Dear Meredith (3 page)

            He holds up a finger, then bends down and starts rummaging below the counter before surfacing with a small cardboard box, looking suddenly somewhat like Santa Claus off duty. "Surprise!"

            I stare disbelievingly at the box's contents, feeling my jaw hang open like a fool, my heart skipping several beats.

            "A
puppy
?"

            I am looking at the sweetest little yellow Lab I have ever seen in my life. Fuzzy and pleasingly plump, it was curled up and sound asleep against one corner of the box.

            I look up mutely at Old Ned, who was looking at me with a mixture of pleasure and concern.

            "Do you like her? She's a real beauty, the best of Daisy's litter. She's about two months now, the right age to take home. Mike insisted I keep one for you and so I did. Either the best or nothing at all, that's my motto."

            I can't take my eyes off the puppy, who is completely oblivious to what I am feeling. "It -
She's r
eally for me?"

            He nods affirmatively. "Yep, and you do good by her okay? Labs are right loyal creatures, once they love you, it's for life."

            My heart swells, thinking of Mike's love for me and how I'd told him I'd always desperately wanted a dog. A little door opens inside me, a small opening for a new love to begin flowing through. For I realise I already love this tiny ball of fluff, unknown to me a mere minute ago.

            I think my gratitude shows on my face, because Old Ned's eyes warm abruptly, kindly, as he suddenly loses his awkwardness. "You'll do just fine with her, I reckon. You're one of them dog people, I can always tell."

            "You bet I am," I say, smiling at him. "Thanks, Old Ned. I can't tell you how much this means to me. I'll take this little one home now."

            This time, I give him a tight hug, which he returns after a second's pause. I pick up the box, feeling like I am holding something as fragile as glass, feeling as brittle as glass myself.

            As I am about to head out, a thought strikes me.

            "Old Ned?"

            "Hmm?"

            "Did you drop me Mike's letter yesterday?"

            His eyes widen in genuine surprise. "No, Mike just told me to expect you sometime this week."

            I manage a smile, shake my head dismissively. "It doesn't matter. I suppose I'll find out soon enough. Take care, you."

            "You too, Mer, you too."

            A short fifteen-minute drive later, I am back on the couch with the box placed in front of me.

            The puppy has woken up, her big brown eyes blinking sleepily before she focuses on me.

            "Hi, little one," I whisper, still quite unable to believe I had a life to look after now.

            Her ears twitch and she gets unsteadily to her feet before wobbling her way over to me. I lift her out, marvelling at her weight and fluffiness, place her in front of me.

            She promptly dives into my lap and wriggles her way to maximum comfort as though she has been doing it all her life.

            I feel the tears rise again, this time bittersweet, as I run a gentle finger down her soft fur. Her sudden appearance in my life seems a miracle, a little ray of sunshine to see me through the dark days ahead.

Chapter 4

            I am dragged out of a nightmare by a wet, cold tongue across my cheek. My eyes shoot open, my heart still pounding as it slides greasily out of my memory like oil dripping out of the pan.

            Bandit stares at me alertly, her head slightly cocked. I smile at her, run a hand down her back as she visibly relaxes, sliding her front paws down as she snuggles next to me.

            "How did you know?" I whisper to her, running her fine fur through my fingers slowly.

            This isn't the first time I've had bad dreams and she's always awakened me halfway through. I guess she can sense my distress.

            The room is thrown into deep shadows by the moonlight and the fan whirs lazily above our heads, making the white curtains flutter occasionally. I look out the window and catch my breath in wonder. It is a full moon tonight, white and pure and mysterious.

            I find it hard to comprehend that this is the same moon our first ancestors looked at. How
ancient
it is, and how knowing. It must have seen everything there is to see about us from up there.

            Bandit breathes quietly by my side, and I'm suddenly flooded with an overwhelming thankfulness that I'm not alone in this big bed anymore. Sleep hasn't gotten easier and it soothes me to watch her peaceful slumber when a million anxious thoughts attack my brain.

            Caring for a puppy is a demanding, time-consuming job. Much like a new parent, almost all my attention is taken up by her. What with all the feeding, bonding and training we've been doing, there's barely enough time for me to sink back into my former state of grief-stricken inactivity. On some moments when the unreality of Mike's death hits again and I just have to sit down and catch my breath, Bandit sits quietly beside me, her head on my lap as she waits patiently.

