I pushed open the door and surveyed the room filled with piles of furniture. Holding my grande Starbucks cup, I inhaled deeply. The only smell better than "antique store" was "book store." Looking down at the book bag on my arm with several new finds in it, I smiled to myself. Today has been a good Saturday.

As I began to wander among the treasures, my eye caught on a ornate writing desk. The lid was closed and it almost looked like a dresser. Depictions of a forest had been hand-carved into every surface of the desk. As I looked closer, I could see birds, elephants and monkeys as well. Whoever had created this desk had done a magnificent job. I found the tag which read "Secretary Desk c. 1940s, $2500." I decided it would make a great addition to my library.

~ 2 days later ~

I thanked the delivery men, closing the door behind them. I walked back into my library. No, it wasn't "Beauty and the Beast" level yet. But I loved my floor to ceiling shelves along the back wall packed full of bookstore finds. The new secretary desk fit perfectly along the front wall by the window. I sat down at it and imagined I was an heiress writing a love letter to my beau at war.

As I fiddled with the desk, lowering the flap and poking around through each drawer, I noticed something odd. One of the small drawers wouldn't open. I reached my slender fingers into the opening and felt a piece of paper caught at the back of the drawer. With a gentle tug, I was able to free the paper and the drawer. Unfolding the paper I skimmed the contents. It appeared to be a love letter entitled "Dear Wild Man." I wonder if it was raunchy. How fun! My eyes caught on the author's signature at the bottom and I drew in a sharp breath. This couldn't be real, could it? Jane Goodall? Starting back at the top, I read:

May 22, 1977

Dear Wild Man,

I miss you dearly. I think about you often. Protecting you and your family has become my sole purpose in life. This year, I will open my foundation to protect the chimpanzee community in Gombe. Although I care for your family- the chimpanzees, it would be a lie to say that this whole venture was not in part motivated by a need to believe you will be safe.

I did not know what to make of you at first. Although your knowledge of words and all things human was virtually nonexistent, your capacity for human emotions astounded me. The speed at which you learned to communicate with me amazed me.

Raised by chimpanzees, I was nervous to develop feelings for you because I did not believe you would be capable of gentleness. However, now I cannot stop imagining the feel of your rough palm against my cheek. Your touch is the first thing I think about in the morning and the last image in my mind when I fall asleep.

I will not see you again. I cannot return to Gombe and risk discovering you have passed away. I don't know that I would recover. You do not understand the words on this page or even have an address where this letter could be sent. I suppose I am writing this for my own sake, then.

Be well, Wild Man.

Forever,

Jane Goodall