16

“What were you and my mother talking about in the kitchen?” Mark fumbled with the key to his apartment, his arms heaped with birthday gifts. “I stuck my head into the kitchen and saw that she had you cornered.”

April unlocked the door for him. “Girl talk. Nothing important.”

“That’s hard to believe. She was trying to make you pressure me to give up racing, wasn’t she?” He switched on a table lamp, and soft light filled the room.

“It’s no secret that she’d rather you didn’t race. What’s that?” She pointed to an enormous box perched in the middle of the sofa.

“Why don’t you check it out?”

She read the tag. “It’s for me. And it’s from you.” He grinned mischievously. “Why would I get a present? It’s your birthday.”

“Haven’t you heard? It’s better to give than to receive.”

“What are you up to, Mark Gianni?”

“Guess you’ll have to open it to find out.”

She bounced onto the sofa and studied the box. “Your box for me is bigger than my box for you. Did you get me a racing suit too?” She tore off the outer wrapping, opened the flaps of the box, and discovered—another wrapped box. “What’s this?”

He shrugged. “I guess you’ll have to keep unwrapping.”

Intrigued, she tore off the next box’s layer of paper. Inside she found another box. “You’re driving me crazy! Is that what you want? A crazy girl on your hands?”

He laughed. “Boy, you get cranky over the smallest details.”

She tossed a wad of wrapping paper at him and ripped open the next box. Inside it was another. And inside that, another still. She unwrapped ten boxes in all, until one very small one lay in the palm of her hand. “I know,” she sighed. “It’s an Elvis postage stamp, isn’t it?”

“Only one way to find out,” he replied.

She ripped off the paper and discovered a small black velvet box. But there the game ended. Inside this box, nestled in folds of white satin, lay a gold antique-looking ring with a diamond in its center. She gasped and, wordlessly, turned toward him. Mark had sunk to one knee beside the sofa. He took her hand, and his brown eyes stared directly into hers. “Marry me, April. I love you, and more than anything in the world, I want you to be my wife.”

She began to cry.

“I was hoping for a different reaction,” he said, looking crestfallen.

A million emotions tumbled through her—love, excitement, awe, joy … fear. “Mark, I don’t know what to say.”

“ ‘Yes’ would be nice. I love you, April. I thought you loved me too.”

She cupped his face in her hands. “Of course I love you. And, yes, I will marry you.”

His face broke into a grin, and his eyes sparkled. He slid the ring on her finger. The diamond caught the lamplight and twinkled brilliantly. “I know the stone’s small, but it once belonged to my grandmother. She left it to me in her will because she always believed that somewhere God had picked out one special girl for me. And she was right.”

April blinked back tears. “It’s perfect. And I’m honored to wear it.”

“I wish she could have known you. She would have loved you too.”

April couldn’t take her eyes from the glittering stone on her hand. Engaged! She was engaged to Mark Gianni.

“When can we get married?” he asked.

“I don’t know. There’s so much to think about … so much to do,” she said, still fascinated with the diamond. But in the back of her mind, she knew her parents might not be enthusiastic about her acceptance of Mark’s proposal. They would say she was young. That she had four years of college ahead of her. She realized she had a brain tumor that might begin growing once more.

Mark smoothed her hair. “Now that I know you’ll marry me, I don’t want to wait.” He kissed her, long and sweet. Her heart hammered, and she clung to him while visions of herself in a long white wedding gown danced through her head.

The dream ended abruptly the next morning when she told her parents about Mark’s proposal. Her mother’s face went pale, her father’s livid. “You can’t be serious!” he said.

April had known they would object. Still, she was determined to marry Mark. “I am serious. What’s wrong with us getting married?”

“You’re not even eighteen,” her father railed. “You’re still a child.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please. Mom was nineteen when you married her.”

“That was different.”

Her mother jumped in. “April, how can you think about marrying a man like Mark, who may die at any time?” Her voice was quiet, but it cut through April like a knife.

“Anyone can die at any time,” she answered coolly.

“His odds are higher than most and you know it.”