            There's a life depending on me now, and I guess Mike had known how much I would need her to keep me going. Oh, Mike. Looking out for me even now.

            I feel a secret thrill go through me, thinking again about the startling appearance of his letter in my life.
There's two more left to go
, my heart sings joyfully. Two more times for me to feel my husband's solid presence in my life again before no more new words come, and all I have left will be our memories.

            I wonder again who could possibly be the mysterious letter-bearer. Maybe Janet will know, I think, resolving to pay her a visit tomorrow. I can show her Bandit and tell her about the amazing way she appeared in my life, through her son.

            When I finally fall asleep at last, that familiar dream comes again. Except this time, there's a twist.

           
In my dreams, we're walking hand in hand along a forest path. There's no one else in the world, just me and him, leaving crushed leaves in our wake. We don't say much, our fingers wound tightly together doing all the talking. He turns to me occasionally, his smile dappled by the sun filtering through the jungle canopy. "Are you ready?" he asks. A simple question to which I give a simple nod in reply. His fingers tighten around me as he starts to run, pulling me in his wake. My legs flying alongside his, my hair streaming like banners in the wind. I have never felt so alive. Suddenly, inexplicably, I see a cliff edge in the distance, where the path runs out of the forest.

            Mike looks at me again, our breaths chuffing in unison, determination on our faces. "Are you ready?" he asks again, yells it out loud this time. Our feet never stop pounding down that path and I feel we're picking up enough speed to fly. "Yes!" I shout back as he gives me a proud smile. Just as I almost reach the cliff's edge, I suddenly realise his hand is no longer in mine and I turn my head in confusion. He is standing there, just outside the border of the forest, looking as though he wants to follow but cannot. As I stare at him, he raises his right arm in the air, a silent goodbye.

            My feet carry me on, away from him and I can do nothing to stop them. I reach the cliff's edge and leap, soaring up into the air for a moment before I start plunging into free fall.

           
"Oh, my dear, it's so
good
to see you!" Janet beams at me, her silvery hair gleaming softly in the morning sunshine as she gathers me into a tight hug.

            I return it, feeling a huge, warm wave of affection for her swell up. It is a surprise visit and I have brought the lemon cakes she loves dearly, as well as Bandit, who is stunnningly well-behaved today.

            She looks at me searchingly, with the clear gaze that Mike inherited. "You look well," she pronounces at last, relief written all over her face.

            "Hi, mom," I say. To my surprise, my voice comes out a little croaky. It
is
good to see her, as I haven't since the funeral two months ago. I just couldn't see anyone and she had respected that wish after I promised I wouldn't do anything stupid to myself.

            "And who have we here?" she asks, looking down at Bandit, who is sitting down beside me, her tail thumping enthusiastically as she gazes up at Janet with her huge puppy eyes.

            "This is Bandit, mom. She's around four months old now and she loves meeting new people," I inform her. It is true. While I do as much as I can to avoid striking up conversations with strangers, Bandit is a true people person who loves nothing more than earning a scratch on her ruff and a word of adoration from anyone and everyone.

            Janet bends down at the waist, holding out a closed palm for Bandit to sniff. "Hello, Bandit," she says gravely, and I can see that while Janet is no keen dog lover, she has already fallen helpless victim to Bandit's charm.

            She ushers us into her kitchen, where she pours me a glass of orange juice and sets the lemon cakes out on plates. I miss this place, where Mike and I have hung out so many times. I know some people have trouble with their mothers-in-law, but Janet has always been like a mother to me when I had none before.

            "So tell me," she says, picking up a lemon cake with anticipation, while Bandit sits at her feet, looking hopefully at the treasure in her hand. "How
are
you?"

            I smile at her. "Better," I say simply and it is the truth. "Mom, there's something I wanted to tell you. Bandit was a present from Mike."

            Her mouth drops into an O of surprise as she sets the cake down again. "From
Mike
? But
how
?"

            "He left me a letter  about a month ago. And he told me he had a surprise for me, and to visit Old Ned. When I did, he presented me with Bandit," I summarise, suddenly feeling somewhat stunned that a month has already flown by.

