After Emily was in bed, Laura opened Harry’s book of poems and began to read. She was lonely and the book provided comfort. The emptiness she had felt at the airport remained, but with it came an assurance that she would make it. She would raise Emily the best she could on her own. She would be okay. It didn’t take long to find the next clue. “They come as gifts,” she decided, “when we need them most. That must have been Harry’s intention.”
She moved to the computer, typed in the password, and began to read.
Dearest Emily,Always do your best. That is all that can be asked. If at the end of each day you can look at yourself in the mirror and know that you have done all that you could do, you will live a satisfied life. I don’t mean to digress again into fables, dear granddaughter, but a story related to me as a boy will serve to make a point.
There once lived a king with three sons in a faraway kingdom. He began to grow old and needed to pass on the rule of his kingdom, but he couldn’t decide which of his three sons should be the next king. To solve his dilemma, he devised a contest which would test the strength and wisdom of each. On the appointed day, he gathered his sons together. These are the words that he spoke.
“Located in the distant, northernmost corner of the kingdom there stands a great mountain. It is the tallest and grandest mountain in the kingdom. Its peak stretches to the tops of the very clouds. I know this because as a youth I stood on that peak. I can tell you that at the very highest point grow some of the oldest, tallest, and strongest pine trees in the entire world. They are magnificent. To test your strength, fitness, and ability to rule, I will send each of you, one at a time, on a journey to the very highest peak of the mountain. I want you each to bring back a branch from the tallest, grandest tree on the peak. The one who brings back the greatest branch shall rule my kingdom.”
And so it happened. The oldest son, sent first, headedtoward the mountain with his supplies while the king and his other sons waited. A week passed and then two. Then at the end of the third week, the young man returned to the kingdom. He had made a great effort and carried with him a huge branch. The king seemed pleased and congratulated him on a work well done.
Next it was the second son’s turn. He vowed to bring even a finer branch and departed with his tents and supplies toward the mountain. A week passed and then two, and then three, while the king waited for his return; four weeks, five, and then, finally, at the end of the sixth week of his journey, the second son returned. As he approached, those watching could see he carried an enormous branch, much larger than the first. He had made a valiant effort indeed, and the king seemed ecstatic. Then, turning to his last son, he spoke. “Now it is your turn. See if you can return with a branch even larger than those of your brothers.” The youngest boy’s apprehension was apparent. Surely, as he was the smallest of the three brothers, he could do no better. He pleaded with his father to award the kingdom to his older brother, but the king insisted he at least try. The boy relented, and gathering up his supplies, he headed toward the mountain. Two weeks passed and then four, and six, with no word from the boy. Eight, ten, and then twelve weeks came and went. Finally at the end of the fourteenth week, word arrived that the boy had been spotted on his return to the kingdom.
In anticipation, the king commanded the entire kingdom to gather and await his son’s return, for on his return he would decide who would be the future king. As the boy approached, his head was bowed with his eyes cast to the ground. He was dirty and ragged. As he neared his father, it became obvious to all that he had not even tried, for he carried no branch. Raisinghis eyes to meet the king’s gaze, he whispered, “I have failed you, Father. My brother should be anointed king. He deserves the kingdom.” As the king spoke, a hush blanketed the crowd. “Son, you didn’t even try. You brought back no branch at all!” Tears of failure welled up in the boy’s eyes as he spoke, “I’m sorry, Father. I didn’t mean to fail you. I tried to do as you had asked. I journeyed for weeks to the northernmost tip of the kingdom, and indeed I did find a grand mountain. I climbed it as you asked, day after day, until I finally reached its very top peak, the one you spoke of visiting as a youth. I searched and searched, just as you asked. But, Father, there aren’t any trees on top!”
Tears welled up now in the king’s eyes as he spoke softly to his youngest son. “You are right, my boy. There are no trees on top of that great peak. Now, everything in the kingdom is yours.”
Emily, always try your best—be honest, make your best effort. If you do, you will be richly rewarded in the end. I am thinking of you.
Love,
Grandpa Harry
“And we are thinking of you. Good-night, Harry,” Laura whispered as she headed for bed.
BOB HAD BEEN GONE FOR TWO WEEKS. HE ’D CALLED ONLY once to leave a message on the machine saying that he couldn’t make it out for the weekend. His tone sounded somber and she hated to call back. When she found the password to the “Joy” poem, she scribbled it on a piece of paper and faxed it to him and Michelle instead. He never called back.
It was such a beautiful letter. She called Emily down from her room and they sat on the couch to read it together.
Dearest Emily,It’s unusual to pass through life without times of sadness. They seem inevitable, often overwhelming. But God is good, and to tip the scales, to balance that sadness, he lets us experience times of pure joy as well. Watch for them. Rememberthem. Try to create them, if you can. No matter what, cherish them.
The moments are not the same for everyone. They often differ between men and women, even husband and wife. They may flash by, visiting only for a moment, but when they do come, life is extraordinary. Let me tell you, Emily, about the one I remember best.
