Sam's Letters to Jennifer

by James Patterson

  I opened another letter from Sam.

  Thirty-three

  Jennifer,

  Nothing much worth writing about happened between Doc and me at first. Almost no touching, not even a lingering look in town. It was complicated. His wife had died a few years before, but I was certainly married, and with children, though they were grown. Doc still had children at home. There was one remarkable moment that first summer, and it became a touchstone for us.

  One night when your grandfather was having dinner after golf with his pals at Medinah outside Chicago (or so Charles told me), Doc used some connections to get us into the Yerkes Observatory. Yerkes was strictly a scientific observatory back then, home to the largest refracting telescope in the world and not open to the public. At night, no one would be there.

  So imagine the two of us sneaking across the parklike lawns, briefly holding hands, approaching the Yerkes complex of buildings with the three huge domes silhouetted against the summer night sky. Then we climbed the wide steps and entered the most beautiful marble halls I have ever seen.

  Doc had a flashlight and we followed the beam up the back staircase until we reached a door that opened into the largest of the domes. I was stunned by how large it was inside, like a sports stadium in the round. A telescope in the center pointed up through a slit in the dome to the cobalt sky beyond.

  “Watch this, Samantha. You won’t believe it,” he said. “Ready?”

  “I think so.” I wasn’t really sure.

  He pulled a lever, and the floor we were standing on—at least seventy feet across—began to lift us upward. Suddenly we could actually look into the fixed eyepiece of the telescope.

  It was Friday, the beginning of the weekend, and I knew that Charles would be driving up from Chicago soon. Still, Doc and I dared to stay in the cavernous dome for over an hour. The stars were dazzling, as if the universe was putting on a display just for us. He talked about the fact that what we were watching in the sky had actually happened hundreds of years before, and then Doc admitted how long he’d secretly wished to be alone with me like this.

  “I wished for it, too,” I confessed. Wished, prayed, fantasized, almost every day since the Red Cross dinner.

  We kissed under all those billions of twinkling stars. Then we kissed again, longer and harder. But that was it. There we stood, two people falling in love but separated by my marriage, our families, but especially his children, who were still at home with Doc.

  He eventually drove me to the corner of Knollwood Road—and didn’t kiss me when I got out of the car, though, God, I wanted him to. I entered the house and found that Charles was sleeping. I had hoped I wasn’t going to have to make up a story, but I shouldn’t have worried.

  I undressed quietly, and when I was under the sheets, I looked into Charles’s face. To my surprise, I didn’t feel any guilt about my adventure with Doc that night—but I did have an interesting thought. I wondered if Charles would notice anything different about me in the morning. Would he notice that while he slept, I’d become happy?

  Thirty-four

  WHEN I ANSWERED the phone by my bed, it was barely 6:40 A.M. and I got a surprise that I wasn’t prepared for. Brendan spoke into my ear. “Wake up, Jennifer. The lake is calling.”

  I wasn’t sure what I was doing, but I began to smile and then I put my bathing suit on. I felt like a kid again, and it was good. I felt free.

  Outside, I joined Brendan in a jog that turned into a full run to the lake. Finally both of us were screaming his semimaniacal war whoop, which actually made all the sense in the world. The water was freezing, fricking cold at that hour.

  “It’s not even seven,” I sputtered as I did a stiff, chilly breaststroke beside him.

  “Perfect time for a swim. I have a new mantra: ‘Live every day from the crack of dawn until I can’t keep my eyes open a second longer.’”

  Okay. Who can fault a philosophy like that, especially since his spirit was contagious. We swam over to Sam’s dock and hauled ourselves up. He shook off some water, then rolled onto his back. I did the same, and lying next to each other, we stared up at the morning sky. It was perfect, actually.

  “Takes you back,” I said.

  “Or maybe forward,” he mumbled under his breath.

  I was aware that my right side from shoulder to ankle was touching Brendan’s left side. The pressure made my body tingle, but I didn’t move.

