#heartmatch Read online

  #heartmatch

  A novella by

  C.K. Alber

  #heartmatch

  Published by C.K. Alber, 2018

  Digital Edition

  Edited by Lori Corsentino

  Cover Design by © Lori Corsentino/Harmony Creative Design

  Image: Slay19, Cookiestudio/Bigstock Photo

  Copyright © 2018 by C.K. Alber

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, businesses, institutions, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including photocopying, recording, or information storage and retrieval systems without the author’s permission, except in the case of brief quotations or short excerpts embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Piracy of copyrighted materials is a violation of the author’s rights. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Support the arts and literature created by hardworking authors by purchasing a legitimate copy through authorized distributors. Thank you.

  C.K. Alber

  Visit my website at www.ckalber.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Edition: February, 2018

  C.K. Alber

  Contents

  FEBRUARY 1

  FEBRUARY 5

  FEBRUARY 6

  FEBRUARY 8

  FEBRUARY 10

  FEBRUARY 11

  FEBRUARY 12

  FEBRUARY 13

  FEBRUARY 14

  EPILOGUE

  Dedication

  A special dedication to my daughters—Jeanie Marie, Cynthia Ann, and Donna Caterina. All I ever hope to be, I owe to the greatest three mothers of all.

  I also want to thank four teens close to my heart. Thank you—Trevor, Nikolas, Jack, and Andrew for helping me with the main character in this book. Your suggestions and comments helped a lot.

  FEBRUARY 1

  Wednesday

  The late morning sun glistened off freshly fallen flakes. The last Rocky Mountain winter storm had settled over the landscape. Even with a recently lit fire crackling in the bedroom fireplace, a chill engulfed Samantha Brown’s body. She stared out the window, glimpsing the artistic Christmas card scene from her usual extended position on her bed.

  The carefully stitched, colorful quilt her mother had made years before, decorated with photos depicting some of her favorite childhood memories, covered her, lending warmth. She wiggled her toes. Fluffy bright-pink socks peeked from under the cover. Her new laptop lay across her thighs, lid open. She tapped the keys again.

  Why isn’t he answering me today?

  Samantha had at last found an online friend. Jason’s profile picture displayed a young man, royal-blue kerchief covering most of his head. Shoots of dark, curly hair poked from beneath the colorful fabric. Luscious gray eyes, the color of ash, stared into the camera. Light brown skin. A prominent cleft chin below an unsmiling mouth.

  A gentle tap sounded at the door. Samantha closed the lid of her computer.

  Her beautiful mother, looking older than her forty-five years, breezed into the room and whirled around the bed.

  “Leave the curtains open, mother.”

  Her mother complied and returned to the side of the bed near the desk. “I’ll take that, dear.”

  She lifted the laptop from Samantha’s legs and set the computer onto her white desk. Samantha had salvaged the distressed piece from a thrift shop, then stripped and painted the wood white, finishing the project before the fatigue and pain she now endured had begun to ravage her body.

  “Probably needs to charge. Don’t you think?”

  Samantha turned her head to the window and shut out her mother’s chatter. Although she was eighteen, her parents handled her like the fluffy flakes that had accumulated outside on the window sill. Delicately. Sometimes Samantha had the urge to run away from the clutches of her illness.

  But that will never happen.

  Loneliness overcame Samantha. Most of her friends had abandoned her two years ago when she’d become home-prisoned. She had a million things she wanted to talk about that no parent would understand. With no one to share her thoughts, she combed the web for someone to chat with. She needed a connection. Someone who would understand and possibly sympathize.

  In bunny house shoes, her mother shuffled over and rested a hand on Samantha’s head. She pet her as if Samantha were a cat and then ran fingers through her strawberry-blond tresses, releasing tangles from the night before.

  “Ouch. Just brush it.”

  Her mother sat down on the edge of the bed and rested the same hand that had stroked Samantha’s sensitive scalp on her leg.

  “Dear, I have something to tell you.”

  The agonized expression her mother held frightened Samantha.

  “Did something happen to daddy?”

  “No, my precious. He’s fine. Still stuck at a meeting in Seattle.”

  “Then why the frown?”

  “Doctor Sadana’s office called this morning.” She hesitated. Cleared her throat. “There’s a bed for you at the University hospital and—”

  “No—please.” Samantha wound her fingers tightly together. “No more hospitals. Please.”

  Three surgical procedures as an infant, other operations as she grew older, pacemakers, radio frequency ablations, incisions, pokes, and needle jabs, all because of a congenital heart defect.

  I can’t take any more.

  “What for this time?” Her voice quivered as a wave of terror washed over her.

  A concerned reaction skittered across her mother’s face. “Dear, now don’t get agitated. It’s not good for you.”

  “Tell me.” Blood rushed to her head, throbbing at her temples. “What’s happening next?”

  “Doctor Sadana says you’re a good candidate for a heart transplant.”

  Samantha glanced toward the window. She closed her eyes and imagined a balmy beach under a warm California sun. Palm trees blew in the wind. She lay on a towel soaking up the rays.

