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The Longest Ride(136)

By:Nicholas Sparks



“Why?”



She turned over the letter in her hands, still unable to put the reasons into words. “I don’t know.”





Another forty minutes passed before a doctor finally emerged from behind the swinging doors. He went first to the desk and then, after the nurse pointed them out, approached them. Luke and Sophia stood.



“I’m Dr. Dillon,” he said. “I was told that you’ve been waiting for a chance to visit Mr. Levinson?”



“Do you mean Ira?” Sophia asked.



“You’re the ones who found him, correct?”



“Yes.”



“Can I ask what your interest is?”



Sophia almost told the doctor about the letter then but didn’t. Luke sensed her confusion and cleared his throat. “I guess we just want to know that he’s going to be okay.”



“Unfortunately, I can’t discuss his condition since you’re not family,” he said.



“But he’s going to be okay, right?”



The doctor looked from one to the other. “By all rights, you shouldn’t even be here. You did the right thing by calling the ambulance. And I’m glad you found him when you did, but you don’t have any further responsibility. You’re strangers.”



Sophia looked at the doctor, sensing he had more to say, watching as he finally sighed.



“I don’t really know what’s going on here,” Dr. Dillon said, “but for whatever reason, when Mr. Levinson heard you were here, he asked to see you. I can’t tell you anything about his condition, but I must ask that you keep the visit as short as possible.”





Ira appeared even smaller than he had in the car, as though he’d shrunk in the last few hours. He lay in the partially reclined hospital bed, his mouth agape, his cheeks hollow, IV lines snaking out of his arm. A machine next to his bed was beeping in rhythm to his heart.



“Not too long,” the doctor warned, and Luke nodded before the two of them entered the room. Hesitating, Sophia moved to the side of the bed. From the corner of her eye, she saw Luke pull a chair away from the wall and slide it toward her before stepping back again. Sophia took a seat by the bed and leaned into his field of vision.



“We’re here, Ira,” she said, holding the letter in front of him. “I have your letter for you.”



Ira inhaled with some effort, slowly rolling his head. His eyes went first to the letter and then to her. “Ruth…”



“Yes,” she said. “Your letter to Ruth. I’m going to put it right here beside you, okay?”



At her comment, he stared without focus, uncomprehending. Then his face softened, becoming almost sad. He moved his hand slightly, trying to reach hers, and on instinct, she reached over and took it.



“Ruth,” he said, tears beginning to form. “My sweet Ruth.”



“I’m sorry… I’m not Ruth,” she said softly. “My name is Sophia. We’re the ones who found you today.”



He blinked, then blinked again, his confusion evident.



“Ruth?”



The plea in his tone made her throat tighten.



“No,” she said quietly, watching as he moved his hand and inched it toward the letter. She understood what he was doing and slid the letter toward him. He took it, lifting it as though it were an enormous weight, pushing it toward her hand. Only then did she notice Ira’s tears. When he spoke, his voice sounded stronger, the words clear for the first time. “Can you be?”



She fingered the letter. “You want me to read this? The letter you wrote to your wife?”



His gaze met her eyes, a tear spilling down his shrunken cheek. “Please, Ruth. I want you to read it.”



He exhaled a long breath, as if the effort of speaking had worn him out. Sophia turned toward Luke, wondering what she should do. Luke pointed toward the letter.



“I think you should read it, Ruth,” he said to her. “It’s what he wants you to do. Read it aloud, so he can hear you.” Sophia stared at the letter in her hands. It felt wrong. Ira was confused. It was a personal letter. Ruth was supposed to read this, not her…



“Please,” she heard Ira say, as if reading her mind, his voice weakening again.



With trembling hands, Sophia studied the envelope before lifting the seal. The letter was a single page long, written in the same shaky scrawl she’d noticed on the envelope. Though still uncertain, she found herself moving the letter into better light. And with that, she slowly began to read:



My darling Ruth,

It is early, too early, but as always it seems I’m unable to go back to sleep. Outside, the day is breaking in all its newfound glory and yet, all I can think about is the past. In this silent hour, I dream of you and the years we spent together. An anniversary is approaching, dear Ruth, but it is not the one we usually celebrate. It is, however, the one that set in motion my life with you, and I turn to your seat, wanting to remind you of this, even though I understand that you will not be there. God, with a wisdom I can’t claim to understand, called you home a long time ago, and the tears I shed that night have never seemed to dry.