  When he turned his face toward me, I avoided his eyes. So he put his hand on my waist and pulled me even closer. I wasn’t expecting it, but the heat that flashed through my body almost melted my swimsuit.

  And then Brendan kissed me on the lips. A good, long kiss, a really nice one.

  And I kissed him back.

  And neither of us said a word, which was exactly the right thing to do.

  Thirty-five

  FROM THE MORNING of the kiss, Brendan and I spent more and more of our time together. To be perfectly honest, I knew exactly what this was—a sweet, fleeting summer romance. And so did he, I was sure. We hadn’t even “done anything,” as the popular saying goes.

  Brendan and I launched most mornings with a swim; then we took turns making breakfast, sometimes including his uncle Shep in the ritual. And we visited Sam every day before noon; then I would go again, usually about seven. I always talked to Sam, sometimes for hours at a time. I told her what was going on in my life and asked questions about her letters.

  On one particular day, I waited outside Sam’s room while Dr. Brendan Keller and Dr. Max Weisberg conferred. When they found me in the hallway, Brendan had a serious expression on his face. He saw me looking, though, and brushed the look aside.

  I’ll admit I’d been hoping for a little good news. Maybe I thought that because I was reading Sam’s letters and hearing her voice and seeing her so vividly in my mind, she would get better, she had to get better. But now I thought, She isn’t going to get better. I can see it in their eyes. They just don’t want to tell me.

  “She’s a strong lady,” Brendan said, and put his hand over my arm. “She’s hanging in there pretty well, Jen. Maybe there’s a reason for that.”

  When we left the hospital, Brendan tried to cheer me up. I liked that he was sensitive to my needs, and I also sensed what a good doctor he must be. Why had he quit his job, though?

  He said, “How’d you like to go on a road trip? It’ll be fun.”

  Well, it was a glorious day for a drive. So with the CD player blasting James Taylor’s and Aretha’s and Ella Fitzgerald’s greatest hits, we took a route that skirted Chicago, bringing us into South Bend, Indiana, just before noon.

  I was in for a real treat, Brendan said, winking. A friend of his was one of the coaches for the Fighting Irish, and we had been invited to watch the Notre Dame team scrimmage down on the practice field. We sat cross-legged in the short grass while a couple of dozen top-notch bruisers ran their plays. Watching football on television has never moved me, but the sport has a whole different feeling up close. The speed of the action at ground level was incredible, and so was the sharp crack of contact as helmets and shoulder pads collided.

  Watching the Blue and Gold was a surprisingly nice way to spend an afternoon, probably because it was Brendan’s team. It was also fun to see where he lived, though he stopped short of showing me his old house, or even the apartment where he’d moved after his divorce. “It’s a complete, off-limits disaster area; I’d be too embarrassed,” he said. So we headed back to Lake Geneva without seeing his place. A little strange, I thought, but no big deal.

  The day after our Notre Dame adventure, I had a surprise for Brendan. I took him to the Yerkes Observatory. I kept seeing parallels between him and me and Sam and Doc, so I had to go there. It was daytime and there was a crowd ringing the perimeter of the big dome, but it was still a magical place.

  The whole time I kept thinking about what it had meant to Sam and Doc. And I wondered, Who is Doc, anyway? The next time I talked to Sam, she was going to give up
her secret, so help me.

  On another morning I arranged for Brendan and me to catch a ride on the mail boat, a double-decker ferry that scoots along the shoreline, delivering mail to the lakefront homes. That same afternoon we saw a couple of silly blockbusters at the little theater in town, one right after the other. We had another habit, too. Last thing at night, after I came back from seeing Sam, we took a long walk on the path that circles the lake.

  Being with Brendan definitely felt like an old-fashioned summer romance—fast, irresistible, and probably a little dumb, but even if it was, we both seemed to feel the same way about it. I had the sense that Brendan needed it, too, and also that he was holding back, careful that this didn’t get too serious.

  I even called him on it while we were delivering mail on Hank Mischuk’s ferry.

  But Brendan just laughed. “I’m an open book, Scout. You’re the mystery woman.”

