by Robbi McCoy
Oh, my God, Lauren thought. What have I done?
“Uh,” Cassie said, looking flustered, “I—”
She didn’t finish. Instead, she rapidly left the room. Lauren sank to the couch, her skin on fire, and stared at the covers of the CDs on the table as they began to swim, the colors all blurring together. She was roused finally by the sound of the garage door opening. In a moment, Faith and Jennifer bustled in, laughing. Lauren struggled to overcome her distraction.
“What’d you get?” she asked, standing to greet them.
“Butter pecan,” Jennifer announced.
“Strawberry,” Faith said, holding up her purchase.
“Ah, so no compromise, after all.”
“You know what I say,” Faith said. “Why not have both?”
“Yes, you do say that.” Lauren was immediately struck with the awful irony of that sentiment.
Cassie came in from the other room. “Butter pecan for me,” she said.
Lauren tried to read her mind, but Cassie avoided her eyes.
“I don’t think I’ll have any tonight,” Lauren said. “But don’t eat all the strawberry. Save me some.”
Faith nodded. The song currently playing was “Only One Love.” God, that Jane Morgan is so full of mockery, Lauren thought bitterly. She escaped to the bedroom as the others dished up ice cream amid the clatter of bowls and spoons. Already she could feel doom descending like a heavy blanket over her. She lay in bed for at least an hour, just lying there wide awake and keeping her mind blank. Eventually, Faith came to bed and curled up around her in the dark.
“Are you feeling okay?” she asked.
“Yes, I’m fine. Just tired, I think. Worn out.”
“Did you have a good day?”
“Yes. It was a wonderful day. I think everyone enjoyed it.”
“Oh, sure. On the way to the store, Jennifer was chatting non-stop about the botanical garden. And that meal you made, it was remarkable, as usual.”
“I think the whole trip went really well.”
“Just about perfect.”
From behind, Faith slipped her arm around Lauren’s waist.
“And tomorrow they go home,” Lauren said.
“Yes. I hope you’re not going to be too sad.”
“It’s always hard when somebody goes away, especially when you’ve had such a good time.”
Lauren turned to face Faith, then kissed her briefly. Faith stroked her face in a way that told Lauren she was trying to offer comfort, but Faith couldn’t know just how devastated she was, or why.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lauren knew Faith sensed something was wrong, though both Lauren and Cassie were doing their best to keep themselves afloat, pretending, even to one another, that nothing had happened. Cassie and Jennifer were packed and their bags were in the car. Lauren had declined to ride with them to the airport. She couldn’t bear it.
“What’s wrong?” Faith asked in a private moment.
“Nothing,” Lauren answered. “Everything’s fine.”
“You and Cassie didn’t have a fight about something?”
“No. Not at all.” Lauren touched Faith’s cheek tenderly. “Saying goodbye is just hard on everybody.”
It wasn’t hard on Jennifer, though. She was full of energy and cheer this morning.
When it was time to go, Cassie gave Lauren a brief, pointedly platonic hug in the doorway, then shot her one last look, a look Lauren read as deep regret. Lauren couldn’t hold back her tears any longer and started crying as Faith grabbed her raincoat and kissed her cheek.
“Cheer up, hon! Just a few months and we’ll see them again. No time at all.”
When they’d gone, Lauren sat down and cried in earnest. She already knew there would be no autumn trip to Albuquerque. Maybe she had always known. The look on Cassie’s face as she left proved she knew it too. They both understood without a word what had happened and what now had to happen as a result.
This sequence of events began almost immediately after Cassie arrived home when she sent an e-mail, a note that would have looked ordinary, even cheerful, to anyone but Lauren.
“We had a great time,” Cassie wrote. “Just lovely. I adored your beaches. And the little coastal towns. You two were perfect hosts.”
“We loved having you,” Lauren replied. “It was so much fun. Such good luck too that the weather was so cooperative.”
