He was probably close to forty, wearing khaki shorts, a Notre Dame T-shirt, and the strangest old-man sandals.
Then it clicked. The last time I’d seen him, he wasn’t wearing any clothes. This was the war-whooping swimmer.
“Jennifer?” he asked, and that threw me some. I was wondering how he knew my name when he put his hand on the banister and began to board Sam’s front porch.
“Whoa,” I said. “Do I know you?”
“Hey, I’m sorry. I’m Brendan Keller. I’m staying with my uncle Shep, four houses down. He said he ran into you at the hospital.Brendan Keller?You don’t remember me, do you?”
I shook my head no. Then I nodded yes. It was all coming back. Brendan Keller and my cousin Eric had been a big part of my early summers at Lake Geneva. They were the brothers I never had. I’d followed them everywhere for a summer or two. They’d called me Scout, after the little girl inTo Kill a Mockingbird.
I didn’t remember having seen Brendan Keller since I was a little girl, though. I put out a hand. “Hey, long time.”
The two of us wound up sitting on Sam’s porch, talking over a couple of iced teas. Mostly we reminisced about Lake Geneva “back in the day.” He knew my newspaper column, and I managed to get out of him that he was a doctor now.
“Eric and I called you Scout. You were very advanced for a ten-year-old. I think you’d actually readTo Kill a Mockingbird.”
I laughed and cast my eyes down, embarrassed by something I couldn’t quite get a handle on. He followed my gaze. “You’re looking at my shoes.”
“No, I —”
A slow smile spread across his face.
“I borrowed them from my uncle. Listen, speaking of Shep. He says the Lions Club is having a lobster boil over in Fontana. You’re invited if you’d like.”
I shook my head, almost a reflex. “No. I’m sorry. Tonight’s not good. I’m writing my column. I’m way behind.”
“If I change my shoes? I have really nice loafers. Sneakers? I could go barefoot.”
I smiled. “I can’t,” I said. “Sorry. I have a deadline. Honestly.”
Brendan stood up and set down his tea. “Okay. Well, I’m just down the road. I hope I’ll see you around.Brendan Keller.”
“Scout.” I smiled.
We mumbled good-byes and I waved as he walked back in the direction of his uncle’s house. My former contemplative mood was blown. I put Sam’s letters aside and went into the house.
I did some work that afternoon, and once or twice I thought about the lobster boil going on in Fontana without me. Eventually I made a salad for dinner, wondering why I’d been so hell-bent on eating alone.
But I knew why. Danny.
And our little “peanut.”
Seventeen
THAT NIGHT Ihad the dream about Danny again, the one I hate more than anything, the dream where I am Danny but I’m also myself watching him.
It’s always the same.
Danny is surfing on the north shore of Oahu, at one of the most beautiful beaches anywhere. The waves there are some of the biggest in the world one day, and then the ocean can be as flat as glass the next.
The bad part is that Danny is alone this day. He’s supposed to be on vacation with me, but at the last minute I have to stay in Chicago to work on a big story for theTribune.It’s my choice to stay behind.
So there he is, waiting for his wave. And then he’s up. The trouble is, the wave crests a lot faster than he expects. Suddenly he’s slammed down on the seafloor some twenty feet below. Danny can’t tell which way is up, which is down. He remembers a basic rule: one hand up, one hand down; feel for the bottom, feel for the air.
Then he’s smashed to the ocean floor again, and he can’t believe the strength of the wave. His ears are pounding and water’s being rammed up his nose. His body is wrenched and twisted. His legs feel numb. Has he broken something? There’s a terrible burning sensation in his lungs.
Then Danny lets go of everything… except for me and the baby.… He calls out:Jennifer! Jennifer, help me!… Please help me, Jennifer!