  Then one day the strangest thing happened. I didn’t turn in my column! It was the first time I’d ever done it, or rather not done it. I apologized to Debbie and promised to make up for it, but inside I was exultant. Something was changing, wasn’t it? Maybe I was living every day “from the crack of dawn until I closed my eyes.”

  That morning I told Sam everything at the hospital, and even though she never said a word, I felt I knew what she wanted me to do next. It was what Sam would have done herself.

  Thirty-six

  LATE THAT AFTERNOON Brendan and I sat together at the tip of Sam’s dock. I was wiggling my toes in the water. Brendan was, too.

  It was time for me to tell some of my secrets to him. I wanted to do it. I was ready.

  “It happened off a beach in Oahu.” I spoke in a soft, low voice. “Danny liked bright lights and big cities, so if it had been up to him, we would’ve taken our vacation in Paris, or maybe London. We decided on Hawaii because I wanted to go there.”

  I sighed, then caught my breath. “At the last minute I got involved in a terrible kidnapping story. So Danny went on ahead of me. A couple of days later I was finally on my way from Chicago,” I said. “Late that afternoon, he went out for a run—alone, of course.”

  Brendan was watching me intently as I managed to get the words out somehow. “You don’t have to do this, Jennifer,” he finally said.

  “Yeah, I do. I have to do this. I need to get it out and I want to, Brendan. I want to tell you. I don’t want to be a mystery woman anymore.”

  Brendan nodded, and he took my hand. Something had happened between the two of us in the past couple of weeks; I had come to trust Brendan more than I could have ever imagined. He was my friend. No, he was more than that.

  “It was a beautiful evening on the north shore of Oahu, a place called Kahuku. I’ve read all the weather reports. Danny took off his T-shirt and ran down into the surf, which was high, but he was an athlete, a good swimmer. He loved to push the envelope as much as he could. That was one of his favorite sayings, ‘Let’s go for it, Jenny!’ He was always teasing me to go for it.”

  I felt tears slipping down my cheeks, and I really didn’t want to cry. Not in front of Brendan. “He was a good, caring person . . . and there were so many things he still wanted to do —” My voice faltered badly. I didn’t know if I could finish what I’d started. “I loved him so much. . . . I see every minute of what happened in Hawaii. This horrible and recurring nightmare that I have. For the past year and a half, I’ve watched Danny die over and over again. He calls out to me. With his last breath, he calls my name.”

  I stopped to collect myself. I realized that I was squeezing Brendan’s hand very tight.

  “It was my fault, Brendan. If I had gone to Hawaii when I was supposed to, Danny would be alive today.”

  Brendan held my hand. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered, his voice soft and gentle.

  “There’s more to it,” I said so low that I could barely hear myself. “When I got back to Chicago, I couldn’t stop crying and thinking about what had happened. Sam came and stayed with me. She took the best care of me, Brendan.”

  I couldn’t talk for a minute. But I had come this far, hadn’t I?

  “I was in my bathroom. I felt this sharp pain, and then I was doubled over on the bathroom floor. I screamed and Sam came running. She knew immediately that I had miscarried. She held me and cried with me. I lost the baby. I lost our baby, Brendan. I was pregnant, and I lost our little ‘peanut.’”

  Thirty-seven

  BRENDAN HELD ME for a long time on the dock. Then I had to say good night to Sam, so I drove over to the medical center about 8:30. Brendan offered to come, but I told him I was all right. I brought Sam roses from her garden.

  “Sam, wake up. Look,” I said, “you have to see your roses. And I need to talk to you.”

  But she didn’t respond in any way. She couldn’t even hear me, could she?

  I placed the flowers in a crockery jug on the windowsill and fluffed them until they looked just right.

  Then I turned back to Sam. “You’re missing everything. A lot is happening, Sam.”

  She looked pinched and faded, not good. I’d never been more worried about losing her. Every time I saw Sam I was scared it could be the last.

