Dear Suzy, 

What's up? I'm getting totally crazed! You always write me back and now, nothing. Are you okay? Please tell me you are. I had all these scary dreams last night of you going out into the ocean and getting lost out there. The movie, Jaws? Okay, that's stupid, but what else could I think? You're not mad at me, are you? I can't think of anything I did wrong. I'd call you if I could get to the damn phone, but you know how stupid they are about that here. Write soon and give me good news, okay? Choi Jaeho likes someone else, but it's not who I thought it was. She's a lot different from what expected, so what does that say about me?

Love you,

Sulli

° ° ° ° °

Dear Sulli,

Oh my god, best friend, I'm so sorry I scared you. Actually I scared everyone here half to death, but I'm fine now, really. So much has happened that I don't where where to start. Yes, I did almost drown. Man, I think you're psychic! But guess who got me out and saved my life?

I know you already know.

I'll never say another bad word about him for the rest of my life.

He's so much more complicated than I ever realized, I now know. He has these powers. It's . . . well . . . supernatural, or at least I think it is, if that's possible. It sounds crazy, I know, but lately it's turning out that everything in my world isn't what it appears to be on the outside and things are happening that I can't explain, and maybe I never will.

I'll write as soon as I know more, I promise. All is well here for now and that's all that counts. I feel reborn. how is that possible?

Love you so much,

Suzy

And ugh, so sorry about Jaeho. Truthfully though, he never sounded like your type.

° ° ° ° °

No bikini now. A wrinkled T-shirt over a denim shorts. Far from beachside runway, but it's easy to slip on. I sneaked out of the hospital during shift change in the only outfit that Irene brought for me.

No attempt to cover the bandaged leg. Only now I'm not obsessed with my body anymore. All I care about is having a whole one. I could care less how I look compared to other girls.

Jin pushes the wheelchair and Irene holds the crutches as our pathetic group slowly makes its way, first to the car and then to the beach.

"This is crazy," Jin says to Irene, under his breath. She ignores him and I love her for that. I also love her for insisting that first, we drop off my parents off at her house so they can take a break to shower and rest.

"We'll be fine," Irene insists.

Appa agrees, to my surprise. Eomma doesn't raise any objection either, which tells me that they're probably just totally tired. I didn't realize they were up all night trying to get reservations, and then were forced to book indirect flights with long layovers because of bad weather. They must be dead.

I'm less than happy to go to the beach with an entourage.

Jin turns into the parking lot and rives as close as he can up to the sand. I'm glad he doesn't have a dune buggy or he'd mow down the beachgoers to get on top of the lifeguard's chair. He parks, pops the trunk, and then heaves out the wheelchair, struggling to unfold it. It must weigh a ton, but he doesn't complain. He and Irene help me get out of the truck and I hop over to the chair.

I don't know how I'm going to do it, I just know I have to, so I will. I'm grateful now that I went swimming and built up my arms. They push me as close as they can to the edge of the sand. Irene hands me the crutches and I stand and tuck one under each arm.

Deep breaths.

Mind over matter.

You can control things if you set your mind to it. It takes practice to use them, I know. I remember once in school when a friend of mine broke her leg after skiing. She came in wearing a cast and used crutches to go to class. During lunch everyone took turns trying them out. I didn't realize how much it hurt under your arms to put all your weight on them.

I take a step forward. Another. Is the whole world staring? It doesn't look that way. A few more steps and then, whomp, one of the crutches pitches forward and I topple over into the hot sand, landing hard on my hip.

"," I mutter, scrambling to stand up. Jin runs over and helps me stand.

"You don't have to stand there watching me. Can't you just go for a drive and come back later? I can get up by myself."

"Suzy-ah, this doesn't make any sense," he says, his voice insistent, imploring. "Do you want me to carry you?"

"Go home, Jin. I can do it, just give me a chance."

He looks back at Irene, who waits by the car and nods. Some author taught her that you surprise yourself by testing your limits; at least that's what she told me. Now it's my chance to test myself, but it's too complicated to start explaining to Jin. Anyway, I know he believes that you have to help women because he's convinced they're the weaker . Ha. He let out a breath, running a hand through his hair, then steps back, defeated. I tuck the crutches under my arms and try again, trying to catch my breath.