  Returning her gaze to her mother, a mere breath erupted from her lips. Samantha whispered. “When?”

  “The ambulance will come for you today.”

  “There’s a donor?”

  “Not yet. Doctor Sadana has advised us your heart condition can no longer be improved by medication. You’re growing weaker.”

  “Why can’t I wait here?”

  “Once a donor heart is found, there will only be a short amount of time before the transplantation takes place. He wants you there and ready when that moment arrives.”

  Samantha covered her mouth with the palm of her hand. She’d read the booklets Doctor Sadana had given her about transplantation. Now reality and the information embedded in her brain about what she’d read scared her. Fear of dying under the scalpel terrorized Samantha. If she mentioned that notion to her mother, she knew she’d only hear the “not to worry” phrase her mother kept repeating.

  “A computer generates a match run.” Her mother inhaled deeply before continuing. “Blood types, age, weight, height will all be taken into consideration and—”

  “Stop!” Samantha put her hands to her ears. “I don’t want to hear anymore.”

  Her mother jumped at the outburst. “You’ll have time for a nap before I have to get you ready, dear.” She lightly patted her leg. “Not to worry, my precious.”

  “Just go away. I’m not going anywhere, today or ever.”

  Samantha retur
ned to her imaginary beach scene. She wanted to stand in the waves, smell the salt water, and watch the seagulls swoop.

  Her mother laid a hand on her shoulder, bringing her back to reality. “Could I help you into the bathroom before you rest?”

  Samantha glanced down at the quilt and spotted the photo where she’d lost her first tooth and another picture of her riding on her dad’s shoulders as she reached for the clouds.

  Has my life ever been normal?

  “No,” she uttered with annoyance. “Not going.”

  Her mother gulped, holding back a sob.

  “Give me my computer.”

  “You should have a break from technology, sweetheart. A nap would be more beneficial than—”

  “No, I need to check something. Please.” She attempted to sweet-talk her mother.

  “I could bring in the pamphlets Doctor Sadana gave you to read,” her mother offered. “Reading is easier on the mind and could lull you to sleep.”

  “I want to do a Google search,” she lied.

  Her mother’s head bobbed. “Okay. Thirty minutes and I’ll be back in.” She retrieved the laptop and placed the device across Samantha’s legs.

  Her mother sighed before scooting around the bed once again. She picked up Samantha’s cell phone. “Battery charged and good to go. Text me if you need anything.” She laid the cell on the nightstand and floated back over to the door then stopped and stared long and hard at her.

  Samantha exhaled, blowing out a puff of air between parched lips as she returned her mother’s gaze. “You aren’t going to cry, are you?”

  Her mother’s posture straightened. “No, my child. Not today.”

  She left, closing the door softly behind her.

  Samantha went to the #heartmatch site and tapped in a message.

  “You there?”

  No answer.

  “I need to ask a question. Please answer.”

  As she waited, she wondered if she’d be able to take her computer to the hospital. She hoped so.

  Ding.

  Jason’s profile picture popped up. “You woke me up.”

  “Sorry.”

  “What you want, kid?”

  “I’m not a kid.” She included a mad emoji.

  “Scrap the crap. I’m outta here.”

  Think of something to keep him interested. Hurry. Brain-wracking time.

  “Hey!!!!!!” Jason tapped. “Said I’m leavin.”

  “Would you ever kill a woman?” Samantha hit the worried emoji key.

  “In the games? Why not?”

  “In real life?” She tapped the broken heart emoji, then wished she hadn’t.

  “You crazy? What’s with the jagged heart?”

  “Someone might die and I’ll play a part in their death.”

  “You joking me?”

  “I have to go.” She disconnected, knowing she’d said too much.

  Samantha touched the bedspread photo of a trip to the mountains she’d taken with her parents.

  Snow angels flitted across her mind. The sensation of falling snow on her tongue and the tingling of the tips of her fingers and toes from the cold.

  Why these memories? The past and happier times maybe. Live in the present, her dad always said.

  “It’s not about tomorrow. It’s all about now,” she said, parroting his words.

  She rested her head on the pillow.

  Somewhere in the state of Colorado, a kid named Jason lived. From what Samantha could decipher from the brief conversations between them, they had nothing in common.

  I like him, but he wouldn’t understand this.

  Her hand waved over the bed, then around the room. She heard a noise coming from the hall and pretended to sleep as her mother tiptoed in to retrieve her computer.

  FEBRUARY 5

  Sunday

  Jason Bryant’s fingers drummed the top of his desk as he continued his long, nerve-wracking wait. The wind whistled through a crack in the window frame. A streetlamp outside, now almost obliterated by blowing snow, usually gave light enough for him to see when his mom’s silver four-wheel-drive pulled in the driveway of their tri-level house.

  Every damn time she worked the night shift his gut churned with worry. He jumped to his feet, wincing as the chair toppled and crashed to the floor. He ran to the bathroom, flung open the door, fell to his knees over the toilet, and spewed the nachos he’d snacked on hours before. A few minutes later, Jason’s hand lifted to the handle and flushed the ugly evidence down with the swirling water.

