Brendan’s recuperation was slow and excruciating, but he kept getting a little stronger every day, week after week. He was a favorite with his therapist, partly because he wore a different goofy hat every day, partly because he went three weeks without letting them know he was a high and mighty doctor, but mostly because he has such endearing ways.
And then one rainy morning in October, we were summoned to Adam Kolski’s office in the St. Marys building. The godddd showed us some X-rays, then abruptly told Brendan that he could go home. He was in remission.
“You can go home, too, Jennifer,” Kolski said, and offered a rare smile.
The next day Brendan and I set sail for Lake Geneva. On the way to Wisconsin, I was jumpy with excitement and maybe even a little case of the nerves. We were going to see Sam. She was back at her house, and there was something else. When I called and told her the news about Brendan, Sam said she wanted us to meet Doc.
Early October was a time of year I had never loved, because the sun drops below the horizon a little earlier every afternoon. But I was happy to see this particular October. I had so much to be thankful for. Brendan and Sam, and now I would get to meet Doc.
And then there was Sam’s house—straight ahead. I could see Henry’s old pickup parked by the garden. Hmmm.
Brendan climbed out of the Jaguar and took a deep breath of lake air. I called out in a loud voice, “Sam! We’re here. You have company.”
Then Brendan let loose with one of his whoops—not quite the usual volume but noisy enough to scare some bluebirds from overhanging tree branches.
“Race you to the lake?” he said, and grinned. I knew he was still a little weak, but he looked good and his famous smile was working just fine.
When Sam didn’t answer, I slipped into the dark of the house to look for her. I called her name in every room I came to, my voice rising as my footsteps rang out on the hardwood floors. Fear came over me a little too quickly those days. Too many bad things had happened, or maybe it was that lately things had been going too well.
“Jen,” I heard Brendan call from the porch. “She’s out here. Sam’s down by the lake.”
Heart booming, with an almost girlish delight, I rattled down the stairs again, then burst out the back of the house. I saw that Sam had set up chairs under the shade tree—and she wasn’t alone.
A man sat beside her in the shadows. He was wearing a golden ball cap with a V, probably Vanderbilt, which made all the sense in the world suddenly.
“Doc,” I said under my breath. “I should have known.”
Seventy-nine
I HURRIEDdown the sloping lawn as fast as I could go, right into Sam’s outstretched arms. It felt so right to be there again. A moment later Sam moved over to Brendan and gave him a long hug. It was as if they’d been best friends for life.
Then she turned toward the man of her dreams. “I’d like you to meet Doc,” she said to me. And to Brendan, “This is John Farley. He is a doctor, actually. In philosophy, from the Vanderbilt School of Divinity. Everything is coming together beautifully, Jennifer. Life does that sometimes.”
My God, the Reverend John Farley was Doc, and he and Sam were such a handsome couple. I loved seeing them together like that. It just made my heart sing.
The four of us settled in under the shifting shade of an old maple tree. I said, “Wow,” and my mouth kept stretching into grins as I watched Sam and Doc—John—exchange touches and glances.
I hugged Brendan, and he whispered in my ear, “I agree—wow.”
Everythingwascoming together pretty well, I had to admit. A while later the four of us were cluttering up Sam’s kitchen. Doc peeled potatoes in maddeningly thin, unbroken curls. Brendan alternated between shelling peas and eating them. I was getting flour all over everything.
Until Sam finally said, “Everyone out of my kitchen. Leave the cooking to the professionals!” We laughed and moved the party out to the dining room. Forty minutes later we helped Sam put the meal on the table. Roast beef, sweet potatoes, onions and peas, homemade biscuits.
Over dinner I asked John Farley a question that I had been saving up. “You asked Samantha to marry you. Sam, you said you’d be a fool not to.” I looked from Sam’s face to his. “So what happened?”
Sam looked at Doc. “Well, I talked her into it; then I talked her out of it,” he said.
Sam laughed. “He just raised some good questions and issues. Like the fact of life that some busybodies around town would have questions, and opinions, andjudgments. They’d make jokes about the two of us beingThe Thorn Birds.I didn’t think I’d like that so much. We were too used to our privacy. It also might be hurtful to John’s congregation. Then he had a really good idea.”
He tilted his head at Sam. “I said, what if we didn’t tell anyone? What if we keep our love between the two of us? We talked about it, and that’s what we decided to do. Everything about us had always been different anyway.”
Sam reached over and took John’s hand in hers. “Doc and I were married on a Sunday in August two years ago, in Copper Harbor, Michigan. No one knows that, except the two of you.”
We clinked glasses around the table. “To Samantha and Doc!” Brendan and I said.
“To Brendan and Jennifer!” they said.
Sam gave me another big hug, and so did Doc. They both hugged Brendan. Then we sat around exchanging stories for the next couple of hours. We watched darkness come over the lake, and Doc told us about the stars, and I doubt that Stephen Hawking could have done a better job. I was so happy, and I remember every moment of that night in Lake Geneva. I always will.
