As Trent unfolded the page, he vaguely recalled that Dopp had thrown a ball of paper at Sam, who had tried to pick it up. As soon as Dopp turned his attention away, Sam had kneeled and furtively seized it. In Trent’s mind, the action barely registered, and he had forgotten about it until this moment.
He smoothed out the page, whose creases felt soft, and skimmed the words.
Then, in amazement, his lips parted; it was a love letter to Arianna. Through the hope it projected, Trent saw pain and tremendous vulnerability. It was a completely unknown side of Sam—a side that showed he was capable of the kind of love that drove him to risk everything, and that proved he was not only a genius, but also human.
Trent looked up, feeling a profound awe. “So this is why he jumped with me.”
Emily nodded somberly.
“And I guess this explains why he never liked me,” Trent said. “Not that I blame him.”
“And it explains how Dopp found us,” Dr. Ericson pointed out. “Look at that line about her being the bravest patient in her clinic.”
Trent read through the first paragraph. “No wonder.”
“So,” Emily said, “you know how guilty she feels, and I was thinking this would help her understand.”
Trent blew a pinch of dirt off the page and smoothed it out again. “She will cherish this. And I think he would have liked that.”
“I do, too.”
He thought of the past few days he had spent by Arianna’s bedside, feeling helpless while she moaned about wishing to talk to Sam one last time.
He looked into Emily’s eyes, still clutching the letter. “Can I do the honors?”
“Sure.”
He smiled and turned to open the door, slipping quietly into the living room. Arianna was sleeping on the couch, facing the worn cushions. A light cotton sheet was draped over her body, up to her neck. Waves of hair covered her cheek. Trent tiptoed to the couch and knelt down, wondering if it was worth waking her from a rare moment of peace. But then she stirred and opened her eyes.
“Hey,” he murmured. “Did I wake you?”
“It’s okay.” She turned toward him and yawned, extending her arms, then stopped midstretch. “What is it?”
“What’s what?”
“I can see it in your eyes. You want to tell me something.”
Trent smiled. “Well, I happen to have something to give you.”
“You do?”
He held up the letter. “Dopp found this in the lab, and it led him to us in the clinic. It’s also the piece of paper he threw at Sam, and Emily picked it up from the floor on our way out. She just showed it to me. But it was meant only for you.”
Confused, Arianna propped herself up on one arm, took the letter, and began to read. Trent watched the emotions play across her face: surprise, tenderness, sympathy, and in the end—heartbreak. In her eyes, tears shimmered.
“I had no idea,” she whispered. “I must have caused him so much pain.”
“But you did love him. You loved him in the only way you could.”
She nodded, holding the letter close to her chest. She held it there for a few moments, thinking. Then she looked into Trent’s eyes. “He was right that we shared the same kind of hope—extreme hope. And he succeeded for me, but I haven’t yet for him.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, he saved my life twice. I owe it to him not to waste my time now, not to just sit around and atrophy. If I did that, it would be the greatest betrayal of him possible.”
“But what can you do?”
“I can still be productive. I have ideas—”
“You’re supposed to be resting and recovering!”
“Just so I can die of boredom?”
Trent could not help but smile. The fervor in her blue eyes had returned, and it was the most reassuring sight in weeks. “Okay, so what’s your next big scheme?”
“I’m going to spread the word about his breakthrough to all the people who will be able to appreciate it, and keep his progress alive, if only in their minds.”
“And how are you planning to do that?”
She was sitting straight up now. “I’ll type up all of his notes. Every last word that he saved in his suitcase, and then send them anonymously to every scientific journal and biology department at every major university.”
Trent hesitated. “It’s a good idea, but what if it’s too late?”
“Too late for what?”
“For them to understand how moral his work really was. It’s hard to see that when you’re so used to the common attitude.”
“Then I’ll attach a letter explaining everything I told you. That worked pretty well, didn’t it?”
He nodded. “But I happened to be already starting to think straight on my own.”
“Well, I’m sure there are others like you, and they deserve to know what’s possible. If only we can reach them.”
She gently placed the letter on her pillow, then threw the cotton sheet off her legs and leaned forward to massage her kneecaps.
“I will walk again.”
Trent did not smile, hoping his solemnity would convey his belief in her determination. “I know.”
“And once I do, we should film it, and then put up the video for the world to see. I’ll be literally living proof of what he did.”
Trent smiled. “We should start filming you now, a documentary of your recovery.”
“You’re right! There’s so much to be learned from my body. I should start to keep a detailed log. And that can be part of the film, along with his notes, so it’s no mystery exactly how he did it.”
“So no one can pretend it was a miracle.”
“Exactly.”
Trent felt himself growing excited. “It will be journalism on film. I can direct and you can star.”
“But we know who the real star is. We have to make it clear that he deserves all the credit.”
“Absolutely.”
She smiled and motioned to Sam’s duffel bag, which remained unopened in a corner near the front door. “Can you bring it to me? I want to start going through his notes.”
Trent grinned. Part of him
