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, itwasa 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 rathernotdone 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 AFTERNOONBrendan 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 becauseIwanted 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.… Iseeevery minute of what happened in Hawaii. This horrible and recurring nightmare that I have. For the past year and a half, I’vewatchedDanny 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 wasmyfault, 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.