For the first time ever, their notes were superficial. Before, Cassie and Lauren wrote to one another three or four times a day, every day. Now, after the initial pleasantries, they backed off to just a couple of notes in the week following the visit. And then there was nothing. Logging into her account and seeing no note from Cassie day after day was physically painful to Lauren. But she knew this was how it had to be, so she resisted her own urge to write.
Cassie had been a constant presence in her life for months, a source of joy. All of that had been so stupidly destroyed. Lauren couldn’t believe she’d let it happen. Yes, she had felt it many times, had known on some level that she wanted Cassie in that way. But she didn’t have to act on it. Acting on it had been the unforgivable part. She couldn’t be blamed for her feelings, after all. If she could have resisted, over time it would have been manageable, it would have subsided and they could have been the best of friends. Probably. Maybe. Lauren ached to take back the moment she’d let her body betray her.
She knew her friendship with Cassie was over. There was nowhere to go together but in a direction Lauren would never go, not with anyone. She held a deep conviction that Faith was her one true love, the person she was destined to be with.
After two weeks without a single note between them, one appeared. Startled but overjoyed, she opened it immediately. “I miss you so much!” she read. That was all it said.
With tears in her eyes, Lauren hit Reply and wrote, “I miss you too. I don’t want to give you up. Isn’t there some way we can—” Then she stopped herself, took a long, deep breath and closed her eyes. After a minute, she opened them again and discarded the message without sending it. She sent no reply.
She didn’t hear from Cassie again. Whatever Cassie was or could have been to her, it was over.
Part Three
Ten Years Later
Chapter Twenty-Three
Arriving at her gate in the Denver airport, Lauren scanned the banks of hard plastic chairs for a semi-private spot to continue her phone call, though she would have been glad for an excuse to end it. After a week with Charity, she’d had enough sisterly love to last her a long time. She smiled, thinking how ironic that was, considering how badly she had once wanted a sister of her own.
“Lauren,” Charity instructed, “you be sure to call me first thing when you get home. I want to be sure you make it safely.”
“I’ll do that,” Lauren assured her, taking a seat removed from other passengers. “My brother’s picking me up at the airport in Portland. Don’t worry. There’s nothing to worry about.”
She glanced at the flight schedule, verifying her gate and departure time. She was early. She had forty-five minutes to wait. The crowd lining up at the gate was for an earlier flight. She squinted to make out the destination: Albuquerque.
“We’re so glad you came,” Charity said. “I hope you enjoyed yourself. Ron and I were both so happy to have you.”
“Of course,” Lauren said, distracted by someone in the boarding line.
She stared harder at a woman carrying a navy-colored flight bag and dressed casually in sneakers, jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. She was about Lauren’s height and wore glasses. Her hair was straight and thin, dark brown in color and quite short.
“I want to thank you again,” Charity said, “for Grandma’s ring. I’m wearing it right now.”
Charity’s voice broke and Lauren feared she would start crying again.
“No need to thank me,” Lauren said. “I was glad I finally got it to you.”
Could it be? she wondered, looking intentl
y at the Albuquerque passenger in profile, at the shape of her forehead and chin. Was it possible that was Cassie standing over there, waiting impatiently to board her flight?
As the woman turned her head slightly, revealing her face, Lauren became even more convinced it was Cassie. Besides a general softening of her features, ten years hadn’t changed her much. She was two years younger than Lauren, so she would be forty-five now. She shifted her bag to the other hand. The line she was in wasn’t moving. They were still pre-boarding her flight.
“Bob wants me to tell you how much he loved that casserole you made last night,” Charity said. “You didn’t have to cook for us, but after all the bragging we heard from Faith over the years about your cooking, we were hoping you would. Bob wants me to get the recipe. It’s not a secret, is it?”
“No, it’s not a secret. I’ll be happy to send it to you.”
With the Albuquerque flight about to board, Lauren realized she had to decide quickly what to do. Should she run over and say hello? She wasn’t completely sure it was Cassie. Even if it was her, maybe Lauren was the last person on earth she wanted to see. There hadn’t been a single word or even a Christmas card between them in all these years.
