With trembling fingers, Lacey picked up the phone and asked information to look up Jeff McKensie’s phone number for her.
Fourteen
“ARE YOU SURE you’re all right?”
The anxious expression on Jeff’s face as he asked his question stirred Lacey’s heart. She’d caught him between classes at his apartment when she’d called and he’d come within the hour. He looked wonderful, so familiar and caring that all she wanted to do was throw her arms around his neck and hold tight. But she didn’t because she knew how mean she’d treated him in the past. He probably didn’t want anything to do with her and had come only out of pity.
“I’m not all right,” she told him, admitting for the first time how bad the week had been for her. “I’m feeling sick and I don’t have any energy. And I hate being attached to these things.” She raised her arms. The lines from the IV and insulin pump dangled.
Jeff eased himself onto the bed, carefully pushed the plastic tubing aside, and slipped his arms around her. She felt his hands against the soft cotton of her gown, and a tingle shot through her. She slid her arms as best she could around him and laid her cheek against his chest. Enveloped in his arms, snuggled against his warm, broad chest, Lacey closed her eyes and gave in to the swelling dam of tears clogging her throat.
He let her cry, all the while stroking her long hair and rocking her tenderly. “It’s okay, baby,” he murmured into her ear. “Everything’s going to be fine … I’m here now.”
“I’ve made a mess of my life, Jeff,” she sobbed. “I’ve gone and screwed things up really bad.”
“The doctors will straighten you out—”
She interrupted. “It’s not just my health. It’s everything. I—I had a terrible fight with Katie. And everybody at school knows about me now. And Todd … well, he’s never even called once to check on me.”
At the mention of Todd’s name, she felt Jeff stiffen. She hugged him all the tighter. She heard him ask, “Is that why you called me? To mourn your boyfriend?”
She pushed back and stared up at him, barely able to focus through the shimmering flood of tears. How could she explain what the loss of Todd meant to her? “Todd isn’t important to me. It was never him that I wanted. Don’t you see? Nobody has to take shots except me. Nobody has to plan for every little morsel of food that goes into their mouths except me. Have you ever had an insulin reaction in front of your friends? I have. It’s awful. I feel like an outsider. I’ve told you before, I hate being sick, Jeff. Nothing’s changed.”
He touched his forehead to hers and took a slow breath. “I hate being sick too. It isn’t easy sitting on the sidelines all your life. When I was a kid I couldn’t play hard because I might start to bleed. And when I did have a bleeding episode, I’d end up in the hospital getting a transfusion. When the AIDS epidemic came along, I watched a friend die because he got a transfusion of tainted blood.”
Lacey gasped. “But you—”
“They do special screening of the blood now. Something like that doesn’t happen these days, but still I have to be careful about my everyday life.” He took her by the shoulders and, holding her gently, riveted his gaze into hers. “And don’t think you’re the only person to be rejected because another person couldn’t handle dealing with an illness. Sometimes a girl thinks she can adjust to having a hemophiliac for a boyfriend, but when it comes down to it, she can’t.
“Back in Colorado, when I was a junior in high school, my girl walked into my hospital room, pulled off a ring I’d given her, and dropped it on my chest while I was still getting my blood transfusion. Talk about feeling like a loser.”
Lacey could see the hurt etched in his face. But she understood how fear could have made the girl do such a thing—she found it scary to care for someone who might suddenly die. “People are scared of taking on something they don’t understand,” Lacey tried to explain.
“Then they should ask,” he countered. “They should make an effort to understand. I never made demands on anybody. I learned early on that it’s one day at a time and nobody gets guarantees. I’ve had a perfectly healthy friend get killed in a car wreck. There was nothing wrong with him like there was wrong with me, but he’s dead and I’m still alive.”
“Life’s not fair,” Lacey said, feeling a tremor of anger.
“True. So what do we do about it? Check out of life before it deals us a nasty blow? If I’d done that, I’d never have gotten out of my basinet.”
The image of him as a tiny baby made her smile. She asked, “But why did we have to have something wrong with us in the first place? Why did I get diabetes? It’s screwed up my life.”
Jeff toyed with a long strand of her hair. “Diabetes screwed up your life. My hemophilia screwed up mine. Nobody knows why. But one thing’s for sure. You can’t get even with your disease by ignoring it, or fooling around with it. It’s meaner than you, Lacey.”
He gave a quick smile when she reacted to his assessment of her. “And don’t deny it. You can be short-tempered and mean as a snake. For crying out loud, there’s not a nicer, kinder person in the world than Katie O’Roark, and you tell me you’ve had a blow-up with her. I mean it takes real talent to alienate a person like Katie.”
She knew he was right. Her fight with Katie had been all Lacey’s fault. All because she refused to face the facts of her life, as Katie had urged so many times. “I blew it, all right.”
“I’ll say.” Jeff tweaked her chin playfully, then returned his hand to the strand of hair. “Somehow, you’ve got to work out a truce between you and diabetes. A peaceful coexistence, ‘cause you’re both living in the same body. Don’t let it push you out. And don’t give up any territory you don’t have to give up.”
