We had the perfect life. My husband Jack had a fulfilling career as a doctor, and I as a lawyer, providing a plentiful income for us to support our five year-old daughter Kayla and still live more than comfortably. Jack and I had a storybook marriage, and Kayla was a beautiful, bright, and well-behaved child who brought great joy to our lives. That’s why it was so difficult to accept the news that Kayla was dying of leukemia.
Of course, when she had been diagnosed, we had taken her to the best facilities in the country for treatment, suffering almost as much as she suffered as we watched her endure the drugs and the chemotherapy, and her tiny body grow paler and weaker. She was such a brave little girl. We knew she was in pain, but she complained hardly at all and cried only a few times. After the chemo-treatments started, and all of her long, blonde hair that she’d taken such great pride in fell out, she cried her hardest, causing us to cry with her. Though she and the specialists we hired fought their best, after a year, we learned she had endured all the treatments her young body could stand, and that there was nothing else that could be done. Kayla had only six months to live, eight at the very most. So we hired a couple of private nurses, set up Kayla’s room with the medical equipment she needed, and brought our daughter home to die.
I soon saw that Jack was taking it harder than even I did. This was mainly because he was a doctor, and even though he wasn’t even a cancer specialist, he felt a lot of frustration and guilt due to his inability to do anything to save Kayla. I guess that’s why he made her a promise that there was no way he could possibly keep. It happened after he and I had decided that, since Kayla’s days were so numbered, we should ask her what her last wishes were, and do our best to grant them all. But we soon discovered that Kayla had only one wish.
"I wish to see a unicorn," she told us.
We had been reading illustrated books to Kayla every since she was old enough to listen. After seeing and hearing one book about a unicorn, Kayla had immediately fallen in love with them. From that point on, everything she got had to have something to do with unicorns. She had several stuffed, plastic, glass, and porcelain unicorns, as well as posters, clothing, a lunch box, lamp, bedspread, rug, and bedroom curtains that pictured unicorns. So her wish didn’t surprise us. But I knew we couldn’t grant it.
"But, honey," I said, "there's no such thing as unicorns. Don't you want anything else?"
She shook her head. "That’s my only wish."
To my surprise, Jack said, "Then it shall be granted."
Later, in private, I scolded Jack. "How could you do that?" I demanded. "You know there’s no such thing as unicorns. You shouldn’t have made our dying daughter a promise you can’t keep. You’re going to break her heart!"
"I will not break her heart," Jack insisted with determination. "All my little girl wants is to see a unicorn before she dies, so I’m going to grant her wish."
WILL JACK GRANT HIS DAUGHTER'S IMPOSSIBLE WISH, OR WILL HE BREAK HER HEART AS HER MOTHER FEARS? TO READ THE REST OF THIS STORY AND FIND OUT, PURCHASE A READER'S COPY OF THE STORY.
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