Books : Letters for Emily : Excerpts

CHAPTER Eleven

Laura and Emily awoke early and headed to Harry's house before school. The house was still empty, but somehow it didn't feel as lonely this morning. They clicked on the light and trotted over to the computer to turn it on. The antiquated machine whirred for several minutes as the operating system loaded. Laura waited patiently until Windows flashed onto the screen.

"What you looking for, Mom?" Emily quizzed.

"I'm not sure, let's find out."

She scanned the hard drive for files, and sure enough, there was a folder called "Letters for Emily." She opened it, revealing the contents. Twenty-six files, each numbered consecutively, listed on the screen. They appeared to coincide with the table of contents in Harry's book -- each poem, puzzle, or story having a number from one to twenty-six. She clicked on the first and waited for it to open. As she did, a small box requesting a password popped onto the screen.

"Perhaps the crazy old man wasn't so crazy after all," she whispered. Cautiously, she typed in the letters tfa and hit Enter. "Incorrect Password -- Please Try Again." Confused, she opened the book and looked again at the words.

"E-m-i-l-y t-h-e p-a-s-s-w-o-r-d i-s..."

"Wait, I know." This time she typed in "time forever after" just as it was written in the poem, and then hit the Enter key once more. After the hard drive whirred again, the file opened before her on the screen.

"Yes!" she exclaimed, giving Emily a quick squeeze.

"What is it?"

"It looks like Grandpa wrote you a letter. Listen, I'll read it to you."

Dearest Emily,

You found the secret of the first poem. I knew you would, you're a smart girl!

As you may have guessed by now, each poem or story in my book has its own secret for you to discover. If you look hard, you will find each contains a password that will lead you back here to my letters.

I have done this for two reasons. First, I want to teach you that in life, the solutions to problems are not always clear. Often, you will need to look beneath the surface to find your answers.

The second reason is a more practical one that has to do with my condition. I fear as my symptoms worsen, I may accidentally delete or alter my work. The passwords help protect me from myself.

You are so young. You may wonder what an old man like me could teach? I wonder as well. I certainly don't claim to know all the answers. I'm barely figuring out the questions. I do know that I want you to have a better life than I have had. I want you to learn from the many mistakes I've made. Learn from the good times and the not-so-good times. For you see, this journey is a test and many of the problems that I have faced, you will face. Life has a strange way of repeating itself and I want my experience to help you. I want to make a difference.

My hope is that you'll consider my words and remember my heart. If you're helped even once, then my prayers will have been answered. Much of what I say may not make sense right away, but as you grow, perhaps it will be appreciated. Remember me for my words and my heart. Please forget the times I made you angry or sad. It is a wish that everyone should be granted.

My book of poems and these letters are my gift to you. I hope they bring you joy. I hope that as you read them, you will think of me, because I will be thinking of you.

Love,
Grandpa Harry

"That sly son of a..." Looking at Emily, she concluded with gun. "That sly son of a gun."

"He wrote me a letter!" Emily was thrilled.

"He sure did, babe. He wants to tell you how smart and wonderful you are."

"Are there more?"

"There are, but we have to find his secrets first. Sit down and I'll show you."

Sitting on the couch, Laura explained how the password Emily discovered was hidden in the poem; how every poem had one, and as they discovered each one, they could read more of Grandpa's letters.

"Can we show my letter to Dad?" Emily wondered.

"Absolutely." Walking to the computer, Laura clicked on the printer icon and waited for the page to drop from the printer. Once it had, she exited Windows and turned off the machine. She could copy the files, but not knowing what else might be hidden on Harry's hard drive, it seemed best to take the whole thing home.

As Laura moved behind the desk to unplug the monitor and printer cables, a cracking sounded beneath her feet. She jumped back and saw a small plastic prescription bottle in pieces on the carpet where she'd stood. Picking up the shattered container, she scanned the label. The doctor's name and address were different from that of the clinic she had visited on Highland Drive, yet the prescription had been filled recently. Peculiar. Emily was already late for school, so Laura pulled off the broken pieces of plastic and dropped the label into her purse. It took three trips, but after the computer was safely loaded in the car, she scooted Emily outside and locked the door.

Laura dropped Emily off at school and rushed to an appointment with a buyer. It was just after noon when she arrived home. The answering machine showed eight messages, seven of which were from Bob. Rather than returning his calls, Laura studied Harry's book while waiting for the phone to ring again. It didn't take long.

"Hello?" she answered slowly.

"Did you find something?"

"You should say hello first, Bob."

"Hello, did you find something?"

"Yes, we did." She paused, waiting for his response.

"What? You want me to beg?"

This was better than calling him at midnight, Laura thought. "Just like I guessed. He has a file on his computer for each of his poems. The password Emily found opened the first file."

Bob interrupted, "Emily found it?"

"You have a very smart daughter."

"You're right about that. So, what does the file say?"

"Is your fax machine on? I'll just fax it to you. Oh, there is one other thing."

"Yes?"

"I found an empty bottle of pills at your dad's, but they're not from the clinic he normally went to."

"So?"

"Don't you find that strange?"

"I don't know. It's probably an old bottle."

"It's not."

"You're beating a dead horse to death, Laura -- excuse the pun."

"Don't you want to know all the answers?"

"Answers to what? That he was sick and died?"

"I know that Bob, but there's more going on here than just that. I can feel it. Wait until you read his letter."

"Will anything I say stop you from looking?"

The answer was simple. "Not until I find what I'm looking for."

"When you find Jimmy Hoffa, will you let me know?" She ignored his retort. He continued, "You'll fax the letter right now?"

"Only if you hang up the phone, Bob."

She wanted to wait. Instead she walked to the fax machine in the bedroom, slipped in the paper, and dialed his number. After she had finished, she rifled through her purse and extracted the label from the prescription bottle. It was new. It made her angry that Bob wouldn't even listen. She scribbled the date of the prescription and the name of the drug on a piece of paper and circled the date boldly. Underneath she wrote just two words. "It's new!" She placed the sheet into the machine and faxed it to him as well.

After the fax finished, she picked up the phone and dialed the number of the pharmacy printed on the label. The pharmacist was polite and located the record quickly. The original prescription had been filled six years ago. It had been renewed a year and a half ago and had been written with five refills, the maximum allowed. The last one had been mailed out seven months earlier. For further questions, he recommended she call the doctor directly and gave her the number. The phone rang only once.

"Riley Medical, may I help you." To Laura's relief, the receptionist at this place sounded civil.

"Yes, is Dr. Jensen available, please?"

"He's just finishing up with a patient. May I have him return your call in a moment?"

"Yes, please. It's concerning my father-in-law, a patient of his, Harry Whitney."

"Did you say Harry?"

"Yes."

"Then he's a man?"

"Of course he's a man. I said he was my father-in-law."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Jensen is a gynecologist. You must be looking for Rodney Jensen, his father."

"That could be. The label just has an initial before the last name. Does he work there? Could I speak to him please?" There was no answer. "Hello? Could I speak to him please?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but Dr. Rodney Jensen passed away just over a year ago."

"What?" She was confused. "I'm sorry. I didn't know." She was about to hang up when an idea struck. "Could I speak to his son, as soon as he's free?"

"Certainly. Just a moment, please."

While she waited for the doctor, she stared again at the date on the tiny label she held in her hand.