Sam's Letters to Jennifer Page 10

  My eyes welled up with tears. All of this was so sad to hear. “He was always good to me, Sam.”

  “I know that, Jennifer. I know he was.”

  “He did have a temper, and there were always Grandpa Charles’s rules of behavior in Chicago, and even here at the lake.”

  Sam finally smiled. “Oh, you don’t have to tell me about Charles’s rules of proper behavior. I know them by heart. And all about his temper, too.”

  I looked into her eyes, trying to understand everything. “So why didn’t you leave him?”

  Sam just smiled. “Finish the letters and we’ll talk more. Just remember, they’re not only about me—the letters are about you, too, sweetheart.”

  I had to laugh. “Sam’s rules, huh?”

  “Not rules, Jennifer. Just a different road I traveled. Just my side of things.”

  “And you’re not going to tell me who Doc is, are you?”

  “I’m not going to tell you, Jennifer. Read the letters. Maybe you’ll be able to guess.”

  Sixty

  BRENDAN AND I got a swim in just about every night at twilight. That evening I appeared in a blue Speedo racing suit with red piping, looking every inch the Big Ten swim champion that I wasn’t. Brendan had on a pair of black boxers that weren’t too boxy and fit him just right.

  “You look really good,” I told him. “Is that a sexist thing to say? Hey, who cares?”

  “You look beautiful,” Brendan said. Then his face turned unusually serious. “You’re a gorgeous woman, Jennifer.”

  I hadn’t heard compliments like those for a while, and I was starting to half believe them. I certainly liked hearing nice things about myself. Who doesn’t? Maybe Cameron Diaz is sick of hearing compliments, but not me.

  “Just stunning, Jen. You could have been in the movies,” he continued.

  “Don’t blow it,” I told him. “You should probably stop right there.”

  “Sorry, it’s just the way I feel. One man’s opinion. Others might look at you and see, oh, I don’t know, Rosie —”

  “You are going to blow it.”

  “But I see the most beautiful girl in the world.”

  I shook my head. “No, Brendan. Too over the top. Pull it back some. Not too far back.”

  “How about on the lake? Most beautiful on the lake?”

  I shrugged, grinned. “Maybe. At this moment on the lake, which is mostly deserted.”

  “Well, that’s settled—most beautiful girl on the lake!”

  And then Brendan let go with maybe his loudest banshee scream yet. He almost sounded in pain. He took off for the water a step ahead of me.

  But just a step.

  “Last one to the buoy!” he turned and yelled.

  “Last one to the buoy—what?”

  “Is the biggest loser in the world!”

  “Too much of an overstatement.”

  “Biggest loser on Lake Geneva! That we can see in our line of vision at this moment!”

  “You’re on!”

  We hit the water and began to stroke furiously. I was feeling good and thought I wouldn’t lose by as wide a margin as usual, which I, of course, would consider a huge victory. Moments later I reached out of the water for the buoy. To my surprise, Brendan grabbed the bobbing marker a couple of seconds behind me. I shook water off my face and hair.

  “No fair! You let me win!” I yelped.

  Brendan stared into my eyes. He was smiling, but there was something else in those eyes.

  “No, Jennifer, I didn’t.”

  Sixty-one

  IT RAINED like the dickens the next day, and Brendan disappeared for several hours. He was starting to worry me, I’ll admit. I was afraid that he might not come back one of these times, that he could get terribly sick or black out while driving, something bad. The rain had slowed to a light drizzle by the time he pulled into the driveway about four.

  I couldn’t wait to see him, so I ran outside into the rain and kissed him through the open window. I was so happy to see Brendan.

  “Where’d you go?” I asked. “I woke up about seven and you were gone.”

  “Had a doctor’s appointment in Chicago. You were snoring your pretty head off. I thought I’d let you sleep.”

  I made a face. “I don’t snore.”

  “No, of course not.” Then Brendan shot me one of his grins.

  I didn’t completely let him off the hook. “What did the doctor say?”