It was just before Christmas, several years after we’d been married. The holidays, times of joy and celebration, were upon us when Kathryn picked up a terrible case of the stomach flu. It is miserable being sick, but at Christmas time, when there are such good things to eat, it makes the misery even worse. She loved Christmas so much, and I hated to see her bedridden on such a special day; so hoping to help, I called Dr. Worthington and made her an appointment. She’d vomited that morning, and when it came time to leave, she insisted that she felt too miserable to go out. I explained that that was the exact reason she needed to go. I bundled her up, carried her to the car, and drove her cautiously to her appointment. The office was busy when we arrived, and as was the custom in our day, I took a seat in the waiting room while she saw the doctor. I still remember the concerned look in the doctor’s eyes as he stuck his head out into the waiting room and waved me to follow. Kathryn was dressed and sitting quietly on the examining room table when we entered. She looked terrible. The doctor addressed us in a solemn voice.
“I wanted you here, Harry, when I explain the problem.” He was somber. “We have run several tests and at this point there is not a lot we can do about Kathryn’s condition. It will no doubt worsen over the next several weeks before you see any improvement. I’ll need to see her again in four weeks to check her condition.”
Kathryn spoke weakly, “So, I’ll be sick for Christmas?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so.”
“Doc, what does she have?”
He took a deep breath and looked me in the eyes before answering. “Harry, that’s why I wanted you in here next to her. I think what she has, she caught from you.”
“Me? But, I feel fine.” I was puzzled.
“I realize you feel fine. That’s very common.” His concern faded into a broad smile.
“Kathryn’s pregnant, Harry.”
I must admit, the news was shocking. But oh, Emily, if you could have seen Kathryn’s eyes. First she laughed, then she cried, then she threw up all over the examining room table.
I implied, Emily, that I would relate to you one of my moments of joy. It may seem that I have related one of Kathryn’s instead. Yet, watching her eyes, seeing her tears, feeling the energy run through her fingers as she squeezed my hand when the doct
or announced the news, that moment will remain etched in my mind forever as a moment of pure delight. Watching Kathryn’s happiness created a moment of joy for me.
Though she spent a good part of the morning vomiting, that Christmas turned out to be one of the most joyous Kathryn ever had. Your Aunt Michelle was born seven months later, and our life as a family had begun.
Relish the moments when they come, Emily, and share your joy as well.
Love,
Grandpa Harry
Emily was getting accustomed to the letters and didn’t say much when this one was read. After a moment of reflection, she turned to Laura.
“Can I go back to my room to play?”
“Sure, honey.”
Before she ran up the stairs she asked, “Did you call Dad with the password yet?”
“I sent it to him, yes.”
“Did he call back?”
“Not yet. I’m sure he will. He’s been very busy with his work.” She seemed to accept the answer. Laura guessed Emily understood more than they’d realized. She wondered if she should tell her now. She needed to choose the right moment. After such a wonderful letter, about joy of all things, she decided perhaps it was best to wait—she would wait until Friday. If Bob didn’t call by Friday, so they could decide how to tell her together, she would sit down with Emily and explain the situation to her herself. Bob would be angry, but that was life. She would take Harry’s advice and climb the mountain the best she could alone.
THE SUN WAS SHINING AS BOB RETURNED FROM THE BEACH. He wore shorts, a T-shirt, and tennis shoes, but he hadn’t been jogging. He tossed his camera into the trunk next to his racket. He’d have to hurry. Brandon had beaten him badly yesterday, but today he was going to sweep the sets. He trotted back into the house, picked the pill up off the counter, and flipped it into his mouth. If he didn’t hurry, he’d be late and Brandon would be ticked. Brandon was already on the court waiting when Bob arrived.
“Where have you been?”
“Sorry, I was taking pictures.”
“Since when?”
“I said I was sorry. You sound like my wife.”
“You look tired. Are you doing okay?”
“Better, once I kick your butt.”
“That’ll be a cold day in California.” Brandon served, but kept up the conversation. “Speaking of your wife, have you told Laura?”
“You’re just going to peck me to death, aren’t you?”
“Hey, it’s my job.”
Bob missed the serve. He moved closer to the net and readied for the next one.
“So?” Brandon questioned again before smacking the ball.
“So, what?”
“When are you going to tell her?” He served another. This time Bob returned it perfectly. Brandon stretched but couldn’t get enough force on the ball. It bounced off the top of the net. As they both approached the net, Brandon’s advice turned from that of a friend to that of a doctor.
“It’s time she knows what’s going on. It’s important.”
“I’ve tried. I haven’t been able to call her. The truth is I’m nervous.”
“But you talked to Cynthia?”
“Sure, we jog together.”
“You need to call Laura. Tell her everything.”
“I will, I just wanted to be sure. Are the new lab results the same?”
“No change. Bob, she needs to know.”
Bob knew his friend was right. After all, he was the doctor. “I’m seeing my attorney tomorrow. I’ll call her afterwards,” he promised.
“Deal. Now serve—if you’re man enough.”
