Chapter 27

Spiez, August, Wednesday—Present Time

As the crowd dissipated and the beach returned to tranquility, I began to shake. I tried to wrap my arms around my wet body, but they shook so hard I nearly bruised myself. My teeth rattled, and I couldn’t get any words past my throat, which was shut tight. I saw David coming toward me with a blanket and felt him wrapping it around me, as I stood helpless. He pushed me toward the house, but my feet kept getting tangled. I thought I felt myself carried part of the way, but I wasn’t sure if it was only my imagination.

Shock, I thought as I came to on the couch.

“I’ll get some towels,” David said.

I huddled into a ball on the couch. He sat down next to me, and I felt a towel on my hair, his hands gently drying the dripping strands. He pulled me against his chest after, until the lump in my throat dissolved into hot tears.

“I’m sorry,” I whimpered, trying to pull away from him. “I…think…I’m…”

“Shh, I got you.”

I cried into his shoulder, while he stroked my hair and planted small kisses on my cheek and forehead. His fingers were ice cold, and I wrapped him in the blanket with me. We held each other, wet and cold but slowly warming up, until I was able to speak again.

“I’m just so glad he is okay. I never wanted to be responsible for someone’s life again,” I whispered.

He held my face in his now warm hands, his eyes kind. “I figured you’d be used to saving lives.”

“It doesn’t quite work like that.” I pulled away and got up. “I think I need to go get dressed.”

“Oh, no, you’re not running away from me.” David frowned. “You just saved that boy’s life. I mean, people thought you were some kind of a superhero out there, yet you are in here sobbing. What’s going on?”

“A superhero? I don’t remember Spiderman saving people from drowning, in his underwear?”

“You’re avoiding my question.”

“I am.” I felt the lump returning to my throat.

“Listen, I think there’s something you need to get off your chest. Feel free to carry your secrets around, but I’m here, and I happen to like you. A lot. I also happen to be a good listener.” David took my hand and pulled me back to the couch.

I hesitated a moment, then looked at his face, and something inside me burst. I wanted to tell him everything. I wanted to share all my secrets with him, but I also had an enormous fear that he’d never speak to me again if he knew. I looked in his eyes, aching for my troubles to go away and filled with the sudden desire for him to kiss me and make me forget.

I saw David’s face suddenly change, eyes focusing on me with tenderness. I knew he was going to kiss me before I felt his lips on mine. He gently lifted me and placed me on his lap, holding me so close his heartbeat echoed through my body. So I slowly told him about how Ella died because of my mistake. And I told him about Hailey dying. And he listened, stroking my arm gently. I worried he’d push me away, but he didn’t. He only hugged me tighter.

“There was nothing you could do about your sister dying. She had a heart condition, and you were only a child. You couldn’t save her—no one could.”

“I forced her to go on a bike ride in the heat, and that’s what caused her heart muscle to overwork.”

“If it didn’t overwork that day because of the bike ride, it would’ve overworked another day because she ran around playing. You must know this, as a doctor, deep inside. If her heart was going to quit, it was only a matter of time. Did someone blame you for it? Your family?”

“I’ve never talked to anyone about this.”

“Are you serious?” He ran his hand through his hair. Then he hugged me tighter. “Why didn’t you talk to your parents about it?”

“I don’t have any parents. My mother died giving birth to us. From eclampsia. My father was an alcoholic and left us then. I grew up with my grandparents. Grandmother, really. My grandfather died as soon as we came to the U.S. as refugees. From a heart attack. Heart trouble runs in my family. It’s been just Grandmother and me.”

“My father died from a stroke when I was fourteen. I know what it’s like to lose a family member. But I also know it doesn’t help to blame yourself for it. You have to keep going and live your life. It’s not your fault, Maya.” He kissed my forehead softly, and I lay against his shoulder, absorbing his strength.

He continued, “And all doctors make mistakes, just like lawyers or people in any profession.”

“Doctors’ mistakes cause the loss of lives,” I pointed out.

“That’s because doctors also save lives. It has to even out somehow. Look how you just saved that boy.”

“That doesn’t happen very often.”

“I’m sure you’ve saved plenty of people. And I’m sure you’ll save plenty more. You have a gift—I saw it. You can’t give it up just because you didn’t do something perfectly with one patient, when you were still learning.”

“You’re very kind. Or maybe you’re just saying this only…”

“Because I want to make out with you? You think I have an ulterior motive for being complimentary?” He laughed so hard I almost fell off his lap.

“But you really do have to be nice to me! Because you like me!”

His face became serious. “I really do like you, Maya. More than you know. I also truly believe that you need to forgive yourself for all these things you’re holding against yourself. Look, I’ve made mistakes in my job and in my life, too. I’ve learned you can’t keep them all with you. Otherwise, they weigh you down and don’t let you reach your full potential.”