It's hard enough walking across the sand on foot, but walking with crutches is like an Olympian test. I continue to slip and slide on the dry mounds of sand. I'm getting it, I say to myself. And then I trip again. "!" I yell again. "." Tears flood my eyes. I hear him curse, but he doesn't come to help me. I get back up on my feet.

You're not going to fall again. You can do it.

I make my way, slowly, closing the gap between us, my armpits sore and wet with sweat from the pressure of the crutches, perspiration dripping down my face.

I inch closer and closer to him. He's sitting up in his chair, one arm slung over the back. I approach from behind, inching closer and closer. It feels like I weigh five hundred pounds.

As if he senses me closing in, he turns slightly, takes off his sunglasses, and stares. The barest change of expression crosses his face.

It's enough.

Me hobbling toward him on crutches is so out of the realm of what he expected. He can't hide that, no matter how good he is at keeping his emotions checked. A hint of smile crosses my face.

I keep going.

The space got smaller from yards to feet. He waits, tenses, without taking his eyes off me. In  a rush, I'm overcome with happiness that he doesn't come running to help me.

Then it hits me why. He knows better than anyone that I can do it.

It's because of him.

When I'm just below the chair, he jumps down so fast I barely see it happen. I stop and the crutches drop to the sand. Only now am I suddenly overcome with the drain energy it took to get me here. Sweat pours down my face. The stinging droplets nearly blinds me.

I'm about to topple over into the sand when Jungkook reaches out and catches me, pulling me up to him.

"You're crazy," he whispers. "You shouldn't be here. How could they discharge you?"

"They didn't. I left."

"Why didn't you wait for me? I would have come later."

° ° ° ° °

I lean my face against his golden shoulder, so warm he may be filled with honey. Without warning, tears stream out of my eyes. "Are you some kind of miracle worker? Please, I have to know. That's all I've been thinking about."

"Obviously not," he says, like a painful confession. His face darkens and he looks away. "You got slashed and were close to death."

Is he angry with me or himself? He reads my face.

"I should have known," he says, almost pleading.

"Known what?"

"That you were out there. I should have seen it before."

"How could you possibly have known?"

He stares out at the water and then back at me. "It's my job to know, Suzy, to be there. It's what I do." He looks away, pained.

"I waited until you walked the other way. You couldn't possibly have seen me."

"You don't understand." He looks into my eyes and sighs. "I see things," he whispers. "I have this . . . vision. Only this time I didn't. I was blind."

"You saved me. That's all that matters."

"I let it happen, I lost my focus. Only I don't know how. And the stingray. It nearly killed you."

"Stingray?"

He lifts his binoculars suddenly as if he suddenly remembers he's on duty. "You should rest. And I'm working."

"I need to know what happened - please."

"Later."

I look behind me. Irene and Jin are standing by the car, probably watching my every move, trying to read my body language. I'm embarrassed to see them there, my audience.

"I'm coming back, Jungkook, when you finish work."

He lifts his head, ignoring that. "I'll carry you back," he says. "Your cousin is waiting."

"I can walk on my own."

"Man, you're stubborn," he says, lifting me up into his arms. "That's part of it."

I start to protest and then stop. "Is that a bad thing?"

"It makes you . . . difficult, that's all."

° ° ° ° °

I've never been carried by anyone before, at least not since I was an baby. I study Jungkook's face to see if it's an effort to support me, but he walks along easily, unfazed by carrying 47 kg over hot sand like a swami oblivious to burning coals under his feet.

"I don't want to go back," I whisper.

"It shouldn't be much longer."

"After your shift, we'll talk, you promised." I reach for his arm.

"Suzy . . ."

"Six, right?"

"You have to rest your leg or it'll get worse."

"You won't let it."

He looks at me curiously, but he didn't say it isn't true.

