ALSO AVAILABLE FROM LAUREL-LEAF BOOKS
A SUMMER TO DIE, Lois Lowry
WHIRLIGIG, Paul Fleischman
SKELLIG, David Almond
JUST AS LONG AS WE’RE TOGETHER, Judy Blume
HERE’S TO YOU, RACHEL ROBINSON, Judy Blume
DRIVER’S ED, Caroline B. Cooney
LIFE IN THE FAT LANE, Cherie Bennett
You’ll want to read these inspiring books by Lurlene McDaniel
Angels in Pink
Kathleen’s Story
Raina’s Story
Holly’s Story
One Last Wish Novels
Mourning Song
A Time to Die
Mother, Help Me Live
Someone Dies, Someone Lives
Sixteen and Dying
Let Him Live
The Legacy: Making Wishes Come True
Please Don’t Die
She Died Too Young
All the Days of Her Life
A Season for Goodbye
Reach for Tomorrow
Other Fiction
Briana’s Gift
Letting Go of Lisa
The Time Capsule
Garden of Angels
A Rose for Melinda
Telling Christina Goodbye
How Do I Love Thee: Three Stories
To Live Again
Angel of Mercy • Angel of Hope
Starry, Starry Night: Three Holiday Stories
The Girl Death Left Behind
Angels Watching Over Me
Lifted Up by Angels
Until Angels Close My Eyes
I’ll Be Seeing You
Saving Jessica
Don’t Die, My Love
Too Young to Die
Goodbye Doesn’t Mean Forever
Somewhere Between Life and Death
Time to Let Go
Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep
When Happily Ever After Ends
Baby Alicia Is Dying
From every ending comes a new beginning.…
Published by Laurel-Leaf an imprint of Random House Children’s Books a division of Random House, Inc. New York
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2005 by Lurlene McDaniel
All rights reserved.
Originally published in hardcover in the United States by Delacorte Press, New York, in 2005. This edition published by arrangement with Delacorte Press.
Laurel-Leaf and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
www.randomhouse.com/teens
Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at www.randomhouse.com/teachers
RL: 5.6
ISBN: 978-0-440-23867-6
eBook ISBN: 978-0-307-43312-1
v3.1
I would like to express my gratitude to Jan Hamilton Powell and Mickey Milita of Erlanger Medical Center, Baroness campus, for their invaluable help in shaping this series. And a special thank-you to Sergeant Tim Carroll of the Chattanooga Police Department for his assistance.
To all my loyal and wonderful readers who are always asking for more stories. Thank you!
Contents
Cover
Other Books by This Author
Title Page
Copyright
Acknowledgment
Dedication
Epigraph
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Epilogue
About the Author
Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves.
A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.
Ecclesiastes 4:12, NIV
Angels in Pink Volunteers’ Creed
I will pass through this life but once.
If there is any kindness I can show, any good that I can do, any comfort that I can offer, let me do it now, for one day I will be gone and what will remain is the memory of what I did for others.
one
“IS THERE ANYTHING more fab than summer vacation?” Raina St. James’s question sounded more like a declaration. “No classes, no homework, nothing to look forward to except weeks and weeks of sunshine.”
Raina and her friends were spending the day at Carson Kiefer’s house, lounging by the pool, under a clear blue sunny sky. Burgers sizzled inside the mammoth grill on the patio, and the aroma mingled with the scents of sunscreen and chlorine.
“I heard the school board wants to have year-round classes,” Holly Harrison said. She was sitting on a towel at the side of the pool painting her toenails a flamboyant shade of hot pink.
“Forget it,” Carson said. “We need a break.” He took a running leap off the diving board and cut like a knife through the water. He swam the length of the pool underwater, coming up beside Kathleen McKensie’s float.
She opened one eye. “If you splash me, I’ll shoot you.”
“Crabby.”
“I’ve just covered myself with sunscreen and I don’t want it washed off.” She lifted her sunglasses to look at him treading water next to her. His brown eyes danced and droplets of water clung to his buttery tanned shoulders. “If I didn’t burn to a crisp without it, I wouldn’t mind,” she said. “But que sera, sera.” She resettled the dark glasses on her nose and rested her head again on the cushioned pillow of the float.
He tossed his head and slung beads of water over her body. “Did I get you wet?”
She ignored him.
“Want me to lick the water off?”
Instantly, her face flushed bright red. “Go away.”
He laughed. “Maybe you’d taste like coconut.”
“Pervert.” She wasn’t even mildly annoyed. It felt so good to be back with him, to be a part of his life again, she would have tolerated any amount of his teasing. The weeks she’d spent apart from him the past winter after she’d hung up on him over a spat about Stephanie Marlow had seemed like an eternity.
“I’m, like, so disrespected,” he announced. He put his elbows on the float, leaned over her and ran his cool, wet tongue across her mouth.
Shivers shot up her spine. “Scram!” she hissed.