  Brendan blinked, evidently composing what he was about to tell me. “The tumor is getting bigger,” he said at last. “Not the greatest news, I’m afraid. Not too much of a surprise, though.”

  Then he covered the left side of his face with his hand. He drummed his fingers on his cheekbone. “I’m losing some mobility, Jennifer. Face is getting numb. I can’t feel this.”

  I stroked his cheekbone myself.

  “Sorry. I can’t feel that, either. But I love your touch anyway. I love everything about you, Jennifer. Don’t you forget that.”

  Brendan struggled with his footing when getting out of his Jeep. He almost fell. I was stunned, and suddenly realized how bad his day must have been. He smiled, though, and then touched my cheek. “I need a little nap. I think I’ll go over to Shep’s. I’ll see you later, Jen.”

  “Are you okay?” I asked. I wanted to take Brendan’s arm, to help him, but I was afraid he might not like it.

  “Sure I am. Just tired. I’m fine. Just need a nap.”

  It was only four in the afternoon, but I lay down with Brendan anyway. I wanted to be beside him, to feel his touch, to let him know that I was there for him. I was petrified inside, maybe realizing for the first time that I was going to lose Brendan and feeling what it would be like, and hating the feeling so much.

  “Thanks,” he whispered. “Tired.”

  Then he was gone.

  Brendan slept in spurts. He clenched his fists several times. After about fifteen minutes, his eyes snapped open and he looked dazed. “Oh boy, Jennifer. Seems I dozed off, huh? More like I fell off a cliff.”

  I asked if he was in any pain and he answered by asking me to get a bottle of pills from his jacket. When I returned, his bed was empty and I heard him being sick in the bathroom. I was starting to get really scared now. I wasn’t ready for this. Brendan had told me repeatedly that he could get worse in a hurry, but I’d chosen not to believe it.

  “Jen, the Percocet is going to knock me out,” he said when he appeared from the bathroom. “I’ll sleep right through. Why don’t you go home. Please. Do it for me. I love you dearly. And you are the most beautiful girl in the world, not just the lake. Go home for a while.”

  This was a little strange, but I couldn’t—or wouldn’t—argue with him. I kissed Brendan on the forehead, on the cheek, then lightly on the lips.

  “I felt that.” He smiled.

  So I kissed Brendan again.

  And again.

  The truth was, I didn’t want to stop kissing him ever.

  Sixty-two

  I HAD a really bad feeling all through the night. Shep was at his house back in Chicago, so I checked on Brendan every couple of hours. Then I finally fell asleep back at Sam’s. He’d made it clear he didn’t want me with him that night. I felt I needed to respect that.

  When I woke up, it was morning and I was alone in my old room. The sun burned through the gauzy curtains, and my thoughts immediately went to Brendan. And what I thought was, Brendan is going to die soon. And there was nothing I could do about it.

  I listened for his yell—and then I remembered. I’d left him at Shep’s house, knocked out by painkillers. I pulled myself out of bed and dressed in the first clean things I could find: washer-wrinkled khakis and a white T-shirt. I jammed my sockless feet into sneakers and went downstairs to the kitchen.

  I looked out the window. No naked screaming men.

  The Jeep was glistening in the driveway. Okay, Brendan was there. Maybe I could make him breakfast at least. I started over to Shep’s.


  I entered the house through the unlocked back door, called Brendan’s name as I frisked the downstairs rooms with my eyes. When I didn’t see any sign of him, I hurried up to his bedroom at the back of the house. The room was empty. The bed had been made with a nice white cotton spread.

  It took me a moment to catch up. Brendan wasn’t in the house. His things weren’t there, either.

  I threw open the screen door that led to the upper deck Brendan had so recently stained and waterproofed. From high up there, I scanned the yard and beyond. Brendan was nowhere to be seen.

  Panic raced through me, and I tried to tamp it down. Maybe Shep would know where Brendan was. I raced back downstairs, my sneakers scuffing the polished hardwood, my eyes darting everywhere as I looked for the kitchen phone.

