Change of Heart by Sally Mandel Read Free Book Online Page A

eyes.
    â€œSee, I had this specialist who was a friend of Daddy’s—my father’s,” Sharlie said, embarrassed at the childish epithet. “And he was the best.” The last words sounded faintly ironic, but Brian couldn’t be sure. “Dr. Nash convinced my parents that fixing me up wasn’t surgically sensible. After he retired, I had another attack, and his successor told us I could have been helped. But by then there wasn’t enough healthy tissue left to attach a prosthetic device to, and I needed at least two new valves, probably three.” Her voice was matter-of-fact, as if she were reading him a moderately interesting newspaper article.
    â€œHow old were you then?” he asked.
    â€œFifteen.”
    â€œAnd did you sue this Nash character?”
    She shook her head.
    â€œHe died shortly after he retired. Heart attack.” She allowed herself a tiny smile at this and went on. “It turned out he wasn’t much different from a lot of other prestigious surgeons. They don’t want to operate on anybody risky for fear they’ll mess up their track records.”
    â€œJesus,” Brian muttered, thinking he’d go kill somebody suitable right now and give her the heart in a hatbox. “I think I might have murdered the bastard.”
    Sharlie smiled at him and said, “I’m not supposed to get mad. It isn’t good for me.”
    He shook his head. All our enlightened theories about self-expression—let it all hang out, open up, be straight, up front, rant and rage and let fly the great agonizing primal scream. And here was this frail creature with the ashen face and enormous burning eyes—silken butterfly impaled alive, with the specter of an early death to keep her company. For her, the release of rage forbidden. No such luxury as a hefty, piercing Why me?!
    Brian had the sudden image of Sharlie as a young girl in a white dress, sitting on a wooden chair, hands folded primly in her lap, all the passions so exuberantly expressed in normal adolescence emerging from her in a quiet, ghostly smile—wings of the butterfly trembling, pinned—beautiful and crippled and doomed.
    Then he looked at her across the table as she was now, a woman with flushed cheeks and eyes that looked at him with curiosity and hunger, whose breasts were outlined through the soft sweater, small nipples evident despite the restriction of underwear. The ethereal images of her faded in the presence of this warm, breathing woman, and he found himself blurting out, “But what about sex?”
    Well, here it is, thought Sharlie, the heart of the matter, if you’ll excuse the expression.
    â€œContraindicated,” she replied.
    â€œHave you ever been … involved?” he asked, the urgency to know overwhelming the reticence in her face.
    â€œI had a crush on somebody once,” she said, giving him a rueful smile. “He was a friend of Dad … my father’s … and he kind of liked me, I guess. But he was so much older, and I figured we couldn’t ever let things go too far for fear one of us would have a coronary … or maybe both of us, and there’d be nobody left to call the ambulance.”
    Brian reached out for her hand and held it between both of his.
    â€œYou know I’m attracted to you.”
    She nodded, struggling to hear his words through the sound of her heart pounding in her head.
    â€œI want to see you again,” he went on, and as she opened her mouth to object, he talked over her. “No. There’s nothing I can do about it. I’m not going to let you get away from me. Forget it.”
    Sharlie’s eyes were wide, but she didn’t speak. Brian smiled at her.
    â€œI’m going to quit cleaning your plate, and I’m going to take care of you and make you fat.”
    Sharlie felt the strange sensation of something light bubbling up her throat, and suddenly she was laughing—no