Irene and Jin stand by the car like nervous parents. Jin's arms are crossed across his chest, his male body language just like appa. The resignation, the private expressions, and the little quirks that can't hide that what's going on isn't his idea.

"Stubborn as a donkey," Jungkook says to Jin, when he reaches the car, but I see his rare smile.

Jin shakes his head.

Jungkook helps me into the backseat, sliding his hand above my head as I'm about to bump it on the top of the door. he closes the door gently and waves at Jin. Jin starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot, heading back to the hospital. He's nervous that his cargo is out of its elements, like a fresh fish that will start to stink if it's not promptly refrigerated.

° ° ° ° °

They're going to object, but I don't care.

"Let's go back to the house. I can rest with Eomma and Appa. It's just that later I have to see Jungkook - when he's finished with his shift."

Jin's broad shoulders rise and fall and he exhales loudly. In silence, he turns and we head to the house, instead of the hospital. They have to be glad that my parents are here now so they can deal with me, even though they haven't seen me in weeks, and they're walking on eggshells when it comes to their only daughter who they've convinced is suicidal.

Only I'm not.

Fear, loneliness, rejection, and isolation all mix in your blood like a toxic cocktail. You take chances. You tempt fate.

What do you have to lose?

It wasn't a death wish, just a test. Only I had no idea what I was up against. No idea.

But the stingray?

° ° ° ° °

My parents are asleep when we get to the house. Appa is sleeping on the downstairs couch and eomma is sleeping in my bed. So much for reconciliation.

As usual Irene effortlessly jumps in and takes care of us.

"Maybe ramyeon with sausage and eggs?" she says, sliding five bowls of noodles. That's followed by eggs and a frying pan. Soon she'd cutting up the sausage into tiny bits. When my parents get up, a feast is on the table.

It's not a stretch to pretend this is a holiday. Only the difference now is that despite everyone's smiley face, we're all slightly traumatized and feel thrown together by circumstances, not by will.

There's an awkward silence as we get seated at the table. We're all dealing with our own private thoughts about how the last 72 hours have shaken our lives. Jin jumps in and tries to come to the rescue by talking loudly to appa about sports and dad jokes.

"Want to hear a joke about papers," he says. Appa just looks at him blankly. "Never mind,  it's . . . tearable." Jin burst out into an windshield laughter, making appa chuckles a bit.

Eomma, Irene, and I stare at each other blankly. Like whaaat? Eomma turns and asks Irene about the house.

"It's haunted," I say before Irene can open .

Eomma looks at me as though now she's convinced this isn't the daughter who flew to Busan four weeks earlier.

"Haunted?"

"It is, really."

Eomma looks at Irene, who shrugs and smiles slightly. "Well, yes, but they're friendly ghosts at heart. They wouldn't hurt a fly, right, Suzy?"

"I'm living proof." Then I think maybe I'm not such a good example. I'm about to describe the burned-out faces but catch myself. Eomma would be out the door, heading to the nearest motel, whether or not they kept the lights on for her.

"Appa knows. Right, appa?"

He closes his eyes and nods exaggeratedly. He'd never admit it, but I don't think he'd look forward to a stormy night in the attic either.

"But they only come out when there's a storm," I say. "So you're lucky because the weather's supposed to be great for the week."

"Yay," eomma says.

Irene changes the subject and tells us about her books. When she's done and we've all seen the new cover of her newest one, she serves ice cream. Then I look at my watch. "I told Jungkook I'd go back to the beach when his shift ends."

"I'll drive you," irene says, before anyone can say different. "it's fine."

Maybe everyone is too worn out for a fight, or afraid to start one. For once, eomma and appa look like they're happy to give up their authority. Staying home and doing the dishes looks good to Jin. He wants to avoid another scene.

When we're in the front seat of the car together, I turn to Irene. "Thanks."

"Mhm," she singsongs lightly.

Points for not asking me why or telling me what I'm doing is stupid. She knows I have to.

She parks in the same spot that Jin did and gets the crutches out of the trunk. No wheelchair now. She knows I can go the extra couple of yards without it. She hands me the crutches and stands there, hands on hips.

"When do you want me to come back for you?"

