but notice he’d left his hand on hers. He hadn’t thought to move it.
She couldn’t help herself. Didn’t try. She stepped up close behind him, pressed her cheek against his shoulder and hugged him. Wrapped her free arm around his waist and held on.
“Still okay,” he insisted, but for long seconds he leaned into her.
“I know.” She held him a little tighter anyway.
When he straightened and switched off the tap, Molly let him go. Without saying a word, he dried his hands and turned to face her.
The air between them seemed to shimmer with possibility.
Then Sam smiled and nodded his head, and everything was back to normal.
How he managed to pull himself together in the space of a few seconds, Molly had no idea. But he did it every time. Today’s routine, however, was slightly different than usual. She’d never hugged him before. But it had felt right, and she’d gone with it.
Sam rubbed his hands together. “Right, give me five minutes and then please send the Sebrilskis in.”
Molly gave him ten. She took the extra five to make him an avocado and tomato sandwich, a far more nutritious breakfast than the chocolate-covered biscuits he’d wolfed down.
Dear Sam,
Last night, when I read your response to my last email, I had to sit down and take deep, steady breaths so I didn’t pass out from excitement. My heart pounded and raced at the same time, making me dizzy.
You did that? While reading my email? You touched yourself, made yourself come? The image alone raised my body temperature by about a hundred degrees.
I know we agreed that I would write you these letters—I just never dreamed you’d write one back to me. I read it last night before I fell asleep, and let me tell you, I had incredible dreams. Then I read it again this morning and once more a few minutes ago.
Which is one of the reasons I’m replying now. I shouldn’t be. I have to get dinner ready and help Mickey with her reading and homework, but there’s something I need to say first.
I know this is supposed to be an explicit letter detailing how much you turn me on. But for once I’m not focusing on my insatiable hunger for you. (You can take it as given that I’m aroused anyway. I’m always aroused when you’re on my mind.)
This letter is about something else altogether. It’s about what happened today in the kitchen, when I told you Jeremy Marks was coming in. Or to be more specific, how magnificently you handled yourself when you heard.
I know it’s hard for you to deal with your muscular dystrophy patients. I’m aware that every time you see one of them it tears you apart inside. It reminds you of your brother’s struggle over and over again.
You hide your pain so well, present such a stoic front, but you can’t fool me. Every DMD child you treat has a special place in your heart, and when they’re unwell, you feel it—just like you felt it when Saul was sick.
And when he died.
I know how much you want to make a difference in these children’s lives. I know you wish you could achieve the impossible and cure them all. Let me tell you something, Sam. You may not be able to heal them, but you do make a difference. Every day you give those children and their families what no one else can. Your full attention, your guidance, advice, medical care and most of all, your soul.
Your strength and determination leave me in awe. No matter how tough it is, no matter how many times you’re forced to relive Saul’s illness, you soldier on. You take a deep breath, find your strength and give those children one hundred percent of yourself.
I think you’re amazing.
I want you to know, just like those children have a special place in your heart, you have a special place in mine. Always.
All my love,
Molly
Dear Molly,
You’re right. Working with my muscular dystrophy patients brings back every ounce of frustration and helplessness I experienced with Saul. I want to help, want to make their lives more
She couldn’t help herself. Didn’t try. She stepped up close behind him, pressed her cheek against his shoulder and hugged him. Wrapped her free arm around his waist and held on.
“Still okay,” he insisted, but for long seconds he leaned into her.
“I know.” She held him a little tighter anyway.
When he straightened and switched off the tap, Molly let him go. Without saying a word, he dried his hands and turned to face her.
The air between them seemed to shimmer with possibility.
Then Sam smiled and nodded his head, and everything was back to normal.
How he managed to pull himself together in the space of a few seconds, Molly had no idea. But he did it every time. Today’s routine, however, was slightly different than usual. She’d never hugged him before. But it had felt right, and she’d gone with it.
Sam rubbed his hands together. “Right, give me five minutes and then please send the Sebrilskis in.”
Molly gave him ten. She took the extra five to make him an avocado and tomato sandwich, a far more nutritious breakfast than the chocolate-covered biscuits he’d wolfed down.
Dear Sam,
Last night, when I read your response to my last email, I had to sit down and take deep, steady breaths so I didn’t pass out from excitement. My heart pounded and raced at the same time, making me dizzy.
You did that? While reading my email? You touched yourself, made yourself come? The image alone raised my body temperature by about a hundred degrees.
I know we agreed that I would write you these letters—I just never dreamed you’d write one back to me. I read it last night before I fell asleep, and let me tell you, I had incredible dreams. Then I read it again this morning and once more a few minutes ago.
Which is one of the reasons I’m replying now. I shouldn’t be. I have to get dinner ready and help Mickey with her reading and homework, but there’s something I need to say first.
I know this is supposed to be an explicit letter detailing how much you turn me on. But for once I’m not focusing on my insatiable hunger for you. (You can take it as given that I’m aroused anyway. I’m always aroused when you’re on my mind.)
This letter is about something else altogether. It’s about what happened today in the kitchen, when I told you Jeremy Marks was coming in. Or to be more specific, how magnificently you handled yourself when you heard.
I know it’s hard for you to deal with your muscular dystrophy patients. I’m aware that every time you see one of them it tears you apart inside. It reminds you of your brother’s struggle over and over again.
You hide your pain so well, present such a stoic front, but you can’t fool me. Every DMD child you treat has a special place in your heart, and when they’re unwell, you feel it—just like you felt it when Saul was sick.
And when he died.
I know how much you want to make a difference in these children’s lives. I know you wish you could achieve the impossible and cure them all. Let me tell you something, Sam. You may not be able to heal them, but you do make a difference. Every day you give those children and their families what no one else can. Your full attention, your guidance, advice, medical care and most of all, your soul.
Your strength and determination leave me in awe. No matter how tough it is, no matter how many times you’re forced to relive Saul’s illness, you soldier on. You take a deep breath, find your strength and give those children one hundred percent of yourself.
I think you’re amazing.
I want you to know, just like those children have a special place in your heart, you have a special place in mine. Always.
All my love,
Molly
Dear Molly,
You’re right. Working with my muscular dystrophy patients brings back every ounce of frustration and helplessness I experienced with Saul. I want to help, want to make their lives more
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