Bob’s palms were sweating. “You’d think I was a teenager,” he muttered to himself as he picked up the phone. He triedto dial Laura’s number again. On the last digit, he slammed the receiver down and swore at himself. Brandon was right, he needed to tell her everything. It wasn’t fair, letting the days pass like this. Why was it so hard? What was he afraid of?He grabbed a yellow pad from his briefcase, sat down at the table, and began to write. I guess I can understand why Harry wrote poems and letters. The thought made him laugh. Comparing himself to Harry, now that was a good one. Who would have guessed? It took a little less than an hour to get the words exactly as he wanted. Yes, writing it out was much easier, a much better idea. He tossed the finished letter into his briefcase. He was meeting with his attorney in an hour. He would give the letter to him then.
He picked up the phone and punched in Cynthia’s number. “Hi, this is Bob.”
“Hey, stranger. I missed you jogging.”
“I know. Sorry. I had to play tennis with Brandon again this morning.”
“It’s getting to be a habit.”
“It wouldn’t be so bad if I could beat him. It’s humiliating. Actually, I’m calling to let you know that I finally took your advice.”
“You told her?”
“I just wrote her a letter. My attorney is sending it today.”
There was an unusual silence. Bob wondered what she was thinking.
After a moment, she continued, “Bob, I don’t pretend to know what the future holds, but I do think it’s great you’ve written her. As a woman, I can tell you that she deserves to know.”
“I know. That’s what Brandon said. Will you be jogging tomorrow?”
“No, I think I’ll give up exercise for a bit, wait to see how the storm clouds blow over first, if you know what I mean.”
“I do. Until then, I guess I’ll see you when I drop by Brightman’s office.”
“Bob, I very much look forward to it. Very much indeed.”
BY THE TIME LAURA AND EMILY ARRIVED HOME, THE wind was getting bad, scattering dust and leaves everywhere. Laura poured Emily some milk and then trekked to the mailbox to retrieve the mail. Opening the lid was like déjà vu, a bad dream occurring over again as her fingers touched the familiar starched envelope.
“Coward,” she mumbled, as she carried it inside. She tried to look cheerful as she entered the kitchen, but Emily noticed immediately.
“What is it, Mom?”
“It’s a letter, honey.”
“Aren’t you gonna open it?”
Friday wouldn’t wait. It was time she knew the whole story. “Sit down, Emily. There are some things we need to talk about.”
Grabbing a knife from the drawer, she sliced the envelope open. It was from his attorney all right, but as the letter slid out, two pictures of the beach dropped onto the counter. Peculiar. Opening the folded parchment, she began to read.
Dear Mrs. Whitney:Our client, Mr. Bob Whitney, has informed us that he will no longer be requiring our services. Unless proceedings toward a final divorce are continued through your legal counsel, we will petition the courts to drop all scheduled proceedings.
Please reply to us of your intentions within thirty days.
Also, Mr. Whitney asked if we would include the enclosed letter and photos to your attention.
Sincerely,
James Bagley
Attorney at Law
The handwritten letter on yellow stationery was clipped to the attorney’s neatly typed one. Her hands trembled as she unfolded the sheet and began to read.
Dear Laura,Over the last two weeks I’ve tried to dial your number several times. I could not. I found it difficult to formulate what I would say. When the words wouldn’t come, I decided to try a letter. I apologize for waiting this long. Laura, there are some things you need to know. Don’t be alarmed, but I have a medical condition you need to be aware of. I suffer from a depressive disorder.
The doctor has run many tests; they even took a picture of my brain, something called an FMRI, a functional magnetic resonance image. The truth is, I’ve wondered for a long time ifI’ve had a problem, but I guess I just couldn’t bring myself to admit it. The day you told me about Dad’s prescription, the one you faxed to me, it caused me to really question and wonder. Remember, Laura, I’m a drug rep. I knew exactly what conditions the medication treated. We also carry a simila
r drug for the treatment of depression. I know that such conditions are often hereditary and so just to be sure, to prove to myself that I was okay, I visited a doctor friend, Brandon Jameson. We play tennis occasionally. He’s a specialist in the field. He not only ran several tests, but he also spent the better part of an hour asking me in-depth questions about my family history. Many I couldn’t answer—some I could.
They concluded from all the tests that I have elevated levels of a substance called corticotropin. I know you have been doing some research into Dad’s illness. You may already know what this means. If not, don’t worry. It’s treatable. In fact, I’m currently taking a drug that helps curb the level of the chemical the brain is overproducing. They’re still fine-tuning the dosage level, but everything is going well. They told me I would probably be on medication for the rest of my life.
I’ve been taking it regularly and I must admit the difference is noticeable. I’m even taking pictures again. I started the medication just before coming out to search Dad’s house with Greg. I wanted to tell you then, but it was too early to know. I tried to tell you at the airport, but the hurt look in your eyes was devastating. I realized then, for the first time, that I might actually be too late.
As you know, I’ve been enthralled by Dad’s book. (Take a look at poem fifteen, by the way. Read the last six words backwards.) I find his letters fascinating. I still don’t understand the contention that existed between us, but I’m beginning to reconcile myself to it. Let’s just say I have gained a respect forhim that I never thought I could. It was through his words, after all, that I came to know my mother.
Letters For Emily Page 16