Then the woman appeared to notice her, which surprised her, even though she was staring unabashedly. As their eyes met, Lauren saw her expression change. She looked curious for a second, then surprised, an emphatic sort of surprise accompanied by a jaw-dropping gape. Through the glasses, Lauren couldn’t see her eyes well, but could tell by her expression that Cassie recognized her. That expression, so familiar, also verified it was Cassie. No doubt.
“Well,” Charity accused, “I know how you serious cooks are. You leave out that one special ingredient so nobody’s dish ever comes out quite as good as—”
“Charity,” Lauren said brusquely, “I’ve got to go. I’ll call you when I get home.”
She ended the call and stood, raising a hand in a tentative greeting. Cassie broke out of her line and they walked toward one another as an indistinct loudspeaker voice announced the Albuquerque plane would now begin general boarding.
“Lauren?” Cassie asked, her face breaking into a warm smile complete with dimples. “Is it you?”
Lauren nodded, recognizing with relief the familiar versions of Cassie’s face as a range of emotions played across it. The hair below her temples was mostly gray now and a spattering of gray through her bangs was also new. Lauren thought it looked good on her, this touch of age. On her face too, the creases on either side of her mouth and the crinkles at the edges of her eyes—all of those lines deepening at the moment because of her unreserved smile—looked entirely natural and appealing.
They hugged one another with the sort of relentless hug Lauren’s maternal grandmother used to give her, the sort of hug a child recoils against and can’t wait to be free of. When that long hug was over, Cassie stood looking into her face with an expression of joyful disbelief. Lauren supposed her own expression was similar.
“My God, this is incredible!” Cassie said. “How are you? What are you doing here?”
“I’m on my way home.”
“Me, too. I’ve been at a convention in New York. This is just a pit stop.”
A convention in New York, Lauren briefly pondered, seemed like an odd thing for a high school English teacher. She wondered if Cassie had moved into administration.
“Your hair’s so short,” Lauren observed. “I like it. It’s cute.”
“Thanks.” Cassie tousled her hair. “It’s been this way for a while.”
“Wow! Where to begin,” Lauren said, overwhelmed. “Are you and Jennifer—”
Cassie waved a hand. “No. We broke up eight years ago. She still lives in Albuquerque too, with her new wife. And their kids. Yes, she’s got two little ones. We’re friends, but we don’t see each other often. And you? Still with Faith, I’m sure. How is she?”
Lauren hesitated to answer out of consideration for Cassie’s feelings. She hated telling people about Faith. Sometimes, if it was someone she didn’t know that well, someone she wouldn’t run into again anytime soon, she lied and said, “She’s fine, fine. Just great.” That was probably a terrible thing to do. She hadn’t done it often, but she had done it. It was so much easier and sometimes it cheered her a little. In this case, though, she didn’t consider it. She and Cassie had been too close for that.
“Actually,” she said, “Faith passed away two years ago.”
“Oh, Lauren!” A look of genuine pain crossed Cassie’s face. “How? What happened?”
“Cancer. Ovarian cancer.”
“Oh, my God!” Cassie said. “You poor thing. She was so full of life. It’s so hard to believe.”
“I know. For me too. Hard to remember sometimes.”
Cassie took Lauren in her arms again to give her a more purposeful hug this time, after which her right hand slipped down to Lauren’s and held it firmly. She remembered how Cassie had held her hand before, just like this. It had comforted her then too. It had made her feel like a young girl with a best friend. It was one of the warmest feelings she’d ever had as an adult and she had often been sorry this innocent kind of affection between them couldn’t have been maintained. A best friend would have been a tremendous asset to her during the last ten years. Especially the last few.
Cassie glanced back at the line she’d been in to see that it had nearly disappeared into the plane.
“Shit!” she said. “Now I feel like I should miss my flight so we can talk.”
“Don’t do that. You know what kind of problems you create when you miss your flight.”
