Anything for Danny. Carla Cassidy

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      “The best thanks is to give that boy the trip of his dreams.” Ross patted her hand and released it. “Make yourself and that boy some precious memories. That’s all the thanks we need.”

      “Hey, Mom, come on in…this is awesome!” Danny’s voice rang from one of the windows of the huge R.V. “There’s a bathroom and bedroom and everything. Margaret, come on in and see everything. Mom, come on!”

      Ross laughed. “Go on, he’s waiting to show you around.” He paused and smiled at Sherri once again, a bittersweet smile. “That Danny, he’s a special kind of kid.”

      She nodded, a lump forming in her throat as she remembered that Ross had lost his thirteen-year-old son the year before to bone marrow cancer.

      “Go on, go to him. Make every moment count. Make some memories.” Ross’s eyes were over-bright as he gave her arm a quick squeeze, then went to the car that waited to take him back to the Dream Producers headquarters.

      Sherri hesitated a moment, swallowing the emotions that lately were always too close to the surface, the tears that always pressed against her eyes.

      It was a rule…Danny’s rule. No crying allowed. From the moment they had learned the extent of his illness, he’d been firm in his demand of no crying where he could see it or hear it. In the months that had passed, she had grown quite proficient at silent weeping, usually at night into her pillow.

      “Mom!” Danny’s voice cried out impatiently.

      “All right, all right, I’m coming,” Sherri exclaimed. She stepped into the motor home, and looked around in amazement. It was like a miniature home. There was a table with a bench seat, a stove, a small refrigerator and wooden cabinets just behind the four captain’s chairs.

      “Mom, come here,” Danny called from the back of the vehicle.

      Sherri passed the bathroom complete with stall shower, then entered the back area, where Danny sat on the top bunk, and Margaret was on the bottom bunk. “This is so cool.” Danny’s eyes were bright with excitement, their blueness perfectly matching the ball cap on top of his head. “Look, there are little cubbyholes up here to put stuff.”

      “The whole interior has been customized,” Margaret commented.

      Sherri nodded, noting the unusually wide entrance to the bathroom. “They’ve customized it so it can accommodate wheelchairs,” she observed. “The space around the table is also larger than usual.”

      “Can I sleep up here? Can this be my bed?” Danny asked.

      “I don’t know, we’ll have to wait and see.” Lord, she hadn’t even thought of the sleeping arrangements. There were two beds, the top bunk and the bottom, and although both were nearly double size, there was no way Danny would have one of those bunks to himself, leaving her and Luke to share the other.

      “Madness,” Margaret repeated, as if reading Sherri’s thoughts. “I told you this was all crazy.”

      Sherri shot her a look of warning. She didn’t want anything to take away Danny’s joy, especially her friend’s negative prophecies concerning this trip. “It will be fine,” she assured Margaret with a confidence she didn’t feel. “Come on, Danny, let’s start loading our supplies.”

      Danny nodded enthusiastically. As he jumped down from the bunk, his cap fell off, exposing the bald head beneath. Sherri’s heart constricted at the visual reminder of the chemo treatments from the weeks before. Although Danny had been a little trouper, Sherri was grateful the treatments were behind them, at least for now.

      It took them most of the day to pack the motor home. They had suitcases, boxes and cans of food, lanterns and camping equipment, coats and gloves and anything else they could think of for their home away from home. Danny wasn’t satisfied until each and every item was in its place and they were ready to leave the next day.

      The packing took longer than expected because they had to explore every nook and cranny. Each cabinet was opened, each drawer pulled out, every built-in convenience was marveled over with appropriate awe.

      “I think it’s bedtime for you,” Sherri said that evening as they finished eating a late supper of soup and grilled-cheese sandwiches. The day had been almost too much for Danny, who’d drooped over the meal and scarcely eaten a bite.

      “I’m not tired,” Danny protested, although his words lacked conviction. He yawned, his eyelids drooping. “Well, maybe a little,” he admitted with a small smile.

      “You get ready for bed and I’ll come to tuck you in as soon as I clear off these dishes.”

      Danny nodded, yawning once again as he disappeared down the hallway and into his bedroom. Sherri finished putting the last of their dinner dishes into the dishwasher, then filled the sink with soapy water to wash the pots and pans.

      As she worked, her gaze went out the window, to the house next door where the kitchen light burned brightly, illuminating the drapery of darkness that had fallen in the past hour.

      Margaret and her husband Jim, and their four boys would probably be at the kitchen table, enjoying the usual noisy, chaotic evening meal. They would all be talking at once, sharing the events of their day.

      There were times Sherri envied Margaret her healthy boys and her loving husband, envied with a passion she could almost taste. She envied the noise, the confusion, the love, the family.

      Family…she’d dreamed once of a houseful of kids and a handsome husband. But reality was that she and the handsome husband had divorced when Danny was almost four years old. Reality was lonely nights and early mornings of silence. Reality was Danny’s illness and living on borrowed time.

      “Mom, I’m ready,” Danny called from his bedroom.

      “Coming,” Sherri replied. She dried the last pan and placed it in the appropriate cabinet, then hurried into Danny’s bedroom where he awaited their bedtime ritual.

      Danny’s room was a study in motion. Model airplanes hung suspended on thin wires from the ceiling, their silhouettes dancing in the light from the hallway. Pictures of birds, helicopters and jets decorated every inch of the walls.

      From the time Danny was a baby, he’d been fascinated with the action of flight. When he was five, he’d constructed a pair of cardboard wings and tried to fly off the top of the garden shed. The ill-fated landing had resulted in a broken arm and a stern lecture.

      Most recently before his illness, he and a buddy had rigged up a bungy-jumping cord to the backyard tree, deciding that bungy jumping was the closest thing to really flying. Thankfully, Sherri had spied the equipment before it could be tested and put to use. Since his illness, there had been no more experiments in actual flying, but Danny’s obsession with flight hadn’t faded.

      Sherri sat on the edge of his bed and stroked the smoothness of his scalp. “Just like when I was a baby, huh?” Danny asked, casting her a sleepy grin.

      “Exactly like,” she agreed. “Your dad and I thought you’d be bald forever. You didn’t have a hint of hair until you were over a year old.”

      “But I was still the best-looking kid you’d ever seen.”

      Sherri laughed СКАЧАТЬ