One Summer by David Baldacci Read Free Book Online Page A

temporary. He did not want to put his kids through this nightmare again. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t talk to them. Or see them.
    “I don’t know, honey. I’m trying to figure that out. I’m doing my best.”
    “Well, keep doing what you’re doing,” she replied. And then she smiled at him. That one look seemed to make every muscle in Jack’s body firm even more.
    One time Bonnie had appeared on the computer screen after Mikki had left the room. Her approach was far more direct, as she stared at Jack sitting up in bed. “What is going on?”
    “I’m still here.”
    “Your hospice doctor won’t talk to me. Privacy laws, he said.”
    “I know,” Jack said. “But I can fill you in. I’m feeling better. Getting stronger. How’re things working out with Mikki?”
    “Fine. She’s settled in, but we need to address
your
situation.”
    “I
am
addressing it. Every day.”
    And so it had gone, day after day, week after week. Using Skype and the phone, and answering all the kids’ questions. Jack could see that more and more even Mikki was coming to grips with what was happening. Every time he saw her smile or heard her laugh at some funny remark he made, it seemed to strengthen him even more.
    It was on a cold, blustery Monday morning in February that Jack walked down the hall under his own power. He’d gained five more pounds, his face had filled out, and his hair was growing back. His appetite had returned with a vengeance. They had also stopped giving him pain meds because there was no more pain.
    The hospice doctor sat down with him at the end of the week. “I’m not sure what’s going on here, Jack, but I’m ordering up some new blood work and other tests to see what we have. I don’t want you to get your hopes up, though.”
    Jack simply stared at him, a spoonful of soup poised near his lips.
    The doctor went on. “Look, if this continues, that’s terrific. No one will be happier than me—well, of course, except for you. All of my patients die, Jack, to put it bluntly. And we just try to help them pass with dignity.”
    “But,” said Jack.
    “But your disease is a complicated one. And always a fatal one. This might just be a false remission.”
    “Might be.”
    “Well, without dashing your hopes, it probably is.”
    “Have others in my condition had a remission?”
    The doctor looked taken aback. “No, not to my knowledge.”
    “That’s all I needed to know.”
    The doctor looked confused. “Needed to know about what?”
    “I know I was dying, but now I’m not.”
    “How can you be so sure?”
    “Sometimes you just know.”
    “Jack, I have to tell you that what’s happening to you is medically impossible.”
    “Medicine is not everything.”
    The doctor looked him over and saw the new muscle, the fuller face, and the eyes that burned with a rigid intensity.
    “Why do you think this is happening to you, Jack?” he finally asked.
    “You’re a doctor; you wouldn’t understand.”
    “I’m also a human being, and I’d very much like to know.”
    Jack reached in his drawer and pulled out a photo. He passed it to the doctor.
    It was a photo of Lizzie and the kids.
    “Because of them,” said Jack.
    “But I thought your wife passed away.”
    Jack shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.”
    “What?”
    “When you love someone, you love them forever.”

12
    Two days later, Jack was in his room eating a full meal. He’d put on three more pounds. The doctor walked in and perched on the edge of the bed.
    “Okay, I officially believe in miracles. Your blood work came back negative. No trace of the disease. It’s like something came along and chased it away. Never seen anything like it. There’s no way to explain it medically.”
    Jack swallowed a mouthful of mashed potatoes and smiled. “I’m glad you finally came around.”
    He saw his kids that night on the computer. He believed he actually made Jackie understand that he was getting better. At least his son’s last words