            Janet is flabbergasted. "A letter! And Old Ned thrown into it, as well! Oh, that's just like Mike to hatch up such a plan. But who delivered that letter?"

            I realise with a slight pang that she really doesn't know. I guess, secretly, I had hoped she might have been the one. "I don't know. It's a mystery. I went to visit Mike's grave and when I came back, it was there, on the porch floor. And that isn't all. Mike wrote that there would be two more letters coming."

            "Two more!" To my surprise, she starts to laugh softly. "That's just like Mike," she says again, her smile turning wistful and loving. "Did you know, that Andrew did the same thing for me?

            It is my turn to be flabbergasted. "He did?"

            She nods, memory clouding her eyes. "Andrew knew how his death would shatter me. He wrote me a letter, which I found on my pillow about a month after he died. His words kept me going at the darkest point in my life. It was as though I had suddenly seen a light in the distance, and it was just enough to keep my head above water."

            I couldn't breathe. "Did you know who had placed the letter there?"

            "Oh yes, in my case it was no mystery. Andrew had told Mike to do so. It was such a difficult time for him, losing his dad at fifteen and seeing his mom turning into a wreck."

            She looks at me. "I know how you feel, and I know how lucky we are that we have this final present from our loved ones. I'm so glad Mike did the same for you, because I know how Andrew's letter helped me, ever so slowly, get on with life."

            "I had Mike to help me through that dark hour. I guess in that same way, so will Bandit."

            My throat has swollen shut and my nose is clogged up as the enormity of what Mike did sinks into me. He hadn't left me after all, despite the awful finality of death. He had tried his best to be there for me for as long as he could, even in those final days when he had been in pain.

            Janet comes around to my side, her own tear-filled blue eyes telling me without words that she knows exactly what is going through my mind. I lean into her hug, while my shoulders shake with silent sobs. It's just that this time, the sobs are filled with gratefulness.

            I am still in a daze of disbelief, several hours later. Sprawled on my couch, with Bandit snoozing beside me, I stare up at the ceiling as thoughts whizz past at lightning speed.

            After Janet's revelation, I feel stronger than I ever have since Mike died; as though I have managed to shrug off a part of the horrible, incapacitating cloud of grief that shrouds me like an invisible cloak.

            A part of that strength comes from the fact that I'm not alone. Janet knows how this feels like, every step of the way. I can scarcely imagine her pain as a mother, but she is so very strong that I cannot help but lean on her for comfort.

            Somehow, it is easier for me to start learning to walk again on this new, bewildering journey because I know she has walked this same path and came out stronger. The only thing different is that she had Mike, and I have no child.

            And oh, how I long for a child. For a little boy or girl, with Mike and Janet's eyes the colour of a hot summer sky and my copper hair. But motherhood seems not to be destined for me.

            We had tried in the last two years. The doctors tested us both and pronounced us perfectly healthy. But no child came. And then Mike got sick, and a baby suddenly dropped from our priority list.

            But he gave me Bandit, who has given me indescribable comfort and love, serving as a lifeline for me to hold on to when I felt I was about to give up and drown.

            I look at her adorable face, see her little body rise and fall as she slumbers trustingly, pressed against me. As with the first time I set eyes on her, I cannot help but smile.

            "You're my baby now, Bandit," I whisper, running a hand over her head.

            Lost in such thoughts, my mind and eyes grow heavy with sleep as the sun begins its descent from high noon, my living room a cool and quiet sanctuary against the sticky heat of day.

            I am about to doze off when my doorbell gives a sudden and most unexpected ring.

            Bandit bolts upright with a volley of high-pitched puppy barks and dashes to the door. Her tail is whipping around frenziedly and I remember I have yet to train her to react calmly to the doorbell.

            I'm not exactly high on the list of someone who can count on one hand the number of times I get visitors a month, you see.

            I am wide awake now, my heart thudding with the sudden interruption to the peaceful afternoon. I stride over to the door, gently nudging Bandit to the side and sternly ordering her to sit. She complies after a few seconds, her irrepressible tail thumping rhythmically on the hardwood floor as she quivers impatiently.

            I answer the door, almost as curious as Bandit.