“Right. Still, I wish we had more time. I’ve been in this damned airport for the last two hours with nothing to do but read a ponderous old novel by Trollope for my stuffy book club. Have you ever read Trollope?”
“No. I’m more of a Sue Grafton type.”
“Yes, of course. I remember. I think I need to find a new book club or just assert myself and insist on something deliciously trashy.” She smiled a quirky smile that Lauren remembered like yesterday. Then her eyes turned sad. “You must have been through hell.”
“I’m doing okay.”
She looked skeptical.
“Really,” Lauren said. “I’m fine. It’s wonderful to see you again. You should probably go, though.”
She nodded. “It’s good to see you too. Honestly, Lauren, you’ve never been far from my thoughts all these years. I’m so sorry about Faith. I wish I didn’t have to go. Damn!”
Cassie opened her carry-on and fished out a business card, handing it over. “Call me. I want you to. Seriously.”
Lauren nodded.
“I mean it,” she said, giving Lauren’s hand a shake. “I know how you are. You’ll talk yourself out of it. Send me an e-mail if you’d rather. It’s on there too. Please promise me.”
Lauren nodded again, feeling as though this scene was an echo of another from the past. “I will. I promise.”
“Okay. Bye, then.”
With another quick hug, she was gone, moving fast toward the gate, where she handed an attendant her boarding pass, then turned to glance back one more time and wave.
When she was gone, Lauren sat down again, feeling disoriented. It felt so familiar—her voice, her face, her hand—and yet so strange after all this time. A few minutes passed before she remembered the card in her hand. “Cassandra A. Burkett,” it read. “Attorney at Law, Albuquerque, New Mexico.”
Oh, my God! she thought, looking up again at the boarding gate Cassie had disappeared through. Apparently, a lot had happened in the last ten years, for both of them.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“There it is!” Lauren declared triumphantly as she found Cassie’s business card in the pocket of her green jacket. She looked at it momentarily, then set it by the phone as she finished loading the washer. What if I’d washed that? she thought. I’d have rediscovered Cassie only to lose her again. Then she realized she was being melodramatic
because Cassie, a practicing attorney in Albuquerque, would be easy to find, even without that card.
Seeing her in the airport had been such a surprise. A shock, really, like seeing a ghost. It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought about her in the intervening years, but Cassie had become someone so thoroughly relegated to the past that she hadn’t thought of her going on about her own life independently. Seeing her ten years older, too, had been yet another surprise, as if she might have been suspended in time at the moment she last saw her, as if her life hadn’t continued in the same way Lauren’s had, once they were out of one another’s view.
She’d been home three days and hadn’t seriously searched for that card yet because things were so hectic as she got back into her routine. But she had been on the lookout for it, regularly talking herself into and then out of calling Cassie. Seeing her again, so full of life, after having had nothing but indistinct memories and static photos for so long, had seriously tugged on her emotions.
Lauren got the laundry started and put her suitcase in the guest room closet alongside her larger, serious, going-out-of-the-country-for-a-while suitcase which had not been used in a few years and wasn’t likely to be used any time soon. Cocoa, her bulky long-haired mutt of a cat, tried to slip into the closet unseen, but Lauren was onto him, so she pulled him out before shutting the closet door. He looked up at her with his vaguely Persian blackish mug.
“Come into the kitchen,” she urged. “Maybe I can find you a treat.”
Cocoa followed her to the kitchen. It was his habit to follow her around the house, so she knew he would. He had never followed Faith around. Lauren assumed that was because she was the food provider in this house. All good things in the mind of a cat came out of the kitchen. Cocoa had liked Faith, though, and had sat beside her for hours on the bed during her illness, resting his chin, and occasionally one paw, on her, keeping her company with a resolute vigilance. Lauren had often found them thus when she came into the bedroom, Cocoa with a paw on Faith’s thigh, Faith with a hand on Cocoa’s back, a comfortable pose while she watched TV or read. It wasn’t unusual to find them both asleep in that position, especially during recuperation from some surgery or in the aftermath of chemotherapy when Faith was easily tired.