  That’s when I saw a pile of clues—obviously left for me. They were clustered on the white-laminate kitchen counter. Three items were clumped together; a white no. 10 envelope, a set of car keys, a business card with a red bird on it.

  The business card was from Cardinal Transport, a local taxi service.

  The keys belonged to the Jeep.

  The envelope was addressed to me. When I took the envelope in my hands, I felt something loose and jiggly inside. I ripped open one end, and Brendan’s watch poured out into my palm. My heart was in my throat.

  There was also a letter.

  Sixty-three

  Dear Jennifer,

  It’s just after five in the morning and I’m waiting for the taxi to take me to the airport. You know, it’s lonelier than you could ever imagine. I know you’re going to be hurt because I’m saying good-bye like this but, please, hear me out before you make a final judgment. I’m writing while I still can. There are things I want to tell you while I can say them. I want to minimize the hurt to you if I can. I believe this is the best way, the only way for me.

  Do you remember when we were kids, how we lived for summer? I’d start to get a sense of expectation in early May that the days were getting longer and I would hope that this summer the sun would keep soaring in the sky and break through to the other side. That it would be like it is in the northern regions, daylight all summer long. Then June would come and the days really were longer. But after the Fourth of July, darkness reasserted itself and we had to accept the duality of light and dark.

  In the same way, Jennifer, I’d hoped, and prayed, that we’d have more time to do all the things we wanted to do together. I wanted an endless summer with you. But then darkness always comes, doesn’t it? Just a fact of life, I guess.

  If I know anything, it’s this: Our being together was the best possible thing that could have happened, and I want to leave that feeling of rightness intact and beautiful. I love you so much. I adore you, Jennifer. I mean it. You inspire me. I hope with all my heart that you’ll forgive me for this and that you’ll understand how unbearably hard it is for me to leave you this morning. Without our swim. Or some five-star blueberry pancakes. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life! But I believe in my heart it’s the right thing to do.

  I love you so much that it hurts me to even have the thought. Please believe that.

  You are my light, you are my endless summer.

  Brendan

  PART THREE

  Leaving Lake Geneva

  Sixty-four

  BY THE TIME I’d finished reading Brendan’s letter, I could barely breathe and the tears were just streaming down my face. I couldn’t help thinking that somehow it was my fault he’d left. Just as it was my fault that Daniel was alone when he died in Hawaii. I slid his watch onto my wrist. Then I called Shep’s law office in Chicago. I told his assistant that I had to speak with him. Finally I heard Shep’s familiar, soothing voice over the phone.

  “Shep, Brendan’s gone,” I managed to say.

  “I know, Jen. I spoke with him this morning. It’s for the best.”

  “No, it isn’t,” I said. “Please tell me what’s going on. What is he doing?”

  Shep hemmed and hawed, then told me some of the same things that Brendan had said in his letter. That he didn’t want me to have to go through the final stage of his disease. That he loved me and was sick that he had to leave. And that Brendan was scared.

  “I have to see him,” I told Shep. “It can’t end like this. I won’t let it. Shep, I’ll come to your office in Chicago if I have to.”

  I could hear Shep sigh deeply. “I think I know how you feel, but Brendan made me promise not to tell you. I gave him my word.”

  “Shep, I need to see him again. Don’t I have anything to say about this? It’s wrong to have Brendan make this decision without me.”

  There was a silence on the line and I was afraid Shep would hang up on me. Finally he spoke. “I promised him. You’re putting me in an untenable position. Oh hell, Jennifer . . . He’s on his way to the Mayo Clinic.”

  I couldn’t believe what I’d heard. “What did you say? He’s going to the hospital?”

  “Mayo’s the best place for this,” Shep told me. “He’s having experimental surgery in the morning.”

  Sixty-five

  MY STOMACH was heaving, just as it had been a year and a half ago when I went to the hospital in Oahu to see Danny’s body. Only now I was in my car, shifting gears literally and figuratively as I sped south on I-94 until the road split. Then I took I-294 toward O’Hare.