He laughed, arched backward like a dolphin and dove under the water.
Raina watched, amused, from the circle of Hunter’s arms. They were sitting on a lounge chair together, Raina in front, and Hunter was smoothing lotion on her back. The stroke of his fingers was lulling her into drowsiness. He bent forward and nibbled on her earlobe. “He’s right about the coconut taste,” he whispered.
“I’ll buy you an Almond Joy,” she mumbled.
“You taste better.”
“I’m flattered.” Waves of contentment washed over Raina, mimicking the water lapping against the colorful tiled sides of the pool. Hunter would be home for the entire summer and she’d be with him every minute possible, between his job at the fast-food restaurant and her volunteer work with the Pink Angels program at Tampa’s Parker-Sloa
n Hospital. Every minute.
“What do you hear from Emma?” Hunter asked, leaning back in the chair and pulling Raina against him.
“I talked to Jon-Paul last night. Emma’s finally home. She was asleep when I called.” Raina closed her eyes, conjuring up the faces of her sister and her husband, a sister she had never known existed until February.
“But she’s doing all right?”
“She is now.” It had been touch and go as Emma’s doctors fought to stave off infections that threatened her new bone marrow, but after a hundred and ten days, she had been sent home to complete her recovery and begin her married life, cancer free.
“And you?” Hunter touched her hip in the area where bone marrow had been extracted to save Emma’s life.
“You asked me the same thing yesterday. The answer’s the same today. I’m fine. Just a small scar.”
“Can I see?” He nuzzled her neck.
“I’m shocked you would ask. I mean with all these people looking on.”
He laughed. One thing she could trust about Hunter was that he wouldn’t look even if she stripped on the spot. “I’m not a prude.”
“Yes you are.” She twisted around and kissed him lightly. “That’s what makes it work between us. I keep trying to jump your bones and you keep pushing me away.”
“This will change when we get married.”
Her heart did its usual stutter step. They talked about sex and marriage, but truthfully, huge hurdles lay in front of them. For starters, Hunter wanted to be a minister and had taken early admission to a small Christian college in Indiana the previous winter. She wasn’t sure she even believed in God. Only Holly, Hunter’s sister, realized the depth of their dilemma. Raina was worried about their having a future when they were such polar opposites in this area. Yet whenever she was with him, all she thought about was how much she loved him and about being with him forever.
“What if I get a better offer?” she asked playfully.
“Then I’ll just have to take the guy out.”
“That sounds pretty hostile—for a minister.”
“Think of Samson. Hey, I’m tough. I’m the guy who got into a fistfight over you, remember?”
How could she forget? Tony Stoddard’s bad mouth had almost destroyed her relationship with Hunter. “Don’t joke about that, Hunter,” she said quietly. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to joke about it.”
His arms tightened around her. “I was the idiot, not you.”
She knew he wanted to make it up to her for the way he’d treated her after Tony’s “revelation,” but he didn’t need to. She loved him and wanted to be with him forever—yet the hurdles remained.
Carson hoisted himself out of the pool. “I’d better turn the burgers.” He padded over to the grill, raised the lid and stared down. “Um—I think they’re burned.”
Holly went over and confirmed his suspicion. “Hopelessly burned.”
“Dad’s never burn.”
“He stands over them full-time,” Kathleen called. She had straddled the float and paddled to the shallow end of the water, where she used the steps to exit the pool. She walked over to the grill.
The three of them stared in dismay at the charred remains of their lunch.
“Too bad. I’m starved,” Kathleen said.
Carson turned off the grill. “So how does everybody feel about pizza?” The agreement was unanimous, so he picked up his cell phone and hit a single button.
Incredulous, Kathleen asked, “You have the pizza parlor on speed dial?”
Carson grinned. “A guy’s got to eat.” He slipped his arm around her.
Holly hung back, feeling as left out as she always did. She’d turned sixteen in May and now had her driver’s license, not that it did her a whole lot of good. Her parents only allowed her to drive Hunter’s beat-up car solo and only if and when he wasn’t using it, which wasn’t often. Her emancipation wouldn’t go into full effect until he returned to college in September—if then. But it wasn’t the car issue that bothered her the most. It was the lack of a boyfriend, a guy of her own, a boy who took her out on dates or came with her when she hung out with Raina and Hunter, Kathleen and Carson.
In mid-May, the e-mails from Shy Boy had stopped as suddenly and mysteriously as they had begun. Her e-mails to him bounced back to her mailbox, so she was no closer to knowing who he was than when he’d first contacted her in February. She’d printed out all their communications and kept them in a notebook stuffed between her mattress and box spring, because, of course, her parents knew nothing about Shy Boy. They would never have approved, so she’d printed and then deleted the messages as soon as they’d arrived. She’d read them so many times that she could quote them.
HOLLY: Are you some 35-year-old pervert, pretending to be sixteen?