“My odds aren’t the greatest either,” she said. “Or have you forgotten?”

“You’re in remission,” her father insisted. “And you may remain so forever. And what of your other plans? You just enrolled in college.”

“I can be married and still go to college.”

“How will he provide for you? He works in a print shop, for heaven’s sake. And he plays with cars on the side. Do you know how expensive it is to live in New York? Have you any idea—?”

“Stop it!” She put her hands over her ears. “I won’t listen to you tear down Mark another minute.” She whirled and ran up the stairs. She threw herself on the bed and seethed. This was supposed to be a happy day. Instead, her parents had turned it into a fight. Why couldn’t they be happy for her?

She ignored the soft knock on the door, but her mother came into the room anyway. “I should have locked it,” she whispered through clenched teeth. “Go away.”

Her mother sat on the bed. “I came to talk, not argue.” Her voice was soft, and she sounded weary. “April, I know you think we’re being unreasonable, but we honestly have your best interests at heart.”

“How can you? I love Mark and you hate him.”

“That’s simply not true. We like Mark. We just think you’re too young to make this kind of commitment. In spite of what you see in bride magazines, once the wedding day is over a couple has to live in reality.”

“You’re arguing. You told me you wouldn’t.”

Her mother sighed. “Then let me cut to the chase. Marriage is hard enough without any obstacles. You and Mark have considerable obstacles. Cystic fibrosis is a bad disease and its victims need plenty of care.”

“I know what Mark needs.” April cut her off. “He needs special medications. He needs therapy. I plan to learn how to do his back and chest thumps. I can handle it.”

“It isn’t some little thing, like brushing your teeth at night or washing your face every morning. It’s serious, life-sustaining business. It means that no matter how tired you are, no matter if you’ve had a fight and the two of you are angry with each other, no matter what, you have to perform this procedure.”

“I can handle it,” April said stubbornly. But she knew her mother was right. The responsibility was weighty. “Besides, I’m sure his respiratory therapist won’t drop out of Mark’s life entirely. He’ll still be in the picture.”

“There are other things about boys with CF—”

“I don’t want to hear about it!”

“Maybe you should talk to his mother. I have.”

April jumped off the bed. “You what? You’ve gone to Mark’s family behind our backs? I don’t believe it! How could you?” Suddenly Rosa’s attitude toward April after the birthday party made perfect sense. April’s mother had gone to see her. Who knew what her mother may have said?

“Because I love you!” her mother replied. “Because I don’t want to see you get in over your head.”

“Stop treating me like a baby! I’m old enough to get married if I want to.”

“Not without our permission, you’re not.” Her mother was standing too, and they’d squared off, facing each other.

“I’m going to marry Mark,” April said in clipped words. “Whether you and Dad approve or not. I love him and he loves me. We’ll get by. I’d rather have your blessing, but I’ll do it without if I have to. And if we have to run away to do it, we will. That’s a promise.”

“Engaged!” Kelli squealed over the phone. April had called Kelli in Oregon as soon as, her mother had left the bedroom. “That’s so awesome!”

“Tell that to my parents,” April said.

“They’re not glad about it?”

“It’s like a war zone around here, although there’s a temporary truce right now because they hate upsetting me.” April made a face. “I think they’re giving me time to ‘come to my senses.’ But I’m not going to change my mind. Which is one reason I’m calling. If we work this out, will you be my maid of honor?”

Kelli squealed again. “You bet!”

Her enthusiasm warmed April’s heart. “So, how’s college life?”

“The classes are harder than high school. The campus is huge. And it rains every day.”

“But you like it?”

“It’s okay. Lots of cute guys around.”

April felt a pang of longing. For what? she asked herself. Her life was different now; her plans a hundred and eighty degrees from what they’d been even six months before. By the same time a year from now, she’d hopefully be married. No, it wasn’t what she—or her parents—had once planned for her. But the new direction pleased her.

“They’ll come around,” Kelli said across the miles, as if reading April’s thoughts. “Your parents will do anything for you, so don’t get too bent out of shape. I’m telling you, they’ll do this for you too.”