"Jungkook will take me home."

"You sure?"

I nod and she gets back in the car.

She sits behind the wheel for a moment and slowly pulls out of the parking lot. I know she's watching me in the rearview mirror. I start the trip across the sand, this time more experienced on the crutches, even though they are rubbing raw the blisters on my underarms. The sun is lower in the sky and I'm tempted to stop and sit in the sand. But I pause and then keep going.

When I'm almost there I stop and watch as Jungkook slides his tank top over his head. He grabs a white T-shirt and s about to pull it on when he turns and sees me. He stands there, frozen, his eyes widening.

I feel like I can't breathe.

He catches himself and pulls his shirt on quickly, throwing a towel around his neck. he lifts his backpack and walks toward me as I wait.

"I'll take you back," he says, matter-of-factly.

"We have to talk."

He exhales and shakes his head. "Okay . . . I have the Jeep."

He hoists me over his shoulder like I'm a sack of potatoes, and he heads for the parking lot. I can't imagine what we look like, me holding the crutches out as if I'm bearing a divining rod.

I climb into the car and put on the seatbelt. It closes with a loud click. He turns on the car and glances out his rearview mirror as he backs up and pulls out of the parking lot. I have no idea where we're going. It doesn't matter.

"There's water in the cooler," he says, pointing to an insulated bag at my feet.

I shake my head.

A few miles down the road, he pulls off the main road and heads down a narrow path surrounded by tall beach grass.

"You'll like this beach," he says. "Very few people know about it."

He goes to the back and takes out a blanket, then comes around to my side of the car and helps me out. "I can walk on my own, really."

"it's better if you don't. not yet." he carries me out to a beach with no one on it. The water is calm and the tide is low. I'm sorry that we can't walk for mile together.

The beach is sandy paradise that's completely private and empty for us to share. It feels like he's given me a gift. My own beach.

And then the anxious thoughts flooded in. Does he bring other girls here? Is this where they hang out? I try to push those thoughts out of my head.

Jungkook gently puts me down and shakes out the blanket. I sit down and he drops down next to me, propping himself up on his elbows. He stares at my leg where the gash was and then out at the water.

"What do you want to know?" he asks directly. He does not want to have this conversation.

"I want to know you did. How you did it. They were going to cut off my leg and then miraculously, it got better."

"It did," he says, eyes wide.

I smirk and he smiles.

"You have to tell me, I have to know."

"I learned things from my family, from my father and my grandfather," he says, smoothing the sand between us.

"Your grandfather?"

"Suga."

"Who?"

"You know him," he insists. "The painter."

"Yoongi . . . He's your grandfather?"

"You honestly don't know?"

"He never mention anything." I think of all the things I said to him about Jungkook. Things I never would have admitted if i had known they were related. he knew I liked Jungkook - enough to steal his painting of him - but he never mentioned that Jungkook was his grandson to spare me the embarrassment. So now it's clear why he was able to paint him more than once and how he knew his face so well that the picture almost spoke. They were flesh and blood.

Jungkook shakes his head. "He never talks about himself," he says, as though he knows what I'm thinking. "He never tells people what anyone tells him. He's protective."

"I love him." I surprised by what I blurted out and more than that, that I'm telling his grandson.

"Everyone loves him." He smiles. "Especially women. No matter how old or young."

"So what did he teach you?"

He narrows his eyes and looks at me curiously.

I feel my cheeks burn. "I mean about healing."

He stares out at the water again. "It's not so much what he taught me. It's what he helped me discover . . . about myself . . . my family . . ." He hesitates. "Some people just have natural gifts, and our family . . . we have a kind of vision when it comes too seeing who needs help and drawing powers inside us. It's not something I can put into words. I don't even understand it myself. I just know that sometimes . . . not always . . . I can help people heal."

"Taehyung too?"

"Tae too."

"I didn't realize it at first, but after Tae got better when no one thought he would, and then the man on the beach started breathing again, I knew it was something you did."

He stares in front of him, lost in his thoughts.

"How did you know you could help me?"