  Where the hell is she?

  He pulled a hand towel off the rack, wiped his chin, and tossed the moistened cloth to the pile of dirty clothes in the corner.

  His reflection in the mirror netted his attention. Jason stood ramrod straight. Brows furrowed. The stubble of a beard and a riot of dark curls coiled in every direction. He inspected his teeth, opened his mouth wide, and did the side view stance.

  Damn.

  The only difference between him and his forty-nine-year-old double were his gray eyes, the color of lint in the dryer tray. The man who had abandoned him had eyes the color of charcoal.

  “Frickin bastard.”

  He picked up the soap dish and flung the ceramic swan at the mirror. Shards of glass fell into the sink and onto the floor. Jason treaded around the fragments, then left the scene and returned to the hallway.

  The pocket of his sweat pants vibrated. He pulled the cell phone out from the depths and read.

  “On way.”

  “Shit.” He raced to his bedroom and glared out the window examining the street as far as he could see. No car lights. Nothing.

  “Who the hell goes out in the middle of the night when the weather’s like this? Can’t see a damn thing.”

  Jason knew about his mom’s secret indulgence and for that reason his heart raced with worry. He also knew her speed would be calculatingly slow, white knuckled hands gripping the steering wheel as she made the trip home to him and the security of their house.

  “Mom, stay safe,” he tapped on his phone keys.

  Jason turned around to the familiar surroundings of his room. Sonic, the dog he found in a fast food parking lot, lay at the foot of his bed. Sports posters lined one wall. A colorful blanket his grandma had crocheted lay over the back of an arm chair. A flat screen television above a chest-of-drawers. Simple. The way he liked things.

  His gaze shifted to the back of his computer.

  Ding. Ding.

  Jason picked up the fallen chair and dropped onto its wicker seat, sitting in front of the screen. He craved his bong. Weed. His kind of smoke.

  No smoking inside. His mom’s rules.

  He stared at the screen.

  “How old are you?” Along with a smiley emoji.

  Jason’s fingers flew over the keys as he typed a message. “Nineteen. Told you the first time.”

  “You said you graduated. Did you fail a year?” Sad face emoji pops up.

  “I finished last year.”

  “Are you in college?” Smiley face emoji.

  “No.”

  Jason hardly knew this girl. Her questions irritated him. He hated having to answer questions. To anyone. His anxiousness about his mom’s whereabouts redirected to his computer conversation. He threw his hands up in the air aiming both middle fingers at the screen. He should close the lid and stop this immature shit. Instead, something kept him connected.

  He pressed shift and the exclamation point key. “!!!!!” He refused to bring up one emoji.

  “What’s that mean?” She typed.

  He loathed nosey people. This girl Samantha had searched him out. Not the other way around—and she chose to put a cartoon character’s photo as her profile picture. Jason stared at the screen. “She calls herself Buttercup? You gotta be kidding me.”

  His computer dinged, jerking his attention back to the cartoon character in front of him.

  “Hey. You there?”

  “Yep.” His stare lifted to the wind
ow, then to his watch. His stomach turned.

  Ding.

  “Do you ever sleep?” Smiley face.

  He pressed Star on his phone. The call went straight to his mom’s voicemail. Her soft-spoken automatic response did nothing to ease his worry.

  Can’t she ever remember to call me at a stop light?

  No because his mom worried he’d be asleep at this hour and didn’t want to wake him. He’d never tell her he could only sleep after she’d arrived back from work and walked through the front door. Jason always had a lingering fear one day something bad would happen to her. No, he couldn’t sleep, especially during these ice-covered, snow-packed street days when his mom had to drive.

  Ding.

  “Hey, you there?”

  He avoided Samantha’s question and glanced at his watch again. His glare flew back to the window as a car passed, traveling cautiously down the slippery street. Jason jumped up, rushed to the glass, and craned his neck trying to see beyond the gusting snow. He fidgeted with the curtain tie. Sonic whined.

  Ding. Ding.

  Jason edged back to the screen. A bitter taste rose and fell in the back of his throat.

  Ten more minutes before I go outside to search.

  He plopped down, pausing for a moment before tapping the keys. “You still here?”

  “Hey. That’s mean.” Pouty emoji appeared.

  The image of the Buttercup cartoon with non-blinking eyes stared at him. “It’s after five. I’m signing out.”

  “Wait.”

  “?” He typed in a question mark.

  “My parents don’t want me online. Predators they say. So, when my mother and dad go to sleep, I get connected.”

  “So? What’s that got to do with me?” His gaze lifted. Jason wanted to run outside and trot down a block or two. Maybe she’d slid into a ditch and needed help.

  Ding.

  “You play those frightful gun games?” Emoji with wide eyes flashed on the screen.

  “Jeez,” he said under his breath even though the girl couldn’t hear him.

  “I’ve played a game or two.” Samantha tapped in a Smiley face with halo.

  His curiosity piqued. For a moment he forgot why his attention span was zero. “Oh?”

  “Yah. I especially like the one where they use the club.”