Hearing him, seeing the earnestness of his face as he spoke, helped Lacey grasp something she’d never honestly considered. She, Lacey Duval, was at war with an old and ancient enemy—an illness that led to death. Diabetes could, and would, kill her. It had no respect for people. “Either I control it or it controls me,” she said. “That’s what you’re telling me, aren’t you?”
“You got it. Asking why won’t change it. Even knowing why won’t change it. It’s here. It’s alive and well. And until medical science comes up with a solution to get rid of it, it’s sticking around.”
Her loathing for her diabetes took on a new dimension as she grasped fully what Jeff was saying. Her illness was a part of her and there was nothing she could do to separate herself from its clutches. All she could ever hope to do is control it, make it do her will instead of her doing its will. Her eyes began to brim with fresh tears as reality sank in. “There’s no magic to make it go away.”
Jeff lifted her chin with his forefinger. “No magic.”
She thought of the long road ahead of her. Of all the learning and adjusting, of all the food balancing and blood testing and insulin shots in her future. For though she’d been a diabetic for years, she’d never truly accepted it. She’d done only what was necessary to get by. And judging by her recent diagnosis of keto, she’d not done what was necessary very well.
“Will you come visit me while I get on top of this?” Her heart hammered as she asked. He owed her nothing and she’d done nothing to encourage him. To the contrary, she’d all but driven him away.
“I’ll come visit you.” His gaze looked guarded. “But don’t jack me around, Lacey. I’m not going to be your buddy in the hospital only to have you run off to be with Todd when you get out.”
“It won’t happen. I told you, Todd and I are through.”
“The world’s full of Todds. Guys who get exactly what they want whenever they want because a girl has an idea that he’s cool or in. I’ve played this hot and cold game before with you.”
“When?”
“Last summer. And at that party a few months ago.”
She felt color creep up her neck and cheeks. “I was angry with Todd at that party. I’ve learned some things since then.”
“Like what?
” His eyes were intense.
“I know what’s important. Who’s important.” Memories flashed through her mind—the faces of Amanda, Jillian, Chelsea, Katie, Terri—and of the portrait of Jenny Crawford. These were the people who’d made a difference in her life.
“Am I important, Lacey?”
She reached out and pressed the tips of her fingers against his mouth. “Yes. Very much so.”
She thought he might kiss her, but he did not. Instead, he stood and traced his thumb along the side of her cheek. “We’ll see. I won’t go jumping in with both feet this time. It hurts too much if I don’t have something soft to land on.”
He backed toward the door. “The ball’s in your court now. Let’s see what kind of a player you are. I’ll see you tomorrow, Lacey.”
She watched him leave, unable to think of a single thing to say to let him know she was accepting his challenge.
Fifteen
“WHAT ARE YOU up to, niece? Is this some kind of a trick or something?”
Lacey innocently gazed up at her uncle Nelson’s face. “What do you mean?” She’d raised the top of her bed so that she was sitting upright. Her history book was open and she was reading the assignment Terri had brought from her teacher the night before.
“According to the diabetes team, you’ve been the picture of cooperation these past three days. You listen to every word from the dietician, you’ve worked with the exercise therapist, even Dr. Rosenberg says you’ve opened up with him. What’s going on?”
Lacey offered her uncle a sweet smile. “Why, Uncle Nelson, don’t you trust me? You told me you wouldn’t let me out of this place unless I started learning how to manage my diabetes properly. I’m learning.”
He ignored her smile and frowned sternly. “This isn’t a game, Lacey. Don’t go putting us on and then slip back into your old habits once you check out.”
“Honest, I’m trying. I don’t want to be sick like this again. It’s no fun.”
He came closer to her bedside. “I hope you mean what you’re saying. Now that we’ve removed you from the insulin pump and put you back into the routine of injections, you’ll have to monitor your blood glucose more closely than ever before after you return home.”
“I’m testing four times a day and writing down the results in my log book like a good girl. Besides, I like being unhooked and free to wave my arms.” To emphasis her point, she flapped her arms in an imitation of a bird.
He studied her chart. “You still don’t look great on your lab reports. Your blood chemistry isn’t straightened out yet, and I’m not sure what caused you to go sour.”
She shrugged, unable to talk to him about how bad she’d blown it. She’d gained weight since her hospitalization, and at first she’d panicked, but Sue had assured her the gain was healthy and necessary. “I’m trying, Uncle Nelson. Please believe me.”
He nodded and flipped her chart closed. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to tell you, I like that young man of yours—that Jeff. He’s a nice kid. He’s got his head screwed on straight.” Lacey had introduced them when her uncle had come in for a visit and Jeff had been with her.
“My fellow? Where do you come up with these terms?”
“What should I call him?”
“He’s not my fellow. He’s a friend.” She told him of meeting Jeff at Jenny House and of how he’d transferred to the University of Miami in January. Hesitantly, she added that he was a hemophiliac.
“Tough break,” Uncle Nelson said. “But I still like him. And I think he’s been a good influence on you. In fact, that whole Jenny House experience seemed good for you. Why did you lose it when you got home and back in school?”
“I guess I got sidetracked.”