I felt the pain in my heart lessen. I also became aware of the sudden deep warmth emanating from his body. Something between us had definitely changed. He drew me closer, and I let him. He was playful at first, giving me gentle teasing kisses, barely touching my lips. I pressed my body into his, begging for a response. I felt his hands slide underneath my camisole as I closed my eyes instinctively. His kisses became more urgent and then his mouth moved and his tongue circled a very sensitive spot on my neck, making me moan. I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted any other man.

“Wait!” Fear suddenly gripped me, and I sat up straight, pushing him away. “What if, while we are making love, I suddenly start having my visions, and…”

“You’ll feel like you’re not here with me?” He finished my sentence. He looked deeply into my eyes, his fingers stroking my breast gently. “Trust me, you will not be in a different world when you’re with me. I’ll keep you here.”

He laid me gently on the blanket on the floor, and I was lost, once again, in a different world. But it was my world this time, not Rebecca’s. There was no me or him, only intense heartbeats and a feeling of flying and falling. And then—love. I felt it in every cell of my body, stronger than I’ve ever felt anything before. It made no sense, but my heart was full of profound love and a feeling of safety that I hadn’t felt in years.

And he was right. I was with him. Completely.

I woke with a jolt, in a dark room. To the noise of raindrops beginning to patter on the roof. I watched the shadows on the ceiling and listened to the wind’s howling noises. Somehow we had managed to make it to the bedroom from the floor of the living room. I despised the idea of getting up, away from David’s warm body. I refused to think that it also meant we would have to say goodbye to each other.

The photo albums on the deck!

I bolted out of bed. “David! Get up! Hurry! We left the albums on the deck, and it’s raining!”

I wrapped the blanket around me and was already running out, ignoring David’s confused, sleepy questions. The rain had only just started, and the trees around the deck offered enough protection to the fragile albums we had carelessly left out. David joined me a few minutes later, and we brought the albums in and laid them out carefully on the floor of the library. I wiped them with kitchen towels.

“I think they’re fine. Actually, much better than before. I don’t smell any mildew anymore,” David said, sniffing. “Let’s see if we can open the pages.”

“Be gentle.”

“I will, don’t worry.” He began to open one of the albums. The pages yielded, with only some getting slightly stuck at the binding. “Here you go!” He pointed at one page. “Here is my great-grandparents’ wedding. We have a similar picture hanging in the library at home. This is Edward Fischer.”

The man in the picture didn’t look at all like the man I’d seen with Rebecca in my mind. “It’s not him, not who I’ve…”

“Imagined?”

“Seen.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure. Let’s look for some more pictures.”

He continued to flip the pages. Album after album. There were dozens of pictures of Rebecca and Edward, Rebecca and Hannah, Rebecca and her parents and grandmother. Rebecca and her friends. Even Rebecca with patients in beds, a stethoscope around her neck.

“Wait! This is what Ruth was talking about.” David stopped at one of the pictures. “This is the free clinic for women in Bern.”

I looked over his shoulder. It was a picture of Rebecca and another woman standing underneath a sign with the name of the clinic. “And who is the other woman?”

“No idea. She wasn’t in the other pictures. Let’s bring any picture we’re not sure about back to Ruth and Emelie.”

I took the picture and looked at it carefully. Rebecca stood next to a smiling woman who was taller than she and had her hair tied back in a tight chignon. Both women wore doctor’s lab coats over their dresses. Even though the picture was a faded black-and-white, I could tell that Rebecca’s dress was more expensive, with a lace insert, bows, and many buttons. Her friend’s dress was darker in color and had no such embellishments.

I touched the dresses, outlining them with my index finger. Who are you? I whispered and heard a laughing voice in my head. Come on, Lara, we have to go. My mother will be furious if I’m late for supper. Tell Vlad you’ll see him later. I closed my eyes and saw the two women running in the rain from the University of Bern’s Anatomy building, laughing and jumping over the puddles.

“Her name was Lara,” I said to David.

“How do you know?” he asked, his brows furrowed. “Oh, never mind.” He shook his head. “Interesting. My mother’s name is Lara. I wonder if she’s named after this friend.”

The clock chimed, and I jumped up in horror. “What time is it? I completely forgot! We have to get back!”

David looked at his watch. “Seven. Yes, we’d better get going. We have plenty of time to make it back tonight. Don’t worry.”

I dressed quickly, trying not to think of all the things that had happened and the goodbye that would yet have to happen. We packed up a few pictures to ask Ruth and Emelie about. As I opened the door, the wall of rain hit me, and the wind nearly blew me out of the house and down the driveway.

“David. It’s raining very hard!” I yelled out.

“I’m sure it’s fine.” He walked out, then came back in soaking wet. “It’s like a tropical storm out there,” he said, brushing the raindrops off his shirt.

“Is it safe to drive?”

“Questionable.”

“I need to get back to the city,” I pleaded.