SHY BOY: I’m seventeen, and not a pervert … well, I’m not most of the time.
HOLLY: Why don’t you want to meet me face to face?
SHY BOY: I know what your face looks like. It’s the face of an angel.
HOLLY: But I don’t know what YOU look like!
SHY BOY: My mother thinks I’m handsome.
HOLLY: I should believe her because …?
SHY BOY: Because mothers don’t lie.
And because it’s what’s inside a person that counts, not what’s on the outside.
HOLLY: So … are you saying that you have a face only a mother can love?
SHY BOY: My face is decent. Honest. And I only have eyes for YOU.
Then the e-mails had stopped. She felt irritated and impatient with him. And she felt sorry for herself. She finally had a boy interested in her, and he was like a phantom. She couldn’t see him or touch him. Raina had said, “Savor the moments. If he got hold of you once, he’ll do it again.”
And Kathleen had said, “Remember how long it took me to get it together with Carson. Be patient.”
Easy for them to say. They had their guys locked in their arms and their hearts. The only bright spot in Holly’s life this summer was the Pink Angels program. Volunteering at the hospital was what got her out of bed these bright summer mornings. That and the remote possibility that one day soon, she’d turn on her computer and Shy Boy would have sent her another e-mail, this time setting up a time and place for them to meet.
two
KATHLEEN SNUGGLED AGAINST Carson in his media room as the DVD movie credits rolled. Their friends had just left and they were alone. She felt relaxed, sleepy. He kissed her forehead. “You awake?”
“Maybe. Who’s asking?”
He laughed deep in his throat. “You could spend the night. My folks are away.”
She woke immediately. “My mother isn’t away. She’d be frantic if I didn’t come home.” She eyed him. “You’re just giving me a hard time, aren’t you?”
“Partly. I really would like to spend the night with you.”
She swallowed hard and pushed away. “I’m not ready for that.” Her nerves had grown as tight as bowstrings.
Carson caught her chin and stared into her eyes, his expression serious. “I know you’re not. When you are, can I be first in line?”
“I’m amazed that you think there’d be a line.”
A grin sneaked up one side of his mouth. “You underestimate your sex appeal. But you always have.”
She felt color creeping up her cheeks. “If there’s one thing I wish I could control, it’s this blushing I do all the time,” she grumbled.
He kissed her. “I think it’s sexy.”
“You’re sweet to say so.”
“Sweet! Don’t let it get out. It’ll ruin my reputation.” He leaned back, resting his arms across the tops of the theater seats, in no hurry to take her home.
Kathleen relaxed. She didn’t want to leave yet either. “What will you do all summer?” she asked. “Work at the hospital? Work in your dad and mom’s office?” She’d met him the summer before when they’d both signed on to be Pink Angels volunteers, a job he had not taken s
eriously. His parents had made him come to their medical offices to work when he kept skipping out of the volunteer service.
“You really want to know?”
“Sure.”
He stood and pulled her to her feet. “Come with me.” He led her through a side door, almost hidden in the wall, into his bedroom suite. The suite consisted of two rooms, one filled with audio gear, a jukebox, a sofa and beanbag chairs, two desks and a computer. A pinball machine had been added since the last time she’d been there. A large bedroom and bath adjoined. Entire families lived in less space. “Look at this.” He crossed to a desk and handed her a catalog from one of Tampa’s technical colleges, folded back to a list of summer courses. He had circled “Introduction to Emergency Medical Training” and its description.
She read the paragraph quickly and looked at him. “You want to become an EMT? I thought you hated the idea of going into medicine.”
“I hate the idea of practicing the kind of medicine that my parents and my brother and sister practice. That’s years of study and internship and residency. No way. But this—I mean, it’s so much more interesting. Going on 911 emergency calls in ambulances—that appeals to me. I’m not stuck in some hospital or office. I get to be outside. I get to really help people in the trenches.”
His eyes shone as he talked, which surprised her. Carson had never been enthusiastic about anything that resembled work. He liked to party and drive fast, and he had numerous speeding tickets and groundings by his father to prove it.
“I think that’s admirable.” She chose her words carefully. “How long have you been thinking about this?”
“Longer than you would guess.” He took the booklet and put it back on his desk. “Ever since that night we found your mother passed out on the floor.”
Kathleen would never forget that night and the sheer terror she’d felt at seeing her mother unconscious and not breathing. “You saved her life.”
“I can’t tell you what it felt like for me. She was in real trouble. A few minutes later and we’d have lost her. But when I blew air into her lungs and did chest compressions and she suddenly began to breathe again, well, I—I felt like a miracle worker.” His voice had grown soft, his tone awed. He stared down at his hands. “I know that’s how my dad feels. He opens a person’s chest and sees a diseased heart and he fixes it. Unless he does, the person is going to die. Mom does the same thing with children and even babies. I finally get it. Doctors heal. I want to do that too, but not in the same way as them.”