  I called Sam on my cell, explaining what I could, and she told me I was the best fighter she knew and said she was proud of me. Then the two of us were crying over the phone, just like old times.

  I’m sure people were staring at me as I boarded the American flight to Rochester, Minnesota. I was stiff-faced and distracted, and my eyes were swollen and very, very red.

  A little over an hour and a half later, I drove a rented car toward the Mayo Clinic. I was going to see Brendan, I hoped, and he was just where I wanted him: at one of the best cancer hospitals in the world.

  Sixty-six

  A REVOLVING glass door deposited me into the cool green lobby of the main building of St. Marys at the Mayo Clinic, a vast space with high marble walls and freestanding columns. This was where Brendan was to be operated on. I walked to the admissions desk, explained who I was, and asked how to find his room.

  I was told that “Dr. Keller preregistered earlier today. He’ll be checking into the Joseph Building at six o’clock tomorrow morning. He isn’t here.”

  The crushing disappointment must have showed on my face because the twenty-something woman at reception opened a three-ring binder. She ran a finger down a list, then looked up at me.

  “He said there was a possibility someone might come.”

  I didn’t know what to say. “Well, I did. I’m here.”

  “Dr. Keller is staying at the Colonial Inn, one-fourteen Second Street, Southwest,” she said.

  I got directions, and soon the rented car and I were back on the road. The minutes whizzed by even as rush-hour traffic pinned me in place. Finally I broke through the logjam, which I wouldn’t have expected in Rochester. A few minutes later I was at the Colonial Inn, and I was shaking like a leaf.

  I found room 143 and knocked. There was no response from inside.

  “Brendan, please,” I said. “I came all this way. It’s Jennifer . . . the prettiest girl at Lake Geneva?”

  The door opened slowly and Brendan was standing there, all six foot one of him. His shoulders were still broad and he looked solid. His eyes were as blue as the northern sky on a day in July. He opened his arms and took me into them.

  “Hey there, Scout,” he whispered. “Prettiest girl in Rochester, Minnesota.”

  Sixty-seven

  “I WAS MAD at you,” I finally admitted as I held Brendan tightly.

  “And now? What are you feeling now, Jennifer?”

  “You’re charming me out of it.”

  “I didn’t realize I was being charming,” he said.

  “I know. It’s just part of your personality. It’s something in yo
ur blue eyes.”

  We swayed together in the doorway for a moment or two, then broke apart. It was only now that Brendan’s eyelids drooped and his movements became noticeably slower and a little shaky—from pain medication or from the tumor? We sat down on the couch and I tousled the wave in his hair.

  “Happy now?” he asked.

  “Yep,” I answered.

  “God, I missed you,” he said, and we kissed.

  Then Brendan leaned back and stared at the ceiling. He seemed far away. “Want to hear the schedule?” he asked.

  I nodded. I guess this meant that Brendan knew I wasn’t going away.

  He rested his hand on my knee. “Have to be at the hospital at six. Sharp. Adam Kolski is doing the surgery at seven. He’s pretty good.”

  “Pretty good?”

  “He’s really good. Practically a godddddd,” Brendan said. And suddenly there was that magnificent smile of his. “Of course I got the best.”

  “That’s more like it,” I said. And there, finally, was that smile of mine.

  “I should warn you, after tomorrow I’m going to look like a cannon shot me headfirst into a brick wall. If things go well. I hope you really do love my charm, that certain something in my eyes.”

  “I love everything about you,” I said. “I especially love that you’re going to do this.”

  Brendan kissed me again, and I melted. Then he said, “Let’s get out of here. Let me show you Rochester. And yes, this is a date.”

  Sixty-eight

  A DATE. That was another cute line, and it reminded me of everything that was so good about Brendan and me. We had the same energy, the same passion about a lot of things, common interests; we shared a goofy sense of humor; and it was so hard to find someone who was right for you. God, sometimes it could seem impossible. For some people it is impossible.