Her uncle squeezed her shoulder. “Well, I hope you’re back on track for good now.”
Her mother entered the room and Lacey felt an automatic tightening in her stomach. So far, her mother hadn’t lectured her or bombarded her with dumb questions, and Lacey didn’t want a confrontation now. Yet, when Uncle Nelson left, her mother pulled up a chair and said, “Lacey, we need to talk.”
“If you’re going to yell at me—”
“I’m not going to yell at you.”
Lacey sighed and closed her book. “Look, I know you’re disappointed in me. I know I was in charge of handling my diabetes and I let you down.”
“You almost died, Lacey.” Her mother’s voice sounded teary. She sniffed and held up her hand. “Wait. That’s not how I want to start. You know I’ve been talking to Dr. Rosenberg.”
“So have I.”
“He’s helped me see some things I wasn’t aware of before.”
“Like what?”
Her mother laced her fingers together and placed her folded hands in her lap. “You weren’t the only one who had trouble accepting your diagnosis of diabetes when you were eleven. At the time, I thought I did, but deep down I was pretty shaken up by it. You were my only child and you were perfect and beautiful and charming.”
“Oh, Mom …” Lacey felt flustered hearing her mother’s opinion of her looks and personality.
“And until that time, you were healthy,” her mother continued. “I just couldn’t believe it. And I couldn’t believe that I had somehow contributed to the gene pool that had made you sick.”
“But you said that you and Dad couldn’t trace it to either side of our family.”
“That’s true, but it had to come from somewhere. From one … or both of us.” She was choosing her words carefully, and Lacey could tell that the effort was difficult for her. “If your father and I had never married, then most likely you would not have had the genes for diabetes. You would be well. You would have a normal life without the threat of blindness or kidney disease—all the side effects that go along with diabetes.”
Her mother was feeling guilty! At fault for passing along flawed genes to her only child. At first, Lacey thought her mother was merely feeling sorry for herself, but watching her as she battled with her emotions made Lacey pause. She’d never once thought what it must have been like for her parents when they’d heard the news of her initial diagnosis. Obviously, it had been shattering.
“I don’t blame you and Daddy for my diabetes. And if you hadn’t married each other, then I wouldn’t be me, would I?”
“That’s exactly what Dr. Rosenberg said too. But it still bothers me.”
“Are you sorry you ever had me?”
Her mother reached over and grabbed Lacey’s hand. “Never think such a thing. I love you and these past few days have been a nightmare. You were in critical condition and Nelson was very worried. He was totally honest with us. When I think how close I came to losing you …”
Lacey felt her own heart trip a beat. Had she truly been that close to dying? “I didn’t mean to worry you or Dad. And I’ll be more careful in the future.”
“That’s another thing. I know I haven’t been the best at helping you manage your diabetes these past few years.”
“It was my job.”
“It was our job. Dr. Rosenberg says that some parents completely take over their child’s illness, managing every aspect, worrying every time there’s an elevated blood sugar reading, making their child so dependent and fearful that she can’t function in the real world.”
“You and Dad never did that.”
“No. I became the other kind of parent. I decided it was best to let you shoulder the whole thing.”
“You used to give me some of my shots. When I was younger … I remember.”
“And I hated it. I couldn’t wait until you took over the whole business and I didn’t have to deal with it. Your father and I used to fight about it.”
“You did?”
“He’d fuss at me for shirking my duty and I’d fire back that he completely ignored his role in your management. His idea of dealing with it was to dictate orders that I was supposed to follow like an obedient soldier.”
“He never did any of the day-to-day stuff,”
Lacey admitted, remembering how their battles often revolved around words like “responsibility” and “lack of caring.” She recalled her denial to Dr. Rosenberg that she felt responsible for her parents’ divorce. “Is that why you divorced? Was it because of me?”
Her mother shook her head. “No. You and your diabetes often became the battleground, but our problems went far deeper than that.”
Lacey wasn’t convinced. It seemed as if they’d argued for years about one thing or another; she was sorry that her diabetes had been one more area of constant friction. “But you’re divorced now,” she said. “And I’m sixteen and I still have to be in charge of my diabetes.”
Lacey watched a cascade of emotions cross her mother’s face. “That’s what Dr. Rosenberg said too.”
“He’s on my side?” Lacey was surprised. She had secretly wondered if the doctors would put her firmly under her mother’s thumb like a naughty child.
“He warned me—us, your father too—that it was still your diabetes and that just because you’d blown it didn’t make you any less responsible for it.”
Lacey didn’t know what to say. She half wanted, half loathed getting the total responsibility back.
“Dr. Rosenberg said there’s a world of difference between inquiring and nagging. So I won’t nag you about testing or appointments,” her mother said. “I will ask you how you’re feeling and what Uncle Nelson said during your checkups.”
“That sounds fair.”
“And I’ll do a better job with dinnertime. I know I’ve been focused on the divorce and my job and haven’t put a good dinner on the table every night for us.”
“I can cook,” Lacey declared. “I know how—but it would be nice to have you eat with me.”
“The new Diabetes Research Institute will have special cooking classes once it opens. Maybe we could take a class together,” her mother offered.