrinkled her nose. “I’m just not crazy about the idea, that’s all. He says that when the institute opens, it’ll have plenty of programs and stuff to do. I promised him I’d be a regular little girl scout.” She saluted smartly.

“You’re always such a good sport,” Jeff joked. “I don’t see why your uncle puts up with you.”

They strolled over to a bench that fronted the bay, and Jeff pulled Lacey down next to him and draped his arms over the back of the wooden slats. The moonlight glittered on the water and reminded her of sparkling jewels. “Amanda used to say that moonlight and starlight were really fairy dust,” Lacey observed softly.

“Do you think about her much?”

“I think about Jenny House and about what a good time I had while I was there. Did you know I went back for a visit during Thanksgiving weekend?” Lacey asked.

“No, I didn’t. Why?”

“Katie sent me an airline ticket. Chelsea wanted all of us together when she and her new friend Jillian went to Jenny House.

“And Katie paid your way?”

“Yes … with some of her Wish money.” The mention of Katie sent a shadow across Lacey’s heart.

“That Katie’s something else,” Jeff said. “I’ve never known anybody quite like her.”

Lacey felt a lump swell in her throat. “I miss her, Jeff.”

“Haven’t you patched things up with her yet?”

Lacey shook her head. “I don’t know how.”

“You pick up the phone and tell her you’re sorry. You are sorry, aren’t you?” When she nodded, he said, “What’s so hard?” He glanced down the sidewalk toward Bay Walk, the trendy shopping area
located in the park, adjacent to the bay. “Come on.” He took her hand and pulled her behind him.

“Where are we going?”

“To the nearest pay phone. You call Katie right now.”

Lacey felt her mouth go dry as soon as she dialed Katie’s number using Jeff’s calling card. “She’s probably not home,” Lacey told Jeff as she listened to Katie’s phone ringing in Michigan. “She’s probably off doing something with Josh—Katie! Hi, how are you?”

“Lacey?”

Katie’s voice sounded so familiar and sweet that Lacey almost started crying. “Yes, it’s me.”

An awkward silence stretched between them. Katie broke it by asking, “So are you out of the hospital yet?”

“Almost. I—I’ve been working out some stuff with my doctors. I—uh—have diabetes, you know.”

“I know. Are you sure you do?”

“I do now.” Jeff nudged her in the side, and Lacey shot him a look that said
Don’t rush me
. Lacey squeezed the phone receiver tightly because her hand was perspiring. “I’m sorry, Katie,” she blurted out. “I’m sorry about our fight on the phone when you called me at the hospital. You were right about everything you said.”

“I didn’t mean to sound unsympathetic,” Katie apologized. “I got angry and I shouldn’t have … especially with you so sick. But, Lacey, I’ve never seen anybody deny the obvious the way you do.”

“Well, I’m not denying it anymore.” She cut her
eyes sideways. Jeff gave her a grin and a thumbs-up signal. “Guess who’s here with me?” Lacey said into the receiver. “Jeff.”

“No lie? How did that happen? Have you changed your mind about him?”

“I can’t discuss it now; he’s standing right here.” She hoped Katie wouldn’t pump her for more information. Katie was the only person in the world who knew how Lacey
really
felt about Jeff, and she didn’t want it to all come out. Especially when Jeff was treating her more like a friend and sister than a girlfriend. He still hadn’t made a move to kiss her or be romantic with her the way he had at Jenny House or the beach party.

“Hey, Katie!” Jeff yelled into the mouthpiece of the receiver.

“Tell him hi from me,” Katie said with a laugh. “And when you can, call me and give me every single detail of what’s going on. I can tell we have a lot of catching up to do.”

“So you’re not mad at me anymore?”

“I could never stay mad at you, Lacey. We’re ‘forever friends,’ remember?”

Forever friends
was the way Jenny Crawford had signed her Wish letter. “I remember,” Lacey said, feeling as if a ton weight had been lifted off her heart. “How’s track going?”

“We’re smoking everybody.” Katie’s voice sounded all smiles. “My team’s coming to that track meet in Miami in May for sure.” It seemed ages before that Katie had mentioned the national event to Lacey. “You’ll come cheer for us, won’t you?”

“You bet. I’ll bring Jeff with me. Will Josh come with you?”

“Our men’s team isn’t going to qualify, but Josh will come anyway as our coach’s helper. There’ll be several college coaches at the meet scouting us contenders. If I’m ever going to be offered a scholarship, this will be the time.”

“That’s great. I hope you do get an offer. So, are you and Josh doing okay now?”

Katie’s abrupt silence spoke volumes to Lacey. “We’ll talk more later,” Katie said.

