I fluffed up Sam’s pillow and sat on the edge of the bed. “Where have you been?” I whispered.
“I’ve been right here. Or so I’ve been told.”
“Tell me,” I said. It was one of our catchphrases.Tell mewho you’re seeing in Chicago.Tell methe scoop at the lake.
“Well, it was… strange,” she said, pursing her lips. “I didn’t know where I was… but I couldhearthings, Laura.”
Oops. Laura was my mother’s name.
Sam continued, unaware of her mistake. “The damnedelephantover there almost drove me mad. But when the nurses came in, they barked about the daughters. I liked that!”
I translated as best I could. The “elephant” had to be the ventilator.Barked about the daughters?Who knew what that was?
“Did I saydaughters?I meant…”
“Doctors?” I guessed.
“Right. I knew you’d understand. I tried to talk to you, Jennifer. I could hear you, but my voice —” She pointed repeatedly,wordlessly,at her mouth. “Nothing came out.”
I nodded, because my voice felt trapped, too. Then both of us were hugging again. When in doubt, hug. I could count her ribs through her gown, her hands shook, and her words were jumbled—but it was okay. Sam was alive. She was talking to me again. This was what I had wished and prayed for.
Sam wanted me to talk for a while, so I did, and wound up telling her more than I had planned to about Brendan and me. Sam listened, but she didn’t say very much. I wondered if she was following me at all.
Then Sam looked at me with her bright blue eyes and just about broke my heart. She said, “I want to go home before I die.”
Forty-nine
MY RELIEFat seeing and talking to Sam faded some then, and even more as I drove back to Knollwood Road later in the afternoon. I needed to call her friends, but I had begun to worry about Brendan. What was he doing in Chicago? Was his tumor getting worse? Why would he leave Lake Geneva now? Plus I couldn’t wait to tell him what had happened with Sam.
I didn’t like being apart from Brendan, I realized that afternoon. I hated it, actually, and that was a bad sign.
I looped the Jag around at the end of the drive and parked under the oak tree out front. In the past few minutes, my fears had condensed into a headache. It was sitting right behind my left eye.
Once I was inside the house, I gulped down two Advils. Then I walked to Shep’s house to see if Brendan had returned. The house was dark, though. No one was there.Brendan must still be in Chicago. Shoot. Where are you?I really did miss him. And I was worried about him, too. Just general, neurotic, city-girl worry.
I trudged back to Sam’s house, and I didn’t know what to do with myself. Then I did. I took a packet of Sam’s letters out to the porch. More than ever, I wanted to hear her stories.
What happened between her and Doc? Who was he? Would she ever tell me the whole truth? Was John Farley Doc? Was Henry? Or even Brendan’s uncle Shep? Or was it someone I didn’t even know?
I’d just settled into my favorite rocker when the sky darkened over the lake. The air was dense with ozone, and the imminent thunderstorm fueled a feeling of urgency about the letters. The pathetic fallacy strikes again, just like in a Brontë novel.
Ineededto know how Sam and Doc’s story turned out. I guess I wanted a happy ending. Who doesn’t? But I had noticed lately that happy endings can be hard to come by.
I started to read anyway.
Fifty
Jennifer dear,
The longing I felt for Doc was unbearable at times. You can imagine. Sometimes it lasted for months. Here’s what happened next. There were ten days every summer that were more torturous than all the rest. It was when Charles traipsed off to Ireland to play golf with his buddies and I don’t know what else they did over there, though I’d heard rumors. While he was gone, all I thought about was Doc. I couldn’t help it, and maybe I didn’t really want to.
I remember one particular Saturday morning, in August of 1972. Charles was in Kilkenny and I was in downtown Lake Geneva.
All alone, as usual.
The back of my Jeepster was loaded with deer fencing when I stopped off for gas. Young Johnny Masterson was the gasoline jockey that summer, and he’d just filled up my tank when Doc’s car pulled in on the other side of the pumps.
My heart started booming as soon as I saw him. This always happened, maybe partly because we had so many secrets but mostly because we were deeply in love. I gave Johnny a ten-dollar bill, and while he was getting the change, Doc stepped out of his car. He walked up to the Jeep. God, he was so handsome, Jen, with a smile that could warm anybody’s heart. And those eyes of his.
