“Get dressed, Samantha,” he said, grabbing for his clothes. “You’re going to like this. It’s part of the reason we’re here.”
Jennifer, imagine this. Just try to imagine what we did that night.
We took a short ride in the car, then walked, and ended up sitting on a huge boulder looking out over Lake Superior. I was hugging my knees. Doc had an arm around me, and theonlything between us and Canada was the vast glassy expanse of the lake. It was a little before three in the morning.
As we watched, as our eyes went wide, a glowing ribbon of green light stretched across the horizon and then drifted lazily upward, until it became a transparent curtain shimmering above the water. The hem of the curtain brightened with a reddish gleam, then veils of purple and blue flared, and the sky seemed to shiver and sway.
“Someone spiked the water,” I managed to gasp. “Or I’m hallucinating.”
Doc laughed. “This is the aurora borealis. Most people know the name, but they have no idea what it is. Now we do, Samantha. Isn’t this amazing?”
It was an unforgettable moment. The entire sky was in motion, and as the undulating curtain passed right over us, bright points of light swirled like pinwheels. Doc said that the aurora was actually a stream of electrons powered by the solar wind, colliding with atoms of gas. “The impact causes the gas to emit light. The color of the light depends on the type of gas. The green and red lights are oxygen, blue and purple are hydrogen and helium. Sodium is yellow. It’s like neon lighting without the tubes,” Doc said. “It’s neon in the wild.”
I hugged him and whispered, “Thank you for this.”
Doc shrugged. “I just arranged for us to be awake to see it.”
“Don’t let this end,” I whispered against his cheek. And it didn’t. Doc and I made love that night on a boulder under starry skies. Jennifer, it was an out-of-body, out-of-this-world experience, and I highly recommend “neon in the wild” to anybody with a little romance left in their souls.
Even if they’re not quite sure if it’s still there.
Fifty-three
Dear Jen,
Sunday morning came, and I woke up feeling sad and afraid. I wanted to leave Charles. Studying his face, I watched Doc sleep, his full head of blond hair, just lightly touched with silver. I memorized everything about how Doc looked, hating that it had to come to this. Time to collect my memories.
“I’m awake,” he whispered. “I was just thinking with my eyes shut.”
“About?”
“Oh, everything we did this weekend. You. You’re even better than the aurora borealis.”
I didn’t complain—not a word, not a look. But Doc knew. “Don’t be sad, Samantha,” he said. “We just had the best weekend ever.”
“I want to be with you,” I told him. “I don’t want us to be apart anymore. I don’t think I can stand it.”
“You read my mind,” Doc said. “But I’ve been thinking about that foryears.This divided life of ours, it can be, well, heartbreaking as hell. When Sara was sick, when we knew for sure that she was dying, I promised that I would raise our boys in a way she would always approve of. And you, you’d have to divorce Charles, and he’d fight it, wouldn’t he?”
I put a finger to Doc’s lips, not because I didn’t want to hear what he had to say but because I could see the pain that it was causing him.
“When you’re ready,” I said, “I’ll be waiting for you. There’s one more thing that has to be said, so I’ll say it. I love you so much. I feel like you saved my life.”
“I love you, Samantha.”
God, I loved hearing those words.
I was in a kind of daze as we said good-bye to the inn’s owners, Mr. and Mrs. Lundstrom, and the hazy feeling continued for much of the drive back to Lake Geneva. I remember holding Doc’s hand the whole way.
Then we were pulling into the parking lot of the Alpine Valley Resort. What an incredible letdown that was, what a heartbreaking moment. We held each other for a long time, just held on for dear life in Doc’s car.
“I have to go, Samantha,” he finally said.
“I miss you already, and you’re not even gone,” I whispered. “Please miss me, too.”
“What a beautiful thing to say,” Doc told me. “I love your humility.” Then we kissed one last time, and I hoped itwasn’tfor the last time. It took all my willpower and strength not to bawl like a baby in his arms. But Ididn’tcry.
My Jeep was where I had left it. I got inside, and everything seemed unreal to my touch. We honked our farewells, and I pulled out onto the highway. I let him speed ahead.
