“Well?”
Jessie pulled a sheaf of papers from her inside jacket pocket. “I got all that. But there was something else here.”
“I hate to think of how many laws you’d just broken.”
“Then don’t think about it. Just think of him trying to drug you and carry you off in a barrel.”
“Since you put it that way…”
Jessie looked down at the papers. “Our friend was diagnosed with stage-four liver cancer. He was given eight weeks to live.”
“Eight weeks… That’s horrible.”
“The diagnosis was made over three years ago.”
“What?” Kendra took the pages and looked at them. “What kind of treatment did he have?”
“No treatment. At least none that appears in his records. The next time anyone in the network saw him, seven months later, he was completely cured.”
Kendra looked up from the pages. “Are you sure?”
“I had a doctor friend look these over, and he says his levels went from death’s door to perfectly healthy in a matter of months.”
“How is that possible?”
“It isn’t. As least not according to my doctor friend.” Jessie took the printouts back. “You have no idea what kind of work your Dr. Waldridge was doing?”
“No. I told you, he was incredibly coy about it. It wasn’t something that made him happy, though. I didn’t get the impression he’d come up with some all-powerful miracle disease cure.”
“He performed a miracle on you.”
“And he and the Night Watch Project made sure the whole world knew about it. They didn’t keep their miracle under wraps for years on end.” She frowned, and said slowly, “No, there’s something else going on here.”
“It was a long time ago, wasn’t it? Maybe you don’t remember it the way it was. That happens sometimes.”
“I haven’t forgotten one thing connected to Charles Waldridge. And I wouldn’t be confused or mistaken just because a little time has passed.”
“Aren’t you being defensive? A little time?”
Jessie was right to call her on it, she thought. It had been more than a little time since that day in Monterrey when everything had changed for her…
Monterey, California
Eight Years Earlier
Kendra paced alone in a back corridor of the Monterey Conference Center listening to the din of the crowd seated in the adjacent five-hundred-seat theater. She was a featured speaker at the TED Conference, an annual event which gathered interesting people to share their experiences and insights with attendees and eventually worldwide audiences on the Web.
She glanced at the exit sign, which glowed red in the dim hallway.
Tempting.
Damned tempting.
“Those doors open to the parking lot,” a voice said from the darkness. “You can make a clean break for it.”
She turned to face Dr. Waldridge as he stepped toward her. She smiled with an effort. “I could make the Santa Cruz boardwalk by sunset.”
He smiled. “What’s in Santa Cruz?”
She sighed wistfully. “The ocean. A basket of fried shrimp. A cold bottle of beer.”
“I can see your conundrum. But what about all the disappointed people you’ll leave behind?”
“They can come with me. There’s enough beer and fried shrimp for all. My treat.”
“I don’t really think that will work,” he said gently.
“No? Oh, well.” She brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. “It was a solution. I’m having trouble forcing myself to go out there today.”
“Nervous?”
“Are you joking? I’ve done a hundred of these in the last year. Academic conferences, press events, fund-raisers…”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Maybe I’m burned-out.” She rubbed the tense muscles at the back of her neck. “I’ve been thinking that I can’t do it anymore.”
“Of course you can.”
She shook her head. “Burned-out is probably the wrong term. It’s hard to describe. Ever since I got my sight, I feel like… I’m living in someone else’s body. Every minute of every day is a different experience. So much has changed for me.”
His lips turned up at the corners. “I don’t believe you’re telling me that you’d rather still be blind.”
“Of course not.” She turned to him and her voice was suddenly passionate. “Do you know how grateful I am to you? Every day I wake up, and I tell myself how lucky I am that Charles Waldridge agreed to see me that day in London and decided to perform a miracle.”
He chuckled. “Hardly a miracle. Pure science and medicine.”
“I know all the explanations, but when it’s all said and done, it was a miracle for me.”
“But you’ve suddenly become uncomfortable with your miracle?” His gaze was narrowed on her face. “Or maybe not so suddenly. I can’t say that I haven’t seen a few signs emerging in the past few weeks.”
She’d known he’d probably been aware of the way she was feeling. He was the most brilliant person she’d ever met, and he’d grown to know her so well. She was only surprised that he’d waited for her to confront him with it instead of stepping in and dealing with the problem as he had all the rest of the obstacles they’d overcome together. “It’s not that I’m ungrateful, but it’s been an adjustment. And when I’m still trying to figure out what my new life is going to be like, I’m having to jump through hoops. The same speeches, the same questions, the travel, the hotels… I’m looking for normal, and I’m wondering if I’ll ever find it.”
“You will.”
“When?”
“Give it time.” He was suddenly beside her, gazing into her eyes. “Don’t you realize that you may never be what people call ‘normal?’ I knew the moment I met you that even if the operation didn’t work, you’d always be extraordinary. You had a disability, but you were still working to become all that you possibly could be.” He lifted her chin, and said quietly, “And that result would have been far from ordinary. Miracles don’t always happen in an operating room, Kendra.”
She couldn’t look away from him. He seemed to be trying to tell her something that had nothing to do with conferences and cold beer and everything to do with…
What?
But he’d stepped back and was turning away. “So protect that miracle. Let yourself have time to get priorities in order before you jump into the fray. Life out there can be scary, even terrifying.”
“Terrifying?” It was a strange thing for him to say. “I’m not afraid of terrifying. It’s only the unknown. It’s what people who aren’t protected by people like my mom and you face every day. It’s called life.” She turned toward the doorway to the auditorium, where a stage manager appeared. He spoke into his wireless headset and flashed his index finger, indicating one minute until showtime.
One minute, and she’d once more be drawn into that smothering darkness. One minute, and she’d feel the chains reaching out for her again.
Kendra whirled back to Waldridge. “I’ve given it all the time I can. This needs to stop.”
He tilted his head. “That sounds very defensive. No one’s making you do this, Kendra.”