“All right. We’ll go for it, then. Run for the passenger seat.”

We were about a mile down the hill when we realized the road was flooded.

“Damn it! These tiny cars can’t get through the high water. Give me an American SUV anytime.” David hit the steering wheel in frustration.

“Is there another road out? Think!”

“There is, but I think it might be even worse. Let’s try.” He turned the car around, skidding a few times.

We were stopped by the police less than a mile later, alerting us that the road was flooded. David turned around and drove back slowly. I pressed my head against the cold window, trying to shut my mind, which was screaming profanities.

“Do you really have to return to Paris tomorrow?” he asked gently.

I was at the end of my rope. “I have a meeting with the dean on Friday in New York. If I’m not there, I’ll be thrown out of my residency,” I said.

“So you have to catch a plane to New York tomorrow. What time is your meeting?”

“Noon. The flight from Paris leaves at seven tomorrow.”

“All right, so you need to leave Bern by eleven to travel to Paris on time. Which means we have to leave here by nine to give you enough of a window to go back to Jacob’s and pick up your things. The water should recede enough by the morning. You’ll be fine.”

“You really think I can still make it?”

“Do you consider yourself a lucky person?”

I laughed and cried at the same time. “No.”

“Ouch.” He placed a hand on his heart, mocking. “I didn’t realize I was that awful a lover.”

“I didn’t mean you and me. I’d love to spend another night with you. You’re just about the only lucky thing that’s ever happened to me,” I said tearfully. “It’s the rest of my life that stinks.”

“I knew you didn’t mean us.”

He parked the car, and we ran back inside the house.

“There should be some spaghetti. Emelie always keeps some for the kids,” David called out as he worked to light the fireplace.

I went to the kitchen to look for any pantry foods to cook for dinner. There was indeed some pasta, and it was comforting to cook a simple meal after this crazy complicated day. We ate the spaghetti straight from the large bowl, not bothering with plates.

“So tell me exactly why are you in trouble with your residency?” he asked.

“Because when that girl died, it was written in my file that I had ‘questionable clinical judgment.’ I was so upset that I asked for a leave of absence. I was supposed to return a few weeks ago, but I didn’t. I took a flight to Edinburgh instead. And then they called me to tell me I was on probation because I wasn’t back on time.”

“It seems rather drastic to place a resident on probation for lateness. I would think there should’ve been first a warning that you were exceeding your days.”

“Residents are abused all the time. Sounds just about right to me.”

“Did you look through your residency contract to make sure they had the right to place you on probation?”

“Now I can tell I’m talking to a lawyer.” I laughed and took another mouthful of pasta.

“It’s not just a lawyer talking, it’s common sense. When you go to your meeting, you need to be prepared and question what legal right they actually have to place you on probation. You may be protected more than you know.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll check into it. I’m sure I have the contract somewhere.”

“My guess is they’re trying to cover up for the death of that girl, and they want you gone to prevent any further inquiries.”

I thought for a moment. “You really think they’d possibly use me as a scapegoat? That seems awfully low.”

He pulled me close and kissed me hard. “Come with me, I can distract you. And maybe then I can convince you to stay longer.”

“I can’t. I have to go back. I have to stop running away from trouble.”

“You can call and reschedule your meeting for Monday, which will give me time to find someone over the weekend to represent you at your meeting. It would definitely help to be there with an attorney. The whole thing could be over in minutes, and you’d be back without anything on your record or any probation.”

“I need to handle this myself, David. It’s really important that I do. I’ll let you know if I need help.”

Hours later, I lay awake with David’s arm across my stomach. Insomnia and worries about my residency aside, the mere thought of being in Rebecca’s old house with David sleeping nearby made my heart race enough to make any relaxation impossible. Another reason I couldn’t sleep was that after searching through four more boxes of family photos, we had found none of Rebecca with a young man named Mark. Was I looking for the wrong Rebecca or for the wrong man? Was there ever a Mark? Was I only meant to find David? The moonlight was coming in through the window, illuminating David’s face on the pillow next to me. I brushed my fingers through the curly mess of his soft hair.

He opened his eyes, and then his own fingers stretched out and he traced the outline of my body. He leaned over and kissed my neck gently, nuzzling it a little, sending shivers all through me. We’d only made love twice, yet he already knew all my sensitive spots. He pulled himself on top of me, and I stopped thinking about the ring or its memories.

Later, as dawn came, we were still talking. Being with David was like being with someone I’d known my whole life. I told him about my life in Odessa and how my grandparents and I came to live in New York City. I told him about how, as a refugee, you never quite felt like you belonged anywhere. That once you lost your home, you never quite felt like you had another. David told me about losing his father and how his mother never dated or married again, because her heart was forever broken. He told me about his childhood dreams of becoming a veterinarian and then deciding to go to law school instead so he could be near his mother and brother. There was a great deal to talk about, and I was grateful for the storm Fate had sent our way.