He shakes his head and keeps staring. "I don't always know and it's so frustrating. Sometimes it doesn't work. Or sometimes it doesn't work as well as it should . . . I . . . I just don't know all the time."

"Yes, you do."

He turns and looks at me challengingly. "How do you know that?"

"I can't heal, but I can read your face." I run my hand from the top of his forehead down over the side of his face like a blind person trying to understand what someone looks like. "And I know that you don't give up." A tiny muscle at the side of his jaw starts to quiver, responding to the slightest change in the atmosphere.

"I want to know you. I want to know how you do it. You saved my life." My face is so close I'm nearly kissing him.

"it's something  inside . . . I go outside myself to get help from the spirits." He watches me to see how I react to his words. "You can't put everything into words and make it knowable, Suzy . . . It's a connection."

"Yoongi says when people get sick it's because they lose their spirit."

"That's what he taught me," he says. "Part of the soul escapes - the way people shut down to get away from pain or loss. Only sometimes part of the soul doesn't come back. A healer works to make the person whole again."

"And with me?"

"You soul left your body," he says. "You were almost dead."

He turns to me and our lips accidentally touch. Instead of pulling back, I lean toward him, pressing my mouth against his. He kisses me back this time, his mouth deliciously sweet and salty. We seem to fit together. I fall back on the blanket and he comes with me, as eager for me as I am for him. Seconds go by and all of a sudden, something snaps. He sits up, abruptly.

"It's harder to protect you if I'm close to you, Suzy." His voice is hoarse and desperately. "That blinds me. I can't let that happen again."

"You have no choice."

° ° ° ° °

He drops down next to me, his arm resting over his head. I move toward him, leaning my head on his chest. His heartbeat is strong and rhythmic. I reach up and trace along his jalwine. "I never met someone who performs miracles."

"I just try to help people heal when things go wrong. It's different. It has to do with infusing a spirit . . ."

"You said you hear my heartbeat - at least I think you did."

"I can."

"That scares me."

"You wanted to know."

"I've never heard anything like that before. Is it just me?"

"It's with some people - people who I set my mind on knowing. I know it sounds strange. Abnormal. But it's something I can pick up. When I heard you panicking I swam out to get you." He shakes his head. "But it was too late."

I lean up on one hand and look at him, but he's lost in his own thoughts, his face expressionless, resolute.

"Why do you think you failed? I'm here, I'm still alive."

"But you were in pain, do you remember? You lost so much blood. I swam out there too late. I didn't see the stingray." He bites his lip. "It shouldn't have been there. Then after I pulled you out, you were almost dead." He shakes his head again. "Then the infection, what was going to happen to you. I couldn't stand it. If I hadn't pulled the power . . ."

"The power?"

"The power. The blackout."

I sit up and look down at him. "I thought it was the storm. The whole town lost power, they said."

"The hospital has a generator. The hospital never blacks out. There was no other way for me to get you out of there. They were about to cut off your leg. I had no other options, so I turned it off."

I stare at him and shake my head. "But what if someone had died? What if there was an operation going on?"

"There wasn't. It's a small hospital," he says, reading my confusion. "What?"

"I sensed something . . . only I didn't know quite what it was."

"What what was?"

"I had this feeling of calm, of peace, even though my leg was killing me and I was burning up."

"It was my nearness. That was part of it. I had to help you calm down or I couldn't have focused. If you were in a panic, I wouldn't have been able to connect with you . . . to heal you."

"But you did. That's what matters."

 He turns away, staring out at the water, freely running his hand back and forth along the sand between us. I study his fingers, the shape of his hands.

Did I just see what I think I did? I lean closer. How is that possible? Tiny grains of sand rise up his fingers as if he's a lightning rod that draws power of the earth to him.

He then saw me watching. Quickly, he pulls his hand back.

"Did you just . . ?"

"Shhh," he says.

He gets up and crouches over me. "Lie back," he says. "Close your eyes." He presses his hands on my forehead. Immediately a flow of warmth spreads over me.

"This is how I do it," he whispers. "This is how I heal."

I think he's poured his heart into mine.