Lacey told Katie that Chelsea had written and that she sounded fine, they promised to call each other again over the weekend, and Lacey hung up. She turned to Jeff, smiled, and said, “Katie still loves me. Thanks for making me call her and get things straightened out.”

He bowed from the waist. “McKensie’s friendship-mending agency at your service.”

Impulsively, she threw her arms around his neck. She held tight, hoping he’d hold her and kiss her under the beautiful moon. He only gave her a quick squeeze and then unwrapped her arms. “Come on, I’d better get you back to the hospital before your uncle sends out a search party.”

“Sure,” she said, forcing lightness into her step as she walked beside him toward the car. But inside, Lacey felt as if she’d been slugged in the stomach and left without any breath. Jeff had all but brushed her off. He didn’t want her. And it seemed unlikely that he’d ever want her again.

*   *   *

The day Lacey was supposed to go home from the hospital her father was out of town on business and her mother had an important presentation for a client at the ad agency. “I’ll simply tell them I can’t attend,” her mother told Lacey.

“No way. Jeff will drive me home. It’s not like I’m sick, you know. I’ll just go home, get my room in order, and get ready to go back to school tomorrow. I’ll start supper too.”

They agreed on the arrangement, and when her uncle came in with the final paperwork, Jeff took her belongings down to his car. “I’m glad to be getting out of here,” she said.

“And I’m glad you’re doing well enough to go home.” He eyed her. “You still need to put on about ten pounds.”

“I know. I’m starting a workout program at a nearby gym. I’ll probably look muscle-bound by the summer. The therapist suggested I take up tennis too.”

“Stop griping. It’ll be good for you. I want you in my office at the end of next week. I want to keep tabs on you.”

She knew she was going to have to prove herself before everyone would trust her totally with her management again. “I have a favor to ask,” she said.

“Name it.”

“A while back, Dr. Rosenberg volunteered to send me on a tour of the new Diabetes Research Institute. I told him no, but I’ve changed my mind.”

“You want to scope out the building? It’s not finished, you know. But the PR director is downstairs,
and I’m sure he’d be pleased to take you and Jeff through the place. He’s very savvy about the newest developments in diabetes research.”

“Good. I’ve been looking at the building for days out of Dr. Rosenberg’s window, and I’m curious. I want to know what all you medical brains are doing to get rid of diabetes once and for all. I want to know if I’ll ever be cured of this lousy disease.”

“E
XCUSE THE DUST
. These are the finishing touches. We hope to open next month,” Gary Kleiman, the publicity and education director of the DRI, explained to Lacey and Jeff as he stepped around a pile of ceiling insulation and led the way inside the Diabetes Research Institute.

The scent of new building materials and fresh paint filled the spacious lobby of the enormous structure. Lacey watched two workers as they busily placed slabs of tile along a corridor. She ducked around a ladder where a carpenter was standing pounding nails into a window frame.

“Pretty impressive,” Jeff said, looking up from the center of the giant atrium. Soaring white pillars and concrete walkways stretched overhead.

“Reminds me of a luxury hotel,” Lacey said. “You sure this is for medical research?”

Gary laughed. “Come upstairs with me. I’ll show you the research floors.” All the way up on the elevator, he talked of the visionary goals of the DRI. This was the site for research, education, and treatment, and they hoped to attract the foremost scientists in the world. “We’ll have a day care room for the staffs and workers’ children. There’ll be all kinds of programs and seminars. Patients will get the newest and best treatments. Our medical library will be one the finest. It will tie in with other medical libraries via computers.”

For the first time, Lacey became aware of the tremendous effort that was going into finding a cure for diabetes. Gary took them through labs where state of the art laboratory equipment and computers sat waiting to begin their duties. Lacey heard about sophisticated machines that cost hundreds of thousands of dollars; money raised by donations, charity balls, and sporting events; research grants; and highway “hold-ups,” where parents of diabetics stood at busy intersections and collected from motorists. She saw firsthand the rooms where technicians would conduct meticulous experiments.

“We know how to cure diabetes, you know,” Gary said.

“Then why haven’t I been cured? I hate getting shots every day.”

Gary smiled and nodded. “We all do.”

“You’re a diabetic too?”

“Ever since I was six. Over the years I’ve been
treated for advanced retinopathy, and now I’m classified as legally blind. I had a kidney transplant seven years ago after years of dialysis.”

The information sent a chill through Lacey. Was this to be her future too? “Tell me about a cure,” she said.

“Actually, there are several programs throughout the country dedicated to finding a cure. But the one the DRI is most avidly pursuing is islet cell transplantation.”