  I pulled a chair up close to the bed. “I’ve got a secret to tell you,” I said. “Sam, there’s someone I like at the lake. I’m trying hard not to like him too much. But he’s so sweet; he’s smart in a good way. He’s even kind of a hunk. I know, I know, you never get all three of those qualities in the same man.”

  I gave Sam a moment to take in the news. “I’ll call him Brendan. Ha, ha. Because that’s his name. I could also call him Doc. He’s a doctor.

  “You remember how I used to follow Brendan Keller around when I was a little kid? Well, he’s all grown up. I trust him completely, Sam. I told him about Danny, and the baby. I don’t know how much he likes me. I mean, he definitely likes me, but he’s holding back a little. I guess we both are. Confused yet? I am.”

  I finally stopped babbling and took one of Sam’s hands and held it. I played that game where you think something and you pretend somebody else can hear your thoughts.

  I need you to meet Brendan, Sam. Can you do that for me? Just this once.

  Thirty-eight

  “YOU KNOW that this is completely unreal, this life on the lake that we’re living this summer,” Brendan said, and smiled. We were driving home from dinner at the Lake Geneva Inn the next night. It was pouring rain, sheeting the stuff. I almost told Brendan to pull over to the side of the road.

  “It was your idea—every moment from sunup until I can’t keep my eyes open any longer. Those were your words,” I said.

  When we got to Sam’s, the two of us raced across her puddled yard to the protective wing of the front porch. I yanked open the door.

  “Stay here. I’ll get towels,” I said, and walked inside first.

  I was halfway to the linen closet when a table lamp flickered out—I smelled something burning. Uh-oh.

  I shoved the armchair away from the wall with my hip and saw a limp white rag lying in the corner.

  It was Euphoria.

  Something was wrong with Euphoria.

  I called, “Brendan, come quick,” and then he was right there beside me. He lifted my cat and gently laid her down again in the center of the carpet. What I saw made me sick. The fur around Euphoria’s mouth was singed and bloody. And then I realized that she wasn’t breathing.

  “Oh, God, what’s happened to her?”

  “Looks like she bit into an electric cord,” Brendan said. He placed two fingers high up against the inside fold of her left hind leg.

  “She’s in arrest, Jennifer. Poor thing’s got no pulse.”

  I’d loved that little girl since I rescued her from the pound right after Danny’s death. Euphoria wasn’t just a cat to me. I loved her dearly. I clutched at Brendan’s arm.

  “Please! Can you help her?”

  He took a deep breath.

  “Okay, listen to me
. When I say so, press right here. Five times.” Then Brendan turned Euphoria onto her side. She made no movement on her own, no sound.

  Now he opened her jaws and bent to fit his mouth to hers. Then he blew a little breath into her lungs.

  Phh.

  “Do it now,” he told me. “Press, Jennifer.”

  I pressed on the left side of Euphoria’s rib cage, massaging her heart, praying with mine. Then Brendan signaled me to stop. My heart was racing, thundering.

  He bent over her and breathed into her mouth a second time. Phh. Then he had me press again. He was working very hard. Being a doctor right before my eyes.

  Then I got to see a miracle happen. I felt Euphoria come back to life under my hands. She quivered and coughed. Then she opened her beautiful green eyes and looked up at me. Her eyes were filled with love. She was breathing on her own.

  She finally wobbled to her feet and said, “Yow.”

  I grabbed her up in one arm and kissed her. I threw my other arm around Brendan’s neck and kissed him. I hugged him hard, almost crushing Euphoria between us. “You saved my baby,” I whispered.

  Brendan sat back on his heels, a look of complete satisfaction on his face. Then he said a very cool thing.

  “You gotta know I love you, Jennifer. I just gave the kiss of life to a cat.”

  I stared into his eyes with amazement—Brendan had just said I love you.

  Thirty-nine

  IT WAS OCCURRING to me lately that the summer was going too quickly. It was the “magic hour” again—our favorite time to be out on Sam’s dock. Brendan and I were sitting side by side, dangling our feet, leaning into each other. I noticed that he was staring out across the lake, lost in his thoughts, wherever it was that they took him.